Windswept: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

Chapter 14

Bedlam reigned inside the house. Bingley barked conflicting orders as he practically turned in circles, lost at what to do.

Darcy glanced around the entry, looking for someone capable of helping with the chaos. Bingley’s housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls headed in Darcy’s direction, stopping immediately in front of him. On her arrival, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet helped Mrs. Hammond across the room to a comfortable chair. Once she was seated, the sisters began counting those who remained, using their dance cards to keep track.

“Sir, Mr. Bingley directed me to you.” Wringing her hands, she said, “Never has Netherfield weathered a storm like this. Wind is stealing in through the casings in the east windows and slate tiles from the roof are already dotting the ground, allowing the rain inside the attic. The ballroom is the largest room in the house where we can gather farthest away from the windows, which are shaking in their frames. Shall I have the footmen begin moving chairs and sofas inside, placing everything in the middle of the room?”

“Certainly.” He continued to scan the room. “Where are Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst?”

Disgust evident on her face, she said, “They retired to their chambers as soon as Mr. Bingley closed the ball to have their maids pack their belongings for London, sir. They intend to take their brother away from Hertfordshire at daybreak.”

Good god!Foolish, self-serving women!

He knew how to act. Netherfield’s great house was a sturdy structure under average weather. This weather was far from routine. Likely, it had never been tested by fierce winds. Additionally, several tall windows were fitted into every available wall. Apparently, it was built for show, not safety. “Mrs. Nicholls, continue closing all the windows and curtains. Snuff the candles in every room outside the ballroom and kitchen. Lock every door that can be locked. Once this is done, require all servants to join us. Do hurry!”

Not twenty minutes later, sofas and chairs were grouped around the center of the ballroom with a few lanterns flickering on heavy side tables. Piles of blankets were heaped on the stand where the orchestra had played.

Mrs. Nicholls gave him an updated report. “The majority of the servants and musicians Miss Bingley brought from London have removed to the dower house, the original residence, where they were staying. The old house is built of brick and stone, which should see them safely through the storm. They have enough provisions to last them for a while if they are careful. Only the minimum remains here. The card room has been closed now that Mr. Hurst and Colonel Forster have joined us. There are two bed chambers upstairs that are locked with individuals inside. One belongs to Miss Bingley. The other party is unknown.”

“I see.” Darcy wiped his temples with his handkerchief. The furniture he helped move was heavy. “Tell Bingley, please. His sisters are his problem. I shall take care of the other room. Likely, it is a timid miss who is paralyzed with fear.”

Before he turned away, Miss Elizabeth presented him with a list that read:

Guests and servants (23)

Unaccounted for:

Mrs. Hurst

Miss Bingley

Mrs. Forster

His eyes moved down the list as she said, “Apparently, my father returned to Longbourn several hours ago. The officers who were here only a few moments ago chose to depart.”

“Very good. I thank you.” Nodding absentmindedly, he reviewed the list again. Was it Mrs. Forster in the other locked room? Why on earth was she not with her husband?

Before he could request Colonel Forster to accompany him, Richard rushed into the room.

“The animals are secured in the stables. There are few lanterns burning. No candles.” He wiped his face with a cloth provided by a passing footman. “I shall hurry to my room to change before coming down to see how I can help.”

Darcy said, “The doors have been locked since it has been determined the windows and roof in that portion of the house are unsafe. We want no one hiding in a room where they could be harmed.”

With a grin, his cousin dug into his pocket. “I have an extra key.”

Shaking his head, Darcy said to Miss Elizabeth, “Mrs. Forster appears to have closed herself in one of the chambers. Perhaps your help will be needed. Please come with us.”

Without hesitation, she acknowledged his request.

The colonel cut a striking figure.Even though he was dripping water on the floor, he looked like he was ready to bolt into action. What a gentleman! Yet, why was she not wanting to wipe the moisture from his brow? Why did her gaze immediately move from him to his cousin? It was all exceedingly vexing.

Mr. Darcy was equally disheveled. He, along with the footmen, moved long sofas, bulky wing chairs, and a multitude of furniture from the surrounding rooms into the ballroom. He was incredibly strong and— She refused to think about the man. Her noticing him and being drawn to him was ridiculous since, only days before, she despised the man. And although she had all but decided to think better of him, she could never love Mr. Darcy. Good heavens! Why is she even thinking of him at all, especially during an emergency?

The three hurried up the staircase behind Mrs. Nicholls. They could hear the wind whistling down the corridor from the windows at the end of the hall. The colonel grabbed a brass candlestick before they mounted the stairs, so the light of the flame flickered against the shadows.

Before they reached the locked door, it opened. Out stepped a giggling Mrs. Forster on the arm of…Mr. Wickham?

