by Abbey North
“She is running a fever, and she has a nasty cough. I hope Mr. Jones is correct in his assessment she shall be back to normal, or at least well enough to move home, in the next couple of days.” Lizzy couldn’t wait to be home and away from the oppressive party at Netherfield. If she didn’t feel like Jane needed someone at her side, both as an ally and a caregiver, she would have kept herself at Longbourn to start with.
“What news is there from London?” asked Mr. Hurst abruptly, clearly done with the topic of Jane’s health.
“I do not know. I did not bother to have the paper delivered here,” said Bingley. He grinned, clearly unrepentant despite Mr. Hurst’s obvious disapproval. “I wanted to get away from London and immerse myself in the local scene. It matters not which duke’s daughter is having her coming out, or which matron insulted another at Almac’s. Here, none of that is a concern.”
“Whatever could be going on in this rusticated area that is more exciting than London?” asked Miss Bingley with a curl of her nose.
Before she could think better of it, Lizzy said, “We have had several thefts of late.”
“That is dreadful,” said Mrs. Hurst. She looked around, as though she expected them to be pillaged any moment. “Are we safe here?”
“It does not sound as if we are, dear sister,” said Miss Bingley. For her impassioned outburst, she looked remarkably unaffected. “I suggest we pack up and return to London right away. Of course, you and Miss Bennet must stay here until she has recovered, Miss Eliza.”
Lizzy grimaced, wondering why Miss Bingley had picked that name for her. Surely, she must have heard from someone that Elizabeth disliked it to have latched onto it. Only Charlotte called her Eliza, and that went back to the days when they would run through the lands of Longbourn or Lucas Lodge, pretending they were pirates.
Sometimes, they were princesses, though Miss Eliza and Miss Lottie were always the heroes in their pieces, not requiring a prince to rescue them. That bit of nostalgia allowed her to endure the nickname from Charlotte, and she thought about telling Miss Bingley she disliked it, but she was certain the woman would continue to use it, and at every given opportunity, if she revealed her distaste.
“I am certain you are quite safe. The thefts began a few weeks ago, and so far, they have been mostly trivial things.”
“Has something changed about the area?” asked Mr. Darcy unexpectedly. “Have new people arrived, for example?”
Miss Bingley laughed uncomfortably. “Surely you are not suggesting we are the thieves, Mr. Darcy?” She laughed with a high-pitched, shrill giggle she probably thought was quite fetching.
Lizzy shuddered at the sound, but she kept her attention focused on Mr. Darcy. “Indeed, the militia arrived about that time.” She braced herself, recalling Constable Walters’s overreaction to the suggestion. He had acted like she’d committed treason at just the very idea of suggesting one of the militia among them might not be strictly honorable.
His lips tightened. “Interesting timing. What a coincidence. We used to have such coincidences happen at Pemberley from time to time, but then they stopped almost a decade ago.”
There was surely some significance to his words, and Lizzy intuited he was perhaps implying Mr. Wickham had stolen from Pemberley. That was a foul thing to suggest, but she could hardly challenge him on it now and maintain good manners. Since she was here to represent the Bennet family on Jane’s behalf, she couldn’t get into an argument with her host’s guest. She just ignored him, not bothering to reply to that or look at him again throughout the rest of dinner.
6
Fitzwilliam paced around his bedchamber at Netherfield, wishing he could suppress the image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet from entering his thoughts. She was far too plain for his tastes. She wasn’t ugly by any means, and there was a certain charm and grace about her when she bothered to display it. Yet when contrasted with Miss Jane or women of his acquaintance in London, she was certainly understated in appearance, and he would much prefer an Incomparable to someone so ordinary.
He couldn’t deny she had a quick mind, and it was almost as sharp as her tongue. Whatever he had done to run afoul of her, she was unlikely to forgive it. Why it mattered to him, he couldn’t say. She was nothing more than a country girl he should be able to quickly banish from his thoughts whenever she wasn’t around—and once Miss Jane was sufficiently recovered enough to return home, she would be gone from them again. Surely, he would stop thinking about her at that point.
