“Who?”
“How?”
Both Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth spoke at the same time, while Hill took the poor man’s hat.
Mr. Darcy looked from one to the other. “To keep Henry confined, I had a carpenter reinforce the railings in the back stall of the stables, thinking this would keep him in.”
Elizabeth’s father smirked. “The breed is crafty and known to be masters of escape of the highest caliber.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Frustration had Mr. Darcy balling his fists at his side. “I also have in mind that Henry has been able to circumvent all of my attempts to keep him at Netherfield Park thus far. However, rather than believing he desired to make his usual visit to Miss Elizabeth, I fear someone deliberately drew him away from Bingley’s estate.”
“Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth gave voice to her supposition.
“I believe so.” Mr. Darcy’s shoulders dropped as his hand went back to his mouth. “He attempted to use my sister earlier this year to obtain funds from me. If he was able to ascertain that Henry was mine, he would know from past experience how attached I become. I would not put it past him to attempt a ransom of some sort for the same purpose.”
“Do you have any proof he might be involved?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“Nothing tangible I can display to you.” Mr. Darcy lifted both palms to her father. They, of course, were empty. “From the fact Henry is not here with Miss Elizabeth, the fact that Mr. Wickham was in close proximity earlier today, and that he was informed I, too, was in the locale, my suspicions are strong that he is involved.”
“Where have you searched so far?” Elizabeth also suspected Mr. Wickham based on the same clues Mr. Darcy had shared. Henry had rushed directly towards her since the first time they had met in the field.
Wait! No, he had not.
“Sir, might I remind you that Henry must have stopped or been detoured before his arrival earlier today. He was wet and muddy. Since the rains have held off, this meant he was not in the fields or on the path. At some point, likely just before we saw him in Meryton, he had been to the pond.”
“Gather the torches and saddle the horses,” Mr. Bennet barked to his waiting servant. “Have you been to our pond, Mr. Darcy?”
“I have not yet had the pleasure.”
“Trust me, it is no pleasure at all.”
Her father was not being a tease. The trail down to the pond from Longbourn was treacherous. Each year when the rains came, more of the bank eroded due to the vegetation being trampled by the cattle wanting water. In the summer when the ground was arid, the cow’s hooves carved footholds in the steep hillside. By the beginning of winter, torrents of blowing rain and sleet smoothed the surface, making it slick. If Henry, even as small as he was, started down the precipice, he could not get out. In the daylight, he would have had little difficulty to have found random footholds. At night? A sodden puppy would have no chance of survival.
Without a word, Elizabeth ran up the staircase to exchange her delicate slippers for her walking boots. Unwilling to take the time to undo the long row of buttons on her gown to enable her to put on her riding habit, she pulled an old pair of her father’s trousers, which he allowed her to wear under her dress when it froze, from her closet. Grabbing a woolen scarf and the ugliest hat known to mankind, she hurried back to the men. Moments later, the horses arrived.
Before her father could object at her being included in the hunt, Elizabeth said, “Henry would come to me if I called. We can extend the search if there are two of us he trusts.”
Mr. Bennet nodded his assent.
Unbelievably, Mr. Darcy smiled at her when he gave her a leg up. Settling her leg over the pommel, she accepted the whip the groom handed her.
Her father, Mr. Darcy, and Longbourn’s two grooms mounted. Lifting their torches, they rode off toward the pond.
Elizabeth’s heart was in her throat. She loved horses but hated to ride them. The unnatural feel of the side saddle left her feeling insecure, an attitude she avoided. As a young girl, her father would pull her in front of him where she rode in the comfort and safety of his arms. Once her mother determined Elizabeth needed to put her boyish ways behind her, the side saddle was her only option. She would much rather walk.
Yet, the ground they covered on horseback would take her much longer to reach on her own two legs. She would have wasted their time in their search, so ride she did.
Her father was in the lead, flanked by the two grooms. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy rode behind.
He sat his horse well. There was no doubt he was as comfortable on his saddle as he was in any seat in his own home. The largeness of his horse was not nearly as intimidating at her elevation as it was when she had approached the mare in the past.
