Chapter 15 #2
“But I have! And they know Bingley—Bingley, can’t you invite them for propriety’s sake?”
“I’m sorry, who are we talking about?” Lizzie asked.
Mary spoke up. “Mama took us into town to visit the haberdashery, and we met an officer along the way. Lydia dropped a handkerchief,
and he returned it.”
Lizzie coughed around a sip of her tea. “I beg your pardon, you went where?”
“Don’t be so dour, Lizzie. You and Darcy went into the village on your own,” Kitty said.
“Excuse me, you did what?” Mrs. Bennet asked, eyes pinning Lizzie in place.
“For our case!” Lizzie protested. She turned to her father. “Papa, are you sure it’s a good idea—”
“Papa was with us, Lizzie,” Lydia said, a note of smugness in her voice. “Well, he was buying a newspaper at the time, but
it was all perfectly proper. Romantic, even. Mr. Chatsworth ran after us in the street, and he said, ‘Excuse me, miss, I don’t
wish to be so forward, but I would hate it if you took one step more without realizing that you’ve dropped this,’ and then
he held up my handkerchief—the one embroidered with roses, and the pink edging?—and it was very neatly folded and you just
know he must have done that himself because I’m sure when I dropped it, it wasn’t folded at all . . .”
As Lydia prattled on, Lizzie looked across the table and to the left at Darcy.
He stared back, looking concerned. It wasn’t just the impropriety of Lydia meeting officers in the village—Lizzie wasn’t naive enough to think that her mother would curb such behavior, although she had hoped her father would show a bit better judgment.
It was that her parents and sisters had left the safety of Netherfield and she hadn’t known it.
And they didn’t know Lady Catherine was close by.
Lizzie lost her appetite entirely. This was the cost of keeping secrets, she realized. Her sisters thought they could do what
she did because she hadn’t told them the danger.
When Lizzie tuned back in, Lydia was saying, “—and I just think it would be nice to have a few more young men to dance with,
Jane!”
“Perhaps we should not invite people to Jane’s party for her?” Lizzie suggested.
“Mr. Thomas is coming,” Jane pointed out. “I’m sure he’ll be a willing dance partner.”
Lydia let out a dismissive huff. “He’s hardly a catch!”
Next to her, Charlotte stilled. Lizzie looked at Jane, who simply smiled in Lizzie and Charlotte’s direction and said, “Well,
you would be wrong about that. I happen to think Mr. Thomas is perfectly agreeable. Besides, he’s the second son of a baron.”
Lizzie pressed her lips together as the conversation continued, with Lydia and Kitty recounting every detail of their encounter with Mr. Chatsworth, with commentary from Mrs. Bennet, and then moving on to who had confirmed their attendance for the ball.
Almost everyone on Jane’s list of guests had responded favorably, including the Fitzgeralds. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile at that.
At least one thing was going right.
“Just think, this could be the night that changes everything,” Kitty said with a wistful sigh.
“It’s just a country ball,” Caroline complained. “Hardly the event of the season.”
“A young lady’s imagination is very rapid,” Mr. Bennet observed. He spoke so rarely at meals that everyone turned to look
at him as he added, “It jumps from admiration to love, and from love to matrimony in an instant.”
Charlotte and Lizzie stifled laughter as Mrs. Bennet voiced her offense at her husband’s observation. Lizzie felt Darcy’s
gaze upon her. He was watching her with an intensity that made her heart race slightly, even though she was seated. They had
not discussed marriage directly. Lizzie had told him of her need for more time and was relieved when Darcy had seemed unbothered.
Now she felt her resolve to wait waver—if she poked at it, there was some give.
Was she . . . was she contemplating marriage?
She tore her gaze away from Darcy’s, wondering whether anyone noticed the heat rising in her cheeks.
As they finished their tea, something else occurred to Lizzie. “Kitty, Lydia—if you all went to the village this morning,
then where is Guy?”
“Hmm?” Lydia asked.
“Guy,” Lizzie repeated. “You said you were taking him for a walk after breakfast. Where is he?”
“Oh,” Lydia said. “We did walk him. But then we went into the village.”
“And where did you leave him?” Lizzie could feel her irritation growing, along with a tiny bud of concern.
“You passed him off to a maid,” Mary said. “Remember?”
“Why would I remember something as trivial as that?”
“I don’t know, probably because you have nothing but trivial thoughts in that head of yours?”
“Mama! Mary said—”
“Girls,” came Mr. Bennet’s stern voice. “Not at your sister’s table.”
“Well, this is unacceptable. If you’re going to take responsibility for him, you can’t just fob him off on the nearest maid
whenever you grow bored.”
“We were going into the village, and Mama said—”
“Then you should have brought him back to me or Darcy!”
“I’ll ring for someone to bring him up,” Jane said hastily. “He’s likely down in the kitchens.”
