Chapter Ten The Clergyman Raises the Alarm #4
“They would empty the ballroom before they removed Wickham,” Hurst concluded. “We must keep our object in mind.”
Darcy paced several steps, then returned with agitation evident in every movement. “We cannot bring the Bennets into Netherfield without warning them. If Wickham knows what Miss Elizabeth is, the ball places her directly within his reach.”
Collins turned sharply. “What is Miss Elizabeth?”
“What is Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley and Hurst asked in unison.
Darcy gave Bingley and Hurst a cold glance. Bingley pressed his lips together, while Hurst averted his eyes.
“What did you mean?” Collins moved closer. “What has the officer discovered about her?”
“I do not know what he intends,” Darcy said.
“That is not the same statement, sir!”
“No.” Darcy regarded him steadily. “It is the only one I shall make.”
Collins’s fear returned, but so did the remnants of reason it had created. “Mr Bennet should be informed.”
“He has no evidence beyond your account, and your account describes impossibilities.” Darcy gestured to the house, where Miss Elizabeth’s figure had disappeared from the window.
“If Wickham learns that the family has been alarmed, he may leave Meryton and approach her elsewhere. At Netherfield, we control the doors, the passages, the servants, and every route from the grounds. Keeping her from the ball will not remove the danger. It will remove her from the people capable of recognising it.”
Bingley seemed to have come to a decision.
He did not approve or understand yet, but he could not dispute the conclusion.
Wickham had reached Miss Elizabeth in her aunt’s drawing room, surrounded by relatives.
Longbourn could offer affection, locked doors, and Mr Bennet’s quill knife. None would stop a determined vampire.
Collins considered the house for several moments. “I shall remain silent until the ball, provided that no further incident occurs. If Mr Wickham approaches Miss Elizabeth before then, or if I believe she faces immediate danger, I shall inform her father.”
The condition carried more courage than Darcy had expected from him. “Agreed.”
“And if I discover that your intentions are equally dangerous, I shall inform him of that as well.”
Hurst studied Collins afresh. “Lady Catherine may have made one competent appointment.”
“She has made several.”
“Let us preserve the moment and avoid exaggeration, my friend.”
Darcy extended his hand. Collins stared at it. His eyes shifted to Darcy’s face, then to the glove covering the hand, and after a visible struggle between courtesy and survival, he bowed instead.
“I believe a verbal agreement will suffice.”
“For once, Mr Collins, we are in accord.”
Collins returned to the house. His step grew firmer as he approached the front door, and by the time Hill admitted him, he carried himself as someone entrusted with the defence of civilisation, female virtue, and the social integrity of the Netherfield ball.
The assignment had restored much of his confidence without reviving all of his foolishness, a balance Darcy hoped would survive until the twenty-sixth.
Bingley watched the door close behind him. “Darcy, what is so special about Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy regarded both Hurst and Bingley; the time had come. “I shall explain at Netherfield to all of you. All I will say now is that she is in danger.”
“Very well,” Hurst said. “She is in danger. And we have just entrusted her safety to Mr Collins.”
“When expressed in that manner, the plan loses some of its wisdom,” Bingley admitted.
“Do not express it in that manner.” Darcy turned to the carriage. “Fletcher will place trusted servants in every public room. Wickham will never be unobserved, and Collins will provide warning if he attempts to approach her through the Bennet party.”
Hurst opened the carriage door but did not enter. “Whatever she is, he knows, Darcy.”
“Yes.”
“The moment he touched her, he knew.”
Bingley’s earlier warmth was replaced by a grimness which rarely survived long on his face. “Then we must cancel the ball.”
“No.” Darcy glanced back at Longbourn, where ordinary windows concealed a family discussing musicians, lace, and white soup while a predator calculated the worth of one daughter’s blood.
“Wickham has already found her. If we cancel, he will choose the next meeting and the next ground. At Netherfield, he will enter a house we control, watched by people he does not recognise, and surrounded by witnesses he cannot silence.”
Hurst climbed into the carriage. “We are setting a trap.”
“We are acknowledging the one he has already set.”
Darcy followed him, and Bingley entered last, still troubled by the danger to Miss Elizabeth and unable to deny that distance would not protect her sister. As the carriage moved away, Darcy watched the house through the glass until the bend in the drive concealed it.
Wickham had secured a regiment, a ballroom, and an invitation. Darcy, by contrast, had acquired Mr Collins, which would have been discouraging had the clergyman not already demonstrated the one qualification no one else possessed.