Page 18 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

This Is War

Elizabeth battled the fear that welled in her as Mr. Darcy’s carriage sped up the lane at a speed that tested the springs and was definitely dangerous by lantern light. None of the three of them issued any protest, however, for Mr. Darcy had ordered his man to make all haste back to Dovemark. Across from her, Mr. Darcy was a looming shadow, for they hadn’t taken the time to light the smaller lanterns inside the conveyance. At Elizabeth’s side, Mary had her hands clenched tight where they rested in her lap.

They passed through Meryton at a similarly dangerous speed, the familiar buildings tinted a warm yellow by torchlight as they rushed past. Mr. Darcy’s driver didn’t slow until they neared the turn into Dovemark, which he still took at a speed that pressed Mary against Elizabeth’s side. The carriage picked up pace again, hurtling up the drive. Apparently, Mr. Darcy did not demand speed often, for his driver seemed to comprehend the seriousness of the command.

They clattered to a halt before Dovemark and Elizabeth jumped out to the sight of the door being thrown open and servants massed in the entrance hall. Gathering her skirt, she ran for the steps.

“It’s Master Matthew, miss,” Hector cried as she reached the top step. “Miss Lydia and both Mrs. Hills are with him.”

Holding her skirt even higher, Elizabeth raced upstairs.

Matthew’s door was open, a second gaggle of servants gathered in the hall without. The usually unused room beside Matthew’s likewise had the door ajar, and as Elizabeth passed she caught sight of Mr. Jones and a maid tending to Lucy. Panic surged through her. She careened into Matthew’s room.

“Matthew?” she gasped, dropping her skirt and seeking to catch her breath.

Lydia, Mrs. Hill, and Nanny Hill ringed the bed. Lydia, a bandage about her neck, rushed forward and flung her arms around Elizabeth. Embracing her sister, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder to the bed, to find that Matthew was breathing. Relief made her dizzy and she squeezed Lydia tight.

“What happened here?” Elizabeth asked.

“A Boney Bandit poisoned Matthew,” Thomas’s voice said behind her.

Lydia pulled away. “He was not a Boney Bandit.” She scrubbed her palms over her tear-streaked cheeks.

“I heard him say, ‘Les Boney Bandits,’” Thomas said.

“I did as well,” agreed someone in the hall.

“He said something in French,” another voice added.

“It was Enaj.”

“He had no mustache.”

“A mustache can be shaved.”

“Maybe it was Azile.”

“He was too tall to be Azile.”

Behind Elizabeth in the hall, the babble rose, the voices of Dovemark’s staff tinged with anger and fear. In the bed, Matthew groaned, but his eyes didn’t open.

Speaking loudly enough for both of the Mrs. Hills to hear where they still stood on the other side of the bed, Elizabeth said, “Mrs. Hill, Lydia, with me. Nanny Hill, please stay with Matthew.”

Elizabeth turned, her arm wide to bring Thomas with her as she moved back into the hallway, where even more servants waited than when she’d come up. Beyond the throng, Mr. Darcy stood, his eyes grave. Mary slipped through the crowd, no one seeming to notice her. She sidestepped Mrs. Hill as the housekeeper joined Elizabeth. Behind them, the door to Matthew’s room closed.

In her best imitation of Papa Arthur barking orders during training, Elizabeth called, “Quiet down.”

A sea of startled faces turned her way. Beyond them, Mr. Darcy appeared impressed.

“Everyone will adjourn to the ballroom to await instructions,” Elizabeth continued. “You are doing Matthew no good here.”

“We need to hunt down the bandits,” one of the footmen cried.

Elizabeth met his gaze. “Oh? And how will you do that? It is my understanding that they have proved quite elusive.” Before any of the confused faces before her could issue an answer, she carried on with, “Hector, please see everyone to the ballroom. Mrs. Hill, Lydia, Thomas, remain here.”

Their butler ushered the staff away, the lot of them parting to stream past Mr. Darcy, who did not move. Elizabeth waited until they disappeared down the staircase, then turned to Mrs. Hill. “I am certain Cook has food waiting. Please see that everyone is given something to eat, including yourself and Hector. Organize the staff to search the house in groups of four. Once that is done, gather the footmen for Hector and I to speak with. I want their nightly checks doubled. Hector and I will discuss the schedule in more detail later.”

Beside her, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl fit to rival Mr. Darcy’s on his face, Thomas said, “Why? It isn’t as if the bandits will come back. They already poisoned Matthew.”

“He was not a Boney Bandit,” Lydia snapped.

Elizabeth cast her a repressive look before turning to her brother, “Because the staff all care about Matthew, and they care about us, and Dovemark, which is their home as well.” She clasped her brother on the shoulder to find him trembling. “They need to feel useful and safe.”

