by Glenna Mason
“Miss Bennet is beautiful, but . . . “
“Mary then?” Elizabeth inquired with doubt in her tone.
“Miss Elizabeth, I meant you.”
“Oh?” she said, even more doubt creeping into her voice.
Darcy was astounded. “Doesn’t she know how her vivacity increases her charm and enhances her fairly average features?” he wondered. “To the point she’s almost irresistible,” he added to himself, actually astounded at the thought.
“I feel another bet in our future,” Bingley whispered and burst into torrents of laughter.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed out loud. Then with his back to Elizabeth, he said, grinning, “We’re running out of ideas for a prize at the end of our bets. We’ve already wagered the races and the ball.”
When Darcy swiveled back around, Elizabeth was leaning against the oak, rolling a stocking up her calf. Her décolletage was bent quite low and several curls were escaping their pins.
“What a superb portrait she’d make!” Darcy mused, delighted he was here to view the original. “Goodness! Why is my heart suddenly beating so loud?” He felt his cheek; it was flaming. “What in the world?”
Darcy again swung toward Bingley. “A wedding reception perchance,” he said audaciously.
Bingley frowned, utterly confused.
“Our next reward at the end of our bet.”
“Now you’re making sense,” Bingley responded, clapping Darcy’s shoulder. “But what is our bet?”
CHAPTER THREE
“Mr. Allen,” Darcy called from his tub.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” the valet said, entering the room.
“Allen, I’m sorry to bother you, but I forgot to lay out a robe or a towel, before I got in the bath. I’d not like to drip all over my host’s hardwood. Could you assist me?”
Smiling, Allen brought Darcy a blanket sized towel and his dressing gown. Yet as he left the room, Allen scratched his head. He’d been Mr. Darcy’s valet for ten years, and the gentleman had never forgotten his towel or robe before.
“Are you and Mr. Bingley entertaining tonight, sir?” Allen inquired, when Darcy entered the bedroom in his dressing gown, his hair still wet and falling over his forehead.
“We are.”
Still suspicious of Darcy’s uncharacteristic lack of attention to the simple detail of a towel at bath time, Allen asked, “Shall I prepare the shaving lotion with the musk fragrance?”
“Superb idea. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“And your attire? Would you prefer the vest with the gold thread or the one with the sapphire blue?”
“Well?”
“Young ladies or gentlemen?”
“Oh, young ladies, for sure, Mr. Allen.”
“Then I’d suggest the blue with the blue cravat. That would match . . . “
“Yes, I know, my eyes.”
“Actually I was thinking of your sapphire links and studs.”
“Of course. Blue it is.”
*****
When Darcy entered the library, Bingley stood by a light fire, crackling with pine cones. He too featured blue in his vest and accouterments. “We’re twins,” Bingley joked.
“Bet you didn’t forget your towel and robe when you bathed.”
“No,” Bingley said, confused.
“You might not want to be my twin.” They both laughed and poured a whiskey.
“Are you sending a carriage for the ladies?”
“No, I offered, but apparently Miss Bennet is a very adept horsewoman and insisted on driving the ladies over herself in the family curricle.”
“I am sure you are impressed.”
“Decidedly so.”
“So what time do the ladies arrive, Bingley?”
“How do I know? You invited them.”
“Oh, so I did. However, I did not specify a time.”
“Is this my friend, the redoubtable Fitzwilliam Darcy? What has happened to you, Fitz?”
“If you think it’s odd that I forgot to set a time for a dinner invitation, what do you think about the fact that I took a bath without a towel in sight?”
“Good, Darcy. You’re entering the real world where mishap and error are normal, everyday phenomenon.”
“I guess so, if one puts the emphasis on error.”
A knock sounded on the library door.
“Enter.”
“Mr. Bingley, a carriage has entered the gates. I thought you might like to know. It is six. Would you like to dine at seven, sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Chambers. Seven is excellent.”
