Chapter Nine #2
“Miss Lucas, Miss Elizabeth, a pleasure,” Mr. Bingley said, apparently happy to ignore Mr. Darcy. “How fortuitous to come upon you. Would you care for a stroll? We are taking in the village.”
“We have taken in the village,” Miss Bingley observed, waspish. “One need not even walk. It is possible to take in the whole of Meryton from any point along this street.”
Mr. Bingley’s smile hardened, but did not waver. He turned to Charlotte and presented his arm. “Miss Lucas?”
She cast Elizabeth a quick look.
“We would be more than pleased to walk with you,” Elizabeth allowed, and deliberately added, “We make our way to the far end of the village, to my aunt and uncle’s.”
“You have relations who live here?” Dismay scoured the veneer of civility from Miss Bingley’s tone.
“Indeed, I do.”
Rather than offer Elizabeth or Miss Bingley his arm, Mr. Darcy continued to peer about. His eyes narrowed, glinting.
Elizabeth followed his gaze to the strand of chipped cobbles alongside the inn. Did he find Meryton’s alleyways not as auspicious as London’s? By her reckoning, Meryton’s were cleaner.
“Here in this village?” Miss Bingley pressed. “How is that possible?”
“My uncle is an attorney and prefers to live above his office,” Elizabeth said blandly.
“An…attorney?” Miss Bingley cast her brother a quick, intent look. One that shouted, ‘I told you they are not suitable company,’ but to which he replied with a defiant frown.
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth said with deliberate unconcern.
“Both of my uncles on my mother’s side are in trade.
Uncle Phillips purchased his business from my mother’s father, and my uncle in London is in…
imports and exports.” Uncle Gardiner was quite reputable, in fact, and his goods and advice sought after.
Enough so that even Miss Bingley might recognize his name, so Elizabeth withheld it.
She wanted to test Mr. Bingley’s resolve when it came to Jane, not to sound as if she boasted.
Mr. Darcy turned his attention on her. “Exports?” he asked, a strange sharpness in both his voice and his keen blue eyes. “Shipping, is it?”
They were nice eyes, Elizabeth decided. Kind, even, as were the lines of his face. Nearly all turned upward, as if he smiled a great deal, yet she had not seen him once do so. Perhaps some recent burden rendered him so insufferable?
Mr. Bingley cleared his throat. “Let us not speak of shipping.” He cast Mr. Darcy an almost pleading look.
“Heaven forbid,” Miss Bingley said in agreement.
Why did the siblings not wish to speak of shipping?
Elizabeth looked from one to the other, confounded.
Did they despise ties to trade so excessively?
Good that she had informed them of Mrs. Bennet’s connections now, then, before Jane could become even more smitten, though who hated shipping?
Many gentlemen invested in such ventures, their fortunes made or ruined in the dark, heaving waters of far-off seas.
They were so odd, these newcomers from London.
“Walk with me, Miss Elizabeth?”
She turned from regarding the siblings to find that Mr. Darcy now studied her. With a shrug, she nodded, moving to place her hand on his arm.
“Oh, but you would forsake me so quickly, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley gave a fluttering laugh. “How fickle you are.”
“Never that,” he said, and proffered his other arm to her. “I am fully capable of walking with two ladies.”
Miss Bingley cast Elizabeth a quick, triumphant look.
Elizabeth continued to ponder the oddness of the London party as they started along the street, Charlotte and Mr. Bingley leading, the former pointing out their destination on the far side of the village.
Did Miss Bingley see Elizabeth as a rival for Mr. Darcy’s attention? How could she? On their first encounter, he’d deliberately insulted Elizabeth. On this, their second, he’d just reacted with great suspicion to the revelation that she had an uncle in shipping. Surely, Miss Bingley need not worry.
“I do not know how you can endure living in such a small community,” Miss Bingley said, looking about.
Ahead, Charlotte gestured. “And that is the inn, where we have a public house as well as a very fine pair of private dining rooms.”
“Indeed? I must dine there one evening.” Raising his voice, Mr. Bingley added, “Co—Ah, that is, Darcy, we must dine at the inn some evening.”
“Oh, Charles, really,” Miss Bingley said on a sigh.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Darcy allowed.
“And that is where the mail coach stops twice daily,” Charlotte continued, apparently prepared to ignore Elizabeth’s walking companions.
“Very nice,” Mr. Bingley said. “Lovely village. Pleasant, wide street, this.”
If Elizabeth had to be a third, she wished she walked with the two ahead of her, rather than with Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley.
“What was that?” Miss Bingley asked. She halted, bringing Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to a stop as well.
Ahead, Charlotte and Mr. Bingley continued on, conversing amiably.
With a final look of envy for their happy chatter, Elizabeth turned to find Miss Bingley peering into the same alleyway that held Mr. Darcy’s attention earlier.
The one that ran between the inn and the next building, a row of small shop fronts.
“What was what?” Elizabeth asked.
“I heard…” Miss Bingley trailed off, shaking her head. “I thought I heard some sort of mewling, or crying.”
“I definitely saw something move there earlier.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was crisp, the edge of superciliousness gone.