Elizabeth’s hand shot to her mouth. Tied into a bow on his lapel was the apple-green ribbon she had chosen at the haberdasher. She stopped in place, realizing the implications of what likely happened behind that locked door. Of all the…oh my goodness!

She wanted to scratch the rake’s eyes out, not for Colonel Forster’s sake, but for Lydia’s. Her fool of a sister pursued Mr. Wickham because she misread his toleration of her flirting as interest. Her most self-centered sibling was selfish enough that had she known the man was committing immoral acts with her supposed friend, Lydia would have never sought his protection. She would be safely ensconced with her family, wailing complaints alongside her mother or running after some other man.

Her fists balled. She had never struck a man before. Even though she did not believe that violence solved anything, her instincts were to hurt him as much as he hurt her sister. When Colonel Fitzwilliam rushed forward, Elizabeth knew from the fierce expression on his face that she would not be the first to have access to the reprobate.

Mr. Darcy grabbed his arm and stopped him. “No, Richard. I will deal with Wickham.” To her, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Nicholls, please see that Mrs. Forster is reunited with her husband.”

Setting aside her own personal need for revenge, Elizabeth and Mrs. Nicholls immediately grabbed Mrs. Forster’s arms before leaving the three angry men in the hall. Their voices followed them. She suspected that they heard far more conversation between Mr. Darcy, the colonel, and Mr. Wickham than they should have.

“Not this time, Darcy.”Richard moved to shove him aside. Darcy refused to budge.

Wickham smirked.

“Dry off, Richard. And cool down.” Darcy protested, unwilling to bend.

“Why?” his cousin pleaded. “Why do you let this rat live? Whenever he crawls out of the gutter with decent people, they suffer. Do you not care about the damage he does? He has not one ounce of honor in him.”

“We have more important matters at the moment.” Darcy stepped in front of his cousin. “Leave me alone with him.”

Shrugging, Richard muttered as he moved past Wickham, deliberately bumping shoulders with the man, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Filth!”

Wickham straightened his shoulders as though it was he who stopped Richard. “Nice try, Richie.”

Darcy shot him a death glare, hovering over his former friend. “Enough!”

Wickham’s eyes widened with a hint of fear.

“Taunt him at your own risk, George. You need to remember that I am not always around to…”

The whole house gave a violent shake, almost knocking Darcy off his feet. Darcy swore as Wickham, like the coward he was, pushed past him, running down the hall.

Richard threw his door open, grabbing the frame to hold himself still.“Blast! This whole house is unsafe. We need Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to join the others in the ballroom.”

Darcy ran to the other locked door, pounding on the surface. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, open the door immediately.”

When no one responded, he raised his foot and kicked it in, using every ounce of his frustration with Bingley for not showing up to take care of his own and his aggression from dealing with Wickham.

Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst cowered in a corner, their maids trying to hide under the bed. Ignoring Miss Bingley’s hysterical comments about how she had known all along he would save her, they dragged the women to the ballroom.

The house gave another violent shake.

“Into the kitchen, everyone!” Darcy yelled, stirring the group into action. According to the steward’s records he reviewed with Bingley upon arrival, the main house at Netherfield Park had been constructed fifty years prior out of trees harvested from the property, an unusual decision by the owner since most great houses were still built with brick or stone. The stucco front was a fa?ade. The portico columns and the kitchen, built from solid stone, were the most stable part of the building. “Hurry!”

“Help us. We beg you!”

Darcy peered over his shoulder at the front of the house. Hurrying towards them was Miss Lydia Bennet who was being dragged into the house between Captain Carter and Mr. Denny. She resembled a drowned rat with strings of hair plastered against her chafed, red skin. Fortunately, one of the men shared his coat, covering her soaked gown.

“We didn’t realize she chased after us until we were down the road.” Mr. Denny held up his arms in surrender. “We didn’t do nothing, we promise.”

Captain Carter added, “Now that Miss Lydia is returned, how may we be of service?”

“Your assistance has already been invaluable.” Darcy nodded, grateful the waif was found for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, but regretted her presence as soon as she opened her mouth.

“Let me go! I want to go with Mr. Wickham,” she cried. “He rushed right by us. Surely, he failed to see me, or he would not have left me behind. Let me go, I’ll tell you. I want to go with my dear Mr. Wickham.”

From behind him, the two eldest Bennet sisters each grabbed one of their sibling’s arms, forcing her to join their mother.

“Come with us now,” Darcy directed. The officers followed him down the stairs, where they were met with a cacophony of screams and whimpers as bodies pressed together.

The kitchen was bursting at the seams. Miss Elizabeth had seated Mrs. Hammond at the long work table running almost the length of the room. The elderly widow attempted to appease Mrs. Bennet on her right and Lady Lucas on her left. Footmen darted up the stairs to the ballroom to bring additional chairs and all the blankets. By the time the ladies were seated, there were still many standing pressed together, looking to Darcy for their comfort.

