“Then it is a crime she has been denied them for so long,” Mr. Darcy said.
An awkward silence fell. Her mother’s expression suggested she understood the implicit criticism of her husband and herself. However, for once, she had the grace not to protest.
Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway. He surveyed the crowded drawing room with raised eyebrows. “Good morning, gentlemen, ladies. My, what an impressive gathering. I believe this is more company than Longbourn typically sees in a fortnight.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said with a grimace.
“I am merely making an observation, Lizzy.”
“Sir.” Mr. Bingley caught her father’s attention. “Miss Elizabeth’s progress on Atlas has been extraordinary.”
“So Mrs. Bennet has informed me. At length. Repeatedly.” Fortunately, his tone was considerate rather than cutting. “I am pleased for Lizzy. She has wanted to ride for a very long time.” He moved to his wife. “Well, since you have all descended upon us at this ungodly hour—and I use the term with affection—you might as well join us to break your fast. Mrs. Bennet?”
“Of course. Come, everyone, let us go through to the dining room.”
The meal passed in its usual commotion. Lydia and Kitty giggled until their mother silenced them with a look. Mary attempted to quote from one of Fordyce’s sermons until their father suggested she save her wisdom for after the meal, when people might be better able to appreciate it.
Through it all, Mr. Bingley could not tear his gazefrom Jane. And Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth noticed, seemed equally unable to look away from her.
The realization thrilled her.
After breakfast, the guests readied themselves to depart.
“Tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked hesitantly as Mr. Darcy prepared to mount Gracie.
“Yes. And perhaps, we shall venture onto the bridleway toward Lucas Lodge if you believe you are ready.”
“I shall be ready.” Elizabeth’s heart beat rapidly.
He bowed over her hand. “I believe you.”
Then they rode away, and the next day could not come soon enough.
Early the next morning,Elizabeth hurried to the stable, eager to check on Atlas before Mr. Darcy arrived. The stable door stood open. Elizabeth’s steps slowed as a queer sensation rolled over her.Jacob always secures the door at night.
Elizabeth stood frozen, unable to process the sight before her. Atlas’s box was empty, the hay undisturbed, the water bucket full.
Was he in the paddock? She ran outside, shading her eyes against the rising sun. He was nowhere to be seen.
“No,” she cried. “No, no, no.”
She looked in the other boxes, as though she might find him hiding in a corner. She checked the tack room, the paddock again. Atlas was gone.
She pressed a hand to the door, suddenly dizzy, sick.Where was he? Had he somehow broken free? Wandered off in the night?
“Jacob!” Elizabeth’s voice came out as a strangled cry. “Jacob, where are you?”
The groom climbed down from the hay loft, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had clearly spent the night there, as he sometimes did when checking on the animals.
“Miss Elizabeth? What is wrong…” He noticed the empty box and went white. “The horse. Where is the horse?”
“I do not know! I came this morning and found him gone. The door was open, the box empty—Jacob, where is he?”
“I do not know, miss. I swear I locked everything last night. I always do. I was up late with one of the farm horses. I didn’t hear…” He ran his hands over the door as though searching for evidence. “The latch was not forced, so the horse did not kick his way out. Someone opened it properly.”
Dread turned the blood in her veins to ice. Someone had taken Atlas. In the night. While they all slept.
“We need Mr. Darcy. And Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said, her voice shaking. “Ride quickly to Netherfield with the message that Atlas is gone.”
