Bingley barely noticed any rudeness, if her ladyship’s demand could be described as such. Bingley was every bit as concerned about his friend. “Perhaps I ought to ask questions in the market town first, and leave in the morning. I should hate to go straight back to the road and miss him if he is here somewhere.”
“We have Bennet here, and I can ask Mr Woodhouse, and thecomte, and even the mayor to ask questions here, Bingley,” Lady Catherine insisted. “You must go, immediately. If we find anything, we shall send a message behind you.”
Bingley was not at all unwilling to agree, and so after a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches, he took a parcel of food and a bottle of cider from the kitchens, stowed it in his saddlebag, and after a moment tender goodbyes with Jane, he was on the road again.
CHAPTER 42
Paris - 1793
In a room in Paris,screams and angry shouts could be heard outside the door. “Jeanne! They are coming!” A lovely woman wearing the gown of a lady in waiting said in French as she entered the room.
“I cannot believe it has come to this,” said Jeanne du Barry. “Why would they arrest me, only for helping to save the lives of others? I have done nothing!”
“You must hide!” said her lady in waiting. The two women looked strangely alike, their colouring and the shape of their face making their similarity uncanny. Madeleine Auclair?1 was Jeanne du Barry’s illegitimate half sister, and the two ladies were exceptionally close.
Madeleine pulled Jeanne into a dressing room, dragged the dressing table and the rug from a trap door, and opened it.
“I cannot, they will take you in my place, I know it!” Jeanne cried.
“You must, or they will kill you!” Madeleine insisted. There was a pounding from the outer door, as Madeleine pushed herhalf sister down the hole, and uttered the last words Jeanne would ever hear her speak, “You will be safe.”
Suddenly the trap door closed, and Jeanne could hear the dressing table being dragged over it again. She cried out and pounded upon it , until a strange green light came from a curious jewel a few feet away. She saw a man hiding in the passage she occupied, and as he approached her, she recognised him. “It is you,” Jeanne said. “You must help me! We must save Madeleine!”
The stomping of boots and angry shouts of men were heard above, drowning out her tears, as the apartment was invaded and the men arrested Madeleine. TheComte St Germainshook his head, putting his finger to his lips. The pair waited silently until the pounding boots disappeared into the distance as Madeleine was dragged from the apartment.
“How could you!” she turned on thecomte. “How could you let them take her!”
“It was requested that I save you, and so I shall. For the memory of our dear friend. We cannot save her. You must come, or it will be for nothing.”
Jeanne followed St Germain through a series of tunnels, grieving for her sister, and all the others that had been lost to the guillotine.
1 Madeleine Auclair is a fictional character created for the purposes of this story.
CHAPTER 43
When William arrived home to learn of the missing Mr Darcy, he went directly back out to question the proprietors of the market village, to learn if Darcy had been seen in the last few days. He only managed to question a few before it became too late to continue, and he returned to Bourne House. The following morning, Elizabeth and Georgiana went out with him. Darcy’s valet Mr Winston, only just recovered from his illness, insisted on joining the search. Over the course of the day, they canvassed nearly the entire village, and no one could recall seeing Mr Darcy since he had left with Mr Bingley. There were only a few establishments they did not visit. The barber was one, the livery where Darcy might have stabled his horse was another, and also the modiste, though they did not expectshewould have seen him.
These businesses were closed, for the fever that Mr Winston had sufferedwascontagious. Two housemaids and a footman had fallen down with it at Bourne House since Mr Winston had taken ill, and several houses and businesses around Eastbourne had closed their doors or taken down their knockers due to illness. The group returned to Bourne House, tired, hungry, and dejected, at the end of the day.
“I shall go back out tomorrow to see if the Shaw family is improving enough to be disturbed,” said William, referring to the household of Mr Shaw, who owned the livery. “If Darcy has been in Eastbourne’s market village at all, Mr Shaw will have seen him first.”
“Mr Bennet is correct,” pointed out Priscilla. “Darcy is not in the habit of leaving his horses unattended in front of establishments, he nearly always prefers the security of the livery,”
“I agree,” said Lady Catherine. “We must speak to Mr Shaw or his sons. If they have not seen Darcy, then it will be obvious that he never made it to Eastbourne.”
“I am still of the hope that there is some explanation,” insisted Jane. “Perhaps Mr Darcy’s horse threw a shoe, or perhaps he stopped to help someone in need, we all know how generous he is. Or perhaps he took a wrong turn, and will arrive tomorrow after losing his way.”
“I think we can all agree that Mr Darcy is unlikely to have lost his way, but like Jane, I too hope that he will arrive tomorrow with some reasonable explanation,” said Caroline Bingley, who still struggled with the idea of Darcy’s fallibility, though she had at least accepted that he was not for her, and no longer made her company feel awkward about it.
“I must have a distraction, else I shall go mad. Miss Mary, will you play for us?” said Lady Catherine. “What have you and thecomtebeen practising?”
“I have been practisingOmbra mai fuby Handel, your ladyship,” answered Mary. “I will be happy to play for you.” Mary rose and went to the instrument. She waited to see if her betrothed would come to turn the pages for her, but he was studiously looking away. She sighed. Before she recently began to truly improve, he would sit with her at the instrument and she would nod when the page needed turning, but it seemed thatsince Mary had improved her skill, somehow her future husband seemed less interested in her playing. Indeed, she felt as if William barely spoke to her at all since they came to Eastbourne. She almost preferred being back in Meryton, where their efforts towards their shared future was their concern, and they worked together with enthusiasm. After a moment, she gave up on him, and asked Georgiana to turn her pages. She had also been practising singing the English translation of the piece, and her voice lifted up more pleasantly than it had ever done before.
Can we weep for thee,beloved, where in peace thou reposest?
Ah, never may we deplore thee.
South wind, west wind, breathe upon her!
