Page 16 of Dishonorable Gentlemen (Bennet Gang #1)

I Spy

Leaving the trees that gathered at the base, Elizabeth climbed the steep hillside, following Jane up at a punishing pace that made the autumnal day feel nearly hot. Obviously, something troubled Elizabeth’s older sister for her to engage in such exertion, and she suspected she knew what. Jane must fear that Mr. Collins’ provocations would end with Mr. Bingley challenging him. After what had happened the last time someone challenged Mr. Collins on Jane’s behalf, Elizabeth understood her sister’s worry.

They reached the top of the highest in the line of hills, Oakham Mount, and gazed out over groves and dales still touched with yellow and orange even though November drew near. Elizabeth’s gaze roamed fields brown with turned earth, then rose to take in a leaden sky.

“It may rain,” she ventured.

Jane’s eyes shifted, taking in Elizabeth from the corners. “I imagine it may.”

Did Jane sound…angry? “Should we go back before it does?”

Swiveling, Jane regarded Elizabeth with a frown and asked, “When were you going to tell me that the militia stationed here is hunting for us?”

“They are not,” Elizabeth said quickly. Yes, Jane was definitely angry. “They are hunting for the Boney Bandits, who happen to be French and male. I cannot see how that has anything to do with us.”

Jane’s balled hands found their way to her hips. “Can you not?”

Elizabeth winced. “We did not want to worry you.”

“We?” Jane said sharply. “Then Mary already knew as well? I could not see her face from where I sat at cards.”

“You have become quite adept at hiding your feelings. I had no idea you heard Mr. Denny.”

“And you require more practice masking yours. I could tell you were not surprised, merely worried, and deduced that your worry was for me.”

“We should have told you,” Elizabeth said. Especially as Jane had been bound to find out eventually. “I am sorry.”

Jane turned back to the view, wrapping her arms about her torso under her cloak. “I am not one of Mama’s porcelain figurines, Elizabeth.”

“You have seemed so happy, though. Happier than I have seen you in a long time. Mary and I did not want to spoil that. We did not want anything to fracture your newfound peace.”

Jane sighed. “Because I am pleasant and kind does not mean I am weak or fragile. I might argue that facing every day, every obstacle, with amiability, understanding, and hope is far more difficult, takes much greater fortitude, than turning to anger or vitriol to give me strength.”

Elizabeth looked down at her boot encased toes. “I do not turn to vitriol.”

“Mockery, then.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips into a hard line, Jane’s reprimand stinging.

“I worry for you, sometimes,” Jane added softly.

A startled bark of laughter left Elizabeth. “You worry for me?”

“You are so quick to find fault. I worry you will end up alone.”

“We kept a concerning piece of information from you and now I will end up alone?” Elizabeth snapped. She couldn’t keep an acerbic edge from her voice as she added, “As I already said, I am sorry we kept the militia’s reason for being here from you.”

Jane turned to face her again. “I have already forgiven you for that. We are speaking now of your quickness to form opinions and of your tendency to mock.” Jane’s eyes narrowed. “Should I add to that list that you are quick to anger?”

“I am not quick to anger.”

“You are angry now.”

“Because you said that I will end up alone.”

“No. I said I worry that you will. I worry that you spend far more time being a Boney Bandit than a young lady, and that perhaps that is in great part my fault, for going along with you.” Moisture built in Jane’s eyes. “And I worry that if I were to leave, you will have nothing left because you have cultivated a quick, sharp wit and deadly expertise with a blade, but no skills by which to find a husband.” Jane dashed at her eyes. “I am your older sister and I am failing you.”

Elizabeth’s anger drained away, and in that moment, she truly grasped how much her sister had already come to care for Mr. Bingley. Loss stabbed through Elizabeth but she fought it down to say, “I cannot imagine you failing anyone, ever, let alone me. And I am certain that once I decide to apply myself to the task, I will have no trouble securing a husband.” If she could find a gentleman she wanted as one. Perhaps someone like Mr. Darcy, but who did not frown quite so often, because in his rare moments of ease, he was quite engaging.

Jane offered a watery smile.

“And I truly do apologize for—” Lower on the hillside and north of them, something metal glinted among the trees.

“What?” Jane said softly, wariness instantly replacing her sorrow.

“I am not certain, but I believe someone watches us.” Not turning her head, Elizabeth slanted her eyes northward.

“I see it as well,” Jane murmured. “Do you think it is a threat?”

“Here? On our own lands?” Elizabeth shook her head but she wished she carried a sword.

“Especially here on our own lands, for, whoever it is, they already trespass.”