Thinking of the man kept her worries at bay. Once they drew close to the danger area, her focus was exclusively on finding Henry. Neither his slipping into the pond water nor his being captured by Mr. Wickham was a good option.
Dismounting, the three men in the lead went to the edge of the embankment. Mr. Darcy assisted her from her saddle. He had whistled the command for his dog to come from the time they had left her house. Clasping her hand in his, they hurried towards the light of the torches. All of them called for the puppy, The grooms roamed one direction while Mr. Bennet, Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth went the other.
She felt a tug on her hand to stop her. Looking up, she saw the reflection of the torchlight in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. What she saw tore at her heart.
“If he is in the pond,” he whispered, his hand going to his heart. “I cannot bear…”
“Then let us go together.” Elizabeth sat on the ground and pulled off her boots. Her stockings followed. She would need the grip of her toes for any semblance of safety. As Mr. Darcy sat and did the same, one of the grooms arrived with the torch.
“We followed the rim until we reached the trees on the far side. We saw and heard nothing.” Seeing Mr. Darcy’s struggle, the man knelt and pulled at the Hessians. “You be going down, then? We would be willing in your stead.”
“I thank you, but no. Henry is my responsibility.” Mr. Darcy nodded and stood. Taking the torch from the groom, he reached out for Elizabeth. Without hesitation, she put her hand in his. If she slipped, he could catch her. If he slipped, they would both get wet.
The descent was perilous. Standing sideways, they slid a foot down until they found something to wedge themselves against. Twice, their feet could not keep their purchase, causing them to fall against the dirt as they skidded downward. Once they reached the bottom, Mr. Darcy held the torch over the pond. Nothing disturbed the calm of the water’s surface.
Elizabeth’s heart was in her throat. More than anything in the world, she did not want to find Henry at the pond. With each step forward around the water’s edge, Mr. Darcy’s hand seemed to squeeze tighter.
His footsteps did not hesitate, nor did he take his eyes from the shoreline. His valor had no limits. Elizabeth feared if she was on her own, she would be a trembling mess.
Moving southwest, they finally reached the trees without finding Henry or any sign of him having been there. As Mr. Darcy searched the water, Elizabeth scoured the bank for a trace of a trail where a puppy would have attempted his escape. Nothing.
Returning back the way they had come, they proceeded around to the other side. Still nothing. It wasn’t until then, that Elizabeth heard Mr. Darcy’s exhale. The poor man.
When they reached the spot where they had first descended, Mr. Bennet directed their attention to the ropes they had tossed down for their use to regain the surface. Within minutes, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were pulling their stockings and shoes back on after Mr. Bennet and the grooms had walked away to allow them privacy.
Helping her to stand, Mr. Darcy did not immediately release her hand. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth. If Henry had been there, he would have been pleased we found him together.”
Her heart melted. The gentleness of his voice, the kindness of his words, and t
he tender way his thumb caressed the side of her hand turned her knees to jelly.
Mr. Bennet interrupted the moment. “While it is good news we did not find the pup, it is bad news that Mr. Wickham seems to be involved.”
Remembering her opinion of George Wickham and Laird Magnus McDonald being one and the same, she shuddered. Cruelty had no place around an innocent like Henry.
“Let us ride to Netherfield.” Mr. Darcy helped her mount. “If he has Henry, he will allow little time to pass before he requests money.”
“Will you pay?” Mr. Bennet boldly inquired.
A cold glint in his eye, Mr. Darcy looked directly at the man. “I will do whatever it takes to see those I love safe.”
It was a warning and a promise that caused Elizabeth to wonder what it would be like to be loved by such a man. Sighing to herself, she wondered if she would ever find out.
Chapter 9
A sealed note was waiting for Mr. Darcy when they arrived. Mr. Wickham had, as Mr. Darcy suspected, been quick with his demands. Ten-thousand pounds in exchange for the puppy to be delivered to a rooming house in London. Once the funds were received, Henry would be turned over to the staff at Darcy House in Mayfair.
