∞∞∞
Inquiries sent, tasks assigned, and the sun setting, Darcy left to see Elizabeth home, though not alone as he might have preferred, for first Bingley took it as an opportunity to visit Jane, and then Lord Lightcliffe chose to join their party in the hope of learning more about Miss Mary. The latter at least possessed a reason none could truly frown upon, the first, well, if asked before he met Miss Elizabeth, Darcy would not have sympathized with Bingley’s plight as he now did. Still, as Mrs. Bennet ushered them all inside, his desire for solitude with Miss Elizabeth could not be denied.
Might we not have had a few moments alone,Darcy thought tersely as he sat inside Longbourn’s drawing room, the space near bursting between the Bennet family and all their guests.
Glancing over at Elizabeth, the many hours spent in one another's company came to mind.What had brought them together might only be described as dreadful, and yet, from it he had grown closer to her than anyone before.Brows drawing inward, Darcy could have sworn she had been viewing him with a peculiar warmness.Did she feel the same?Head turning toward Lord Lightcliffe as he artfully inquired of Mary, the truth of their situation returned.Whatever he and Elizabeth might feel for one another, it would have to delay until Fitz and Mary had been brought safely home.
“I have heard rumour that at least one amongst you plays rather well,” Lord Lightcliffe remarked as he gestured toward the pianoforte.
Head held high, Mrs. Bennet answered with no small amount of satisfaction, “That would be my Mary. Perhaps you have seen her at Netherfield? She is prodigiously talented at music, and, as my husband could tell you, she reads a great deal. Is that not true?” she prodded her husband.
Starting, Mr. Bennet gave a swift, “Of course, dear,” before rising with some excuse as to an aching head and scurrying to his study.
Mrs. Bennet in all ways unperturbed, gave Mr. Bingley and Lord Lightcliffe wide smiles, her attention wholly passing over Darcy as she said, “Naturally, Mary is not the only of my daughters who possess great talents, Jane here can sing with the voice of an angel, and her beauty is unmatched.”
Face pinking softly, Jane shifted the conversation, “Lord Lightcliffe, I gather you arrived this morning from London. Is your presence a result of recent… commotions?”
“Commotions, what commotions?” Mrs. Bennet frowned for half a moment before drawing forward, eyes alight. “Is there something I do not know?”
“I believe Miss Bennet refers to the militia taking residence in Meryton,” Lord Lightcliffe clarified to Mrs. Bennet, the true meaning kept hidden as he turned to Jane, “Yes, in a way it has brought me here.”
Their eyes fixed upon one another, the eldest of the Bennet daughters and Lord Lightcliffe became silent, a silence Bingley was quick to end. “They bring a great deal of activity to a town; a sea of red coats ready to share their pay with any shopkeep theymeet. Given how hard it is for a man in trade to make a living, I am certain the additional income is appreciated. What is your opinion, Miss Bennet?”
And so, the conversation continued, Bingley working to keep Lord Lightcliffe well out of the conversation, whilst Miss Jane Bennet did everything to return him to it. Though entertaining and disturbing in turn, Darcy’s attention often drifted; in pleasant moments to Miss Elizabeth, and in others to the strange, unhelpful clues as to who else might be involved in the kidnappings. Yet, in all things, he could only pray a satisfactory conclusion. Eyes pulling to Elizabeth his heart quickened,Yes, in all things.
Chapter 8
Miss Mary Bennet, somewhere in Scotland
Before the sun might rise, John returned to provide Mary with the items she had requested and to bind her wrists once more, and while he took great pains to avoid her wounds, fear of the other captors in some ways spoke louder than whatever kindness he possessed.
Less than an hour later another captor, Timothy as the Colonel had addressed him, came to see to their bonds and provide food and relief as needed. An unpleasant sort of fellow, Mary had been pleased to see him leave, a wicked chuckle held back as he stumbled up the final step.
Patting the scissors hidden in her dress pocket, Mary turned toward the Colonel, their plans for escape well in hand, even if the loaf of bread between them had all of the stature of a stunted turnip.
“Do you think we might manage another before the day is out?” she questioned, eyes drifting to the bread. “Do they even give you more than one meal a day?”
“Rarely,” he answered, a humourless smile forming. “Though this meal was an improvement over what they have been providing. Usually it is only gruel or a near meatless stew.”
“And today we got thatandthis wee loaf,” she teased playfully, the action causing her heart to pound wildly.A night and a morning were the extent of their acquaintance, why was she so? So comfortable? She never did this with her sisters, afraid they might mock her. Yet, she was not afraid with him? Because she did not know him? Because they shared this prison where the world shrunk down to simply him and her?
Perhaps,she conceded as she listened to his laughter, no trace of mockery within it, only honest amusement at her remarks; her heart swelling more than she would be willing to admit.For once the risk of being herself had not brought hurt.
“Well Miss Mary Bennet,” he remarked, her face flaming as she realized her gaze had been fixed to him. “We have a pair of scissors, two blankets, the hope of having your ropes removed by day’s end, and enough food for five minutes, what more could we ask for? In the meantime, I suggest we get some rest while we can.” Studying her, he lowered his head toward his lap, his own face becoming as red as hers, “Here, lay your head, you were unsettled all night; you cannot run as you will need if you are tired.”
Lips pulling to the side as she considered his words, she nodded, her chest tight as she worked her blanket awkwardly over her shoulders before moving to his side.
Eyes closing of their own accord as she laid her head down, her muscles eased as she met the support of his leg, the warmth and soft strength worlds apart from the cold, lifeless stone which had seeped its raw chill into her bones.
Voice warring against her, she managed a small, “Thank you,” the deep rumble of his reply and steady breath reassuring as she let the weight of sleep overtake her.
∞∞∞
A harsh laughter echoing against their stone prison ripped Mary from her pleasant sleep, the mocking face of Timothy meeting her as she lifted her head.
“Eh, Freddie, Sam,” he yelled as he moved toward the stairs, “you just missed it! Miss ‘gentleman’s daughter’ here nestled real close to our favorite military lad. Imagine how it’d sound to all the gossips in ‘their circle.’ Posh folk like ‘em would spread it and make it sound even grander than it was, I’d reckon, and our Miss would be considered as her kind are–spoilt-like.” The two men joining him, Timothy grinned, “See what I did there; posh folk are spoiled and the stain on her reputation would see her soiled, I mean spoilt.”
Head dipping along with her courage, she fixed her gaze to her fingers, hoping beyond hope neither of the men he had called would come.