“It is likely a poacher,” Elizabeth said, but Jane made a fair point. Still, it was on Elizabeth’s tongue to ask where Jane’s vaunted hope and kindness were now, but she bit back the words as petty. It was one thing to look for the good in people, but quite another to assume someone sneaking about Dovemark, spying on them, was a friend.

“We should return home,” Jane said.

Without turning her head, Elizabeth darted her gaze about again. Metal still gleamed among the trees lower down the hill. “When we reach the tree line, I will circle around to learn who is spying on us.”

“That is too dangerous.”

“They will not know I am there.”

Jane pursed her lips, but her lack of immediate refusal told Elizabeth she’d given in. Besides which, if she wanted to stop Elizabeth from hunting for the interloper, Jane had little choice other than to cry out or chase her.

They set out down the hill, soon reaching the line of trees at the base. There, Elizabeth dipped down to draw her knife. She held it loosely, pressing the blade into the folds of her skirt to help it go unobserved. Jane watched with disapproval but made no protest when Elizabeth gestured for her to continue on.

Leaving her sister, Elizabeth slipped through the trees, wending her way closer to the denser copse in which the trespasser lurked. She moved slowly, both in a bid for quiet and so she might listen, until the rustle of something large moving through the underbrush before her reached her ears. Crouching lower, Elizabeth inched forward.

Ahead, movement caught her eye. She went still, then reached out with a gloved finger to gently press back a scraggly, thorn studded bramble.

Before her, pressing through the brush, was a man in a red coat, the color garish against the autumnal backdrop of grays and browns. Elizabeth shook her head at the hubris of attempting stealth while dressed in such a bright color.

He wore no hat, giving a clear view of limp, middling brown hair, a color that matched too many of the officers she’d seen. Darting a look about the detritus at her feet, Elizabeth found a pebble. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it sailing out in front of the man, to his right.

The stone clicked against a branch. His head jerked, seeking the source of the sound.

Lieutenant Denny.

Elizabeth was still as stone as he scanned the forest ahead and to his right. Finally, nothing meeting his gaze, he returned to pushing his way through the underbrush. With slow care, Elizabeth let the bramble she’d pulled aside slide back into place.

She waited while all sound of his passage faded, certain that if she could not hear him, it was impossible that he should hear her far stealthier steps. Once she was again alone in the woods, she made her slow way back, then sought the stable.

As Elizabeth suspected, Jane waited inside their cavern, Mary with her now, their faces pinched in the wavering lantern light. At the sight of Elizabeth, Jane’s shoulders dropped to a more natural angle, worry draining from her face. Mary watched with serious eyes as Elizabeth closed the secret door by which she’d entered.

“Well?” Mary asked.

“It was Lieutenant Denny.”

Mary pulled a face. “I knew I did not care for him.”

“The real question is,” Jane said slowly. “Why was he spying on us? He did mention Kitty at cards. Could he be seeking a chance meeting with her?”

“Then why depart once you and I left the hilltop?” Elizabeth asked. Her gaze roamed the large, open space, most of the rock smooth, evidence of the power of whatever had long ago hollowed out the hill.

“Because neither of us is Kitty?” Jane offered.

“If Lieutenant Denny’s trespassing has something to do with the Boney Bandits, rather than Kitty’s dowry, Cousin Robert will know.”

Elizabeth dropped her gaze from studying the cavern to scrutinize Mary. “And why should he share what he knows with us? How would you even ask him without rousing suspicion? ”

“Suspicion?” Mary’s eyebrows rose. “I will simply mention, in conversation, that I am worried rumor of Kitty’s fortune has made a target of her. If he knows otherwise, he will be quick to tell me.”

Distrust welled in Elizabeth. Cousin Robert had seemed eager to speak with Mary that day in Meryton, and she, with all her skill, hadn’t managed to avoid conversing with him at the assembly. Was she deliberately seeking out Robert Collins’ company? “You are not forgetting that he is a Collins, are you?”

“He is a Collins in name only,” Mary replied primly. “And no, I am not.”

“Regardless,” Jane cut in before Elizabeth could press Mary, “I do not think we dare another robbery until the militia moves on.”

“But that may not be until spring,” Elizabeth protested. If they didn’t hold up another carriage until the militia left, would they ever again? How long would Mr. Bingley go before proposing to Jane, who Elizabeth strongly felt would accept? She hadn’t known that robbing Mr. Darcy would be her final moment as Azile. She would have… She didn’t know what she would have done differently, but at the least she could have savored the moment better.

“We have only given out half of that you took off Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. If we stretch what is left, it will last the community well into spring,” Mary said. “I agree with Jane. Another hold up at this time is simply not worth the risk.”

“We did take quite a good deal from them.” Jane’s teeth worried at her lower lip. “Are you certain we should not—”

“The funds are already allocated,” Mary cut in crisply.

