Chapter Twelve
What Happens at Midnight
Elizabeth closed her eyes in relief and let out a long-held sigh.
This had been a most taxing day, one which she was pleased to have behind her.
She fell back onto her pillows and lay still for a moment, allowing herself to let go of the tension that had been building all through the day.
In a moment she would have to rise again and change into her night clothes, but for now she was pleased merely to lie still and not struggle to hold her tongue.
Her first chore had been rising early, according to her habit, after a night of very little sleep.
She had been awakened during the night by the sound of footsteps above her, and her explorations had led her to Mr. Darcy and the secret room with the strange machine.
She had only slept an hour or so longer after bidding the gentleman goodnight when her maid had knocked at her door to bring her usual chocolate and bread with jam.
The brisk walk she had taken thereafter had returned some of her natural vigour to her step, but a sleepless night will lead to a challenging day.
She had imagined it would be harder to greet Mr. Darcy again after their adventures together and was relieved to be mistaken.
When she appeared in the breakfast room, she saw him chatting comfortably with her father and complimenting her mother, and as her eyes met his, he gave a slight smile and sipped at his coffee as if nothing untoward had occurred.
He would not give her away; in this, at least, she knew she could trust him implicitly.
The true test of the day was maintaining that equanimity in the face of her ridiculous cousin Mr. Collins.
Since his arrival two days prior, at exactly four o’clock as promised, he had proceeded to strew his path with a carpet of preconceived compliments and adulations that were designed to flatter and not recommend.
With one breath, he admired everything about Mrs. Bennet’s household, furnishings, china, and the like, and with the next, he spouted endlessly about how superior were the very same things in the home of his esteemed patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Papa’s house might be fine and well-appointed, but how much grander was Rosings, where Lady Catherine reigned.
The mantel in Mama’s drawing room might be an elegant piece of craftsmanship, but so much more expensive and ornate was that in one of Lady Catherine’s smaller parlours!
If Lizzy had expected nothing of sense from this newly met cousin, her expectations were not disappointed.
“He is silly, inane, obsequious, ill-mannered, and rude!” she exclaimed to Jane during a moment of privacy.
Jane had taken some pains to excuse their cousin’s shortcomings, but within a few words agreed with her sister.
“He is... not what we had hoped.” For sweet Jane, these words were damning indeed.
Worse, Mr. Collins’ particular attentions toward her were becoming pronounced and increasingly difficult to avoid.
He leered at her and laughed excessively at her jokes, whilst not comprehending her more subtle observations, and simpered and cooed and did everything he thought might ingratiate himself to her.
Being too well bred to cut him, she tolerated these assaults the best she could, but her patience was wearing thin.
Just this evening, as the family sat in the parlour after dinner, he interrupted a reading of some of the finer points of female modesty from a book of sermons he had, to crow exultant over the prospect from the morning room at his parsonage, from which a fortunate young wife might enjoy the anticipation of seeing Lady Catherine or Miss Anne de Bourgh as they rode past on the phaeton, with the possibility that they might even stop for a moment to converse.
“And of course, what happy woman would not hold back all bitterness of speech in such an event, for Lady Catherine cannot abide impertinence, and Miss de Bourgh is of a frail disposition and such displays might try her energy.” He gazed at Elizabeth, his words both flirtatious and admonishing at the same time.
She flung an arm across her forehead as she lay upon her pillow.
However was she to discourage him? Had she detected some fondness for him on Mary’s part?
Was there some way to put Mary more in his path and hope that he might turn his affections from one sister to another?
She must find a moment to talk with Mary in the morning to ensure that such a plan would be welcomed.
Outweighing all of this in her mind, however, were the things she and Mr. Darcy had discovered last night, both about themselves and about the strange goings-on in the house.
She had replayed every facet of the previous night’s adventures in her mind, and had dwelt upon each expression, each turn of phrase, until she no longer knew what had occurred and what she had created in her own mind.
One thing she was certain about, however, was that she needed to examine that machine in better detail.
The buttons and levers that she had seen inside the casing were fascinating, and if Papa were indeed working for England and not against her, perhaps she might lend what little ability she had to the efforts.
She doubted that she, an untaught woman, could succeed where skilled and educated men could not, but stranger things had happened.
However, the men might not take too well to her offer.
Not everybody was as enlightened as Papa.
.. and Mr. Darcy, she realised. Not every man would believe that a woman might have something of value to offer, and fewer still would accept her help.
Better to pursue her investigations without their knowledge and then, should she find something that might help, present her ideas to Papa and allow him to decide how next to proceed.
Working alone would be difficult, and without the benefit of whatever other information the men had, she might not know what was important and what was meaningless. Furthermore, it was true: she had very little formal training on which to base her instincts. But Mr. Darcy would know!
He would, she sighed, make a fine partner in this, if she could bring herself to trust him fully.
He was intelligent and resourceful, and he respected her intellect and abilities.
He knew something of the background to this whole affair, and he was in a position to ask questions.
Furthermore, he had the social standing and the social finesse to appear merely curious, whereas questions from her would seem unusual.