Mr. Grigson came and promised to fetch the dog at once, which mollified Lizzie somewhat. However, the butler returned quickly,
wearing a serious expression. “I apologize, madam,” he said to Jane. “But we’ve been unable to locate the dog. He’s not belowstairs,
and none of the staff I’ve spoken with have seen him since shortly after breakfast.”
Panic shot through Lizzie and she stood. “What about the maid Lydia said she gave him to? Do you know who it was?”
“Where are you going, Elizabeth?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.
“To find my dog!”
“The maid in question was Agnes,” Mr. Grigson said. “And she said she placed him in the servants’ sitting room, but he’s no
longer there.”
Darcy joined Lizzie. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”
Lizzie was already walking out of the room. She raced upstairs to her bedroom in case someone had put the dog there. “Guy?”
she called out as she opened her door, Darcy on her heels. “Guy, come here, boy!”
But her room was empty.
“I’ll check mine,” Darcy said, taking off in the other direction. Lizzie followed, and stood in the doorway of Darcy’s room
as he searched, but it was abundantly clear that the dog wasn’t there, either.
Lizzie clenched her fists. “Where could he have gotten off to?”
“He’s likely sleeping in some comfortable corner somewhere,” Darcy said, coming to place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”
Normally, Darcy’s touch would have brought her some comfort, but panic was rising up in her. “We need to search the house
and the grounds. Darcy, what if someone let him out and he’s outside, wandering around, completely lost?”
“We’ll find him,” Darcy repeated. “Come on.”
Downstairs, Bingley was waiting outside the dining room. “Any luck?”
Darcy shook his head, and in short order, Bingley and Mr. Grigson began to arrange an organized search. The gardener and groom
and two footmen were sent outside to search the grounds while inside three housemaids were appointed to search the downstairs
rooms. Mr. Grigson informed them the kitchen staff was searching the lower level, and he instructed several maids and valets
to go upstairs and begin searching room by room.
But Lizzie couldn’t sit still. The more time that passed, the tighter her chest felt. She knew that with more than twenty
people searching, they were likely to find him. But a darker worry overshadowed everything, and she pulled Darcy into the
foyer and halfway up the stairs, where no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. “I can’t shake this feeling. What if
she took him?”
Lizzie could tell by the pained expression on his face that Darcy had been contemplating this as well. “If she did, I’ll wring
her neck myself.”
“I’m so stupid,” she said. “I’m everything that anyone has ever accused me of—headstrong and unreasonable and foolish and
naive—”
“Where is this coming from?” Darcy asked, sounding alarmed. “Lizzie, you’re not—”
“I am! Because she wrote me a threatening letter saying what exactly she’d do if I didn’t show up at the appointed time and place to do as she wants, and I ignored it, and then when she figured out where we’d gone and sent another note, I ignored it!
And I asked you to ignore it, and I put my family at risk, and now Guy is missing! ”
“Stop,” Darcy told her, so sternly that it startled her. “First of all, we don’t know whether she is even involved—”
“How could she not be? She—”
“And second of all, you’re not to blame. Besides, her last letter said to await her instruction, did it not? So why take Guy?
Why not send instructions?”
“To get me to do what she wants,” Lizzie said miserably. “And Darcy, I know he’s just a dog, but—” Her voice broke.
“I know,” he said. “But it does us no good getting ourselves worked up. Let’s go downstairs and see if anyone has found anything.
Perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps what?”
“Perhaps, if it is she—and I am not saying it is—then there is another letter with her demands.”
Rather than scaring her—Lizzie was already terrified—that prospect strengthened her resolve. They’d turned to head back down
the stairs when something made Lizzie stop suddenly.
“What’s the matter?” Darcy asked.
“Shh! Do you hear that?”
Darcy went still as well, listening. The house was quiet and absorbed sound surprisingly well. They could hear distant voices
downstairs, but then . . .
A very distant, sad yip.
“Guy!” Darcy’s eyes lit up as he looked around. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Lizzie clutched at his hand as hope surged through her. “Guy! Here, boy!”
They went quiet and waited. But then . . . yes, another sad yip.
“Where’s it coming from?” Darcy asked as he climbed the rest of the stairs.
“I can’t tell!”
He was barking now, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t trace the source. Mr. Grigson came down the guest hall after hearing
the commotion. “Have you found him, miss?”
“No, but listen!” Lizzie tilted her head and . . . there it was again. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes,” the butler confirmed, sounding relieved.
“Where is he?” Darcy asked. “Somewhere upstairs, but . . .”
Mr. Grigson walked to the door on Lizzie’s right and pressed an ear against it. Lizzie stared at him, uncomprehending, and
then the butler said, “Call him again, miss.”
“GUY!” both Lizzie and Darcy shouted, drawing the others from downstairs in the marble foyer, where their voices echoed.
Lizzie closed her eyes and concentrated. There it was—Guy’s distinctive yip. She opened her eyes just as Mr. Grigson straightened
up, a grim expression painted across his face.
She knew it without him having to say a word.
Guy was somewhere in the east wing.