Rapacity & Rancor

by Abbey North

  Lizzy shared the news over dinner, enduring her mother’s crowing. It was a similar situation the next morning when they sat down for breakfast, with Mrs. Bennet still going on about how her plan would likely work. No doubt, Mr. Bingley would call on Douglas in a matter of days to request his permission to marry Jane.

  Lizzy barely held back the urge to roll her eyes. “They have known each other but a few days, Mama. How could they possibly be in love yet?”

  “Love comes later. As long as he is infatuated with her, that is all she needs to secure marriage. Your sister is far too well-bred to acknowledge or give in to his manly needs beforehand.”

  Lizzy didn’t know exactly what she meant, but she got the gist of it, and she didn’t want to hear her mother say another word about that. Fortunately, her father interrupted then.

  “You must be well pleased with yourself, Fanny. Your machinations have worked, and your daughter is now at Netherfield.” Her father’s lips twitched. “No doubt, she shall remain there as the mistress. I daresay, with the way you have planned it, she is likely to not even need to return home. We shall simply cart her trunks along the day we attend her wedding there.”

  “Mr. Bennet, why must you insist on teasing me so? My nerves—”

  Douglas grinned. “Yes, my dear, I am well aware of your nerves. They have been my companion these many long years.”

  Lizzy’s lips twitched as Kitty coughed to stifle a giggle. Both girls received a glare from Fanny, but she didn’t rebuke the youngest Bennet daughter or Lizzy, because there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Hill bustled in a few moments later, taking the missive in her hand to Mrs. Bennet.

  Lizzy wished she had gotten first as Fanny opened it and crowed with delight. “Oh, how marvelous.”

  “Is that the wedding invitation already?” asked Douglas, lips twitching again.

  “Do not be silly, Douglas. Jane is ill.”

  Lizzy frowned. “How is that marvelous, and how can you sound so happy?”

  “I am certain it is nothing more than a trifling cold from being exposed to the rain. She shall recover nicely, but in the interim, this will give her time to become further acquainted with Mr. Bingley. Indeed, this is remarkable. It happened just as I had hoped.”

  “Yes, your plans will no doubt result in a visit to the vicar for our dear daughter—whether it be for her wedding ceremony or her interment remains to be seen, my dear.”

  Lizzy was amused by her father’s comment, though she wanted to be sure Jane was quite on the road to recovery before she allowed herself to laugh at his words. It seemed unlikely, but it was possible for Jane to succumb to her illness if it were severe enough. Young, healthy people died every day, so she refused to treat it as a laughing matter. “I am going to Meryton to fetch the apothecary. I shall take Mr. Jones with me to Netherfield. Have you any objection, Papa?”

  “I do not. Take the carriage, my girl, and you can get Mr. Jones there that much faster.”

  “Thank you, Papa.” Lizzy abandoned the remains of her breakfast and pushed back from the table. “I shall return with news of Jane.”

  “Do praise her for being a clever girl.” Those words came from Fanny.

  Lizzy let herself roll her eyes this time, since she wasn’t facing her mother. “Yes, I shall be sure to compliment her on her ability to acquire a cold. Let us hope she can acquire a husband just as easily.”

  “Quite a sensible viewpoint,” said Fanny, clearly missing Lizzy’s sarcasm. That was hardly surprising.

  It didn’t take long to have the driver ready the carriage, and they reached Meryton in no time. The carriage drew up outside Mr. Jones’s apothecary shop, and the driver opened the door for her, offering her a hand to step down. She was careful to steer clear of the mud underneath the step as she walked around the carriage and into the building.

  She was surprised to find Mr. Jones in an agitated state. Constable Walters was with him, and she grimaced. The man was a bumbling fool, and his title was mostly honorary, gained by an advantageous, if short, marriage before his wife died. She had been a cousin of Lord Lucas’s and died before she marked her first anniversary with Walters. Meryton rarely required his services, but when they did, he was inept. It was no secret among anyone who lived there.

  “What has happened?” she asked Mr. Jones.