The two gentlemen went straight to the entrance. They wanted to be out front on the gravel driveway to assist the ladies from the curricle. Jane easily drove the two horse vehicle to a perfect stop. Darcy opened the door and handed Elizabeth and Mary down. Bingley meanwhile helped Jane from the driver’s perch. A footman led the rig and horses away.
“Welcome to Netherfield, Misses Bennets all,” Bingley cheerily pronounced.
“We’re excited to see what you’ve done, Mr. Bingley,” Jane said sweetly.
“Done?” Bingley said, horrified. Then they all laughed happily.
Darcy offered an arm to Mary and Elizabeth, escorting them to a footman, awaiting them in the foyer. Capes and bonnets removed, they all adjourned to the parlor.
After helping themselves to claret, the five sat down in front of the fireplace, where the shining blaze added illumination to the room’s flickering candlelight. The sunlight faded rapidly behind the horizon, and darkness soon fell through the tall windows.
“Miss Bennet, do you also ride and jump?” Bingley asked and, without waiting for her response, added, “If so, we’ll have to organize a hunt party in the near future. It’s October, so we shall have to hurry before the cold sets in.”
“I certainly do ride and jump; a hunt party sounds like a lovely chance to join others in a pastime I adore.”
“You’re bringing new life to this staid, old community, Mr. Bingley. I’ve never heard of a hunt party outside the estates of the Baron Barnstable or the Earl of Carlisle,” Elizabeth complimented.
“Surely the Duke of Downs has had a hunt or two, Lizzy,” Mary corrected.
“Oh, of course, His Grace, the Duke,” Elizabeth remembered.
“Actually, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, we are not usually guests of the peers,” Mary admitted. “Hence we have little knowledge of their activities on horseback or off.”
Being themselves constant guests of the peerage in town and the country, Darcy and Bingley were at a loss as how to respond to Miss Mary’s proclamation, so Darcy artfully changed the subject by inquiring, “Do you ride, Miss Mary? Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mary and Elizabeth both ride,” Jane answered, hoping to intercept her sisters’ certain denial.
“We do so, sir, but very ill indeed,” Elizabeth clarified.
“Then all you require is practice.”
“And time.”
“Time might be found—” Darcy paused, “—between jaunts to the creek, perchance.” He winked.
“Why, yes. I hadn’t thought of that,” Elizabeth joked in turn.
“Speaking of creeks, Misses Bennets, Mr. Bingley and I are hoping that you will join us tomorrow at Miss Elizabeth’s favorite spot for a little walk on water.”
Amused at his description, they nodded assent. “Bring Kitty and Lydia too, if you like.”
“What fun. We’ll be there. I’m not sure about Lydia, but Kitty will probably wish to come along,” Jane said.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Mary interceded, “Lydia only walks to Meryton. A trip across three fields, climbing fences in route and then back again. Hardly!”
“And don’t forget there would be no shops and no red coats at the end of the journey,” Elizabeth added.
“Does Miss Lydia date then?” Darcy asked. “How old is she?”
“No, she is allowed to dance at assemblies when my parents are there to chaperon or to walk into Meryton to shop, where she unabashed
ly flirts with the militia—unless Papa is along. If so, flirting is distinctly and diligently forbidden.”
A knock was heard. The footman announced, “Dinner is served, Mr. Bingley.”
*****
As dinner was being served, Elizabeth asked curiously, “Gentlemen, you know our whole family now. What of yours?”
“Miss Elizabeth, my parents are deceased. I have two sisters, Louisa, married to Gilbert Hurst, and another unmarried, named Caroline—both in their late twenties.”
“And I have one sister. Her name is Georgiana. She is seventeen now and a student at Miss Leslie’s School for Girls in London. My parents are also gone, but I do have cousins, aunts and an uncle, who are almost like siblings and parents to me,” Darcy said.
“What a lovely tribute,” Elizabeth replied, tears on her lashes. “I am so sorry you’ve both lost your parents.”
“Tell us about Georgiana,” Mary requested.
“Georgiana is a pianist and a horsewoman. The two are her favorite avocations, and she excels at both. She is also a voracious reader.”
“And your sisters, Mr. Bingley?”
