Chapter 20
As soon as Hill closed the door behind Mr. Collins, Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Are you going to Meryton?”
Her eagerness made Darcy hesitant. “Yes,” he drawled.
“I should like to go with you. If Wickham is in Meryton, we must find him.”
Darcy was painfully aware that Elizabeth believed him overly cautious, but he would never forget the blank expression on his bride’s face the day of their wedding.
He was at an impasse. He did not wish for her to involve herself in an investigation. However, he had little desire to leave her alone without protection. Would she be safer at Longbourn, surrounded by her family, or with him?
A carriage clattered and crunched down the lane, growing louder until it stopped.
Mrs. Bennet appeared in the drawing room. Darcy could not recall when she had left him alone with Elizabeth. For being so loud, she had an unnatural ability to vacate a room when it suited her purpose.
“It is Mr. Bingley’s carriage,” said the matron. “My dear Jane is so considerate. I just knew she would call today.”
Elizabeth bit her lips and wrinkled her nose the way she did when she had to resign herself to something she would rather not.
Darcy loved how expressive she was, how transparent.
Leaning closer to her and lowering his voice, he said, “I am sorry to leave, but you are right. If Wickham is in the village, we must find him.”
She bunched her cheeks. “I cannot disregard my sister’s call when it is made out of concern for me.”
“I promise to inform you the moment I learn anything new.”
Taking his leave from his beloved before Bingley could hand his wife and Miss Bingley from the carriage, Darcy exchanged a few pleasantries with them while he waited for his horse.
Bingley pulled him aside. “I will look after Elizabeth’s welfare as though she were my own sister.”
“She is your sister.”
“You know what I mean. Mr. Bennet told me about the carriage. I have not burdened Jane with this information, but I hope you know that I am ready to offer my assistance however I might be of use.”
Darcy clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you, Bingley.” As he rode into Meryton, he marveled at the contrast between his true friends and his worst enemies when the sickening realization smacked him with all of its ugly, brunt force.
Elizabeth had not possessed any enemies before she had agreed to marry him.
Elizabeth peered at her visitors through the window, groaning when she saw Miss Bingley. Was not the lady supposed to return to town with her sister today?
Her mood threatened to sour. Their timing was abominable, and while Elizabeth would always be kind to Jane and Bingley, knowing their motives to be selfless, she could not say the same for Miss Bingley.
She would simply have to mind her tongue lest she distress her sister needlessly.
Miss Bingley flounced in behind Jane, her face pinched in an expression Elizabeth had never seen before. Not scorn. Not disgust. Not boredom.
Rushing over to her side, Miss Bingley patted Elizabeth’s arm. “Oh, you poor thing. You must be terribly distressed at this turn of events.” She examined Elizabeth’s face as though searching for proof of Elizabeth’s disappointments. “Oh, yes, you are quite altered. I am so sorry for you.”
False sympathy. That was the look. It did not flatter Miss Bingley.
Arching an eyebrow, Elizabeth tilted her chin toward her consoler. “I assure you I am quite well.”
Miss Bingley was not easily convinced. “Of course, you must say that. You would never do anything to upset dear Jane nor to inconvenience your family, but the fact remains that you are as yet unattached, and unless you remember Mr. Darcy, you might remain unmarried for some time.”
Bingley laughed. “Darcy? Wait?”
Miss Bingley huffed, struggling to maintain her sympathy while grasping for the opportunity she thought was available to snatch.
He continued, “Darcy is the most constant gentleman I know. If anything, he will be more determined than ever to win Miss Elizabeth again.”
Elizabeth had always liked Mr. Bingley. She beamed at him, next giving his sister the benefit of her full smile.
Miss Bingley was not impressed. She took a seat on her brother’s other side, putting him between her and Jane. Making him choose to whom he would lean closer and direct his conversation.
It was a foolish move.
If Miss Bingley expected him to favor her, she was instantly forced to adjust her expectations when her brother leaned closer to Jane, clasping her hand in his.
Miss Bingley huffed, unaccustomed to not being the queen in her household. “Still, there are those who worry about your case, saying it is the first stage of illness. I do not believe it, but I only repeat what I have heard.”
Elizabeth knew what she was about. “And what do they say?” she asked.
Smoothing her skirts, fluttering her hand over her heart as though the news which must have delighted her was disturbing, Miss Bingley said, “Only that amnesia is a disease of the brain and the longer you go without remembering, the more unlikely you are to ever recover. Sadly, once the disease has taken hold, it has no choice but to worsen.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am to go insane, then? How fortunate for the unattached females with designs on Mr. Darcy.”
Miss Bingley must have felt the cut, but so confident was she in Elizabeth’s fate, she met her eyes boldly, saying with all gravity, “Quite.” She was a slow learner.
Jane’s gentle voice cut through the tension as sharply as a saber.
“If your intention in remaining as a guest in our residence is to pursue Mr. Darcy, the true love and betrothed of my sister, a man who loves her so fully he is willing to wait for her to recover, then you are not welcome at Netherfield Park.” Her icy eyes glared, heightened by the burn in her cheeks.
