Page 21 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

A Pointless Oath

Curled on a sofa, Elizabeth read in the sitting room that Mary and Lydia shared, perusing a text of which she understood distressingly little. The author kept speaking of the purity of the blood and tinctures of this or that extract, and Elizabeth could only hope that, if by some miracle she found something that would help Matthew, she would realize she had. She would stop, well aware she was not truly helping, but she didn’t know what else to do.

Jane and Kitty were again with their mother, Kitty being her favorite and Jane the most soothing. Elizabeth had to admit, her younger sister impressed her with her dedication. She had expected Kitty to beg off assisting Mrs. Oakwood through this trial. In truth, Elizabeth had expected her sister to come down with an ailment of her own, for no other reason than out of jealousy that everyone was thinking about Matthew and not her. Fortunately, she had misjudged Kitty.

Mary was in the still room with both Mrs. Hills, trying their hand at a new remedy. Elizabeth could only hope that between the three, they knew enough to keep from making Matthew’s condition worse. Mama had declared both Mr. Jones and the doctor who had come up from London to be useless, and banned them from Dovemark. Mr. Darcy’s London doctor had been quite offended, but Mr. Jones had merely shrugged, accustomed to Mrs. Oakwood’s excitable temperament, and told Elizabeth to call him if he was needed.

Lydia had gone to practice, determined to gain the strength and skill to be proficient with a rapier, and to go through the drills Elizabeth had given her for fending off an attacker without a weapon. Elizabeth’s younger sister had not enjoyed being threatened by Lord Franklin, and seemed quite determined never to be placed in such a position again.

A knock sounded and Elizabeth looked up as Thomas stuck his head in. “May I come in? ”

She nodded, marking her place before closing the book. Not that it mattered if she took up where she’d left off, since she had little idea what she was reading. “I thought you would be out practicing with Lydia.”

“I was, but I wanted to speak with you.” He closed the door.

Taking in her brother’s serious mien, Elizabeth forwent pointing out that if he did not keep up with Lydia, she would be able to best him. Instead, she gestured to the empty side of the sofa on which she sat. “What do you wish to speak about?”

Thomas came and sat, tugging at the cuffs on his coat.

The arms were too short, Elizabeth noted. He was growing again. She smiled at him, encouraging him to speak, but making no demand that he do so.

He cleared his throat. “I want to help Matthew.”

She contained a wince. She was the last person to come to for that. If she’d any notion of what more could be done, she would be doing it.

Except that she did have one notion. One that was growing in urgency within her, but no one would approve. Not Jane, nor Mary, and certainly not Mr. Darcy.

“We all want to help him,” she temporized.

“If I had a way to help him, though, then I should, shouldn’t I?” Thomas pulled at his cuffs again, avoiding her eyes. “I mean, if you had a way to help him, you would. I know you would.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh. Even her younger brother knew that her reading Mary’s medical texts was useless. “I imagine it depends on what that way was.” Because the only way she could think of involved her rapier and Lord Franklin.

Thomas turned to her, his expression earnest. “Does it depend? On what the way is, I mean.”

“Well, I would attempt not to do anything illegal, or that would ruin our family name.” Such as don all black and force him into a duel, with the antidote as the prize. Assuming she could find a way to accomplish that without getting caught. As she could think of no such way, doing so was liable to result in a ruin of the Bennet name, and likely the Oakwood one as well.

“Nothing illegal,” Thomas repeated, thoughtful.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “If you are thinking of challenging Lord Franklin, I do not recommend it. He will likely send you away, challenge unmet, as you are not yet grown. Or, worse, he will take a challenge as the opportunity he seeks to see you dead. ”

“And duels are illegal,” Thomas added. “And you said nothing illegal, even though both my papa and Mr. Bingley were in duels.”

“When someone does something that is wrong, it does not then somehow become right,” Elizabeth said firmly. She studied him a moment longer, then added, “I am afraid I will have to ask you to swear not to challenge Lord Franklin.

Thomas’s eyes widened. “You cannot ask me to do that.”

“Can I not? I am your instructor in all things martial. I believe that gives me a certain amount of authority. Especially if you wish to keep training.”

He sat up straighter. “I am the master of Dovemark. That cavern and all the things in it belong to me.”

Elizabeth gave him a flat look.

After a moment, his bluster faded and he slumped, muttering, “I swear.”

“You swear what?” she pressed.

“I swear not to challenge Lord Franklin.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth scrubbed fingers that were dry from touching too much paper across her forehead. “Now, are you going to return to practicing, or do you wish to help me read through these medical journals, seeking references to lichen that grows in Sherwood forest?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I will go practice more with Lydie.”

