Elizabeth sat beside Jane, her thoughts tangled and restless after their conversation upstairs. Her eyes flittedto the end of the table where the tea service gleamed dully in the pale morning light. The old silver was in use, strange considering Mrs. Bennet had recently purchased new. A full sugar bowl. A polished serving spoon. Oddly complete, but somehow…wrong.
Mrs. Bennet stared at the setting with pursed lips before leaning out of her chair and clapping her hands twice. “Hill!” she cried out. “Mrs. Hill, come in here this instant!”
The housekeeper appeared in the doorway almost at once, smoothing her apron with damp hands. “Yes, madam?”
Mrs. Bennet gestured broadly at the breakfast table. “Where is the new silver? This is the old set. What will people think if they drop by for breakfast and findthislaid out?“ she asked, scandalized. “Appearances must be maintained, Mrs. Hill! One never knows when the Lucases or even Mr. Bingley himself might stop by to beg a favor or gossip over toast.”
Mrs. Hill paled. “Madam, I—I meant to say something earlier…”
The room seemed to still around them. Mr. Bennet lowered his newspaper a fraction, his brow furrowed in consternation.
Mrs. Hill twisted her hands. “The key to the silver case is missing. My ring of keys—gone entirely. I discovered their absence first thing this morning.”
A sharp silence followed. Every Bennet daughter froze in place, even Lydia, who had been noisily buttering a scone. Jane glanced at Elizabeth with wide eyes. Elizabeth’s stomach turned.
“Youlostthe keys?“ Mrs. Bennet cried. “How do you lose the keys tomysilver? It is your responsibility to keep track of such things!”
“I did not lose it, madam,” Mrs. Hill said quietly. “It was hanging on the hook near the larder, as always, when I retired last evening. This morning, it was gone.”
“Oh, saints preserve us!” Mrs. Bennet pressed her hand to her forehead and let out a theatrical sigh. “First the gloves and candles, then the food, and now the silver locked away, and the keys gone with it! We are being haunted, robbed, or cursed! Hill, youmustfind it! My reputation cannot survive this!”
“I will, madam,” Hill said in a trembling voice, curtsying and stepping back.
“Let us not forget my decanter and Kitty’s locket, my dear.” Mr. Bennet appeared distracted as he folded his paper and placed iton the table.
Kitty leaned across the table towards Lydia. “Did you hear that?” she whispered loudly. “It must be the ghost again! I would wager it is the same one that took your pearl ribbon!”
“And my stockings!” Lydia chimed in, eyes wide. “I told you something was moving about at night—I heard it near the stairs again just last week!”
When had the stockings and ribbon gone missing?Elizabeth twirled her fork as she listened, alarmed at how large the list of missing items grew daily.
“I do not believe in ghosts,” Mary muttered, not looking up from her book. “There is always a rational explanation. Likely a servant with sticky fingers.”
“Enough.” Mr. Bennet’s voice cut through the din like a blade. He folded his paper slowly and set it aside, his eyes scanning the room with sharp disapproval. “Mrs. Hill, send for Mr. Hill. I want every servant’s room searched—immediately. The responsible party will be dismissed without reference.”
Mrs. Hill curtsied again and exited in haste, her skirts swishing against the floor.
“I daresay,” Mrs. Bennet moaned, “we shall never recover the key—or the silver—and then what shall I do? I cannot serve tea in front of guests with theoldspoons. It will be the death of my nerves!”
“You may calm yourself,” Mr. Bennet said dryly, reaching for his cup. “I shall see to it that your precious silverware is freed from captivity later today. You may prepare yourself to entertain in grandeur once more.”
Mrs. Bennet dabbed her eyes with her napkin, though no tears had yet fallen. “Freed from captivity, indeed! As if it were in gaol! Oh, how you jest in the face of disaster.”
Elizabeth pushed her food around her plate, appetite gone. The rest of the meal passed under a cloud, the weight of unspoken suspicions and mounting tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. She met Jane’s eyes once more, and her sister’s look said what neither dared speak aloud.
Something—or someone—was inside Longbourn, hiding in plain sight and was only growing bolder.
The drawing room was cloaked in a heavy sort of hush, though each of the Bennet ladies attempted to feign calm in their chosen pursuits. Jane sat closest to the window, her delicate needle threading in and out of an embroidery hoop with practiced grace. Her face was serene, butElizabeth noted how often her eyes strayed towards the hallway, where muted footsteps hinted at the ongoing search.
Mary, settled with her back perfectly straight, read a small volume of Fordyce’s sermons, her expression solemn and lips occasionally moving as she murmured passages aloud to herself. Kitty leaned against the arm of the settee, sketching in a battered sketchbook that contained more flower borders than anything else. Lydia, predictably restless, flitted from chair to chair, occasionally peeking through the lace curtains and sighing dramatically each time she failed to catch sight of Mr. Denny or another officer.
Elizabeth had taken up a book as well—The Mysteries of Udolpho, though she had not turned a page in some time. Her mind was far from Radcliffe’s gothic ruins. Her attention instead lingered on her mother, who sat in her favorite chair near the fireplace, a neglected basket of mending in her lap and her fingers fluttering like nervous birds. Every now and then, she would make a soft, agitated sound or pluck at her shawl.
For once, Elizabeth could not fault her mother’s display.At least now, she thought grimly,she has a legitimate reason to suffer a case of nerves.
The house had been stirred to its foundations that morning with Mr. Bennet’s declaration. Servants’ roomssearched. Questions asked. Accusations implied. But nothing yet revealed.
The door creaked open, and all eyes turned as Mrs. Hill entered, her face pale and mouth drawn into a tight line. She curtsied but did not wait to be invited to speak.
