Page 14 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

Library

Netherfield

Two Days Later

Darcy was surrounded by the leathery scent of books, by sunshine, and by warm wood glowing gold in the sunlight. The wingbacked chair where he was seated creaked as he shifted, while the paper in his hands rustled as he read it. The document, written in Wickham’s neatly looped writing, included a lengthy list of his fellow officers, as well as the most comprehensive information he had about each of the gentlemen.

Darcy had been mildly surprised by the length of the document when Wickham, with an air of resentment, had handed it over a few hours previously. But now, as he pored over it, he reflected that he should not have been startled in the least. Wickham had always had a gift for reading people, paying attention to small details of personality and preference and quirks. He had turned his gift to personal use, carefully flattering and charming his way through life, taking advantage of his own attractive person and agreeable manners to live off the backs and purses of others .

Now Darcy had put his former playmate’s abilities to good use. Wickham’s observations of the other officers were interesting, and perhaps enlightening; certainly they were detailed, and Darcy could only be glad of that. He had another hour of peace in which to study the list, as Bingley had glumly closeted himself in his study to see to his ever-increasing mountain of correspondence, and his sisters had hidden themselves upstairs with vague allusions to the latest fashions.

Thus Darcy was rather surprised – albeit pleasantly – when the door opened and admitted an unexpected arrival.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Bingley’s butler announced.

Darcy sprang to his feet and hurried forward with hand outstretched. “Richard! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, do! Thank you, Gaines. Would you be kind enough to inform Mrs. Nichols that my cousin will be staying the night?”

“Of course, sir,” the butler agreed and withdrew.

“I hope this does not put your friends out,” the colonel remarked, wandering over to stare out the windows toward a field next to the stables, where two bay horses were trotting around, their manes streaming in the wind. “I am well aware it is not quite the thing to appear uninvited, but you said Bingley, at least, will not mind.”

“He will not, nor will Miss Bingley. You are the son of an earl, after all!”

“Second son,” Richard said with a snort. “I have met Miss Bingley before, you know, and am confident that she will have no interest in me, not with you as her other male guest. A penniless second son is nothing compared to the master of Pemberley, after all!”

Darcy cast his eyes heavenward in silent acknowledgement before walking over to a tray which held a brandy decanter and several glasses. He poured brandy for both of them, handed his cousin a cup, and took a sip.

“Thank you, Darcy,” the colonel said. “Now, let us sit down and discuss the incredible letter you sent me, which convinced me to ask leave of my general and rush to Hertfordshire.”

Darcy obediently took a seat next to the fire and peered in confusion at his cousin and friend. “What about my letter? It was not so strange, was it?”

The colonel dropped into his own chair, put a hand into his coat, pulled out the letter, and glanced through it before turning to look at his cousin. “Who is this Miss Stowe? Did someone really shoot her? If so, who and why? Who is the old enemy you mentioned so obliquely? Truly, for a man who is well known for writing clear letters, this one was remarkably obtuse! Thus, you see me here instead of drilling my men, which is admittedly a dreary pursuit, so I do not mind in the least.”

Darcy hesitated for a moment in order to gather his thoughts, and then said, “The enemy is George Wickham, who has taken a position in a militia regiment currently stationed in Meryton, the local village. I know that you wish to punch his teeth out, but I have promised to protect him so long as he serves my interest. So you are not allowed to beat him into a pulp.”

The colonel’s face was set in rigid lines, and his eyes were fierce.

“You cannot trust Wickham to assist you, Darcy,” he snapped. “After all these years, do you not know that?”

“I can when it saves him from a beating,” Darcy replied cynically. “In truth, he has already assisted me, but let me speak of Miss Stowe first, and Wickham’s part will come later. Miss Elizabeth Stowe is the ward of a local landowner, a Mr. Bennet, who lives in the estate of Longbourn, which lies to the west of Netherfield. She is an orphan and the local heiress with a dowry of ten thousand pounds.”

Darcy paused and looked into the fire contemplatively, and then turned back and said, “I think I may be in love with her, Richard. Never in my life have I felt this way about a woman.”

The colonel’s outrage over Wickham gave way to bewilderment. “What?”

“I have met a woman whom I believe I wish to marry,” Darcy replied simply.

His cousin stared at him as if wondering if this was some sort of elaborate joke, and then rose to pour himself another brandy.

“You are serious?” he asked after taking a sip of his drink. “A country girl with a small dowry, an orphan? Who were her parents?”

“I am serious, yes,” Darcy said pensively. “As to her parents, her father was a Mr. Stowe who became close friends with Mr. Bennet during their mutual time at Oxford, and her mother was a Scottish woman. Miss Stowe, it seems, has recently learned she is the heiress of an estate in Scotland, and her guardian believes that she was attacked at the behest of someone who is next in line to inherit.”

“That is incredibly lurid and unlikely,” Fitzwilliam protested. “How old is Miss Stowe?”

“She is twenty and will attain her majority during the coming summer. ”

“Why would the hypothetical murderous heir or heiress wait so long to attack her?”

“Because, as preposterous as it seems, Mr. Bennet and Miss Stowe knew nothing about the inheritance until a letter arrived recently from a solicitor in London, and I suspect that perhaps the person responsible for this attack learned of her inheritance recently as well.”

“And you believe them? It seems absurd.”

“I know that she was shot,” Darcy said flatly, and the glass in his hand trembled a little. “I was a few feet from her, and if she had not bent over to call to a dog, she would have been struck in the heart instead of the shoulder! The lady I love would be dead, Richard.”

“I am sorry, Darcy. That is most distressing indeed. Is she badly wounded?”

“Providentially, no. She was grazed on the shoulder, and the round went through a window beyond her. She will recover with ease.”