“Hector and I will see it done, miss,” Mrs. Hill said. She dipped a curtsy.

As Mrs. Hill walked away, Elizabeth turned to examine Lydia. “Why is your neck bandaged?”

“Because the…the not-bandit h-held a knife there.”

“He threatened to kill Lydia,” Thomas added.

Elizabeth nodded. “I see. I will need you two to tell me in detail what took place, but first, was that Lucy with Mr. Jones? Was she harmed as well?”

“He squeezed her by the neck and threw her into the wall,” Lydia whispered.

Elizabeth looked past her siblings to Mr. Darcy. “Would you be so kind as to assess Lucy and then join us in the drawing room?”

He nodded, then stepped through the doorway. The soothing, though at this distance unintelligible, murmur of his voice followed.

“Now, let us go to the drawing room and you can tell me what happened. I wish to hear the tale before Mama returns. She is likely to put the house in an uproar again.”

They proceeded in silence to the drawing room, sitting around Mrs. Oakwood’s favorite low table in mutual accord. Though worry knotted her stomach, Elizabeth wished she’d thought to ask Mrs. Hill to see that she was fed as well, but forwent ringing for a maid. The house was in enough turmoil.

Seated in her usual place, Elizabeth looked across the table at her younger siblings. She drew in a long slow breath and let it out, aware that any fear or panic she showed would only feed theirs. “Now, what happened after we departed for the ball? ”

They exchanged a look.

“We were looking after Matthew like you said,” Lydia said quickly. “We truly were. We only went down to eat.”

“We asked Lucy to go in when she was done in Mary’s room, so he wouldn’t be alone,” Thomas added, anxious and hopeful.

“You had every right to eat,” Elizabeth assured them. “And it was good to ask Lucy to sit with him.”

“But that’s why we were in the kitchen when she screamed and not up with Matthew like we ought to have been,” Lydia said glumly.

“So we all ran up the stairs,” Thomas said, taking up the story. “And the bandit had Lucy by the neck, and then he shoved her and charged at us with a knife and Lydie went crazy. She started screaming and grabbed onto him.”

Lydia turned to him in surprise. “I don’t remember screaming. I did grab onto him. He wanted to kill Thomas. I could tell.”

“Why would he want to kill me?”

“Why would he want to kill Matthew?” Lydia cast back. “Because he was not a bandit. It was Lord Franklin.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. He had been absent, but he was injured. Too injured to charge down a hallway. Or was his need for a cane a ruse?

Thomas regarded Lydia thoughtfully as she continued, “And then he grabbed me and he put his knife against my throat.” She rubbed at the bandage there, wincing. “And he made everyone let him take me outside because he said he w-would…” She squeezed the bandage, sucking in a breath. “He made everyone move out of the way and we were in the drive and I saw a giant shadow and I stomped on his foot like you taught us, and he let go and I ran.”

“And he ran, too, but the other way,” Thomas added as Elizabeth’s mind spun with Lydia’s revelation about her attacker’s foot. “He had a horse there and he got on it and said he was a bandit and galloped away.”

“He did not say he was a bandit,” Lydia protested. “He said, ‘Les Boney Bandits frappent encore.’”

“He said Boney Bandits,” Thomas reiterated with a shrug.

Lydia cast him a scowl, then turned back to Elizabeth. “Then Nanny Hill started shrieking about Matthew being poisoned and Lucy was hurt and we all ran back inside and upstairs, and everyone was yelling and shouting, and Mrs. Hill grabbed a footman and told him to take Robin and get Mr. Jones, and so I stopped him and quick wrote a note to you and made him promise to bring it to Netherfield Park after he did.”

Elizabeth mulled that over, then asked, “Why do you believe that Matthew has been poisoned?”

“Lucy said that when she finished in Mary’s room, she went to Matthew’s and the door was open and the man was there and he was making Matthew drink something, and now he won’t wake up.” Lydia choked on the last few words, fresh tears springing into her eyes.

“So this man poisoned Matthew, hurt Lucy, and cut your neck?”

Both of Elizabeth’s siblings nodded.

Cold, dark anger unfurled in Elizabeth’s gut. The masked man was Lord Franklin. It must be. He’d been missing from the ball. He’d returned with a limp. Most damningly, he wanted her brothers dead.

But how much good did knowing that do her? What steps could be taken? No one would apprehend Lord Franklin, possibly a future peer, on her word alone.

“E-elizabeth?” Lydia asked tentatively. “Are you well?”

“You look scary,” Thomas added.

“I am merely angry.” She drew in a long breath, and sought to modulate her expression. “And Papa Arthur always said never to act out of anger.” Something Jane and Mary were far better at than she was, which was why she should speak to them before taking any action.