They’d already been at Netherfield for almost two days, and he was hopeful tomorrow Miss Jane would be able to go home. He braced himself, already having received word that evening via Miss Caroline that Mrs. Bennet intended to call on them tomorrow to see if Jane was ready to go home. He had no doubt she’d bring along her other daughters, though Douglas Bennet would likely not be with them. The man seemed to dislike social interaction, which was one commonality they shared.
Darcy preferred to engage in conversation with close acquaintances and keep his circle small. He didn’t fare well with meeting new people, finding it difficult to relate to them and obtain common ground.
That must be why he was so stressed to have Miss Bennet in Charles’s house. After all, he was quite familiar and close to everyone else in Bingley’s party—though not as close as Miss Caroline would like, he conceded with a twitch of his lips. He did his best to dissuade her, but he feared she intended to drag him to the altar by hook or crook. That necessarily kept him on guard around her.
Yet he had found himself doing the opposite with Miss Bennet. She’d spent some time downstairs yesterday in the library, and he had engaged her in conversation again. At first, she had been cool and distant with him, but as they’d engaged in a lively discourse about the merits of Socrates’s methods, she’d forgotten to hold him at arm’s length, and for a few moments, they’d had true accord, though they had shared opposite opinions. That was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and he longed to have it occur again.
That he was thinking such thoughts were dangerous, and he did his best to push them away. It would be better to prepare himself to endure the Bennet visit on the morrow than think about Miss Bennet and her fine eyes.
The visit was as unpleasant as he had anticipated, with Mrs. Bennet being gauche and entirely too forward. She’d dared argue with him about the social scene of Meryton, contrasting it favorably with London by saying there were four-and-twenty families they dined with on a regular basis. It’d taken all he had not to laugh in her face at that point, but he did not want to be unkind.
She was beneath him in every way, including education and social standing, and he was not one to prey on the weakness of others. Unlike some that he knew, he did not find bullying gratifying or empowering. Instead, he had somehow managed to maintain a gentlemanly façade and had even once earned a look of sympathy from Lizzy herself. That had seemed like a small victory, and he savored it now as the Bennets prepared to depart.
Miss Jane was walking between Lizzy and her mother, leaning heavily on both of them, but she looked better. Other than having to pause for a rest twice, she made steady progress to the waiting carriage a few minutes later. Darcy struggled to appear unaffected when he held out a hand to offer Elizabeth assistance into the carriage, and she took it.
Touching her was like a jolt of electricity shooting through his body, and he had to consciously focus on not tightening his hold on her hand. It took considerable effort to make himself let go when she was seated. He flexed his hand at his side, savoring the feel of the warmth through her glove. He was unexpectedly glad he’d not worn gloves himself that day, for it would have been another barrier.
He was being far too ridiculous. Feeling the need to clear his thoughts, he waited until the carriage departed before rushing to the stables. He retrieved Goliath, and the black stallion seemed eager to see him. No doubt, the horse would appreciate a good run, and after the groom prepared him, Darcy mounted, uncaring he wasn’t wearing ri
ding clothes, and let Goliath gallop away from the stables.
The horse ran quickly, and Darcy let him have his head for the most part, enjoying the freedom of a good ride for both of them. It left him feeling calmer and in a better frame of mind. She had almost fled his thoughts, or so he told himself, so for a moment, he swore he was hallucinating when he saw Lizzy as Goliath turned the corner.
She was walking ahead of them on the road, but she hadn’t seen them yet. Moved by a compulsion he couldn’t explain, Darcy dismounted the horse and left Goliath to graze in the field. Goliath would come when called, or he would find his way back to Netherfield on his own. He was a well-trained horse.