The colonel drained the rest of his brandy, set the glass down, and turned toward Darcy. “I am thankful and also overjoyed that I asked for leave. I can think of no better place to be, with you in love and a mystery to solve; moreover, if I am very fortunate, perhaps I will have the opportunity to knock out some teeth!”

/

Longbourn

Three Days Later

Darcy rode along easily on Phoenix, flanked by Bingley on Argos and his cousin on his grey gelding The road to Longbourn was clear, if muddy, from the rain the two previous days, and all three horses, like their riders, were glad to be out and stretching their legs in the thin autumn sunshine.

Darcy was relieved that he and the other men had slipped out of Netherfield without being seen by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who were entertaining visitors in the drawing room when the gentlemen had passed quietly out the front door; Lady Lucas and her two elder daughters, he thought, based on the voices coming from inside the room. Darcy was pleased that they had not been required to stop and pay their respects – not that he had anything against the preeminent Lady Lucas and her daughters. Indeed, he was heartily grateful to them for distracting the ladies of Netherfield from joining their visit to Longbourn.

The thought of Miss Bingley descending on the Bennet family at this moment in time made him quail with distaste. He did not trust that she would moderate her natural unpleasantness in the face of Elizabeth Stowe’s injury, and he could not bear the thought of her smugly taunting the wounded woman. Indeed, he had discreetly warned his cousin that morning not to mention Miss Stowe around Bingley’s sisters, for Miss Bingley’s dislike of the other lady was so strong as to turn her into a spiteful harpy at the merest mention of Miss Stowe’s name.

Richard had laughed and agreed, adding that he was very curious to see this mysterious redheaded beauty for himself. Darcy, too, was eager to see the woman who had so enchanted him, but he was well aware that he might not. It was possible, even likely, that the lady was keeping to her bedchamber to rest. The injury was minor, Mr. Bennet had said, and that was good news indeed, but how minor was it? Had she already started healing? Or was she bedbound, in pain, facing a slow recovery?

It had been two dreary days since he had ventured outside of Netherfield Hall, kept inside by the bleak weather, with icy rain whipped about by brisk winds. He and Richard had spent much of their time in the library beside the fire, poring over Wickham’s list, expanding it with Richard’s own knowledge. The colonel had a great many contacts through the military, and some of the names were not entirely unknown to him. For the rest, Richard had written several letters to various friends in the Regulars and reserves, inquiring after the histories and reputations of the other officers.

It was a monumental task, however, as Richard pointed out to Darcy. Moreover, would-be assassin might well be one of the privates, who were by and large unvetted, unknown men from a rougher lifestyle, more desperately in need of money than the well-bred second sons on allowances from their fathers’ estates who made up the vast majority of the officers. Further complicating the matter, the regiment and most of its members originated in Northumberland, which bordered on Scotland and was the home county of Miss Stowe’s deceased father. It was quite likely that Elizabeth’s family of birth lived there and that Mrs. Moira and Mr. Harold Stowe were acquainted with some of the members of the regiment. It was all a complicated mess to sort out, a daunting if imperative one.

“Longbourn appears to be a pleasant property,” the colonel said approvingly, breaking into Darcy’s thoughts.

He looked around and realized that they were within distant sight of the Longbourn mansion, which was surrounded by tidy fields.

“Yes, Mr. Bennet seems a diligent landlord,” he agreed. “It is not a large estate, but the fences are well maintained and the fields well drained. Indeed, Bingley, I believe that Longbourn is ahead of Netherfield in that area. ”

Bingley, who was wearing a rapt, distracted expression, turned to his friend with bewilderment. “What did you say?”

“I believe that some of Netherfield’s fields need better drainage,” Darcy said patiently, and the colonel laughed and said, “Bingley, is it possible that your mind is on other matters? Perhaps one of the Misses Bennet?”

Bingley grinned and nodded. “Yes, Colonel, you have quite caught me out. Darcy, pray do remind me about the drainage later? I am eager to see Miss Bennet after so many days and have no thoughts for anything else.”

“Tell me about the Bennet ladies,” Fitzwilliam invited. “Are they very handsome?”

“Oh, yes,” Bingley eagerly answered. “They take after their mother in that they are all blonde and blue eyed, and they range from pretty to exceptionally handsome. Miss Bennet is the loveliest of them all, and quite the kindest and gentlest lady I have ever had the privilege to meet.”

“There is no son to inherit?” the colonel asked.

“There is not,” Darcy answered, “and regrettably, I have heard that Longbourn is entailed away to a distant cousin, so unlike Miss Stowe, the Bennet ladies are undowered. ”

“That is a pity,” Richard replied as the horses turned onto the gravel driveway which led to the house itself.

“It does not much matter to me,” Bingley answered. “I have plenty of wealth to support a wife and children, and Miss Bennet, as the daughter of a landed gentleman, is socially higher than I am. My sisters believe otherwise; they have grandiose ideas of me marrying a baronet’s daughter, or perhaps even a baron’s daughter, which is, I think, absurd.”

“It is not so absurd,” Fitzwilliam countered. “You are a handsome, wealthy man, and congenial man. Many an impoverished matron of the nobility would be quite pleased to capture you for her daughter.”

“Well, I have no interest in a marriage based on connections and wealth,” Bingley said decidedly. “I am not prepared yet to marry Miss Bennet, but I am certainly pursuing that course of action – though I beg you not to tell my sisters of my intentions.”

“I will be silent, on my honor,” Richard said with mock solemnity. They had, by now, reached the stables, and the three men swung down from their horses and handed over the reins to eager stable boys.

Darcy straightened his cravat, which had been ruffled in the wind, and forced himself to breathe deeply. He would be terribly disappointed if he did not see Miss Stowe, but he would face it like a man.