by Glenna Mason
Darcy and Bingley, drowsy to the point of lethargy, nonetheless treated their lawyers to a late breakfast at White’s Men’s Club, after which each retired to his Park Lane residence for a day of much needed rest.
Darcy perused his library and chose a Fielding novel and volume of poetry to take upstairs to his suite. “I’ll read myself to sleep,” he decided. Although it was still early afternoon, Allen assisted Darcy undress and don his nightshirt. Darcy instructed Allen, “Only wake me in case of an earthquake,” and retired to his bed chamber. Darcy plopped down on his embroidered counterpane, underneath its matching canopy. The books lay within reach of his fingertips. Indeed he kept flipping the pages of Lord Byron’s English Bards and Scottish Reviews, but he never actually opened the cover. Darcy stared above at the elegant gold silk. Then he pulled the ties and tented himself behind the drapes.
Darcy closed his eyes, hoping to soon escape the fatigue cramping his limbs and the numbness creeping into his psyche. Finally sleep came. It wasn’t until eight the next morning that Allen knocked on the door and entered with tea and crumpets.
At ten Darcy walked the two blocks to Bingley’s town house. Simmons, Bingley’s butler, invited Darcy to the breakfast room to await Mr. Bingley, who was currently in his bath.
At ten-thirty, having consumed his second breakfast of the morning, Darcy heard Bingley on the stairs and rose to greet him.
“Welcome, old man,”
“Good morning, Charles. What a restoration I have experienced. I just slept eighteen hours straight. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Twelve for me.”
“Do you wish to stay in town a few days now that we’re here? Take in a play or a concert?”
“I think so,” Bingley answered cautiously. “What will the ladies think, if we abandon them so soon after their ordeal?”
“The ladies—“ A sudden revelation flashed across Darcy’s mind. “Oh, no, the ladies are still in trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Bingley asked, straightening in his chair.
“I have to review this in my mind, but I have a strong premonition that Wickham joined the militia after he heard—probably at White’s—he’s a fixture there—has been since my father treated him to junior membership—is there so often everyone assumes he’s still a member. Excuse me. I’m rambling. Wickham has that effect on me.”
“Darcy, please concentrate. You said the ladies might still be in trouble.”
“He heard that you’d leased Netherfield. If you’re there, I will be too. Two geese just waiting to be plucked.”
“An apt metaphor, no doubt.”
“A minimum of research allowed him to discover the militia is stationed there. He hangs out at the local tavern. He treats Denny and friends to drinks and insinuates himself into their good graces. Men and women instinctively gravitate to George. Voila! They introduce him to the colonel.”
“Yes, Darcy, we’ve already covered this ground.”
“I believe that his original idea was to kidnap one of us and blackmail the other,” Darcy continued, ignoring his friend’s reprimand.
“Really!?”
“It almost has to be. But then I fall off the platter of cooked goose right into his lap. I not only warn him to leave me alone, but also to stay away from all the Bennets.”
“So now Wickham anticipates a much easier prey—one of the Bennet sisters. He just has to ascertain which one appeals to you,” Bingley reiterates.
“Yes, but then Kitty gives a lively recitation on the excitement at Longbourn about the invitation to dinner of three Bennet ladies. And Wickham had his lead to cook both our gooses.”
“Ah, ha. He didn’t have duty. He just rushed off to consider the implications of this very welcome news,” Bingley surmised.
“Yes, I’m confident that with the Spring Station closed all autumn and winter, Wickham had already recognized it as the perfect hideaway. That part of the scheme was solidified, soon after he arrived in Meryton.”
“All he now needed to decide was whom to kidnap and when. Obviously one or two or even three women would be easier prey that either of us,” Bingley said.
“I assume his basic plan for the Bennet kidnapping was worked out by afternoon’s end. He no doubt went to supply room and helped himself to ether, blankets and all,” Darcy said.
