Page 12 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Plots and Plans

Warmth washed through Elizabeth. Her heart fluttered frantically, the beat dizzying. Her longing to feel Mr. Darcy’s mouth on hers was a living, writhing need, almost a physical pain within her. She swayed forward.

“But, Mama, you have not eaten a thing,” Kitty’s voice wailed in the hallway below.

Shock radiated through Elizabeth. She stepped back, her cheeks going red. Had she almost kissed Mr. Darcy in the middle of the hallway? She pressed her palms to her scorching cheeks.

“Do not go to bed. It is not even seven,” Kitty continued.

“You must eat something,” Jane’s voice added.

“Please excuse me,” Elizabeth whispered.

Whirling, she fled down the hall, away from the staircase and Mr. Darcy, and knew it for fleeing. She slipped into the small sitting room that adjoined her and Jane’s bedchambers and closed the door, leaning her back against the cool wood before returning icy hands to her cheeks.

Worse than nearly kissing him, and nearly being caught, she had almost done so before they could discuss anything. His defection. Her dictates for any future they might have together. They must have an understanding of what a life between them could look like before there was any kissing.

“Jane is right. All you have eaten today is toast, and that was this morning.” Kitty’s voice sounded as if she were at the top of the staircase now.

“How can I dine when my Matthew, my baby, is so ill?” Mrs. Oakwood’s querulous words came up the hall, moving in the direction of Elizabeth’s door.

Mr. Darcy, she assumed, must have gone into his room before her relations spotted him, for they gave no greeting, and he no reply.

“At least let me send for a tray,” Jane urged. “We will dine together in your room. You can have more toast, and some broth. You must eat, Mama. ”

“I do not feel well enough for food. If only Matthew would improve. Then I might take some broth as you say.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary are with him now, Mama,” Jane said. “They will put him right.”

“Mary?” Mrs. Oakwood sniffed derisively, directly outside Elizabeth’s door now. “She does not want me to permit Mr. Jones to leech him again. As if a mother does not know what is best for her child.”

“Mary may not trouble to be as pretty as she ought to, but she is very smart.” Kitty’s soothing tones moved farther up the hallway, along with their mother. “You must allow that. And the colonel said he has seen such an ailment before.”

“You are a sweet girl, to say such kind things about your sister after she robbed you of Longbourn.”

“I am pleased she did.” Down the hall, their mother’s chamber door opened. “I only wanted Longbourn for your sake, Mama. You wanted it so very much, and it was not as if any of my sisters had any hope of marrying Cousin William.”

“I will go call for a tray,” Jane said quickly. She did not enjoy discussions of their cousin any more now that he was dead than she had when he lived.

“…am happy I did not need to marry him,” Kitty was saying as Jane’s light tread passed. “I would have been wasted on Cousin William, and now I have met someone so much bet—” The door closed, muting Kitty’s words.

Elizabeth dropped her hands and drew in a long breath. She crossed to her bedchamber and went into the washroom to pour cold water from the waiting ewer to bathe her face, then blotted it dry with a cloth. Raising her chin, she met her gaze in the mirror set above the basin.

She wouldn’t have expected so much solicitousness from Kitty, and her words about Mary had been nearly kind. What did it say about Elizabeth that her least thoughtful sister was doing more to help their mother than she was? Far more, for Elizabeth had done nothing to soothe Mrs. Oakwood’s always unsettled nerves.

Yes, she had caused Colonel Fitzwilliam to come to Dovemark, but that was all. Her family was in distress and all Elizabeth seemed able to do was think about a gentleman. The uncharitable thoughts she’d harbored about Jane and Mary since learning that Lord Franklin was allowed near their brothers mocked her.

She frowned at her reflection. She would do better. Beginning this moment. She would go to her mother’s room and assist Kitty and Jane in persuading their mother to eat .

Which would also keep her safely away from the temptation of Mr. Darcy.

After another glance in the mirror to ensure all was in order, she left the washroom, then crossed her bedchamber to her sitting room. Striding to the hall door, Elizabeth opened it.

Thomas stood without, his hand raised to knock.

“Thomas,” she blurted in surprise.

“May I come in?” He sounded very grave.

Elizabeth stepped back. “Certainly.”

Thomas entered and paced across the little room, a lovely space done in cream and rose, and dotted with far more lace than most of the house evidenced. His dark coat contrasted starkly with the femininity of the décor, and when he reached the fireplace and turned back, his expression stern, he suddenly looked older than his thirteen years.

Elizabeth closed the door and joined him in the small sitting area, where she, Jane, and Mary often did their mending, read one another letters from their relations, and talked. “You seem quite serious. Is something new amiss?”

Thomas clasped his hands behind his back, then released them to gesture for her to sit, then dropped into Jane’s favorite chair before clasping his hands tightly once more. “I want to know what is happening.”

Elizabeth alighted on the end of the sofa nearest him.

“And do not try to put me off,” Thomas said abruptly before she could speak. “I’ve heard the whispers that Matthew and I are heirs to some earl, and Lydie said so, too, so really I already know, unless she’s wrong. And I know you and Jane and Mary are always conspiring. And I don’t know where you go all the time, but you aren’t in the garden or the stable because Lydie and Matty and I have looked.”