Perhaps even his ill-informed contacts in London might have some of the information they needed, although they knew it not.
Why could she not trust him with her whole heart?
She was no longer vexed by that insult at the assembly, was she?
Surely a sensible person such as she knew herself to be would long since have discarded any hurt feelings!
The more likely answer was that she still feared for her father’s safety.
Was Mr. Darcy’s supposition that Papa was abetting the English true, or an error on his part based on what he had surmised from the letters on the machine?
No matter. It seemed she had little choice if she wished to help.
Moreover, if she could discover the truth of the machine, she could then prove Papa innocent should Mr. Darcy’s people in London act on their presumptions.
And if she were mistaken, and he were guilty.
.. well, she would have to face that eventuality anyway.
She was resolved: Whenever next Mr. Darcy came to call, she would find a moment to speak in private with him and propose a partnership.
He had offered the hand of friendship. She would swallow her misgivings and offer her trust in return.
Somewhere in the midst of these musings and recollections, she drifted off into sleep and woke some time later in the darkness.
The flame in her lamp had gone out, and there was no hint of light to be seen through her window.
She still lay in the frock she had worn to dinner, atop the counterpane.
Mrs. Hill would never give her a moment’s peace were she to learn that Lizzy had slept in her clothing, and so with a grimace, she rolled to her side and pushed herself upright.
No stranger to dressing and undressing alone and in the dark, she was soon clad in her nightgown.
There was enough moonlight to read the clock on her mantel.
It read two o’clock in the morning. She yawned, the lateness of the hour bringing her more fatigue than the short hours of sleep the previous night and the unplanned rest she had just taken.
She stopped. There was another noise from above.
This was becoming almost commonplace, and for a moment she thought to return to her bed and hope to fall asleep once more, but her curiosity was too great.
She would ascend the secret stairs and watch, only for a while, in hopes of learning something new.
Perhaps she might still gain a few hours of sleep before the sun rose.
Stifling a yawn, she pulled on her slippers and robe and once again crept up the narrow staircase to press her eye against the chink in the wood.
Her first reaction upon peering into the room was to squeeze her eyes closed.
The space was bathed in bright light from what seemed like a hundred lamps.
A second, more cautious glance revealed the details to her.
There were four men gathered about the table, focused on the device.
Three were strangers; one was her father.
She counted three lamps at full flame sitting on the table itself, and the illumination she could see around the rest of the room suggested two or more lamps burning beyond her field of vision.
The draperies were pulled fully closed; from the outside, she imagined the room would look quite dark.
Although she could not see the machine, for one man was sitting in front of it, the men were speaking in normal voices and she could hear the conversation.
“Have you received word from Jean-Michel?” The speaker was the man with his back to her. “He promised that he would attempt to communicate with us after the new moon.” He spoke in French, but his accent was clear and easy to understand.
One of the other men shook his head in denial, but the question seemed to have been directed at Papa, for he responded in kind.
“Non, pas encore.” No, not yet. “But I did receive a message from le professeur. There has been too much interest in our small corner of England of late, and Jean-Michel dare not show his face lest he be recognised.”
Too much interest? Could Papa possibly have Mr. Darcy’s inquiries in mind? Surely he had not discovered their clandestine exploits the night before. Could he suspect Mr. Darcy’s very presence? Was the entire project in jeopardy? She held her breath and waited for more.
“The envoy has arrived, however.” This time it was the man to Papa’s left who spoke.
He looked somewhat familiar, although Lizzy knew she had never seen him before in her life.
He had a kind voice and although his bearing suggested he was the leader of this small group of renegades, her impression of him was one of a good and decent man, no matter that he was French.
“Do we know who he is?” Papa asked the question.
“I have not been given his name but was told he will reveal himself to us should it be necessary.”
This was answered by a series of nods and grunts from the others.
Then the third man spoke. “If there are too many eyes open in Meryton, should we cease our activities for a night or two, until we can assess whether we are in danger?”
Papa narrowed his eyes and nodded. “It is a good idea. Do you have enough material now, Etienne, to continue your work for a day or so at the other place?”
What other place could this be? Lizzy wrinkled her nose and frowned, then smoothed her expression as the gesture interfered with her view through the chink.
“Oui, mon ami. I have enough.” So the leader’s name was Etienne. This was good to know, although how many men named Etienne she might find in France she could not begin to consider.
“Très bien. I shall send a missive in two days time; in the meantime let us not come near this place, and I shall try to discover what I can about these many eyes.” Again, a chorus of masculine agreement. “Allow me to show you out, and I wish you all a good night’s rest.”
The men stood and shook Papa’s hand, one by one, then filed towards the doorway and out of Lizzy’s sight.
She stood there in silence for a very long time after the door clicked shut.
Who was watching the town? Were they friend or foe, and if the latter, whoever could they be?
But more important to her current plans, there would be nobody in the room all of tomorrow and the day after!
If she could somehow get a message to Mr. Darcy, together they might be able to explore the device at length and learn some of its secrets!