Elizabeth nodded, unsurprised. “Tomorrow I will come and check your progress. If you are both doing well, I will add more drills. Perhaps we can prevail upon Mary to demonstrate how to throw knives, as well.” A break from reading texts, concocting tonics for Matthew, and sitting by his bedside, would do Mary good. If Elizabeth could persuade her to do so.

Thomas’s eyes went wide. “Mary can throw knives? That would be…” His face fell. “It would be better if Matthew could see, too.”

“It would,” Elizabeth agreed, unable to do otherwise. She tapped the closed book resting in her lap. “We will find a way to help him.”

“Yes.” Thomas sat up straighter. “Matthew will be well soon.”

Impressed by his determination, Elizabeth nodded. “Off with you, then, and I will return to my reading.”

Thomas stood, the resolve on his face unwavering as he crossed the room, but at the door, he turned back. “Lydia is certain that he was Lord Franklin, that masked man.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I agree with her.”

“Why did he say whatever he said about the Boney Bandits, then?”

“Likely to cast blame away from himself.”

Thomas screwed up his features, thinking. “A lot of people think he was a Boney Bandit, though. I’ve heard the servants saying so.”

“Then a lot of people are easily fooled,” Elizabeth snapped.

Thomas’s eyes went wide.

Modulating her tone, she continued, “Why would the Boney Bandits suddenly begin breaking into homes? They have never done so. Nor do they poison people.”

Thomas nodded. “That’s true.” That look of resolution returned to his face and he bid her farewell, then left the room.

Elizabeth reopened the book and, with a sigh, attempted to return to reading, but her mind whirled with her conversation with Thomas. Challenges were illegal, and certainly Thomas couldn’t challenge Lord Franklin. If challenging the man would truly help, she would urge Mr. Darcy to do so, for he was a fine swordsman. But she strongly suspected that Lord Franklin wouldn’t accept a challenge he thought he might lose. Nor did she imagine a poisoner of children counted his personal honor as a high commodity. Furthermore, what would the challenge be over? Mr. Darcy was not the sort to aggravate a man into fighting him, as Mr. Collins had done to Mr. Bingley.

And what if Lord Franklin, as the challenged, selected pistols? Then it would matter little how well Mr. Darcy wielded a rapier.

If only Azile could challenge him to defend the Boney Bandits’ name, but she couldn’t see that working out either, no matter how much it galled her to know that the staff, and likely half of Meryton, believed that the Boney Bandits had gone from helping them to attacking children.

A far better plan than a challenge was her original inclination. She must get Lord Franklin alone, duel him, subdue him, and see how he enjoyed having a knife to his throat. More likely than not, he was a coward and would quickly turn over the antidote.

But how to get him alone? That was the flaw in her plan. She required help, and she had a strong suspicion that her sisters would not be willing to give her any. Nor would she ask Lydia or Thomas. They were too young. Too untrained.

Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth shook her head. He would never assist her in such a venture, but perhaps his cousin would, or Mr. Bingley? Could she do that to Jane? Endanger the man she loved and put him in the ill-graces of the heir to a peer?

Her mind whirled from idea to idea but, by evening, she was no closer to a plan. Usually, she would talk over what she might do with her sisters, but she knew how both would feel about threatening a man’s life, even to save Matthew. She also knew the vows they’d made. Perhaps she could persuade them to break those vows, and perhaps not, but what would it cost them if she succeeded? And to their friendship?

Finally, the candles she’d lit earlier half burned down, Elizabeth closed the book she was studying and rose to stretch. The dinner hour was upon them, and while she doubted Mrs. Oakwood would leave her room, the rest of them should dine. Mrs. Hill and their cook would undoubtedly have gone to the effort of a good meal, in deference to their guests but also because both viewed food as comfort. Possibly the only comfort they could give at the moment.

She did not trouble to change, for though the fare offered was certain to be good, it would not be a formal meal. She did, however, stop by Matthew’s room to check on her brother and to try to tempt Mary into dining with them.

“How is he?” Elizabeth asked, crossing to where her sister sat on the other side of the bed, a stack of books beside her.

Mary shook her head. “He is harder to wake than before, and no more lucid.” She pushed both hands into her hair, disarraying her curls. “And I can find nothing to help. It may be as Nathan Hargreaves told Lydia. There may be only one cure.”

An idea struck Elizabeth so hard that her eyes flew wide. “Three days,” she said, the possibility thrumming through her. “It is three days hard ride to Sherwood, so six days to go there and back. Nathan Hargreaves told Lydia and Thomas that both the earl and the Hargreaves keep the herb in their orangeries. Surely, some can be secured without alerting either party. Someone must be sent.”

