Chapter 5
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Hertfordshire
“Have you seen Mary?” Elizabeth questioned as she hurried downstairs, their guests soon to arrive and little time left to give Mary her gifts.
Frowning, Lydia shook her head, the other Bennets equally unhelpful as Elizabeth’s eyes moved over the drawing room, Mary nowhere to be seen. How peculiar. Even Mary would not avoid their family tradition, however tempting it might be.
Had she even returned from town? Elizabeth wondered before turning to question Lydia, “I thought you two went into Meryton earlier?”
“We did,” she huffed as she leaned deeper into her seat, “though she left me at the mercantile before going to deliver Mamma’s message; near an hour I waited for her, but since she did not return as promised I left.
Serves her right too, if it made her worry, for she would not lend me the money I asked, and I only came away with this pink ribbon, which I am not at all fond of.
La, though at least it shall look a sight better on me than that freckled-faced Mary King…
and because I bought it you know she shall not. ”
Arms crossed, Elizabeth observed her unrepentant sister for but a moment before turning to their parents, a weight forming in her chest–she had heard what message their mother wanted sent, if Mary had done as she had planned, Aunt would already have arrived.
“Do you think we ought to go in search of her? If she had delivered your message Mamma, I am sure Aunt would be here… and it is not like Mary to fail in any task.”
Lifting his head toward the window, the light of day not yet gone, her father shook his head.
“An hour or more until the sun sets. No, Mary shall be alright; Mrs. Phillips could well have been out, and Meryton is scarcely a danger. Should she not return before the party we can send young Devin in search of her, no need to ruin your mother’s party. ”
Wide, disbelieving eyes staring at the face of a man she had thought so knowledgeable and clear-sighted, Elizabeth turned toward her mother–she would see the worry, the cause for action.
“Lizzy may be correct,” her mother stated, the fluttering of her handkerchief begun.
“Somehow this does not seem true to Mary. Kitty or dear Lydia perhaps, but not Mary, she would never be diverted from her course, as unending as a river that one–I cannot say where she learned to be so, umm… staid. In any case, yes, Lizzy, here is what you must do, and take care no one knows your sister may have vanished–you know how many of our neighbours suffer from wagging tongues. Wagging tongues, oh, where was I? Yes! You must go in search of her; Devin can join to see you do not suffer the same fate as your poor sister. Jane must stay here, because Mr. Bingley is to join our party. Kitty and Lydia ought to remain too, though I will send them on a thorough search of the rooms and garden. They could go with you I suppose, but truly, it would not do for more than one of you to be gone… People may notice Mary’s absence as it is, since we told them it was her birthday, but still, perhaps they will be too aware of Jane or Lydia to notice?
In any case, you must make haste–the sooner you find Mary and return home the better. ”
Catching Jane’s worried gaze, Elizabeth worked a small smile on her face.
Their mother, though not displaying any notable concern, at least thought Mary’s absence worth rectifying, which was beyond any concern their father had.
Between her and Devin, they would find Mary quickly and enjoy the tale of her absence, for thus far, no notion as to the reason came to mind.
Within a quarter of an hour Elizabeth had sent Devin to Meryton in search of Mary, while she, first making her way to the Lucas’, hoped to speak to Charlotte before her friend left for Longbourn.
“Charlotte,” she rushed as she saw the young woman in their front garden, a few posies in one hand and a pair of shears in the other. “Have you seen Mary?”
“Mary? Why no,” she said, one brow raising as she set the shears on a nearby post. “I was gathering some flowers as a token for her–we shall be leaving for Longbourn momentarily. Is something the matter?”
Nodding then shaking her head, Elizabeth sighed, “She will be found soon enough. Devin is in town looking for her, and I am taking this road–I had hoped she would be here, but I know some men who will help me search. Behave as if nothing has happened, please, and tell no one, I shudder to think what sort of gossip even a short absence might bring.”
“Of course, I will tell no one–especially my mamma,” she teased halfheartedly, an edge of worry in her voice. “I will, however, keep an eye out for her. Where are you to now? I can send word if she is at the party before you are back.”