“Next he visited the blacksmith for a lever and lock and made his way to Netherfield for friendly little bit of observation.”
“And Miss Bennet gave Wickham an immediate entry with her curricle.”
“Yes, once he saw the ladies arrive unescorted, he put his plan into immediate action. He went back to the base after dark and commandeered the cannon ball trailer, loaded it with saddle, saddlebags, and the other accoutrements and headed straight for his attack sight,” Bingley concluded.
“All in all it was a very well designed strategy. I will give him his due on that score.”
“But now to this morning’s conundrum, Darcy. Why do you think the ladies are still in danger?”
“He knows we will pay.”
“Of course!”
“Our main ace in the hole is that Wickham has no idea we suspect him. He was masked for the kidnapping and the robbery.”
“True.”
“I doubt he chanced the wrath of a gambler. Why should he? The cooked geese can be placed back on the platter.” Darcy sighed.
“So he went to an outlying bank yesterday morning, and after he was rejected, he headed back to Meryton.”
“Back to the militia, probably with some wild tale about why he has been absent without leave,” Bingley said.
“He got attacked by a masked robber perchance,” Darcy replied. Both men burst into hearty guffaws at that image.
“Then Wickham will bide his time and kidnap one of the Bennet ladies. He doesn’t need three.”
“He will have to scout out a new location to hide her. That might take some time.”
“I don’t believe he’ll be in a hurry. He will wait a few weeks until we and the sisters are off our guard again.”
“I was mistaken in my assumption that he’s desperate for funds for gambling debts. This is a well-researched agenda to make thousands of pounds and start a new life somewhere as a man of means,” Darcy declared.
“He certainly found a winner—thirty thousand pounds.”
Darcy smacked himself in the head. “There’s one small flaw in this analysis.”
“And that is?”
“Wickham knows that we are in London, stopping the back drafts. A little surveillance will show him we haven’t returned to Netherfield yet,” Darcy said.
“He may rush back and act precipitously, figuring that this small moment in time is his best chance at success.”
“It is well-known that Miss Elizabeth takes daily strolls down hidden pathways.”
“We’ve slept a whole day away.”
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll gather you in my carriage in . . . “
“Thirty minutes,” Darcy answered, racing for the door.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time the carriage had rumbled beyond the streets of Mayfair, Darcy, Bingley and their two valets were all once again asleep. The movement of the coach lulled them into a sustained rest. It wasn’t until the coach slowed as it approached the gates of Netherfield that Bingley shot up in his seat.
“No! No!” he called out the window to his driver. “Longbourn, on the far side of Meryton.”
The carriage swept around the circle drive of mansion and soon left the gates behind. Darcy jolted from his deep slumber.
“Am I sick?” he wondered. “I’ve slept twenty-one out of the last twenty-four hours.”
When the horses pulled to a stop in front of the Georgian façade, the two friends straightened their frock coats and replaced their top hats. The footman jumped from the back of the equipage and opened the door for them.
“We’ll just be a few minutes,
Harvey,” Bingley explained to his coachman. “There’s no need to unhitch the horses, but see if you can get them a drink.”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley, sir.”
Mrs. Hill opened the door at their first knock. “Is Mr. Bennet in, Mrs. Hill?” Darcy asked.
“Of course I’m in,” Mr. Bennet called from his library door. “Come in, gentlemen.” Mr. Bennet closed the door, but Darcy and Bingley stood stiffly as if at attention.
“Mr. Bennet, we have been to London to stop payment on the bank payments of the drafts we issued two days ago.”
“Excellent.”
“While we were there a small presentiment formed in my consciousness,” Darcy said quietly.
“My goodness. Is that usual?”
“I wouldn’t classify the feeling as exactly usual, sir. But truthfully my mind does occasionally initiate a special sensory perception. More often than not these intuitions do come true. I have a sort of sixth sense, especially about difficulties.”
“Like hunches.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Impressive, young man. And this particular premonition?”