“You propose someone breaks into one of their orangeries and steals the antidote?” Mary asked, but her voice was more thoughtful than condemning.

“I would prefer that to asking for it,” Elizabeth admitted, for asking could only bring the attention of the earl. “But certainly whoever is sent must go to the earl’s estate, for if they are caught, the truth will free them.”

“And the earl will know about Thomas and Matthew, and Papa Arthur’s wishes will not be respected.”

“I do not care for the idea of the earl learning about them either,” Elizabeth reminded her. “As you must recall, when Lydia brought up the matter of the letters for a vote, only she voted to send them. But I care less for the idea of losing our brother to his grandfather than to death, and we are running out of time.” With a shrug, she added, “Whomever we send may not be caught. ”

Mary nodded, her abstract gaze on Matthew as she thought through the notion.

“It is a good plan,” Elizabeth urged.

“What is a good plan?” Jane asked, slipping into the room.

Like Mary, Jane had dark smudges under her eyes, making Elizabeth wonder how she appeared. Not that it mattered…except that Jane and Mary both had offers from their gentlemen, neither of whom waited to dine with them below.

“Elizabeth wants to send someone to steal the antidote from the earl’s orangery,” Mary said quietly, nodding pointedly to the hallway visible through the open door.

Looking over her shoulders, Jane glanced left and right up the hall, then turned back. “It is a sound plan, but who can we ask to steal from an earl?”

A grin split Elizabeth’s face, formed more by relief than joy. “The son of an earl. Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“Will he agree?” Jane asked. “I have not had many opportunities to come to know him.”

“I believe he will,” Mary, who had worked closely with Colonel Fitzwilliam upon his arrival, said slowly. “It is a good plan. I vote to move forward. Elizabeth, will you ask him?”

“I have not voted,” Jane protested. “Nor has Lydia.”

“But it is Elizabeth’s plan, so she will vote yes, and in the event of a tie, Lydia’s vote holds less weight, her being newest.”

“We never gave your vote less weight,” Jane protested.

“We did not need to.”

“Do you mean that you do not care for the plan, Jane?” Elizabeth interrupted before their argument could travel too far.

Jane pursed her lips, thinking. Twin lines appeared between her brows. Finally, she said, “I imagine I must vote yes.”

The look Mary cast Jane was irritated, but Elizabeth was too pleased with the notion to care that Jane wasn’t as enthusiastic as she would like. “Will you both come down to dinner?”

Mary shook her head. “I will stay with Matthew. When he wakes, he is delirious. I do not believe he is strong enough to get far, but I am worried what he might do if left alone.”

“I could sit with him,” Elizabeth offered. “You have done more than your share of watching over him.”

Mary gestured to a tray on the desk. “I recently ate, and Nanny Hill will come to watch him soon. She does not sleep well at night, so she volunteered.”

“I will join you,” Jane said to Elizabeth. “Mama is asleep, and Kitty is changing for dinner.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Are you changing?” Should she? She did not wish to, but if Kitty and Jane both were—

“No.” Jane shook her head. “I am too tired, and too hungry, and this gown will do perfectly well.” She pursed her lips. “But perhaps we should fix your hair.”

A rumble emanated from Jane’s stomach, audible even across the room where Elizabeth stood by Mary.

Jane’s cheeks went pink. “I missed lunch, and tea,” she blurted.

Elizabeth grinned.

Even Mary smiled, then gestured to the desk. “Elizabeth, the drawing of the herb, the one Nathan Hargreaves gave to Lydia, is there. I have committed it to memory. Give it to Colonel Fitzwilliam if he agrees with your plan. Then you had best forget your hair, which looks perfectly well, and get Jane some food.”

“I vote yes to that plan,” Elizabeth declared. She crossed to the desk and took the much-folded sketch of a small green plant, then moved back around the bed to loop an arm through Jane’s, adding, “Call us if you have need,” to Mary before tugging Jane from the room. Together, they went down to the drawing room to find Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam waiting.

Both gentlemen rose to greet them, and despite conversation with the colonel being Elizabeth’s goal, she could not keep her gaze off Mr. Darcy. He had changed for dinner, and though his choice was plain to the point of severity, he looked very handsome in his dark coat and crisp white cravat. Despite the troubles facing them, warmth and lightness filled her at the sight of him, and a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. She and Jane crossed the drawing room, and both gentlemen bowed.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, you both look lovely this evening,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he straightened.

“You are a shameless flatterer, sir, for I am well aware of my tired and disheveled state,” Elizabeth replied lightly, dragging her gaze from Mr. Darcy to offer the colonel a quick smile.