Even though what she wanted most was to ride back to Netherfield Park, rapier in hand, and demand that Lord Franklin tell her how to make Matthew well.

“What should we do?” Lydia asked.

“I am not certain yet,” Elizabeth admitted. “I need to hear what Lucy has to say, and to speak with Mr. Jones and Mary.” She rubbed at her forehead and the throb of pain that had bloomed there. “But more importantly, we must keep Mama calm.”

“Kitty and Jane can.” Lydia sat forward eagerly. “I can help.”

Thomas cast her an incredulous look. “Mama doesn’t even like you.”

Lydia’s enthusiasm crumpled.

“Of course our mother likes Lydia,” Elizabeth said firmly. “She loves her, just as she does all of us.”

Thomas merely shrugged.

Firm footfalls sounded in the hall, growing louder. In moments, as Elizabeth had surmised from his tread, Mr. Darcy entered. He came around the table to sit on the sofa she occupied, instantly making the perfectly adequate piece of furnishing feel small. She tried to ignore the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

“How is Lucy?” she asked .

“She should recover.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was dire as he continued, “She has bruises on her neck and a lump on her head, but she did not lose consciousness, so Mr. Jones is confident that with rest, she will be restored. I took the liberty of asking the maid who was with her to help her to bed and to bring her food, and to inform your housekeeper of her prognosis.”

Elizabeth nodded acknowledgement of that. “Thank you. Did she have anything to say about what happened?”

Mr. Darcy repeated a tale that was in all ways similar to what Elizabeth’s siblings had already told her. She, in turn, shared their description of the evening. When she finished, the two looked from her to Mr. Darcy and back, their worry mixed with hope.

“I have strong suspicions about who the masked man was,” Elizabeth added.

“Lord Franklin,” Mr. Darcy said crisply.

Lydia sat up straighter. “Which is what I said.”

“Why Lord Franklin?” Thomas asked.

Trying not to sound as furious as she felt, Elizabeth replied, “Because he arrived late to the ball, and was walking with a limp.”

Thomas’s face crinkled in thought. “But how can it be Lord Franklin? He only arrived this November. The Boney Bandits have been here for years.”

“The man who poisoned Matthew was not a Boney Bandit,” Lydia cried, anger touching her voice. “He was Lord Franklin and he must be arrested.”

“Which he cannot be as we have no proof,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “It would be our suspicions against his word.”

“But if you bring him before the magistrate he will have to swear,” Thomas said. “On his soul. Surely, he will confess.”

“We cannot count on that,” Elizabeth said sadly.

“Then what can we do?” Lydia asked.

“We cannot settle on a plan yet,” Elizabeth replied. “We require more information.” Such as how unwell Matthew was. “For now, Thomas, please ascertain how Hector and Mrs. Hill are coming with having the house searched and patrols organized. Lydia, let us go see if we can organize tea for when Mama returns. Tea might soothe her.” Especially if Elizabeth added a dram of something stronger. “Mr. Darcy…” She trailed off, uncertain what to ask of him, or if she’d the right.

“I will compose a letter summoning my doctor from London. He may be of greater assistance than your local man.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

They all rose, but when Elizabeth made to follow Thomas and Mr. Darcy from the room, Lydia held her back. Elizabeth turned a questioning look on her.

Her voice low and her words tentative, Lydia asked, “Should we send those letters? The ones in the drawer that Papa Arthur left in case anything horrible ever happened?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “That is Mama’s decision.”

“But we could send them. She never will. She will be too afraid to lose Thomas and Matthew to their grandfather.”

“As am I,” Elizabeth countered. “The earl will take them away and raise them to be terrible men, like Lord Franklin.”

“But Matthew might die.”

“And how would the earl help him? He is not an apothecary or a doctor. He is a horrible old man who Papa Arthur worked very hard to keep out of our lives.” When Lydia made to speak, Elizabeth carried on with, “And if Matthew were to die, heaven forbid, that would make the earl all the more insufferable. He would remove Thomas from here and never permit him to return.”

“But with an earl on our side, Lord Franklin could be made to confess, or to hand over the cure for what he gave Matty.”

“If it comes down to it, I will make Lord Franklin give us the cure,” Elizabeth said grimly. To avoid further burdening her sister, she did not voice aloud that there might be no antidote. Reading the stubbornness on Lydia’s face, Elizabeth added, “But we can discuss the letters with Jane and Mary. The four of us can vote.”

Lydia stood straighter at that, and it pained Elizabeth anew that they’d excluded her for so long.

“We will vote, then,” Lydia agreed.

Elizabeth mustered a strained smile. “Let us go see about tea for Mama.” Her gaze dropped to Lydia’s throat. “And a scarf of some sort for your neck.”

Together, they left the room.