  “Some of my supplies have been stolen. A ruffian took herbs, poultices, and my very best mortar and pestle, made from pure marble.” Mr. Jones looked like he might cry in despair. “It was a gift from my parents, one they could ill-afford, but they were so proud of me when I set up my own shop.” He sniffled. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Lizzy frowned. “Yours is not the first theft of which I have heard these past few days, Mr. Jones. Have other thefts been reported to you, Constable Walters?”

  Walters seemed startled to be the center of attention for a moment, and he cleared his throat. He was a balding man with pink cheeks, and though he was old enough to be her father, he looked at her in a repulsively lecherous fashion that made Lizzy glad she was wearing a Spencer coat over her modest day gown.

  “Mrs. Shaw reported someone stealing a pie from her windowsill last week. Mr. Eddins had a chicken taken a couple of days ago. In that case, it was most probably a fox, though he insisted there were no holes in his fence. He kept fixating on the fact his latch was out of place. I told him he must have done that himself.”

  Lizzy conceded that was a possibility, but she was more inclined to trust the judgment of Mr. Eddins than Constable Walters. “What of the pie?”

  He shrugged. “Probably some boys on a lark.”

  “What about Mrs. Hofstetter’s missing necklace?”

  The constable frowned. “She tried to file a report, but I assured her she simply misplaced it. She is a woman, and your fair sex cannot be relied upon to keep track of all the finer details.”

  Lizzy gritted her teeth, doing her best not to snap at him. “You refused to take a report of the crime?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Though it is most likely a result of her faulty memory, what am I to do about the theft of a necklace anyway? If she wants it returned, she must place an ad offering a reward.”

  Lizzy understood that was the way of things, and the village constable, even if competent, could rarely recover stolen property, but Walters didn’t even seem to go through the motions of being competent. “What about Mr. Barker’s stolen whiskey, or the French lace missing from Madame St. Croix’s shop?”

  The constable shrugged. “I hadn’t heard of anybody stealing from the Frenchy. As for Mr. Barker, he does serve a disreputable lot from time to time. Likely, some of his customers swindled him out of it. It happens and is a risk of the profession, I wager.”

  Lizzy rubbed the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache of frustration. “Do you not see a pattern though, Constable Walters? Surely, it is abnormal to have so many thefts in such a short amount of time? Does anyone know when the first theft was reported?”

  Mr. Jones cleared his throat. “I believe it was several weeks ago, when someone stole a straight razor from the barber.”

  Lizzy hadn’t heard about that, but she narrowed her eyes as she counted back the weeks. “Might that have coincided with about the time the militia arrived?”

  Constable Walters shrugged. “Perhaps. What of it?”

  “Perhaps our thief is a member of the militia.”

  Walters scowled. “What fantasy. The men in the militia are here for our protection. They certainly are not going around stealing from us, young lady. To suggest otherwise is outrageous.”

  “But the timing—”

  “Not another word of this disrespectful drivel.” The constable turned to Mr. Jones. “I have taken note of your theft, and should any evidence turn up, I will inform you. Otherwise, I suggest you place an advert, as Mrs. Hofstetter should do.” He added those words in a scathing tone as he looked at Elizabeth before walking past her.

  Mr. Jones seemed unsettled, but he
blinked after a moment. “May I help you with something, Miss Bennet?”

  Lizzy quickly explained her sister’s illness and had him and a bag of his supplies in the carriage a short time later. She was anxious to check on Jane, but her mind kept returning to the thefts, looking for a pattern and half-convinced she’d already found it.

  5

  Lizzy paced around the sitting room where she had been relegated upon arrival with Mr. Jones, sharing the space with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hurst, and Mrs. Hurst. She’d heard from Mrs. Hurst that Miss Bingley was currently abed with a headache. Lizzy couldn’t help wondering if it was the kind of headache that occurred when she’d realized Lizzy had arrived.

  “If you do not cease your pacing, your prints will wear a new pattern into the rug, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy.