“But such is your beauty, and that of your sister’s, that you would appear lovely in any state.” Colonel Fitzwilliam slanted a look at Mr. Darcy. “Is that not correct, Darcy?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Silence hung for a moment, teetering on the chance that Mr. Darcy might care to say more, then Jane turned a pleasant smile on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Sir, my sisters and I, in fact all of Dovemark, have a boon to ask of you.”

His eyebrows rose. “Indeed? And what is this service that I may render Dovemark?”

“It is Elizabeth’s idea.”

All eyes turned to her and Elizabth handed the colonel the page she still held. “We require someone to make all haste to Nottinghamshire to relieve the Earl of Pillory’s orangery of this specific piece of greenery.”

“You want Richard to rob an earl?” Mr. Darcy’s voice held indignation, though whether on behalf of his cousin or the earl, Elizabeth could only guess.

Out in the hall, a patter of slippers rose. Elizabeth identified the familiar treads of Kitty and Lydia.

“That is brilliant,” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed. “Darcy, why did we not think of that?”

“Of theft?” Mr. Darcy said dryly.

Giving no indication he heard that, Colonel Fitzwilliam offered a second bow. “I am delighted to be chosen for this task.” He folded the page, stowing it in his pocket. “I will away to Nottinghamshire with the dawn, and will not fail you.”

“You are leaving at dawn?” Kitty’s voice said from the doorway.

Elizabeth turned to take in one of Kitty’s frilliest gowns, an atrocious mix of puce, lemon, and white lace. Her hair was piled atop her head in an elaborate display of feathers and crystals, far too showy for a quiet evening at Dovemark, and Elizabeth could see Lydia’s hand in the artful curls that framed Kitty’s face. Kitty hurried across the room to them, Lydia trailing behind.

“I am afraid I must,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, bowing to her. “But I will return with all speed.”

“But why must you go?” Kitty cried, as if the colonel meant to rejoin the war effort, not ride a few days north.

“I have been tasked with retrieving the cure for young Master Matthew.”

Lydia turned wide, hopeful eyes to Elizabeth. “He has?”

Kitty reached a gloved hand to him. “Why can Mr. Darcy not go? Or Mr. Bingley? Or Cousin Robert? Must it be you?”

Catching up her hand, Colonel Fitzwilliam brought it to his lips before releasing her fingers to reply, “I am afraid this is a task best suited to me. It requires a man familiar with the rigors of travel. A man hardened by war. The other gentlemen of your acquaintance are simply not up to the challenge.”

Mr. Darcy snorted. “It requires a man willing to break into the home of a peer.”

Kitty did not pay Mr. Darcy any more heed than his cousin had, instead gazing so devotedly up at the colonel that Elizabeth wondered if there was an understanding of which she was not aware.

Or an imagined understanding on Kitty’s side for, while Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at her with kindness, his visage held none of the devotion hers did.

“Mary will not be joining us,” Jane said, looking between Kitty and the colonel as well. “Nor Mama. We wait only on Thomas to dine.”

“He asked for a tray in his room,” Lydia said. “He told me he is tired from too much practicing…” She darted a look at Kitty. “Ah, practicing riding.”

“I cannot believe you have all been drawn into this idea of riding horses.” Kitty gave a sniff. “They smell, and we have carriages for a reason.”

“Riding is excellent for the health,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said blandly. “I am certain that with proper instruction you would come to enjoy it, Miss Kitty.”

She batted her lashes at him. “I am certain that if you were to teach me, I would greatly enjoy riding.”

Elizabeth struggled not to raise her gaze heavenward in a bid for forbearance and said, “We should adjourn to the dining room, if we are all assembled.”

Jane turned immediately, Lydia joining her as they left the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam offered Kitty his arm, the two following.

Placing a hand on the arm Mr. Darcy offered, Elizabeth took in his austere attire afresh. Mischief sparked in her, fanned by fresh hope for Matthew, and she asked, “You would not purloin from a peer to save my brother?”

“You did not ask me to.”

Did he sound hurt? “Because I am not certain that you would. The law would be broken, after all.”

“It is true that I prefer to keep my solution within the bounds of the law,” he replied as they trailed his cousin and Kitty. “Given my way, I would simply write to the earl, inform him of the situation, and ask for the antidote, but it is my understanding that you and your sisters wish to honor your stepfather’s wish to keep your brothers from him.”

Mischief leaving her, she asked with greater intensity, “We do, but let us put that aside for now. If we pretend that there is no other way to save my brother than to rob an earl’s orangery of a few sprigs of greenery, would you?”

“If no other means existed?”

She nodded. “None whatsoever.”

“Then I would secure some pruning shears and make all haste to Nottinghamshire.”

Elizabeth smiled as they followed the others into the dining room.