“I have begun to be concerned about your daughters, especially Miss Elizabeth. Bingley and I think that Wickham will attempt his kidnapping scheme again, since he now knows that we will pay the ransom. At first we believed that he would wait until everyone was again off their guard . . . perhaps even months.”
“Oh, no. That would put all of our lives in suspension indefinitely.”
“However, I came to sense that he might beat Mr. Bingley and me back to Meryton and act before we returned.”
“Oh?”
“We did hurry back to Meryton, Mr. Bennet, because I did presage an immediate threat to one of your daughters. However, I could not foretell which,” Darcy explained.
“Are your daughters all here at Longbourn, Mr. Bennet?” Bingley inquired.
“Yes, except Lydia.”
“Miss Lydia.” Darcy cringed. Lydia had not entered his mind, but who better for Wickham to entice away from safety than the silly Lydia.
“Where is she?”
“She walked to Meryton.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, she often does if Kitty is busy with her drawing. I’m afraid that my Lydia has few interests outside of shopping and trimming hats. Kitty was engrossed in her painting out in the conservatory, so Lydia went to Meryton to purchase ribbons to re-trim a bonnet.”
“What time is she due back, Mr. Bennet?” Bingley asked.
Mr. Bennet shrugged, apparently immune to the crisis, developing under his nose. He obviously didn’t take Darcy’s foreboding seriously.
“Perhaps we should take the carriage and pick her up,” Bingley suggested.
“Why don’t you do that, Bingley? While you’re gone, I’ll take the opportunity to have a word with the other four sisters. That is, if you do not object, Mr. Bennet. Just a conference of caution, especially as it relates to George Wickham.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy. I’ll join your little assemblage.”
Bingley immediately donned his top hat and announced, “I’ll drop our valets at Netherfield on the way to Meryton. While I’m there, I think I’ll request Mrs. Chambers accompany me in locating Lydia. She’ll know more about young girls and their tastes in shops.”
“Very sensible idea,” Darcy said, knowing that Bingley had no intention of riding alone in an enclosed carriage with Lydia Bennet.
*****
Darcy had never seen any of the interior of Longbourn, besides the downstairs and upstairs hallways and Mr. Bennet’s library, which was located just inside the front door on the right. The house, as it turned out, was very well situated with the two sitting rooms, gathering the morning sun, and the parlor and music room across the hallway, overlooking the veranda and the gardens. He knew that the family bedrooms were on the second floor and the servants’ bedrooms in the attics above the third floor ballroom. From the spacious front hall a graceful staircase curved up two stories. The dining room was at the end of the main hall with a warming kitchen beside it. The main kitchen was in a separate building with a trellised and roofed breezeway connecting it with the back of the house and the warming kitchen.
A conservatory with a greenhouse attached was on the far side of the formal garden. All of these features Mr. Bennet carefully pointed out, opening doors and closets, as he escorted Darcy to the garden, which was resplendent with autumn flowers and bushes of gold, orange and rust. Evergreens flanked the end of the garden, leading to lawn tennis and badminton courts, which in turn opened on to bowling and croquet greens.
Adorning the two greens and shading a portion of the garden, giant elms and oaks stood proudly, bright with scarlet and bronze autumn foliage.
Darcy was pleased. Elizabeth had a charming home. He could visualize her cutting blooms and putting them carefully in a basket, laughing as she swung under the giant oak or placing a tennis ball at someone’s feet.
The lady and her sisters rose from the lounges, where they reclined on the veranda, when Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet came through the French doors. Their straw hats bobbed in welcome and their smiles brightened that welcome.
“Where’s Kitty?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“In the conservatory,” Mary answered. “I’ll get her.”
“Are we having a parley?” Elizabeth inquired of Darcy, her fine eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Sort of.”
“Let’s go into the parlor then and have Julia bring us tea.”
“Miss Elizabeth, may I?” Darcy said, offering his arm,
“Miss Jane, may I?” Mr. Bennet mimicked, laughing as his eldest daughter took his arm.