  She looked up, startled to hear the tone of amusement in his voice. She nodded absently, stopping her pacing as she came over to sit on the settee. It was closer to him than she’d like to be, but she squeezed her hands together and tried to endure. She sat quietly for a few minutes, not realizing she was fidgeting by pleating her skirt until Mr. Darcy said, “I fear your dress is now receiving similar treatment to our poor rug. Is any fiber safe from you, madam?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she was preparing an angry retort when she realized he was teasing her gently. She was startled by it, wondering if perhaps he was trying to distract her from her fear for Jane by the unaccustomed behavior he displayed. She’d certainly never seen anything carefree about him before, though to be fair, they had rarely interacted. Even yesterday, they had exchanged no more than a dozen words when he’d joined them at Longbourn for tea.

  “I daresay any fabric you prefer shall be quite safe from me, Mr. Darcy, for I doubt we have any taste in common.”

  He arched a brow. “Indeed. I confess a preference for woolen socks. They are most toasty, particularly on a winter’s evening, and they hold up well when one is slogging through the pond to retrieve a duck.”

  Lizzy frowned. “I must confess, I can hardly imagine you in that position. Would you not have a dog or servants for such things?”

  He smiled. “Indeed, I have three very fine dogs, and I do have a very fine servant indeed, but upon occasion, one must fend for oneself.”

  “This is a skill you have managed to acquire, Mr. Darcy? You have the ability to fend for yourself?” She made no effort to hide her disbelief, in fact intensifying it in hopes he would consider it banter. She was attempting to interact with him on the same level, but on a deeper level, she really could not believe he’d ever ventured into a pond to retrieve his own duck.

  “I have survived six-and-twenty years by my own devices, Miss Bennet. You should look to me for wisdom and guidance.” He sounded so sanctimonious it had to be an affectation for her amusement. Surely.

  She couldn’t help a small laugh. “You are but six years older than me, and while you are practically a wizened paragon of wisdom, I am quite adept at taking care of myself as well.”

  “I do not doubt that.” He was unexpectedly serious for a moment, and she wondered where his thoughts had wondered.

  It chilled her that he might be thinking about her mother and father, deeming them unfit parents that had forced her to practically raise herself, as though she were a wild animal. Deciding she was overthinking it, she didn’t call him on it. “You have been writing that letter for a long time, Mr. Darcy.”

  His lips twitched. “I am flattered you have noted the time I have spent on this letter to my dear sister, Miss Bennet. She will be joining us shortly, and I want to ensure she has everything she needs.”

  She smiled in a simpering fashion. “It is difficult not to notice when I have nothing else to occupy my thoughts, and you have engaged exclusively in the letter writing since my arrival.”

  “Not exclusively. I have managed to tear myself away long enough to look out for the excellent rug.”

  Lizzy was surprised by how his smile changed his face. It was most definitely the first real one he’d given her, and though it barely changed the tilt of his lips, moving them slightly upward, the motion caused a crinkling at the sides of his mouth and warmed his eyes. He was almost breathtaking, and she couldn’t help wondering what he would look like in full joy.

  She quickly squashed the speculation as she reminded herself he had no right to feel joy after what he had done to Mr. Wickham. After being such an insufferable boor at the Assembly ball, he merited prolonged discomfort, but for the actions against Mr. Wickham, he deserved to live his days in wretched misery.

  Recalling why she so strongly objected to him, she sat back and made no attempt to further engage with him. When she started tapping her foot lightly, he didn’t point out the tic to her this time, though he did say, “Your sister will be well.”

  She nodded, disconcerted by the soothing tone of voice he’d used. He seemed to want to take away some of her anxiety, and such concern was an unexpected thing from Mr. Darcy.

  “Indeed, it is for you I fear far more than your sister,” he said quietly and unexpectedly.

  She blinked as she looked at him again. “I beg your pardon?”

  His face was pinched now as he frowned in disapproval. “The company you keep is not good for a young woman, Miss Bennet. You would do well to preserve your reputation and heart by steering clear of a rake like George Wickham.”