He thought about approaching her, but then he realized she might be sneaking into Meryton to meet with Wickham. There was an air of furtiveness about her that suggested she didn’t want anyone to see her, and that was what raised his suspicions. He could not allow her to meet with Wickham. Even if she were the basest woman he’d ever met, he could not permit her to risk her reputation in such a fashion—and she was nowhere near base.
He thought about interceding, warning her away from the idea, but he knew she was unlikely to listen to him. Even if he thwarted this meeting, she would simply set up another. No, it was better to follow her, catch her in the act, and hopefully shame at least her into better behavior, because he knew there was no shame remaining in George Wickham.
He followed her at a distance, hanging back as far as he could until they reached Meryton. At that point, he felt confident moving a little closer. He was surprised when her first destination was the barbershop. What possible reason could Miss Bennet have for visiting the men’s barber? He shook his head as Lizzy moved closer, thankful she had left the door open so he could overhear the conversation.
“I wanted to ask you about the theft that occurred, Mr. Cravvy.”
His eyes widened at the question. It was simply unexpected, though she had no other plausible reason for visiting the barber that he could see either.
“It was a fine silver straight razor, handcrafted in Switzerland.” Clearly, the barber knew exactly to what she referred, and he had no hesitation discussing it. “I bought it after saving a long time to celebrate having my shop for ten years.” He sounded choked up for a moment.
“I am terribly sorry, Mr. Cravvy. Do you recall if the militia was already here when it was stolen?”
As Darcy listened, there was a pause. “I do believe they had just arrived perhaps a few days before, Miss Bennet. Why?”
“No reason,” said Lizzy in a breezy fashion. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Cravvy. I do hope Constable Walters will find the razor.”
The unseen Mr. Cravvy let out a snort. “I do not believe Constable Walters could find his as…hat with his hand.”
Darcy’s lips spasmed, recognizing just exactly what the barber had been about to say before he remembered himself. Realizing Lizzy was leaving, he darted around the corner. He was reluctant to be caught following her, but he still had to rule out the possibility she was meeting with Wickham.
He followed her as she went around the village, stopping to speak with a farmer, and another woman at a cottage with a thatched roof. When she stopped moving around, pausing in a nearby field to lean against a tree after speaking with the last woman, she appeared deep in thought. That was a striking look for her, and he was unable to deny the compulsion to move closer. He cleared his throat as he approached, standing respectfully before her. “Good afternoon, Miss Bennet.”
Her eyes widened as she saw him standing before her, and he couldn’t tell exactly what she was feeling, but he suspected dismay was the main component. “Mr. Darcy, I did not expect to see you again so soon.” She sounded unhappy.
He shrugged a shoulder. “To be honest, I followed you.”
Her eyes widened, and her posture straightened as she pressed her back against the tree. “I beg your pardon?”
He waved a hand. “I saw you walking to Meryton and followed. I was simply concerned you might be meeting with an undesirable party, but instead, you are questioning people. I would like to know why.”
“I would point out that is none of your affair, Mr. Darcy.” She glared at him.
Exasperation had him clamping his lips. “Perhaps your father would like to pose the question to you instead?”
She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him. “I am doing nothing that is worth blackmailing me, Mr. Darcy.”
He laughed. “I am hardly blackmailing you. I am simply requesting you tell me what you are doing.” He also wanted to reassure himself she wasn’t meeting with Wickham.
After a moment, she sighed. “Very well. If you must know, I wanted to learn more about the robberies that happened here. I was hoping to figure out who is purloining objects from residents and businesses in Meryton. I have a theory, and I was testing it.”
“Is your theory that someone in the militia is doing the thieving?”
She hardly seemed startled that he had reached the same conclusion. “I confess, my thoughts leaned that way—well before you suggested such a thing at dinner that day, Mr. Darcy.” There was an air of challenge about her as she said that, and she clearly didn’t want him to think she was stealing his idea or relying on a theory he had offered.
His lips twitched. “I would never have the audacity to think you might have benefited from my assistance earlier. No doubt, a woman with your lively mind had already reached that conclusion. Have you interrogated anyone in the militia yet?”