Once in the south parlor, Elizabeth opened the windows to let in the fresh October breeze. She sat beside Mr. Darcy on the sofa, while Jane rang the bell for tea. Mary and Kitty, in a painting smock, entered soon after. Kitty hung her smock on the back of a chair, then joined Mary in the chairs facing Darcy and Elizabeth.
“Mr. Darcy, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Jane sweetly inquired. “I can tell this is not a social call.”
“Ladies, we have a serious situation in Meryton presently, which unfortunately involves you, Mr. George Wickham and myself.”
“Lt Wickham?”
“Mr. Wickham wants to make a fortune by ransoming one or more of you, because he has a history with me and also because he knows that Mr. Bingley and I will pay.”
“Lt. Wickham was the cruel man who abducted us?” Mary said horrified.
“Yes, Miss Mary. There is little room for doubt.”
“Oh! He seemed such a polite gentleman.”
“Mr. Bingley and I found you, and before the day was over, our ransom money in the form of bank drafts was stolen in route from London to Meryton.”
“So,” Elizabeth summarized, “you and Mr. Bingley were to pay our ransom.”
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” her father said. “We thought it was the only way to secure your release.”
“We found you, as our runners were on their way to London to acquire the bank drafts. Wickham discovered that you were released and lay in wait for our footmen on the London Road. Luckily they were robbed five miles out of Meryton at two in the afternoon, which was too late to cash the drafts that day.”
“Wonder why he didn’t go further up the road to London,” Elizabeth cleverly opined.
“Probably by the time he found you ladies missing, five miles was as far as he could travel. I assume he passed our runners on the way and doubled back to attack them.”
“He is certainly a clever one on the extemporaneous front,” Elizabeth said, her fine eyes flashing with anger.
“Miss Elizabeth, all is well so far. Mr. Bingley and I and our solicitors cancelled the drafts before Wickham could cash them.”
“Good.”
“Therein lies our newest dilemma.”
“Oh?”
“We are fairly confident that he will try again.”
/> “You cannot pay the ransom.”
“We must.”
*****
At that moment Julia and Mrs. Hill arrived with tea and scones and marmalade. Elizabeth rose to serve the tea. Kitty assisted with the scones and jam.
“Where is Mr. Bingley?” Jane finally asked.
“He went to Meryton to retrieve Miss Lydia. We want you all to know the severity of the future risk. You must never venture our alone, and when you do go out, it would be preferable to be escorted by a man servant, when at all possible.”
“Surely not!”
“He did drug you last time, so unless he tries that ploy again, I imagine two ladies will deter him. But never at night.”
“And if he comes at us with an opiate?”
“Shoot him,” Darcy answered, grinning.
A short time later, the front doorbell rang. Mrs. Hill’s footsteps scurried down the front hall. The front door slammed and boots clattered on the hardwood with two lighter treads close behind. Bingley burst into the room, barely behind the flustered Mrs. Hill, and followed by the chagrined Mrs. Chambers.
“Mr. Bingley, sir,” Mrs. Hill announced.
“Darcy, we looked everywhere. No one in Meryton has seen Miss Lydia.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Chambers expanded, “we even went to the check with the Longs and Mrs. Phillips and finally at Lucas Hall.”
Darcy sprang from his seat, as did Elizabeth. “What!” Elizabeth and Darcy shouted in unison.
“Maybe she walked off the path,” Mary soothed.
“Perhaps,” Darcy said, calming. “Miss Kitty, do you know a route your sister might choose instead of the lane between Longbourn and Meryton?”
“No, that is not the solution. Lydia does not like to get her hem dirty. She is not a walker.”
“Miss Mary, Miss Bennet, is there a friend we didn’t consider?” Bingley requested.
“Just the wife of Colonel Forster, the ranking officer of the militia. Lydia is a close friend of the colonel’s wife,” Jane answered.