The desk in Netherfield’s library, as usual, left his muscles with a deep ache. While total proof of it being the desk’s fault rather than the tension of two kidnappings and a few nights of sleeping wherever he happened to be sitting, Darcy still chose to lay blame upon the silent wooden surface–a welcome exercise given how he laid blame upon himself for nearly everything else.
Nothing had yet to go right in his and Elizabeth’s inquiries and search. First, everyone hated him after the assembly and had no wish to speak to him. Then, no trace of the elusive E. N. Emy could be found. And now, whispers surrounding why Mary had been absent at her celebration had spread like fire, in spite of having at first convinced everyone that Mary had been taken ill and was recovering at Netherfield. Admittedly, the lack of any physician had been a sore spot in the belief of their neighbours, yet still, they had accepted it… what had changed now? And, more importantly, where could his cousin and Miss Mary be?he wondered, the pile of notes and theories he and Elizabeth had compiled taunting him.
Observing the rising sun as he stood from the desk, Darcy wiped a hand over his jaw.Thankfully, rereading Aunt’s letter had done a world of good. True, he had had reservations inwriting as he did, yet, there were few other options–he had to send the three letters. And given the gravity of the situation, Bingley would not mind upon finding out, even if it meant they were one servant down. No, one footman, sent late at night to London would not be missed too much for the length of a single day. Not to mention the man had glowed with excitement at the four pounds he had been given for his effort.
Indeed, Bingley’s acceptance would be easily reached, and, if all went well, an answer to their problems would appear before the day was done… If only Elizabeth’s good opinion might be as easily reached.
He should have discussed it with her of course, before he had sent them, what with her sister’s life in danger, but surely, Elizabeth would welcome the help. Would she not?Frowning at the apprehension his own question wrought, Darcy dreaded the answer.
“Darcy, did you sleep in here again?” Bingley chuckled, Darcy’s gaze drawn upward as Bingley strolled past the bookcases. “I am beginning to think you dislike your room, or else, have an unusually strong affinity for my desk. Either way, it is rather worrying.”
With a sigh, Darcy forced his lips upwards, “It is a rather fine desk, though horrid to sleep at. I may have slept here a few hours, yet, if I had had any vivacity left, believe me, I would have climbed the stairs and made good use of that room… Oh,” he added as he stifled a yawn, “I fear one of your servants, Timothy Hines, will be absent without your approval today; I sent him on an errand late last night.”
“An errand?” Bingley asked, his brows raised. “It must have been urgent to do so as late as that.”
“It was. This mess with my cousin and Miss Mary is not yet resolved. I may manage the sum asked for, though between the thirty they ask for him and the thirty they ask for her it is all but beyond me. Even so, there is no guarantee of their release. If Wickham is behind this, I fear for their safety.”
“So, you wrote for help?” Bingley surmised.
“Three men. All knowing my cousin. And all not only capable in combat, but each possessing certain skills and connections which should help in this.” Shoulders lifting, he apologized, “I am sorry I can say no more; I myself would not even know of their existence were it not for Fitz’s penchant for lemon tarts. He brought those men to my home in the middle of the night, raided my kitchens, and used my study as a base. Imagine my surprise when I came down, half dressed and pistol in hand, only to find three strange men imbibing an enormous number of lemon tarts; crumbs everywhere, and my cousin sitting, booted feet upon my desk, and asking me to point‘that thing’elsewhere.”
“Should I have rooms made up for them?” Bingley hurried, a hand gesturing in the general direction of the sleeping quarters.
“They may or may not all come here,” Darcy admitted, “though I would be surprised if at least one did not. Yes. It would be best to prepare rooms for them. If it is not a bother?”
“No. No bother. After all, the lives of your cousin and Miss Mary may rest in your decision.”
Nodding, Darcy moved past his friend, the weight of Bingley’s words uncomfortable, “Thank you, Bingley,” he mumbled. “You have been a good friend.”
∞∞∞
Several hours later, as had become their habit when the weather proved fine, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth met at the edge of the woods to discuss ideas and any information they may have learnt. Though he had been hesitant to allow her to traverse the distance between Longbourn and Netherfield alone, she had quickly reminded him that he could neither allow nor disallow anything regarding her movements. Well rebuked, though nonetheless worried, he had reminded her of the dangers and asked, if nothing else, that she be careful. In this she had acquiesced, but with no small amount of indignation on her part, and no small amount of worry still present on his.
“Darcy!” she shouted as she raced toward him, her volume lowering as she came to a stop beside him. “I think we have a breakthrough. It is too much of a coincidence to be anything else!” Eyes bright as she allowed his curiosity to be piqued, she continued, “There were rumours of the militia coming to Meryton some weeks back, but any dates for their arrival were far out, yet as of yesterday all of Meryton swarms with redcoats, one of whom I had the displeasure of meeting.”
“How does this have to do with finding my cousin or your sister?” he questioned, an unspoken weight within.Whoever the man proved to be, it was doubtful his sentiments would differ from Elizabeth’s.
“Mr. Wickham.”
“Wickham?” Every feature turning to disgust as he bit out the man’s name, Darcy sought to make sense of it. The very notion untenable. “Wickham? Working? And in the militia at that?”
Shoulders rising then falling, she answered, “It is odd. All the more so if he is the kidnapper. Yet, his arrival in the very place my sister was last seen cannot be a coincidence. Somehow, he is involved. And whatever reasons he has for suddenly joining the militia, he is not to be trusted. No sooner had I met him then he sought to bring you up in conversation, as if to gauge my response. Given all you said of his dislike of you, I thought it best to echo it.” Turning sorry eyes toward him, she added, “I apologize for that, yet, it proved useful. Wickham gave a far different explanation of past events, but more than that, the manner in which he spoke of your cousin and the way in which he asked if I had seen him. It all felt as if they were intended to press into your pain were you to hear. As if he knew your cousin did not have the usual freedoms.”
Brows raised, she looked behind her, waving branches and a few squirrels all that moved in the empty grove. “It may merely have been my imagination; our talk, knowing what I know, but I have felt eyes on me all day. And I think Wickham, in spite of his clever words and pleasing manners, has some part in all this. He must!”
Eyes moving over the area behind Elizabeth, Darcy’s heart raced.Would she be taken too? Would Wickham see to it that everyone was stolen from him?
No,he determined, his muscles stiff as he kept his gaze to the trees.He would not allow Elizabeth or anyone else he loved to suffer. No one else would be taken, of that, he would make certain. And whether she fought him on it or not, he would serve as Elizabeth’s protector in any way he might; for, once the depth of his regard and her involvement were known to Wickham, the danger would only grow.
“Come,” he said at last, the disquiet of Elizabeth palpable. “Perhaps we ought to move to the library; we can discuss Wickham further and what we might do.”
Forcing her attention to him she nodded even as her gaze drifted back to the trees, the back of his own neck prickling at the motion.
Heart pounding at some distant rustling in the woods, Darcy put himself between it and Elizabeth before forcing a smile as he motioned toward Netherfield’s clean, cream stones. “Shall we?”
Following her rather than offering his arm as had become his habit, Darcy allowed one last look toward the woods, his eyes squinted at what he could have sworn was a flash of colour.
Had it been an animal or a man?
