Nineteen
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Breakfast the following morning was more animated than usual. Sir William Lucas's ball provided ample material for discussion, and Mr. Collins seemed determined to omit nothing from his account.
"I have seldom witnessed such civility," he declared. "Sir William and Lady Lucas acquitted themselves with every propriety, and Miss Lucas discharged her duties as eldest daughter with uncommon grace. I dare say Lady Catherine de Bourgh would approve of Miss Lucas's deportment."
"I thought it a very tolerable evening," Mr. Bennet replied. "The Lucases have always known how to assemble agreeable company."
"It was much better than the Meryton assembly," Lydia announced. "At least there was no disagreeable gentleman to stand about looking as though everyone had offended him."
"Ah, yes. Mr. Darcy was absent," Mrs. Bennet observed with a satisfied smile.
Elizabeth felt her hand tremble at the mention of his name. She had thought of little else throughout the night until her head had ached and sheer exhaustion had at last claimed her.
"I had hoped to meet Mr Darcy at last,” Mr. Collins announced. "But alas, amidst meeting the neigbourhood, dancing, and enjoying Miss Lucas's most agreeable conversation, I did not observe his absence."
Mr. Bennet looked over the rim of his coffee cup. "Indeed? Now that you mention it, neither do I recall seeing Mr. Darcy. I assumed, at the time, that perhaps remarks such as yours, my dear Lydia, had become so widely known that the poor gentleman judged it safest to absent himself."
"I do not believe that was the reason," Jane said gently. "Mr. Bingley mentioned during the evening that Mr. Darcy had left Netherfield on pressing business."
Elizabeth's hand stilled around her teacup.
"Indeed?" she asked, striving for an indifferent tone. "Did Mr. Bingley say when he was to return?"
Jane shook her head. "No. I did not think to enquire further."
"Who cares when he returns?" Kitty said with a shrug. "The assemblies will be far pleasanter without him standing so solemnly against the wall."
Lydia laughed in agreement, while Mary gently reproved her sisters for judging a gentleman so harshly without knowing his circumstances.
The conversation soon drifted to other matters, but Elizabeth scarcely heard another word.
Jane had unknowingly confirmed what Mr. Wickham had told her the previous evening.
Worse still, Mr. Bingley's explanation gave no indication that Mr. Darcy's absence would be brief.
Until that moment she had continued to hope that some pressing matter had called him from Netherfield for only a few days. Even that small comfort was now gone.
He had left Hertfordshire, and she had no notion when, or even if, she would see him again.
~
Outskirt of Hertfordshire
Attending Sir William Lucas's ball had confirmed the intelligence the man had first received from one of the Netherfield cooks.
She had whispered, with all the certainty of servants discussing their betters, that Mr. Darcy had quitted the estate in company with his groom and valet.
He had known better than to trust the report entirely.
A cook might observe a departure, but she could not know whether it was intended merely for a few days or for longer.
Within the last four and twenty hours, he had quietly confirmed the report. Mr. Darcy had indeed left Hertfordshire.
There could now be no remaining doubt.
The man lengthened his stride as he crossed the dark road, drawing his watch from his pocket.
The hands had already crept beyond eight.
He had promised to be here by the hour and had no desire to arrive late.
If he failed to appear within seven minutes of the appointed time, his companion had been instructed to leave.
Their patroness trusted very few people and left nothing to chance.
He quickened his pace. The meeting would be brief, but he still had to return before his absence invited questions.
The Mantell Inn stood alone on the outskirts of Meryton, its weathered sign creaking softly in the evening breeze. It enjoyed the sort of reputation that suited travellers with business better left unrecorded. Coin was accepted readily enough. Questions were not.
He paused before entering the yard, allowing his eyes to travel over the few horses tied outside and the scattered windows above. No movement. No curious faces.
Satisfied he had not been followed, he mounted the narrow stair and knocked three times.
The door opened almost immediately. The woman regarded him for a long moment, her gaze passing calmly over his face before she spoke.
"You are late," she said.
"I was unavoidably detained." He remained upon the threshold, making no attempt to enter uninvited.
"You were instructed to be here by eight. Had another quarter hour passed, I would have gone."
"I am here now."
"For your sake, I am relieved."
The words were spoken without warmth. The last trace of ease vanished from his expression.
"There may be little comfort in that," he admitted. "I begin to suspect our patroness has expended a great deal of influence for very little return."
She studied him in silence.
"What has happened?"
"Mr. Darcy has left Hertfordshire."
For the first time, surprise disturbed her composure.
"Left?"
"So I am informed." He folded his gloves slowly between his hands. "One of the Netherfield servants first reported it, though I did not trust the information. Last night's ball removed every remaining doubt. The entire Netherfield estate attended... except Darcy."
"Where has he gone?"
"I do not know." He gave a slight shake of his head. "When I sent word three days ago, I intended only to report my progress. I had no notion this would be the intelligence I should bring instead."
Silence settled between them.
At length he inclined his head towards the room beyond.
"May I come inside? I should rather not continue this conversation upon the landing."
Her displeasure had not diminished, yet she stepped aside all the same.
"Very well."
He crossed the threshold, and the door closed firmly behind him.
~
A few yards from the Mantell Inn, Tobias Hatch, a Bow Street Runner, watched from the shelter of a hedge as the man he had been following exchanged a few quiet words with a woman standing in the doorway of one of the inn's rooms.
He had arrived in Hertfordshire two days earlier at Colonel Fitzwilliam's urgent request, having been entrusted with an unusual commission.
He and two fellow runners had been ordered to observe two gentlemen whose names had been supplied, together with the places they were most likely to be found.
Their instructions were simple. Watch. Follow. Report. Nothing more.
The conversation at the inn was too distant for Tobias to distinguish a single word, yet the caution with which the pair conducted themselves was enough to hold his attention. The woman admitted the man only after a brief exchange, and the door closed firmly behind him.
Tobias committed the woman's appearance to memory.
Whether she proved important or not remained to be seen, but any person who met one of his subjects in such secrecy deserved to be identified. Not only would her description accompany his report, he needed to figure out her identity.