Elizabeth had never seen Jane so angry, and she had to admit that the evidence of her sister’s strength was reassuring. She had feared that between Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, they would attempt to take over Jane’s life. Apparently, Elizabeth had worried for naught.
She watched Mr. Bingley. Would he support his sister or his wife?
His complexion deepened a few shades, and when he finally spoke, his voice shook.
“I am ashamed my wife had to say what I ought to have said, Caroline, but I stand by her. Darcy is my best friend, and Elizabeth is as much my sister as you are. I will not allow you to interfere with their happiness.”
Miss Bingley huffed and puffed. “As Mr. Darcy interfered with yours and Jane’s?” She turned to Elizabeth, a sneer twisting her features. “Did you remember that little gem? How could you possibly forgive a man who interfered with the happiness of your own sister?”
Mr. Darcy had been too honest with her about their first meeting to doubt he would honey-coat his past wrong against Jane. Whatever he had done, he had made right. “I agreed to marry him, and I trust my own judgment better than yours.”
Such a lovely shade of burnt orange Miss Bingley turned; so complemental of her gown. “But he objected to their union! He purposely separated them.”
“And yet, they are married and appear to be quite content with each other. Really, I must thank you, Miss Bingley, for dredging up Mr. Darcy’s past sins. Any gentleman humble enough to own to his mistakes and take action to correct them is deserving of the highest esteem.”
Miss Bingley’s face pinched again, but this time it was not in sympathy. Elizabeth recognized this look. Outright hatred.
“After all of my efforts… after all my sacrifices … everything I have done—”
Mr. Bingley jerked around to face her. “What have you done? You will tell me this instant.”
She waved him off. “Do not trouble yourself, Charles. It is nothing.”
He did not budge. “Mr. Bennet told me the carriage was sabotaged. Someone intentionally damaged their conveyance to prevent Darcy’s union with Elizabeth.
For all we know, her life is in danger, and Darcy has charged me to help him protect her.
Lord help me, Caroline, if you had anything to do with that carriage accident, I will march you back to Netherfield Park and pack your trunks myself. ”
Jane’s eyes doubled in size, but her shoulders squared and her back straightened. “Is this true? The carriage was disabled?”
Miss Bingley fumed. “How could you possibly think I would stoop so low? I am a lady.”
“Who is no comfort to anyone here,” Bingley finished for her.
“I think it best for everyone if you packed your things and departed with the Hursts this afternoon.” He received a supportive nod from Jane, who regally kept her cool composure and looked every inch the mistress of Netherfield Park.
Elizabeth was so proud of her, she would have clapped if the gesture would not have been exceptionally inappropriate.
Their father joined them just as Miss Bingley rose, her posture stiff and her lips pressed firmly together, assuming an air of dignity the shame of her complexion belied.
Bingley expressed his apologies. “There is a matter we must see to without delay, but I will call again later with Jane.” He ushered his sister out to their waiting carriage.
Papa called after him, “Only if you and Jane agree to return to dine with us along with Mr. Darcy.” He regarded Jane with a big smile and a twinkle in his eye. “Well done, my dear. I will no longer fear others taking advantage of your kindness.”
He had heard everything. Elizabeth was glad.
Squeezing Elizabeth’s hands, Jane followed her husband to the carriage with promises of a prompt return.
Peace prevailed in the parlor again, and Elizabeth sought to pass the time as well as she could with a book.
No sooner had her father settled into his favorite chair and snapped open his newspaper than Mrs. Hill entered the room. “Mr. Bennet, might I have a word?”
Papa lowered his paper and looked about. “There is nothing you cannot say in front of Lizzy. What is troubling you, Mrs. Hill?”
“It is the new footman,” she said, wringing her hands in her apron.
“He is never around when I need him, and when I send him to fetch Mr. Hill, he never manages to find him. I thought that given sufficient time, Thatcher would gain experience and perform his duties more efficiently, but a month has passed.” She shuffled her weight, took a deep breath, and added quickly, “And, now, I have reason to suspect him a thief.”
Papa set his paper aside. “What has gone missing?”
“The fine, lace tablecloth — Mrs. Bennet’s favorite — is missing. I washed it after the wedding feast and hanged it out to dry, and now it is gone.”
“I well know that tablecloth.” Papa frowned, addressing Elizabeth, “I tried to convince your mother to allow me to use it as a netting for my beekeeping wardrobe, and that was all I heard about for above a week.” He turned to Mrs. Hill. “Have you told Mrs. Bennet it is missing?”
“Not yet, sir.”
Elizabeth heard his exhale. “Good. Good. That is the wisest. There would be no peace in this household otherwise. Let us give it a couple of days and see if it turns up. In the meantime, I will speak with Thatcher.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Hill said, then hobbled away to attend to her tasks.
Papa picked up his paper, commenting under his breath, “When it rains, it pours.”
A sabotaged carriage, an interrupted wedding service, Lydia’s sudden appearance, Mr. Collins’ sighting of Mr. Wickham, Miss Bingley’s threats, and now, Mama’s treasured tablecloth was missing. Elizabeth wondered — and dreaded — what other excitement awaited.