Chapter 11
Of course, there was no sleep to be had once Jane’s disappearance had been discovered.
Elizabeth quickly ascertained that only a single outfit was missing—a dress, pelisse, shawl, and bonnet, and the half-boots Jane kept with the rest of the Bennets’ outdoor footwear, in a little nook by the door to the back garden.
Jane had not run off with the intention to leave forever, they were certain.
Mr Bennet ordered Jones, who acted as lady’s maid to all six of the Bennet females, to keep watch over Lydia in her room, and then he quickly dressed and donned his spectacles.
Elizabeth also dressed and asked Hill to build up a fire in the parlour and make some tea.
Mary, Kitty, and Mrs Bennet, still in their night clothes and wrappers, were drawn to the comfort of huddling together and sipping tea, but Elizabeth whispered to her father, “Please send for Mr Darcy.”
He shook his head. “If ever there was a man who needed a full night of sleep….” he began to say.
“Yes, so true, Papa. But he has had to deal with Mr Wickham many times in his life,” Elizabeth said. “And he promised me that you would write to him at Netherfield Park at any time I needed him, for any reason.”
“My bookroom, Lizzy,” he whispered. “We cannot discuss sensitive topics…in front of everyone.”
Elizabeth nodded, wrapped herself in a shawl against the chill of the bookroom, and quietly followed her father into his sanctuary.
“Close the door, if you please,” he said.
She was already doing so, and he continued in a low voice, “I can think of two excellent reasons not to alert Mr Darcy to Jane’s disappearance, other than my very valid concern for his exhaustion when he left here tonight…
or, I supposed I should say ‘last night.’”
Jane’s reputation in general, and her reputation with Mr Bingley, Elizabeth thought.
He said, “First, I noticed that you immediately assumed that Jane had gone off to meet Mr Wickham, when we have just seen the proof that the man had arranged to meet Lydia during the night, not Jane. I think the more reasonable assumption is that your elder sister has an assignation with Mr Bingley, who after all is the young man who is actually courting her. And asking Mr Darcy to help with his own best friend’s dishonourable actions would put Mr Darcy into quite an odd position.
Naturally, I would look to Mr Darcy for help if my own efforts have not located and restored Jane. But not just yet.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking that it was a good point, but still certain that Jane had left the house to meet Mr Wickham.
“My second concern is for your reputation, Lizzy, and that of your sisters. If your Mr Darcy learns that two of my daughters have attempted to leave the safety of their home in order to meet with men, not only does it cast a terrible pall on my reputation as a father—quite rightfully, of course—but it will surely also lower your own reputation, and that of Kitty and Mary. And that seems entirely unfair to the three of you, and something that I must attempt to preclude.”
“I understand your concerns, Papa, I do. But I am of the mind that Mr Bingley would never have made arrangements to meet with Jane in the middle of the night, and I also feel certain that, even if Jane were to try to make such arrangements, he would not have gone along with it. I am positive that Jane has somehow gone off to meet with Mr Wickham, and although I agree that it would be devastating for all of us should Jane’s reputation be ruined…
I also am of a mind that Mr Darcy would be the best person to make decisions that would eliminate the possibility of blasted reputations. ”
“In other words,” Mr Bennet said, peering at Elizabeth through his slightly smeary spectacles, “you trust your soon-to-be suitor more than your poor old father.”
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes, feeling the truth of her father’s suggestion, but also feeling sad on behalf of her father that she did not trust his wisdom as much as either of them might hope.
“Well, let me at least try to find Jane,” he said.
Revealing that Lydia's note from Wickham had specified that Lydia meet at Longbourn’s hunting lodge, a rather ramshackle building on one edge of the forest that fringed Longbourn’s and Netherfield’s lands, he arranged for the Bennets’ driver and their burliest footman to check the building.
“If you spot Jane, either there or anywhere else, naturally you should bring her back to us,” he told Mr Smith.
“If you spot a young man with blond, curly hair, I want him brought here for questioning. There is no reason to think this Wickham wretch is armed and dangerous, but do take care. My daughter’s well-being is of paramount importance, naturally.
Mr Smith and James mounted up and rode towards the lodge.
“Thank you for taking my idea—my fears—seriously,” Elizabeth mumbled into his chest as her father gave her a long hug.
