“Yes,” she murmured, stroking the dog’s fur. “I believe I am quite undone.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Meryton – December 1811
ON THE FIFTH DAY OF DECEMBER the morning broke cold and colourless over Longbourn, a pale winter mist lying low upon the hedgerows and softening the fields beyond. Indoors, all was hushed. Upstairs, Elizabeth slept soundly, her cheek resting upon the pillow, one arm stretched toward the small rug where Pippin was accustomed to curl. The rug, however, was empty.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s gentle voice broke the quiet. “Are you awake?”
Elizabeth stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it, Jane?”
“There has been a note delivered from Netherfield.” Jane entered, wrapped in a pale shawl. “It came by one of Mr. Darcy’s men. Hill gave it to Papa, but it is addressed to you.”
Elizabeth blinked, instantly awake. “A note from Mr. Darcy?” She took it, the paper still cold from the morning air.
“Miss Bennet,
Pray forgive this intrusion, but I write in haste. Apollo went missing at dawn and has not yet been found. As he has often visited Netherfield with me, I thought perhaps he may havestrayed in that direction. Should this be the case, I beg you to send word without delay. We are searching the woods and lanes between our homes and will not rest until he is safely recovered.
With sincere regard,
F. Darcy”
Elizabeth looked up, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern. “Apollo missing? Oh, poor thing. He has never wandered before.”
Jane frowned gently. “Do you suppose he truly might have come here?”
“It is not impossible,” Elizabeth said, already reaching for her dressing gown. “He knows the path between our homes, and if Pippin’s influence is anything to go by, she has probably taught him that running off on one’s own is perfectly acceptable behaviour.”
Within minutes, she had descended the stairs, the letter clutched in her hand. The drawing room was in its usual bustle—Mrs. Bennet ordering Hill about the fire and scolding the maids for some imagined neglect.
“Mama,” Elizabeth began, “has anyone seen Apollo? Mr. Darcy has written—he has gone missing. He thought the dog might have wandered here.”
Mrs. Bennet looked up from her chair in astonishment. “Apollo? Good heavens, no! Why should the animal come here? As if we have not enough confusion in this house without adding his troubles!”
Jane followed her sister in. “Perhaps someone saw him in the night? Mrs. Hill? Has any of the servants?”
Hill appeared from the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. “No, miss. No dog has come through the gate this morning.”
Elizabeth turned toward the stairs, her heart sinking. “Then where—?” She stopped short. “Pippin. Has anyone seen Pippin this morning?”
Mrs. Bennet froze, her fan mid-wave. “Surely she is in your room, Lizzy.”
“She was,” Elizabeth said quietly. “She was at my feet last night. But she is not there now.”
A small panic rose in her chest. She called toward the back of the house, “Mrs. Hill! Have you seen Pippin?”
“No, miss,” came the reply.
“Oh dear,” Jane murmured, alarm dawning.
“Mercy me!” Mrs. Bennet cried, pressing her hand to her heart. “That dreadful animal will ruin us all! Running through the town alone as if she owned the city! You cannot go chasing after her, Lizzy. It is most unseemly for a young lady to be seen running about shouting for a dog!”
Elizabeth took her bonnet from the hook. “Then it is fortunate that propriety does not seem to concern me as much as my dog’s safety. I cannot sit still when she may be lost—or worse.”
“I’ll go with you!” Lydia cried from the stair, already halfway down. “And Kitty too—we’ll make a proper search party of it.”