“Well, since I’m the youngest, they love to tell me what to do,” Bingley said, effectively lightening the conversation.
After dinner the ladies entertained the gentlemen on the piano. Jane admitted to being a novice pianist and so asked to be excused from performance. Mary played Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” for Mr. Darcy.
“You remembered my request, Miss Mary,” he said, pleased.
“Miss Elizabeth, would you honor us?” Bingley asked.
Elizabeth sat at the piano and played two Italian love ballads, singing sweetly in accompaniment to her playing. She ended with an aria from a Mozart opera. The men clapped appreciatively, when she rose to curtsy.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I have seldom heard anything more lovely than the concert you and Miss Mary played for us tonight.”
“Bravo!” said Bingley, standing in ovation and clapping enthusiastically.
“I’m afraid we should leave. It’s getting late. There doesn’t appear to be much of a moon tonight. The road will be dark.”
“Shouldn’t we accompany you on horseback?”
“No, please. I’d not wish to inconvenience you.”
“It is no inconvenience, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Bingley assured her.
“Thank you, but no. We will be fine. It is two miles of good road.”
Bingley called for their curricle. The gentlemen accompanied the ladies to the carriage and assisted them in.
“Until tomorrow at ten,” Darcy said.
“Until tomorrow,” Elizabeth echoed, winking at him.
*****
It was about two in the morning, when a loud rapping was heard on the front door. The butler trundled down the staircase, putting his robe on as he went. Darcy and Bingley appeared at the top of the stairs.
When the door was opened, a harried Thomas Bennet almost fell through the opening.
“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy cried out, rushing headlong down the stairs, quickly followed by Bingley.
“What is it, sir? Are you not well?” Darcy asked, a little frantically.
“How may we assist you, sir?” Bingley inquired, totally taken aback by this turn of events.
“Are my daughters still here? And if so, why? And if not, where are they?”
Darcy and Bingley gasped in shock. “What!” Darcy almost shouted. “Mr. Bennet, the ladies left between ten and ten fifteen. Miss Bennet was driving the curricle. We offered to accompany them, but Miss Bennet was confident all would be well.”
“Oh, no!” Bingley exclaimed, as the hall grandfather clock struck two. “They’ve been gone almost four hours.”
“We must order a search party,” Darcy said, getting back to his usual organized acumen.
“This is serious,” Bingley said. “Their curricle could have overturned.”
“Or,” Darcy offered, “the horses might have been spooked and bolted.”
“Jane is a fine driver and rider,” Mr. Bennet attested in his daughter’s defense.
“Something ferocious might have attacked or frightened the horses. In which case we men might have lost control also,” Darcy explained.
“Of course. That must be it.”
“Bingley, we’ve wasted too much time on speculation. Get your stable lads up. We need them and the horses.”
“Right away,” Bingley said, as he hastened through the hall to the back of the house.
“Mr. Bennet, I am going up to dress. As soon as Bingley gets back from the stables and dresses, we will take flares and search the entire route and beyond.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Bennet, please go to the library and have a neat whiskey, while you wait. You need it, sir, to calm your nerves.”
“That is a good idea. I shall.”
*****
Within fifteen minutes, flares blazing, ten riders mounted to search the route between Netherfield and Longbourn.
“Be alert, men. Do not miss any sign no matter how insignificant it might seem.”
“And try not to trample clues. We may need them.”
First, three abreast, the riders covered the entire route without finding a single clue to where three women and two horses might have gone. Then they dismounted, put their own mounts in the Longbourn paddock and started back on foot this time, checking fence rows, clumps of trees, even the ruts in the lane. There was no sign of a crash or of horses galloping into the trees.
“This is unbelievable. They have vanished without a trace.”
“Let’s check the road beyond Longbourn,” Bingley suggested.
“We could, but why would they go past their destination?”
“They wouldn’t, unless the horses were stampeding or out of control.”
“That is worth investigating. Bingley send two men ahead one mile past Longbourn for possible clues.”
“Excellent idea,” Bingley said. “James, Carter,” he yelled.