“Ten-thousand,” Mr. Bennet whispered to himself. He looked to Mr. Darcy, openly wondering what the man would do.
Mr. Darcy reread the parchment before dropping it onto the table next to where he was seated. Elizabeth and her father sat across from him, watching as he would jump up to pace before sitting back down. Elizabeth understood his wanting to take action and not knowing clearly what to do. She felt as restless as he.
Mr. Bingley had his staff searching the fields on his estate, checking the areas off of a map when they returned with their reports. Miss Bingley, her sister, and her brother-in-law had volunteered to search each room in the house. So far, no Henry.
Mr. Darcy mused, “With Henry’s propensity for escape, I believe Wickham will not be able to keep him confined unless he restrains the puppy with ropes. I also think my dog is inherently intelligent enough to remain until morning before trying to find his way back.”
“Unless he is being mistreated,” Mr. Bennet speculated aloud.
To keep the mental picture of potential cruelty from overtaking her, Elizabeth noted, “It has been less than one hour since you arrived at Longbourn. Miss Bingley keeps late dinner hours, so your awareness of Henry missing was about thirty minutes prior, am I correct?”
“You are. I took little time to search the fields and pathways before coming to your estate.”
“Thus, Mr. Wickham cannot be far. If it was he who whistled…” she stopped. “Can he whistle?”
As a little girl, she had practiced trying to imitate the calls of the sheepherders for hours each day with nothing but the sound of her breath coming through her puckered lips. Charlotte Lucas’s brother whistled after a few tries, his piercing call able to be heard from afar. How unfair! It was her life’s biggest disappointment that she had never learned to whistle.
“Yes, he can whistle. Both he and I practiced together until no one, not even my father, knew which one of us was making the noise.” Mr. Darcy smacked his fist into his palm. “It is no wonder Henry responded to his call.”
Standing alongside the fireplace, Mr. Darcy put his fisted hand to his mouth. When he spoke, his words sent a chill down Elizabeth’s spine. “Because I cannot trust Wickham to be kind, we need to find him now. Waiting until daybreak to search is not acceptable.”
The decision marshalled them into immediate action. Mr. Bingley showed them the only field that had not yet been searched, one that extended far beyond the opposite direction of Henry’s normal route to Longbourn.
Again, it was Mr. Darcy who assisted Elizabeth to mount. This time, instead of offering her a hand up, he placed his hands on each side of her waist and lifted her. Using the top of his shoulders to balance herself, she silently vowed then and there to ride as often as possible when in his company.
She was being nonsensical. They had an important mission, and she was acting as missish as she had been when she first came out into society. But his nearness affected her in ways she had no words to describe.
“Ride on.” With that command, she reined her mount in behind Mr. Darcy. Her father and four grooms followed. Each of the men carried a torch.
Other than the noise of the horses, they remained silent.
They searched for hours. Pressing forward through the intense chill of the night, they would stop as Darcy whistled. Even if restrained, Henry would have barked his location. Nothing.
At the far reaches of Netherfield was a fence dividing Bingley’s land with the empty property known as Purvis Lodge.
“Mr. Bennet, are you familiar with the layout of the land? Are there cottages or barns where a man and a small dog could be hidden?” Darcy asked, his voice sounding overly loud in the darkness.
“Allow me to think.” Her father paused. “The Lodge has been vacant for nigh on two years. However, the fields are farmed by tenants. The cottages should be full. There is an estate man by the name of Street who oversees the property for the owners. His house is behind the main building.”
“Then we shall see if he is an easy man to wake.” Turning his horse to retrace their approach, Mr. Darcy rode his mount easily as it jumped over the fence. Her father and the other men followed.
Elizabeth swallowed. She was alone on her side of the partition with a willing mare who had an unwilling rider. She hated jumping perched on a side saddle. But she hated being left behind or slowing the search party down even more.