Over the noise, Darcy heard his cousin say, “To make more room for the females, any men who prefer to join me in the wine cellar are welcome. Bingley, I doubt if you mind if we uncorked a few bottles.”

“Be my guest,” Bingley replied.

Mr. Hurst led all the males, including the remaining footmen and Darcy’s valet, into the cellar. Darcy noted that the two most recent arrivals waited to see what Colonel Forster would do before they joined him below. Even Bingley chose to go to the cellar.

Miss Bingley, her nose haughtily lifted in the air, said, “Louisa and I will take the stillroom. Should Miss Bennet agree to join us, she would be welcomed.” She implied no one else would be invited into their company. Unsurprisingly, no one requested to join them.

Jane Bennet refused to give up her grasp on her youngest sister. For the first time, Darcy saw a hint of steel in her expression.

“Mrs. Nicholls, might I have a moment with you and Cook?” Darcy knew the importance of not alienating the head of the kitchen by giving orders in her domain. Joining them in the corridor, he asked, “Are there any other stone or brick structures on Netherfield’s property? What of the tenants? Will they come to the main house when they realize they are in danger? Or is it more dangerous to leave any shelter they are already in? And Cook, what do you suggest for caring for the needs of the guests and servants?”

Before Mrs. Nicholls could reply, Cook rested her beefy hands on her hips and said, “We still have enough of Miss Bingley’s dainties left over from supper to keep everyone ’til morning. If the hen house doesn’t blow to the next shire and the milk cows stay in the barn, and with the grain and meat on hand, we can last for several days. I will get bread rising. As long as I have a hot oven, it can be done.” She looked in the direction of the ballroom. “Sir, I’d rather be in my kitchen than the rickety great house upstairs. These stones are thicker than I am. I doubt no amount of wind will move either of us.”

Not knowing what to say, he acknowledged her with a nod.

Mrs. Nicholls added, “The carriage house is also made of brick. Since I do not see any of the stable hands or the tenants in the kitchen, I suppose they have already sought refuge inside the building. Like the dower house, the carriage house is fully supplied as well.”

”Good. Then we shall not worry about tenants now.” Darcy quickly studied the room. “Am I correct in thinking that the chimney from the oven goes straight up?”

Cook replied, “That it does, sir. There are no rooms directly above us.”

”Very good.” He considered how much he should say before adding, “There is a real possibility that we will be here for a long while. Since the winds were fierce enough to shake the whole building, the damage could be considerable on the upper floors, so the course of wisdom is to remain clustered together below. We shall need a retiring area. For as much as Miss Bingley has commandeered the stillroom, I believe that to be the perfect location for personal use.”

Cook shook her fist in front of her. “Since those Bingley sisters have yet to go inside, I’ll have no problem keeping those women out of there if you want me to. All I need to do is stand in front of the door.”

He suspected that Miss Bingley had been a dragon to deal with in planning the ball. The look of evil intent on Cook’s face showed how much she yearned for the assignment.

“Let us hope the wind dies down before there is any permanent damage so we can let them have their way…for now.”

With a sharp nod, Cook returned to her post by the oven.

Mrs. Nicholls said, “Sir, Netherfield’s servants shall attempt to keep everyone as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Right now, the ladies, including the maids, are still fearful, keeping them fairly quiet. As time passes and they forget the terror of having the floor shaking underneath them, I suspect they will become more demanding. We shall do all we can to provide aid.”

Darcy nodded. “Then, please send a footman or two to the wine cellar every hour to make sure the men have all they need.”

“Very well. I shall see to…”

Something heavy crashed to the floor in the main house, sending panic through the ladies in the kitchen. Within a few seconds, more items fell. Ushering the housekeeper back to the depths of the room, Darcy surveyed the scene. Had he wanted to join the men in the wine cellar, the pleading eyes of the ladies kept him in place.

“I want to sit by the fire,” Lydia Bennet insisted as she pulled away from Miss Bennet’s grip.

“Yes, you should, darling Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice easily carried over the storm. “We would not have you catching your death from a cold.

Uncaring whether she bumped into the knees of others, the youngest of Elizabeth’s sisters pushed her way to the fireplace before plopping down on the stone hearth. “There. I can finally get warm. It was frigid cold outside.”

Miss Bingley asked with a sneer, “What were you doing outside, Miss Lydia?”

“I…” Miss Lydia began only to have her eldest interrupt her.

Miss Bennet replied, “Surely, you cannot be implying that my sister did anything wrong in attempting to return to the safety of Longbourn, Miss Bingley.”

Miss Bingley scoffed as Miss Lydia preened. It was obvious that the youngest Bennet loved being the center of attention. What a simpleton!