  Lizzy gasped her outrage. “You dare criticize Mr. Wickham after what you have done?” She ignored his sharp frown. “The very hypocrisy.” With a shake of her head, she got to her feet and started pacing again, this time moving to the farthest point in the library from him, so she wouldn’t even accidentally interact with him.

  A short time later, there was a knock at the door, and Mr. Jones entered. He held his hat in one hand and his black bag in the other. “I left medicine for Miss Jane, but I recommend she not be moved until the rattle in her lungs has dissipated.”

  Lizzy surged forward. “Will she be all right?”

  “I see no reason to think otherwise. Miss Jane is in good health, and I have seen her but twice in her life, both times for trifling colds like this one. I expect she shall rebound within a day or two and be well enough to return home. In the interim, she must rest as much as possible, and be sure to give her the medications I have left behind. I also left instructions.”

  “I shall see to it,” said Lizzy.

  “Of course, you must stay too,” said Bingley then.

  Lizzy smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I do appreciate your extended hospitality for myself and my sister. You could hardly have expected tea would become a three-day stay.” She tried to laugh it off, but she felt self-conscious as she recalled her mother’s maneuverings, which had led to this.

  Mr. Bingley seemed fine with that. “Do pass along my well wishes to your sister, and I hope you shall join us for dinner. I will continue to send a servant to check on her on an hourly basis.”

  “Most generous of you.” Lizzy didn’t commit to dinner, hoping she could avoid the idea entirely. She didn’t want to spend much time in the presence of the unpleasant people composing Bingley’s party. Mr. Bingley himself was the exception, being a charming and open fellow, with none of the hauteur or disdain of Mr. Darcy and the others.

  Jane was coherent enough to insist Lizzy go down for dinner. “It would be rude not to when they are kind enough to host us. I only wish I could join you.” She paused as a deep cough racked her body.

  Lizzy frowned. “I feel I should stay here with you.”

  Jane smiled gently. “I will be doing naught but sleeping, dear sister. If you must, you can send in a maid to sit with me while you eat, but I insist you take care of yourself.”

  “I could have a tray sent up.”

  Jane frowned. “That would simply create more work for the staff. No, you must interact and be a gracious guest. Mother would be a stickler for decorum, you know.” Jane’s eyes sparkled, not just from fever, as she said the words before she coug
hed again. It had started as a laugh before becoming the thick, raspy sound.

  Lizzy tried once more. “You do not sound well. I would feel better if I stayed with you.”

  “I would feel better if you represented us with manners and showed we are all not from the same mold, dear sister.” There was a hint of sharpness in Jane’s tone that was rarely there. “Please represent the Bennet family as we should be.”

  Lizzy realized Jane was counting on her to make a good impression with the rest of the guests, hoping to counter whatever sense Fanny Bennet had left upon them. She thought it was already a lost cause, but she sighed in defeat, realizing this was something Jane needed from her—more than she needed her to bathe her brow or watch her sleep to ensure she didn’t stop breathing. That was unlikely anyway, and this was a more tangible thing she could do for Jane. “Very well.”

  With a resigned sigh, she found herself leaving Jane’s room a short time later and venturing through the house, guided by instructions from Mr. Fellows, the butler, to find the dining room. When she entered, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy immediately stood up. After a brief hesitation, Mr. Hurst did the same, and she smiled at them while she took her seat before they returned to theirs.

  “I am almost surprised to see you. I thought you would be nursing your sister. Her health is why you are here, is it not?” asked Caroline in an arch tone.

  Lizzy gritted her teeth and managed what she hoped was a bland smile. “Jane insisted. She wanted to be certain I would eat so I can take care of her. She is a thoughtful girl.”

  “Indeed, she is. She is most kind and compassionate. I do not recall when I have met someone of her sterling character before,” said Bingley.

  Lizzy’s lips twitched as he waxed poetically about Jane for the next minute before he finally regained control of himself. She was pleased to see her sister’s tendre was certainly reciprocated.

  “How is Miss Jane?” asked Mrs. Hurst, who seemed to simply because it was expected and not because she cared about the answer.