“You only now said that we still have half.” Jane’s voice held a note of pleading. “We could at least return that, with a note of apology.”

“Apology?” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I do not feel at all apologetic.” Even if she hadn’t known that was their last holdup at the time, Elizabeth had thoroughly enjoyed robbing Mr. Darcy. “You have heard the rumors of their fortunes. They can spare the funds.”

“I am of age,” Jane stated. “I could go to Uncle Phillips and ask him about my funds. I know Papa Thomas did not live long enough to put aside the dowries he would surely have given us, but perhaps Papa Arthur left us each a sum. I could repay Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy from that.”

“And what would happen, then, if you do marry Mr. Bingley and he ever finds out that you gave him your money?” Elizabeth shook her head. “You worry for no reason. Both gentlemen can afford to contribute to the local populace and it speaks highly of them that they did.”

“They do not know that they did,” Mary said dryly .

Elizabeth held up her thumb and forefinger, nearly touching. “It still makes me think a bit better of them. A tiny bit.”

Jane pursed her lips. “I may inquire of Uncle Phillips nonetheless.”

“Or you should not,” Elizabeth countered.

“Enough.” As she spoke, Mary started for the secret door. “We are talking in circles and I would like tea. Jane will do as she wishes with her funds and tomorrow morning I will walk into Meryton and see what I may overhear, and if I can glean anything useful from our cousin.” She shot a look over her shoulder, at Elizabeth. “Our everyone-knows-he-is-not-truly-a-Collins cousin.”

Elizabeth raised her gaze ceilingward in a dramatic bid for fortitude. “Very well. Only, take care in your dealings with him. He is not to be trusted.”

“I did not, in fact, say that he is.” For all the crispness of her words, Mary used care when she slid back the rectangle of wood that hid the spy hole. After a moment, she pushed the door open and slipped out.

Elizabeth made to follow but halted when Jane didn’t move. She turned back, looking a question at her sister.

Taking in Elizabeth’s look, Jane folded her delicate features into a wince. “Do you…do you think that Mr. Collins set Lieutenant Denny to spy on me? To ensure that I am not receiving calls from Mr. Bingley?”

Elizabeth glanced at the cracked open door. In the stable beyond, she could hear Mary talking to Mare Marian in a cheerful voice, likely spoiling her with pilfered apples while she waited for them. “Unless he has convinced Mr. Denny to physically intervene between the two of you, I cannot see what harm that would do. Let him report any visits from Mr. Bingley as he likes.”

“It is only, Mr. Bingley seemed so angry when we met Mr. Collins in the village. As if he might challenge our cousin.” Jane’s eyes were wide with worry, shimmering nearly indigo in the flickering lantern light. “I could not bear it if another duel were fought over me. Especially with a Collins.”

“It will hardly come to that,” Elizabeth scoffed. “For one thing, Mr. Darcy would never permit his friend to duel. Or do you forget that the practice is outlawed?”

“That did not stop Papa Arthur.”

“It will stop Mr. Darcy, and he will stop Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth gentled her tone. “You worry for nothing. Come. It is nearly time to receive calls. If we do not go in soon, Mama will send Lydia to find us.” Rather, to find Jane. For years, Mrs. Oakwood hadn’t cared how they spent their afternoons, only how Kitty did, but now, she wished for Jane to be present in the drawing room. That neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Bingley had entered their house since the day after the assembly deterred Mrs. Oakwood not one bit.

Jane nodded and left the cavern with Elizabeth, who extinguished the lanterns and made certain Mary had closed the spyhole, and then carefully shut the door. Even if Azile and Enaj might never ride again, they couldn’t have anyone discover their secret. Anything else aside, if what they’d done became public knowledge, Jane would be unmarriageable. Elizabeth as well, but she cared not so greatly as Jane did.

Of course, Jane was far more likely to charm a man so thoroughly that he would accept her strange, wild past and marry her regardless. Elizabeth, in contrast, might very well end up with someone argumentative and contrary. She couldn’t imagine spending her life with someone who didn’t challenge her.

Mr. Darcy’s frown flashed through her mind. She shook her head as she followed Jane and Mary from the stable. Elizabeth wanted a challenge, not endless condescension.

But her mind conjured his visage back, not frowning this time. She easily recalled his commitment to keeping Jane away from Mr. Collins at the assembly. The wry amusement he evidenced at times. His clear dedication to the bonds of friendship.

He could so easily be the sort of gentleman she would wish to marry. An ounce less condescension. A slight lessening of his tendency to glower…

She shook her head again. She was daft to even think it. She couldn’t marry a man who, even unwittingly, condemned so large a part of her life so adamantly. Mr. Darcy was too intractable to marry, no matter how her breath caught when she witnessed the rare moments he didn’t glower.