A small whine sounded, animal or human, Elizabeth could not guess. She, too, stared into the alleyway, shadowed in the slant of afternoon light. “I cannot see a thing.” The little cry sounded again.
“I will investigate.” Leaving them, Mr. Darcy strode forward.
Something moved in the shadows far down the alleyway. Something large.
As Mr. Darcy crossed from the sun-bathed street into the alley’s darkness, a man Elizabeth hadn’t noted stood from the steps of the inn. He strode past her and Miss Bingley, following Mr. Darcy. His hand slipped from beneath his coat. Metal glinted.
“I think that man has a knife,” Elizabeth hissed to Miss Bingley.
Miss Bingley turned wide eyes on her. “Surely not.”
“And why is he following Mr. Darcy into that alleyway?” Should she cry out a warning?
In front of Mr. Darcy, the presence Elizabeth had caught only hints of earlier moved forward to reveal a large man with a second knife. Miss Bingley gasped, clutching at Elizabeth, her hard grip startling Elizabeth into remaining silent.
“Come to save some stray urchin, Mr. Darcy?” the big man asked, then pinched his mouth to issue forth a few small, helpless sounding cries. He chuckled. “Always gets noble types like you.”
“They will abduct him,” Miss Bingley squeaked, her grip painful. “We must stop them.”
A quick glance showed Mr. Bingley and Charlotte already quite far up the street and no one else near. “You call for aid out here. I will fetch more from the inn.” Yanking free of Miss Bingley, Elizabeth turned to race up the inn’s steps.
She burst through the front door, Miss Bingley’s scream for help chasing her in, and careened into the public room. Every eye turned to her. “Help,” Elizabeth cried, pointing back the way she’d come. “Mr. Darcy. He is being attacked in the alleyway.”
Mouths gaped open. Eyes flew wide.
“Help,” Elizabeth reiterated as loudly as she could. She whirled, racing away. Behind her, wood squealed against wood as chairs scraped back.
Leading the way, Elizabeth ran from the inn, a swarm of feet clambering after her. Outside, Mr. Bingley hurtled down the street, Charlotte following, holding up her hem with both hands. Elizabeth pointed at the alleyway. Men ran past her on both sides, pouring in.
Curses sounded from the narrow gap between the two buildings, packed with bodies now. Deeper within, his voice taking on an almost military crack of command, Mr. Darcy ordered, “Keep them alive for questioning.”
Mr. Bingley skidded to a halt beside his sister, who had finally stopped screaming. “What happened?”
“Two men are attempting to abduct Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley replied, nearly as out of breath from her cries as her brother was from his run.
Elizabeth turned to her. “You seem very certain they want to abduct him. Could they not be thieves?”
Miss Bingley shook her head saying, as Charlotte reached them, “No. They mean to abduct him. He—”
“Caroline,” Mr. Bingley cut in sharply.
She cast him an annoyed look. “Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas can hardly have failed to notice what is taking place. Nor are they unintelligent.” With that, she continued, “Mr. Darcy has become the target of a plot to abduct him. That is why he left London.”
Understanding washed through Elizabeth, setting many small matters right. “You offered him sanctuary,” she said, looking past Miss Bingley at her brother.
He shrugged, his attention on the mass of people moving about in the alleyway. Somewhere deeper within, Mr. Darcy commanded, “Take their arms.”
Mr. Bingley inviting a man with apparent disdain for the countryside to stay with him made sense now. As did Mr. Darcy, who obviously felt he was above his company when he attended the assembly. Mr. Bingley would not want to leave his hunted guest alone for long.
For all Elizabeth knew, Mr. Bingley did not actually care overly much for the man, who he seemed a touch awkward around, though Miss Bingley obviously did.
With what Elizabeth had seen of Mr. Darcy, he likely didn’t even appreciate Mr. Bingley’s assistance.
He undoubtedly considered the honor of his company compensation enough for any imposition or even danger to Mr. Bingley and his relations.
So much about the stiffness between the two gentlemen, the awkwardness, and about Mr. Darcy’s apparent dislike of everything and everyone around him, made sense now.
“Now that the attempt has been made, will he return to London?” Charlotte asked.
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “I do not know. I am not certain how many are involved in the threat to him.”
Men spilled from the alleyway onto the street before the inn, including the pair of ruffians, each escorted by two men.
Those turned immediately in the direction of the magistrate’s office, Mr. Darcy following.
If Elizabeth didn’t know he was simply a supercilious gentleman, she would call his stride militant.
“Surely, the danger is not passed.” Miss Bingley sounded hopeful.
Mr. Bingley cast her a surprised look.
She shrugged, gesturing up the street in the direction Mr. Darcy and his would-be abductors had gone. “Those two did not strike me as great criminal masterminds.”
Though Elizabeth would much rather Mr. Darcy be safe and back in London than at Netherfield Park overshadowing Mr. Bingley’s amiability with his sour hauteur, she could not help but agree with Miss Bingley.
Undoubtedly, Mr. Darcy was still in danger, and would remain.
The better question was, were they in danger if they were near him?