Chapter Three
Elizabeth shut the door to Mr. Dee’s room and descended the stairs to the blue sitting room which was full of Bennet family members. Everyone glanced up when she entered.
“I heard your voice. Is our mysterious guest awake?” her father inquired.
“He was awake enough to answer some questions,” Elizabeth responded. “And he drank some water, but he is sleeping again.”
“Is he civil?” Jane asked.
“Is he married?” Lydia asked.
“Is he wealthy?” her mother asked.
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes he is civil. He did not mention a wife. And I did not think to inquire about the exact amount of his family’s fortune, but they are wool merchants with a house in town.”
“In trade?” Elizabeth’s sister Mary wrinkled her nose.
“Pssh! Who cares where the money comes from?” her mother said. “Wool….” She sighed. “Everyone needs wool. A wool merchant would do very well for one of you.”
“Mama, men who have been rescued from the river are not necessarily in want of a wife,” Elizabeth noted.
Her mother only jabbed her embroidery more energetically. “We must not waste such an opportunity! He might take a liking to one of you girls.”
“He has requested that we tell no-one of his whereabouts,” Elizabeth told her father.
“Ooo! Perhaps he is an escaped prisoner!” Kitty said, sounding quite excited at the prospect. She read a lot of novels.
“I do not believe prisoners customarily wear such fine clothing,” Elizabeth said.
“A French soldier in hiding?” Kitty guessed.
“He has no accent,” Elizabeth said.
“A viscount who is secretly also a highwayman!”
“They are not as plentiful as you have been led to believe,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
“Perhaps he is—” Kitty started.
“Perhaps he is a wool merchant, and we should not let our imaginations run wild,” Elizabeth said firmly.
“His desire for secrecy is quite interesting,” her father remarked. “I was in Clark’s book shop today when a stranger inquired if anyone had reported a body washing up along the river. He said his brother had fallen in the river near Luton.”
“Surely it cannot be the same man,” Jane exclaimed. “Mr. Dee could not have floated all the way from Luton.” Elizabeth said nothing.
Her father shrugged. “I agree it is improbable. But it is almost equally improbable to fish a stranger from the river at the same moment someone is seeking another fellow.”
“You did not say anything about Mr. Dee?” Elizabeth asked anxiously.
Her father snorted. “I would not share any news with Clark that I would not care to have spread about the entire county. A strange man staying in my house with my five unmarried daughters is not such a thing.”
“Perhaps Mr. Dee’s family is searching for him,” Jane said, her forehead creased with worry.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Dee knows how to contact his family. We should not reveal anything without consulting him.”
“I agree. Mr. Dee should decide who knows his whereabouts. He may have reason to be careful. Perhaps they are waging a vicious war with the cotton merchants.” Her father laughed at his own joke.
“Perhaps he is a viscount disguised as a wool merchant!” Kitty suggested.
“Whatever else he is, we know he is an injured man who needs to recover his strength,” Elizabeth said. “We must leave him in peace to do so.”
“Can’t I at least tell Maria Lucas?” Lydia inquired. “’Tis the most interesting thing that has happened in months! I will swear her to secrecy.”
Her father fixed her with a stern gaze. “No, you may not.”
Lydia huffed and rolled her eyes. “Very well. I will add it to the list of subjects I may not speak about.”
“I don’t know why you bother befriending anyone in Meryton,” Mary said with a sniff. “They are quite unpleasant.”
“I don’t know why I bother either,” Lydia whined. “Nobody likes us.” She stood and flounced out of the room.
Of the five sisters, Lydia suffered the most from Longbourn’s relative isolation from the rest of Hertfordshire.
Mary spent her time with religious books, and Kitty was absorbed in novels.
Jane and Elizabeth spent much time honing their magical skills.
But Lydia longed to be just like all the other girls in the neighborhood, and their mother indulged those desires.
The Lucases at least would allow their daughters to socialize with the Bennet girls; Lydia took full advantage of those privileges.
Kitty shrugged. “They are pleased with us when they have need of our assistance.” She returned to her novel.
Sadly, this was true. How many times had Jane helped farmers with flooded fields or prevented someone’s house from being swept away? The people of Meryton never hesitated to call upon Kitty when a wildfire threatened houses or crops. And Elizabeth had healed many people in the neighborhood.
Yet their talents set them apart. Mancy was rare outside London, but it was rampant in the Bennet family. When they walked into Meryton, people stared and spoke behind their hands. They even made signs to avert the evil eye.
Papa compounded the problem. He never particularly cared about the neighbors’ opinions and at times relished his reputation for eccentricity.
At public occasions, he would tell odd jokes without any concern about how it might affect the family name.
Her mother frequently lamented that no man in the neighborhood would ever consider courting a Bennet girl.
Mary often said the townspeople did not deserve their help if they ostracized the family.
Elizabeth understood her sister’s frustration, but she would never refuse someone in need.
Mary closed her book of sermons and turned to their father.
“If we always help them in their time of need, we should at least collect money for our services.”
Her father sighed. “We have no need to rehearse that argument. We are not in trade.” He stood and ambled toward the door. “Lizzy, I will be in my study should our guest wish to speak with me.”
***
When Darcy awoke the next morning, he was hungry and more alert. He was also alone in the room. To his amazement, the bell by his bedside did not summon a servant but Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy was embarrassed. “I had not intended to call for you. I merely hoped to break my fast.”
She shrugged, unperturbed. “I must learn how you are healing.” She sat beside his bed without any apparent concerns for modesty and spread her hands over his head.
It was rather disconcerting. He had never encountered a female healer before, and Miss Elizabeth was quite attractive with her dark curls and blue-green eyes.
His body was quite aware of her proximity.
“I believe the lump on your head has diminished,” she said after a moment.