They walked to the bookroom, then warmed up a bit in the parlour, then checked the front steps again, and finally returned to the bookroom. Impatience at least helped to warm them up a bit, and when Mr Smith and James returned, Elizabeth and her father bounded from their seats, eager for news.
But James just shook his head. “No sign of anyone at all in or near the ole’ lodge, sir,” he said.
“Was there any sign of someone waiting there recently?” Elizabeth asked. “I am thinking of still-warm ash in the fire ring outside the lodge, or in the fireplace inside.”
“We checked,” Mr Smith said. “And there was no sign of a recent fire in either spot. If someone waited at all, tonight, they were likely chilled through.”
“Thank you for checking the area,” Mr Bennet said to them. “Obviously, we expect your discretion on this matter.”
The men bobbed their heads and James said, “Mrs Hill has threatened us and all our progeny if a single word of any of this is bandied about.”
Elizabeth’s father thanked them again and sent them off. But mere moments after the two servants had left the room, there was a knock.
Bade to enter, Hill opened the door and manhandled the younger of the Bennets’ two footmen, a young man named Franklin, into the bookroom. “This one has something to say to you, sir.”
Elizabeth felt glad that her father did not insist that she leave them, but Franklin looked at her with such shame, she wondered if she ought to exit on her own so that he would be more truthful.
Before she could move, however, Franklin burst into his confession: “I am so sorry, sir; I did not fully realise the folly of following Miss Bennet’s orders until just moments ago.
She is just such an angel, every single bit as sweet and good inside as she is completely and wholly beautiful outside, and there could be no wrong, no wrong at all, in anything that she would say or do or even, I was certain, order someone else to do; do you not agree, sir? ”
Franklin gulped and stopped speaking for a split second, and Mr Bennet demanded, “What has she ordered, and what have you done, boy?”
He gulped again, and his voice was breathy with anxiety as he said, “I delivered and collected notes from a certain hiding spot in the forest. But I had no idea of there being any possible scandal from the notes, as it is simply impossible for Miss Bennet to do anything even a little bit wrong, I think—”
“Enough!” Elizabeth’s father put his hand up to stop the flow of words, and Franklin flinched. Mr Bennet said, “Am I to understand that you carried notes to and from my eldest daughter, Miss Jane Bennet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you also carry notes from my youngest, Miss Lydia?”
Franklin looked puzzled and said, “No, sir.”
He opened his mouth again, as if he wished to elaborate—or perhaps just heap on additional praises of Jane—but Elizabeth interrupted with her own question, “Where exactly is this hiding spot?”
“There is a certain oak tree near the northwest corner—”
“I believe I know the one, Papa. Should we send him to see if there is a note not yet picked up?”
“Perhaps, but I think it unlikely.” Her father removed his spectacles and tried to clean them, but the handkerchief he used might not have been the cleanest, and Elizabeth could see that the results were imperfect.
Sighing, Mr Bennet said, “Franklin, please do keep silent about all of this. Miss Bennet, of whom you think so highly, would be badly injured if you tell others what you have done on her behalf.”
“Yes, sir. Uh, should I go, sir?”
Elizabeth sent a pleading look at her father, and he seemed to understand her. “Best get a mount ready for a three-mile ride, Franklin,” he said. He turned to Elizabeth and said, “Write your note, Lizzy.”
She sprung into action, and she quickly penned a message to Mr Darcy.
She had spelled out the pertinent facts about both Lydia’s and Jane’s note exchanges, Lydia’s attempt to elope, and Jane’s disappearance.
She wanted so dearly to ask for his assurance that her sisters’ poor behaviour would not end her hopes with him, but of course she made no allusion to that.
It was not the time for such concerns. Jane needed their help.
Worry about future repercussions would have to remain, for now, in the future.
Elizabeth and her father went to the front steps, where Franklin appeared, riding Gwennie, perhaps the swiftest of the Bennets’ horses.
He took the message that Elizabeth handed up and tucked it carefully away in his inner coat pocket.
She said, “Check the oak tree first, in case there is a message still waiting there. If there is, please keep it alongside my note as you ride to Netherfield Park. Ask for Mr Darcy’s valet, whose name is Wilkins.
Please do not give this note to anyone other than Mr Darcy or Wilkins. ”
Franklin nodded and rode away.
Mr Wickham, with a long knife!