Page 22 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Disappearance Most Foul

Lydia passed Matthew’s bedchamber door and went to the entrance to the sitting room her brothers shared, her mind half on the very enjoyable, grown-up dinner she’d been permitted to attend with Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam the evening before, and half on locating Thomas. The hour was quite early, but Elizabeth had persuaded Mary to teach them how to throw knives while Nanny Hill sat with Matthew, and Lydia knew Thomas would be thrilled. She also knew that Mary was already making ready to go to the stable, and Thomas could be slow in the morning. Lydia didn’t want Mary to grow annoyed waiting for him and give up on the idea.

She knocked on the sitting room door, waited, and knocked again. She was about to push it open when Russel, who served as a valet to both of her brothers, opened the door.

“Ah, Miss Lydia, you are nearly the person I require,” he said, pulling the door wide.

“Who do you require?” She’d always liked the unobtrusive, bespectacled man.

“Master Thomas.”

She frowned. “Isn’t he here?”

Russel shook his head. “Nor has he been. I assumed a game of some sort was afoot. Learning to camp out of doors with the colonel, or a fort built in the schoolroom.”

“We haven’t built a fort in the schoolroom in ages.” Not since spring, when they’d used all the desks and chairs and the whole thing had fallen on them, and Thomas had hurt his arm so badly, it had to be in a sling for months.

“Then he is not with you?” Russel frowned. “He did not sleep in his room.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia peered past the valet, trying to see into Thomas’s bedchamber. Not that Russel would lie.

“I mean, he did not employ his bedchamber last night, and he is not with Master Matthew and Nanny Hill.” Russel gestured to the third door in the sitting room which, if opened, would presumably reveal Matthew and Nanny Hill.

Dread snaked through Lydia. “I will go search in the schoolroom.”

“Very well. Please tell him he must polish his teeth and don clean garments. I will not have him appearing uncivilized before Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy.”

“I will,” Lydia promised as she whirled away.

She raced down the hall, likely appearing rather uncivilized herself. She burst into the empty schoolroom and spun in a quick circle, but there wasn’t really anywhere for Thomas to hide. Still, she darted about, checking behind curtains and under Nanny Hill’s desk. A scuffing sound behind her caused her to start, spinning back to the door.

One of the housemaids stood in the doorway, bucket and broom in hand. “I’m sorry, miss. I can clear up the ashes later.”

“The ashes,” Lydia blurted, memories of Thomas standing beside the fireplace returning to her. She ran across the room and dropped to her knees, reaching to sift through the ashes. No traces of paper remained.

Had he received another letter from Lord Franklin? What had the first two truly said? She’d told her sisters about them and both Mary and Elizabeth had asked Thomas, but he’d volunteered no more than he’d told Lydia. She sat back on her heels, worry spiraling through her.

He might be…out walking? In the kitchen? Already in the stable?

Yes, that last. He might be in the stable.

But what of his unused bed?

“Miss?” the maid asked, tentative.

“My apologies.” Lydia came to her feet, absently wiping her charcoal-stained fingers on her skirt. “Carry on.” She raced back across the room, darting around the startled maid.

Forgoing outerwear, Lydia ran down the servants’ stairs, taking in the kitchen, and the lack of Thomas there, at a glance.

“…didn’t take yesterday’s bread, did I?” one of the maids was shouting at Cook as Lydia rushed past. “Not that cheese, either. If you’re looking for a thief, look in the mirror. I’ve seen you sleepwalk plenty of times. Sleep eat, too, and—” Lydia was through the kitchen door and running for the stables.

A stitch formed in her side but she didn’t slow, jamming her fist into the ball of pain. Reaching the stable, she pushed the door open and stumbled in, gasping for breath.

“…do not understand.” Jane’s voice held more strain than Lydia had ever heard in it before. “Mr. Clarke said that Robin was gone when he arrived this morning?”

Jane and Elizabeth stood before Robin’s empty stall, while Mary moved about, disappearing into the tack room.

“As was the colonel’s riding mount,” Elizabeth answered. “Perhaps he borrowed Robin for a change of horse?”

“Without asking my permission?” Ice edged Jane’s words. “Would he—”

“Thomas is gone,” Lydia found the breath to gasp, her fist still jammed into her side.

Jane and Elizabeth turned to her. Mary stepped out of the tack room. “Robin’s bridle and saddle are gone as well.”

“What do you mean, Thomas is gone?” Elizabeth demanded.

“I mean, he did not sleep in his bed and Russel doesn’t know where he is.” Lydia leaned forward, taking deep breaths. She’d never run so fast before.

“He likely slept in Matthew’s room,” Jane said, turning back to Elizabeth.

“He didn’t,” Lydia said at the same time as Mary’s corroboration of, “He did not,” left her mouth.

Jane blinked, much of the anger in her frame draining. “Thomas is truly gone?”

“Where have you looked?” Elizabeth asked, but her worried gaze went to Robin’s empty stall.

“In his room, and the schoolroom, and the kitchen, and here.” As Lydia spoke, Mary went to the back wall and opened the secret door to reveal a rectangle of darkness. She disappeared inside.

“That is not everywhere,” Jane said. “We will come help you look.”

Inside the cavern, light bloomed.

“And Russel has not seen him?” Elizabeth reiterated.

Lydia shook her head.

“Did you ask either Mrs. Hill?” Jane asked.

“No,” Lydia admitted. “Would…won’t that start a panic?”

“Your sword is missing, Jane, and several of my knives.”

Lydia looked to see Mary in the cavern doorway, lantern held high.

“Could he have followed Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Jane asked.

“The Colonel did not leave until dawn,” Elizabeth said quietly, worry etching her face. “Lydia, you never saw anything that was in those letters the Hargreaves sent Thomas?”