“We spend a great deal of time in the garden and the stable,” Elizabeth protested.

“And before you say I’m too young or offer some other reason not to tell me things, I want to say that if someone had told me and Matty what is transpiring, I bet he wouldn’t be sick at all.”

Elizabeth winced, for her brother’s words rang true.

Thomas met her gaze with a glare and demanded, “So what do you say to that?”

Elizabeth kept her expression neutral, suspecting that most any emotion she might evidence at her younger brother’s deductions and declarations would be taken, in this moment, as prevaricating. She folded her hands in her lap and regarded him steadily. “You are correct.”

Thomas stared at her. “A-about which part?”

“Well, not about us not normally being in the garden or stable, because we are, as you well know.” He opened his mouth to protest and Elizabeth hurried on with, “But you are correct that Matthew would not be ill now if Jane, Mary, and I” -and their mother- “had told you what we know about you and about Lord Franklin.”

“So you will tell me?” Thomas sat forward, eager.

Elizabeth studied him, maintaining outward calm while her thoughts jumbled. Should she tell him? If so, how much? “Your life may be about to change,” she said slowly. “And even if not, you are nearly grown and someday you or Matthew will be master here. There is so much that I believe Papa Arthur would already have told you, and taught you, and looking back, I think we should have been doing what he would have, were he here.”

“Like teaching me to ride?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Precisely like that.”

And soon Jane and Mary would be gone. Elizabeth too, if she and Mr. Darcy could reach an understanding. They would not be here to teach their brothers as Papa Arthur would have.

But masters could be brought in. Fencing. Riding. Thomas and Matthew would go to school, as well. They should, Elizabeth realized, whether they were acknowledged as the Earl of Pillory’s heirs or not. They were young men of gentle birth and they should receive a certain education, and Nanny Hill was not up to the task.

More than that, Thomas and Matthew needed to know their father’s secrets. What services he’d rendered the Crown. How their own home was riddled with hidey-holes and passages. Dovemark was much more her brothers’ than hers, and it was wrong for Elizabeth to know so much more about the estate and its former master than they did.

Her thoughts went to the thick, sealed missive hidden in Papa Arthur’s desk. Should she tell Thomas of the compartment and the letters there? If he knew, he would likely insist on opening his and Matthews, if not all of them.

“Lizzy?” Thomas asked.

She required time to think, and to consult Jane and Mary. They definitely owed their youngest siblings some sort of explanation. All three of them. “Lydia should hear what I will say as well. Matthew, too, but that must wait. Come to the stable tomorrow morning after Mr. Clarke leaves,” she said, referring to the tenant who helped with the horses. “He is usually done by eight. We will speak more of this then. ”

“Why not right now?”

“Because right now I must go help with Mama.” And then she would discuss what to tell Lydia and Thomas with Jane and Mary. “And because in the stable we will not be overheard.”

“Is that why you and Jane and Mary are always there?”

“It is one reason, yes. Will you tell Lydia?”

Thomas nodded and stood, bringing Elizabeth to her feet as well. “Thank you,” he said and started across the room. When he reached the door, rather than open it, he paused to look back. “You will tell me the truth, won’t you?”

Elizabeth mustered a smile. “I will.”

Her little brother nodded again, sharply, once more looking older than his thirteen years, and left.

Elizabeth stood for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Resolutely, she left her and Jane’s sitting room and strode down the hall. Even before she reached the door to Mrs. Oakwood’s rooms, she could hear Kitty’s voice prattling on, her words becoming clearer as Elizabeth drew near.

“…could have anyone she wants, but she despised our cousin, so you can stop saying that she could have secured Longbourn.”

Her sister was still on that? Elizabeth shook her head. Kitty must have been very invested in the idea of capturing Mr. Collins, given how difficult she seemed to find giving up on the idea.

“I imagine you are correct, dear,” Mrs. Oakwood said weakly. “I simply meant that Jane is indeed lovely.”

“Oh, we cannot deny that, not that it matters now, for she is claimed. Eat a little of that roll, Mama. I buttered it for you.”

“Very well.”

“Of course, Elizabeth would never have secured Longbourn. Even had she loved our cousin, she would not have done so, simply to spite you.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. She was not that contrary.

“And Mary is too serious and refuses to do anything to be pretty, and Lydia is far too young and nonsensical. So, we agree, if not for his unfortunate demise, I would have secured Longbourn for you, Mama, just as you always wanted.”

“Yes. I know you would have. You are my most dutiful, loveliest daughter.”

“That is why you settled your five thousand pounds on me.”

“To be certain it is.”

Elizabeth scrunched her nose. Much as she wanted to be a dutiful, helpful daughter, she had no desire to go in there and endure Kitty’s rant. She could only hope that Jane had not returned after asking for a tray to be sent up. If she had, she was silent in her endurance of Kitty’s words.

Her footfalls soft, Elizabeth eased back away. With a final, guilty look at the door to her mother’s sitting room, she went to seek Mary. Convincing her that it was time to reveal the secrets of the stable to Lydia and Thomas would be a better use of Elizabeth’s time than enduring her mother and Kitty.