She looked uncomfortable then. “I was trying to figure out how to do so, Mr. Darcy.”
“While you figure it out, perhaps we could walk to the barracks together? It you would be inappropriate for you to approach to conduct your investigation alone.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in the most becoming fashion that required him to tear his gaze away quickly before he started thinking about what those lips might taste like. “You are not trying to stop me?”
He frowned. “Why should I? It is not my place, and I confess I too am curious. I do wonder why a finely bred young woman such as yourself would enmesh herself into an investigation of this sordid business though?”
She seemed to think he was insulting her through subtle sarcasm. “I am a woman of fine breeding, and I know decorum.”
He kept his tone gentle. “I was not trying to imply otherwise, Miss Bennet. I simply wondered what your motives are?”
After a moment, her shoulders relaxed, and her arms dropped to her sides as she took a step toward him. “I have been cursed with inquisitiveness. My mother has done her best to stamp out the trait of curiosity. After all, it is most unbecoming to want to know anything about the world around you and pure impertinence to question things…” She trailed off, clicking her tongue. “Most unladylike.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, I am certain every gentleman would prefer a woman who plods through life without a thought in her head and makes no effort to question anything around her.”
Lizzy gave him a genuine smile, and it made his chest constrict. “Now you understand, Mr. Darcy. With five daughters and no sons, my mother is most preoccupied with marrying us off, so she has endeavored to make us the best future wives possible.” Apparently, she realized she was being too honest, even at the pursuit of highlighting her mother’s idiosyncrasies, and she must not want to confide in him.
Her expression changed, becoming more serious. “It is simply my own nature that drives me to know what happened. That, and Constable Walters…” She trailed off with a grimace. “He is exceptionally unproductive even for a village constable. I fear the man could not find a connection between points A and B if the lines were already drawn for him.”
Darcy stifled a laugh of amusement at her words. “Surely, he cannot be all that bad.”
Lizzy didn’t bother to reply. “If you are intent on offering assistance, I suggest we go now. There will be a change of the guard soon, and if I am not mistaken, Mr. Denny
should be available for a short time. He is the soldier I know best, since he is Lydia’s favorite.”
Fitzwilliam held out his arm, almost surprised when she deigned to take it, and they strolled together through the streets of Meryton, moving to the barracks. They stood together quietly for a few moments as the soldiers came and went until Lizzy recognized the one she was looking for. He’d seen him at the Bennets’ household before for tea, so he assumed this was Mr. Denny.
Lizzy rushed toward him, waving at him as Darcy followed right behind her. His gaze was alert for Wickham, but he saw no sign of the other man.
Lizzy spent the first few minutes talking to Mr. Denny about inconsequential things, and Darcy did his best to contribute here and there, but he wasn’t one for small talk. He felt uncomfortable and unnatural. Once they had discussed the weather, the day’s training events leaving Mr. Denny’s calf muscles screaming with protest, and the trifle the man was looking forward to having for dessert, Lizzy asked, “Have you heard about the thefts, Mr. Denny?”
“I have heard rumblings,” said Mr. Denny.
“It is a good thing the militia is here, should we find the thief in our midst. Tell me, have any of the soldiers been victims of theft?” asked Lizzy.
Mr. Denny appeared deep in thought. “Not that I…no, I take that back. Yes, Bamford had an exceptionally fine quill pen stolen from him, though I suppose it might have been misplaced. He insisted it was removed from his trunk though.”
“Is that all?” asked Lizzy.
“Now that you mention it, Carson and Peters argued the other day. They were contending each had stolen the other’s snuff, because their stashes were quite depleted. They share a section, so their trunks are side-by-side. I dismissed it as one of them getting into the wrong trunk, but perhaps there was more to it?”
Lizzy quickly thanked Mr. Denny for his time, and they were soon walking away. She looked dejected, and he couldn’t help asking, “What troubles you, Miss Bennet?”