“Netherfield. There are at least four groomsmen who have worked at Longbourn during the harvest seasons; they will be willing to help in the search and be better at keeping their tongues than most.”
“Perhaps Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley might help? Mr. Bingley may already be gone to the party–any chance to see Jane–but Mr. Darcy might yet be home.”
“No,” Elizabeth declared emphatically, her cheeks burning in remembrance of their last encounter. “I can manage. I must go!”
“Go, and I will send word if I see her.”
Thanking Charlotte, Elizabeth strode with no small reluctance toward Netherfield Park.
Surely, she told herself, she and the groundsmen would manage to find Mary in short order.
Mary would be safe–in body and in reputation.
Finding her before the day was done and silence from all involved would see to that.
Yes, silence, a priority of her mother’s that she could well agree on.
For gossip could turn an innocent waylaying from a twisted ankle or wrong turn into something far more sinister.
Crossing the wooded grounds on her way toward the servant’s entrance, Elizabeth clutched her chest, a pair of sky-blue eyes peering between an oversize coat and hat.
Heart racing as he shoved a note into her hands without a word, the man brought a finger to his lips before moving back into the trees, the sound of boots thudding and flashes of his greatcoat allowing her chest to ease; the man gone as quick as he came.
Working to catch her breath, Elizabeth broke through the glob of wax on the back of the note, her eyes scanning the paper even as it shook.
To whom it may concern,
Miss Mary Bennet is available for purchase. In four week’s time, have 30,000 pounds prepared. A day prior instruction will be given for how to pay the purchase price, and Miss Mary Bennet will be returned, unharmed, one week after.
P.S. Should the Bennet family find themselves unable to raise such a sum, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the only person I will accept adding to the Bennet coffers.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth breathed, her brows pulled as she reread the missive. “30,000? Such a sum!”
Lifting her head, gaze drawn around her before fixing toward the facade of Netherfield peeking through the trees, Elizabeth began to race to the front entrance, the men she had hoped to help her forgotten.
Charlotte was right; she had to see Mr. Darcy! However horrible. However disagreeable. He had had particular mention in the note, and that meant something… it had to.
Pounding the knocker again and again until the butler pulled back the door, a deep scowl on his face, Elizabeth pushed past him, all politeness tossed aside–her sister’s life could well be at stake!
“Is Mr. Darcy in? I must speak with him, it is urgent!”
“Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy questioned as he appeared from a room further down the hall. “Is something the matter?”
“I…” Elizabeth began, her eyes cutting toward the butler, “could I speak with you in private?”
Forehead crinkled, Mr. Darcy nodded, his arm extending toward the door beside him.
Passing the butler on her way to the room, Elizabeth took a wide berth around him, his displeasure with her salient, though he did well to disguise it when Mr. Darcy might see.
“Thank you, Mr. Innings, I am certain you have much to do,” Mr. Darcy said as he followed Elizabeth into a library which proved to be in poor possession of books, the shelves more empty than full.
“Very well, sir,” Mr. Innings remarked, the door closing behind them bringing Elizabeth’s nerves to an edge.
Motioning toward a teapot and a plate of biscuits and small cakes, Mr. Darcy gave an awkward smile, “Please, help yourself. Mrs. Simmons provided an extra cup for Mr. Bingley and a mountain of treats, though he did not stop to enjoy them; too eager to celebrate at your home, I imagine.”
“I imagine,” she answered unconsciously as she moved about the room, the feel of his eyes evident as she decided where to begin, the weight of the note in her hand growing with each passing moment.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy began, “I know you find me a man deserving of scorn, and rightfully so. The apology I gave at our last meeting was not worthy of acceptance, though I give it again in sincerity and add to it, for what I supposed of you and your mother is in no way true.” Turning to view him, Elizabeth froze at the open, honest contrition of Mr. Darcy, the man’s eyes meeting hers as he continued, “I humbly beg your forgiveness, though I know it is not merited… and, as much as you deserve a more eloquent apology, I see you are distressed and wish to help. If there is anything I might do, you need only ask.”