***

In the early morning hours, Elizabeth gave up on sleep. She rose and dressed, her thoughts, as they had through the night, swirling with the argument she and her sisters had the evening before. Mary had been adamantly against telling Thomas and Lydia everything, certain that they need only know the truth about the Hargreaves and Papa Arthur’s heritage, not about the secret passageways and hidey-holes, and certainly not that their sisters were the Boney Bandits. But Jane had pointed out that their siblings should know how to defend themselves, to which Mary grudgingly agreed. From there, it did not take much for Elizabeth to convince Mary that it would be difficult to teach Thomas and Lydia without admitting more to them, and at least showing them the cavern.

Elizabeth struggled to press memories of their heated discussion from her mind, for in the end they’d come to an agreement. But the moment she managed to, visions of Mr. Darcy standing in the candlelit hallway, looking down at her as if he would kiss her, filled her senses. Elizabeth definitely did not want to think about kissing Mr. Darcy. Not until they came to some sort of understanding, which they would never achieve if the moment they gained the privacy to speak, they ended up kissing. They required a way to be unobserved enough for serious discourse, and yet kept apart, the combination of which seemed hardly possible.

Shaking her head in an attempt to banish Mr. Darcy’s tempting visage, Elizabeth went first to check on Matthew, surprised to find only a maid sat with him. Her surprise turned to delight when the girl informed her that Matthew was doing well, and so Mary had gone to her chamber sometime in the small hours to sleep for a time. Indeed, his cheeks held more color than the day before, Elizabeth felt certain of that.

Greatly cheered, she made her way to the kitchen to steal samples of that morning’s baking and a quick cup from Mrs. Hill’s teapot. Mrs. Oakwood had long ago conceded Mrs. Hill the privilege of morning tea, which she generally shared with her mother-in-law, though Nanny Hill took her tea mostly as milk. Leaving the two ladies with a smile, aware that the entire kitchen was in a cheerful mood because of the news about Matthew, Elizabeth secured some dried apples and went out into the rather crisp November morning.

She entered the stable to find Mr. Clarke donning his coat, shed while he cared for the horses. Only then realizing that the faithful tenant’s task was more than tripled by the appearance of Mr. Darcy’s teams and his and the colonel’s riding mounts, Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt as she greeted, “Mr. Clarke, how pleasant to see you.”

He tipped the brim of his cap. “A happy morning to you, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I am sorry for the extra work. I will assign a footman to assist you.”

Mr. Clarke shook his head. “No need, miss. Weren’t so much work as that. Well trained, compliant beasts, those.” He peered at her. “They’ll be Mr. Darcy’s, will they?”

Smiling for how quickly rumor spread in their little community, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. He and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, will be visiting for a time.”

“That’s a good thing, miss. No disparaging Master Thomas, but seems to me having a few gents about can’t hurt. Me and Mrs. Clarke were on about that very thing this morning. Said I should offer to come stay in the stable for a time.”

Touched as she was by the concern of the Clarkes, Elizabeth shook her head. “That is very kind of you, but Mr. Darcy and the colonel are here now, and I do not believe your back would thank you for sleeping here.”

Mr. Clarke chuckled. “I’ll tell the missus you said so.” He tipped his hat again and meandered out of the stable.

Elizabeth went to Tuck, offering him an apple. He took it delicately, not one to scarf down his treats like Mare Marian, and Elizabeth rubbed his ears.

With Mr. Darcy’s teams and his and the Colonel’s riding mounts, the stable was not even half full. Papa Arthur had built it to hold horses for all of his children, both his stepdaughters and his sons, as well as a team, and to still have room for guests. Instead, ever since the horse Papa Arthur had brought back with him from the continent had died and Mama had sold their team, wanting to be rid of all horses, the large, rather lovely stable had housed but three mounts.

As she’d told Thomas the evening before, life had to change. Thomas, and then Matthew, would go to school, or have tutors in. They should learn to ride, box, and fence, and to be honorable gentlemen. Mr. Clarke’s services would need to be replaced by an actual stable master, with grooms under him, and a team purchased. Perhaps more than one, for as her brothers grew, they may care to have their own curricles. Mama would need to control her fear of horses, for Elizabeth would not see her brothers hamstrung in society.

She gave Tuck another apple, then distributed the rest, even giving some to Mr. Darcy’s tall bay, his riding mount. Would he protest the indulgence? In many ways, he seemed very rigid. Yet, at other times, he was almost playful. She felt certain that he’d enjoyed their game of keep away at the assembly, for example, and on occasion she’d even seen Mr. Darcy smile.

Which made his already handsome face devastatingly so.

An image of Mr. Darcy’s smile before her, she let out a long sigh.

Footfalls sounded without, growing louder by the moment. Recognizing her younger siblings’ lively steps, Elizabeth shook off visions of Mr. Darcy and mustered an even, serious expression. If she was going to teach them, she needed to impress her competence upon them. Wielding knives and swords, or even fists, was not to be undertaken lightly.