Holding her breath, she walked her horse back a dozen or more steps. Saying a quick prayer for her safety, she turned the beast back towards the fence in time to see a shadow leap into the air and approach her on foot.
“Miss Elizabeth, hold still.”
It was Mr. Darcy. He had lept over the fence. Whatever was he about?
Before she guessed his intent, he had reached up and pulled her leg from behind the pommel, then caught her before her feet hit the ground.
“There is a stile between you and your father. Walk towards the light and you will see the steps. I will bring your horse.”
Elizabeth wanted to kiss the ground for its stability and him for his kindness.
Kiss Mr. Darcy? The heat of her blush rose from her chest to the top of her head.
Rushing away from him, despite knowing he could not see her embarrassment in the black of the night, Elizabeth reached her father just as Mr. Darcy successfully navigated over the railings.
How in the world had he managed the task? Seeing his long legs dangling from each side of the saddle, she marveled at his skill. Within minutes, she was again seated on the animal. They hurried as much as was possible in the dimness of the torches.
* * *
Mr. Street, a man born to farm life, was indignant that a puppy was being used as a pawn to gain undeserved wealth. Therefore, he sent out men to roust the tenants into action. In less time than it took to warm by the fire, a young lad returned with news that a puppy was barking from inside a hunter’s hut at the edge of their north boundary. Taking his gun from the closet next to his doorway, the steward of Purvis Lodge joined them in their pursuit.
With all of the men and the lad accompanying them, travel to the place they suspected Henry was being held felt slow. Elizabeth was not the only one who wanted to throw off caution and rush to the hut. Mr. Darcy’s horse stamped its desire to run. Tension had to be flowing from the man to the steed. Over the noise of the bridles jangling and the creaking of the leather saddles, they heard the puppy.
Sharp barks and snarls sounded aggressive rather than fearful. A short series of yips stopped abruptly as the muffled curses of a man filtered through the walls. When Henry whimpered, Mr. Darcy jumped off of his horse and ran up the pathway to the hut. Bursting through the door, he was gone from Elizabeth’s view.
Kicking her knee free of the pommel, she slid inelegantly to the g
round, running behind the other men. She had to push her way forward as her father moved in front of her.
“You do not need to see this, Lizzy.” he said, adding in a dramatic tone, “It will have blood they say…blood will have blood.”
“Papa!” Elizabeth stepped around him when one of the tenants moved aside for a better look. “We do not need Shakespeare at a time like this. Mr. Darcy needs help.”
“Not yours.” The rarity of Mr. Bennet taking a stand caused her to pause. “Henry is his dog. This is his old friend. Words may be spoken in anger Mr. Darcy would not want you to hear. I cannot allow you inside.”
Her mouth gaped. Before she could argue her point, sounds of violence rent the air. Furniture crashed and men grunted. Henry barked until Elizabeth heard the soft tone of comforting words coming from Mr. Darcy.
Uncaring of her disobedience, Elizabeth pushed her way inside.
Wickham leaned against a wall, his hands cupping his nose while blood dripped down his chin. Mr. Darcy was squatted on the ground, Henry cradled to his chest.
Elizabeth rushed to them, putting one hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm and the other on the puppy. She kneeled next to Mr. Darcy, her back to the others. She cooed and fussed while Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, his face raised in gratitude.
Henry had been tethered to the wall with a strip of leather. His paws were bound in a series of knots. Elizabeth ruffled the hair on his side where he must have been laying. His tongue flicked rapidly over Mr. Darcy’s chin.
“A knife, sir,” Elizabeth suggested softly.
Mr. Darcy looked directly at her, as if surprised she was there. His focus had been completely on the dog. Giving Henry’s head one last rub with his chin, he handed the squirming puppy into her arms. Reaching into his boot, Mr. Darcy pulled a dirk from its concealed place in the leather, similar to the one she had imagined Lady Violet found in Lord Goodrich’s boot.
Holding Henry tightly so he would not endanger himself as Mr. Darcy applied the blade to the straps, Elizabeth held her breath until all four paws were free. She was not the only one feeling relief.
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