“Yes, sir.”
“Walk the road past Longbourn. Look for any clues, just as we have been doing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What of the rest of us, Darcy?”
Darcy didn’t answer directly. He was thinking. Finally he inquired of Mr. Bennet, “Is there another route the ladies might have taken? On a horse, I can visualize a canter across the fields, but is it possible in a curricle? Are there gates they could open, if for some reason they had to suddenly avoid the road?”
“Yes, that’s it,” Bingley cheered. ”Maybe the road was blocked, a cart overturned perhaps, and they decided to take the long way through the fields.”
“Mr. Bennet?” Darcy persisted.
“Yes, there are gates. Lizzy would certainly know about them. She spends hours walking those pastures. I suppose they might have gotten stuck in one of the fields. However, unless they are hurt, Lizzy would have walked home. She would never have left us worrying half the night.”
“Maybe the curricle overturned and the ladies were knocked out,” Darcy said.
“Or broke a limb and couldn’t walk,” Bingley suggested.
“If one of them is injured, the others may not wish to leave her. They may be waiting for dawn for us to organize a search party,” Mr. Bennet finally admitted. “They may comprehend that they’re safer waiting together.”
Bingley shouted to his lads, “We’re going to search the fields. Get your horses first. It’ll be easier and faster to cover the ground on horseback.”
The search party headed back to Longbourn to reclaim their horses, for the next portion of the quest. Just as they rounded the final corner, Kitty burst out the door and ran toward them, screaming for her father. “Papa! Papa!” she yelled. Rushing into his open arms, she explained, “I was just coming to find you.”
“Are the girls home?” her father asked frantically.
“Home? No! I had to get dressed, or I would have found you sooner. A mas
ked man showed up at our door a little while after you left the horses in our paddock.”
“What?”
“He ordered me find you and deliver this note.” Kitty handed her father a folded piece of plain paper. “Mama is in hysterics, and Jane isn’t here to help calm her. Hill is trying. Lydia is useless.”
“A masked man? A note?” Mr. Bennet seemed stunned.
“Papa, in your hand. Read it.”
Mr. Bennet snatched the paper open and after perusing it grabbed the fence rail to keep from collapsing. He gasped, dropping the letter at his feet.
Darcy picked up the paper and read it aloud to Bingley:
We have your daughters. We want 10,000 pounds for each of them. We will be in touch with payment orders.
Mr. X and his friends
Bingley supported Mr. Bennet back to the house. Kitty was close to hysterics now herself. Darcy picked her up and carried her to the front hall of Longbourn, where he set her gently down.
“Let’s go to my library,” Mr. Bennet said quietly. First he turned to his daughter. “Kitty, get Mrs. Hill to give you a sedative and try to get some sleep. You’ve been a heroine tonight, my little angel.”
“Oh, Papa.”
“Please, Miss Kitty, do as your father requests. We have a serious problem to solve and limited time to solve it.”
“Of course,” Kitty said, somewhat revived. “Thank you for helping us, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley.” She hugged her father and went up the stairs.
In the library Mr. Bennet collapsed behind his desk. Darcy poured him a stiff whiskey and then one for himself and Bingley. Darcy took charge. “Bingley, send your men home with their horses. Tell them to say nothing of tonight’s events. We don’t want a panic,” Darcy ordered. When Bingley moved toward the door, Darcy added, “Be sure to advise them that we will reward them tomorrow for their valiant efforts tonight.” Bingley reached the door, as Darcy continued, “And let them sleep late in the morning.”
“Yes, that’s wise. I’ll have Kerry ride out to find James and Carter with their horses.” Bingley finally went out the door to give directions to his men.
Mr. Bennet’s head was in his hands, his elbows resting on the desk. “Oh woe is me,” he moaned.
“Mr. Bennet, we must be strong now. We have much to plan.”
“How can I plan? I don’t have 30,000 pounds. If I did, I would gladly forfeit it. I’ll be fortunate to be able to negotiate one thousand pounds for each of my daughters,” Mr. Bennet mumbled between his fingers.