Darcy did not consider himself an overly modest person, but would she wish to examine the cut along his ribs? No doubt she had viewed his chest when he was unconscious. However, his body was sufficiently recovered that it might now react in noticeable ways.
Fortunately, she merely skimmed her hands a few inches over his body. “Your cuts are healing well, but I have noticed signs that may be incipient infection,” she reported.
“Can you heal it?”
She shook her head. “I can ease some of the symptoms of infection, but I cannot prevent infection itself. My mancy does not function in that way. I pray you do not fail to rest.”
“I will not,” he promised.
She stood to retreat, but the door flew open and a younger girl bounced in, apparently heedless of the propriety of entering a strange man’s room. She was taller than Miss Elizabeth, but not nearly as pretty despite her blonde curls.
“Mama needs you,” she informed her sister. Her eyes darted to the bed. “Ooo! The mysterious stranger is awake.”
Miss Elizabeth gave her a quelling look. “This is Mr. Dee. Mr. Dee, this is my sister Catherine, or Kitty.”
“How do you do?” he said.
She stared at Darcy for a long moment. He supposed strangers in this area were uncommon. But she finally remembered to give him a curtsey. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Kitty is the second youngest of my sisters,” Miss Elizabeth remarked.
“How many sisters do you have?” he asked.
“There are five of us,” Miss Kitty responded.
“We should let Mr. Dee rest,” Miss Elizabeth said, opening the door again. However, another girl— who had obviously been eavesdropping—fell into the room.
Miss Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “This is Lydia, my youngest sister. Lydia, this is Mr. Dee.”
“You said you would tell us when he awoke!” Miss Lydia exclaimed.
“I said I would tell you when he was ready for company. He is not,” Miss Elizabeth said.
Miss Kitty regarded her sister. “Did he reveal why he was in the river? Is he a pirate?”
Miss Elizabeth gave Darcy an ironic smile. “Please forgive my sisters. They have active imaginations.” She shooed her sisters toward the door. “Mr. Dee needs to rest.”
“Not a pirate?” Miss Kitty asked.
“I am afraid not,” Darcy said, thanking providence that they had not thought to inquire if he was a spy.
The girls pouted, disappointed about his plebian occupation. “I do not believe pirates ply their trade on the Lea,” Elizabeth murmured.
“What about a lost duke?” Miss Kitty inquired eagerly.
“No.”
“A prince?”
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “Are those the only available options? Pirate, prince, or duke?”
“I am just a wool merchant,” Darcy said, hoping he appeared uninteresting.
The younger sisters exchanged disappointed looks. “That is not particularly mysterious,” Miss Lydia complained.
“Oddly enough,” Miss Elizabeth said. “I do not suppose Mr. Dee fell into the river for your amusement.” Her sisters looked unhappy, so she finally relented and said, “However, he was set upon by highwaymen.”
Two sets of eyes went wide. “Did they say, ‘Stand and deliver’?” Miss Kitty asked.
He shook his head. “They were not so polite.”
“You may hear the whole story some other time—when Mr. Dee is feeling better.” Miss Elizabeth finally managed to chivvy the girls out the door. She turned to him. “I apologize for my sisters’ ill manners. Are you well enough to eat?”
He nodded. “I am quite hungry.”
“I will send up a tray. I would recommend mostly broth and tea today, but if that agrees with you, we might try some bread later.”
He was resigned to his fate. “I understand.” He did not want her to quit the room and could imagine any number of methods for prolonging her visit. But he was being ridiculous. He must simply be as starved for human companionship as he was for food.
“Please ring if you need anything.” Elizabeth closed the door firmly behind her.
***
By late afternoon Mr. Dee had developed the infection Elizabeth had predicted.
Every time she visited his chamber, he was sleeping restlessly.
She used cold compresses to bring down the fever and attempted to rouse him to drink willow bark tea.
Her healing powers reduced the effects of the fever and accompanying aches, but they could do nothing about the underlying illness.
Her healing mancy was also depleted from previous usage and she had less energy for the task than she would prefer.
Fortunately, the fever did not appear to be extremely high, and he slept peacefully.
That evening, before retiring to bed, Elizabeth slipped out the backdoor to admire the moon and the stars—a common habit when the weather was fair.
It was an exceptionally clear night, and the moon was full overhead, casting a pale gray light over everything.
Frogs and crickets chirped, the soothing sounds of a summer night.
Closing her eyes, she took pleasure in the cool refreshing breeze blowing over her face.
It took her a moment to recognize what had changed. The world had gone silent. The crickets. The frogs. All the creatures of the night had fallen silent in one instant. How bizarre. What could be the cause?
She looked around but perceived nothing amiss. Still, the back of her neck prickled uneasily.
Then she heard a strange rustling noise.
At first, it sounded far away but then it grew louder.
Almost as if someone moved in a stiff taffeta gown.
But the sound emanated from the sky, which made no sense.
Glancing up, she caught a glimpse of a grayish shadow from the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, it was gone.
She froze in place, all of her senses alert. Nothing.
But the sound erupted again, much louder, to her right.
An ominous rustling noise. The wings of a bat?
Or several bats? No. The thing she glimpsed was far too big for a bat.
She might have called it a ghost, but ghosts were silent, were they not?
Her eyes strained in the darkness, but she saw nothing.
Why am I standing outside in the dark? She usually felt safe on Longbourn’s property, but now she imagined how small and defenseless she would appear to a predator in the air.
The rustling sounds grew closer as if the creature was descending, stooping to attack her.
Instinctively, she reached with her mind as she would touch a rabbit or deer.
But there was nothing of the warm simplicity of an animal consciousness.
This creature had an alien blankness where its mind should be—nothing but cold emptiness and an accompanying sense of great dread.
Definitely not a bat.