She shook her head. “Only the few words I told you,” which she’d long since forgotten. “They didn’t make any sense.”

Lines of thought marred Elizabeth’s brow. Behind her, Mary stowed the lantern and resealed the cavern. Lydia wrestled with her thoughts, trying to dredge up any useful memories of the pages she’d seen her brother burn.

“What are you thinking?” Jane asked, but she was looking at Elizabeth.

“If he has gone after the colonel, he will be well enough,” Elizabeth said slowly. “My greater fear is that he has gone after Lord Franklin.”

“But you said you made him swear not to challenge him,” Mary said as she joined them.

“If something had happened at Netherfield Park, Mr. Bingley would have alerted us immediately,” Jane added.

“If he knows about it,” Elizabeth countered.

“The other day, when Nathan called,” Lydia blurted. “Thomas said that Lord Franklin might trade something for the antidote. Do you think he went to ask?”

Her sisters exchanged a grim look.

“Come, we will help you search the house,” Elizabeth said crisply. “There is no point in presuming the worst when we are still not certain Thomas is gone.”

Lydia was certain. She felt it in her heart. Thomas had gone after Lord Franklin. He meant to get the antidote.

Still, she nodded along with the others in response to Elizabeth’s suggestion of a search. Jane’s gaze went to Robin’s empty stall, worry clear in her eyes, but she left the stable with them.

They searched the house from top to bottom, Mr. Darcy joining in when he learned of their plight. He agreed with Jane that Mr. Bingley would have come to them if anything had happened at Netherfield Park, but Lydia privately sided with Elizabeth. Lord Franklin was a coward and a sneak, and he could easily do something to Thomas without Mr. Bingley knowing.

Finding no sight of Thomas, they began questioning the staff. No one had seen him since he’d called for a dinner tray the previous evening, and one of the maids they questioned reported that she’d brought the tray back down later, untouched. More and more, Lydia began to suspect that while she’d been delighting in being allowed in the dining room with their guests, her brother had already been gone. In view of their lack of success, Mr. Darcy announced that he was going to speak with their Cousin Robert and Mr. Bingley.

Finally, especially as the entire staff knew, Lydia’s older sisters marched up the steps and went into Mrs. Oakwood’s room, where she and Kitty were. They’d waited until after Mrs. Oakwood’s lunch tray was brought down, aware that their news would undo all recent success in calming their mother enough that she would eat.

Her wails ricocheted through the house, all the way to the drawing room where Lydia waited.

She saw no one until, about an hour later, a glum-faced Elizabeth entered. She slumped down onto the other end of the sofa Lydia occupied.

“It sounded bad,” Lydia said tentatively.

Elizabeth nodded. “Mary and I are the lucky ones. She has dismissed us. Jane and Kitty are with her.”

Mary would be with Matthew, Lydia knew. That was far too close to their mother’s crying for Lydia. “Maybe we should send the letters now?” Lydia suggested.

Elizabeth’s spine snapped straight. “No. I will fix this.”

“You will?” Lydia blinked at her, wondering what she had planned.

“Yes.” Determination tightened Elizabeth’s features.

“What will you do?” If Lydia’s sister could do anything, would she not have done so already?

“What I should have done from the start. Azile will go have a talk with Lord Franklin.” Elizabeth’s eyes glinted, her expression harder than diamonds. “A very serious talk.”

“I think we should send the letters,” Lydia whispered.

“To what end?” Elizabeth’s voice crackled with aggravation. “So that the earl will arrive and demand that Lord Franklin turn over Thomas and the cure? He could not keep his elder two sons safe from the Hargreaves. Why would they capitulate now?”

Lydia hadn’t thought of that.

Elizabeth stood. “I will organize a search of the grounds.”

Lydia watched her leave, purpose and resolve clear in the way Elizabeth held her neck and in the set of her shoulders. Even in the firmness of her stride.

But Lydia didn’t agree with her. The earl was an earl. He would be able to help, and Lydia had resolve, too. She would make decisions, just as her sisters did. She was not a child, no matter if Mama would allow her to come out or not.

Standing, she adopted the same mannerisms she’d just observed in Elizabeth and strode from the drawing room, her mind churning with a plan. For the first part, she needed to secure the letters, and to do so now, while everyone was occupied. Especially Elizabeth.

That meant she required the key to her stepfather’s study, of which there were two. The one Mrs. Hill gave the maids so that they could clean, and Mama’s. Lydia halted, looking in the direction of the front of the house, and to the back. Which would be easier to borrow?

Mama’s would be in her desk, in her sitting room. Mrs. Hill’s would be on a hook on the wall in her office outside the kitchen. Even though Lydia had no appetite and doubted anyone else did either, the kitchen would be preparing for tea soon, whereas Mama had recently eaten and received terrible news. She would be in her bed, and Jane and Kitty would be sitting in the chairs in her bedroom.

Or so Lydia hoped.

She tiptoed up the front staircase, aware that sneaking in the middle of the day was suspicious, but unable not to when pilfering was her intent, then slipped down the hallway. All the doors were closed, and not a maid in sight. Mrs. Oakwood’s misery had surely driven them all away.

Reaching the end of the hall, Lydia eased open the door to find Mrs. Oakwood’s sitting room empty. The door to her bedroom stood ajar, Jane’s soothing voice within, reading. Lydia slipped into the room but didn’t close the door, to avoid the telltale click that would sound if she shut it. On tiptoe once more, she crossed to Mrs. Oakwood’s desk.

She inched a drawer open, then closed when she found no key, then opened another. On her third try, she located what she sought. Grasping the key, she shoved it into her skirt pocket. Her heart trying to pound its way up her throat, she started back across the room.

“I think she is asleep,” Jane’s voice whispered inside the bedroom.

Lydia went still.

“I believe you are right,” Kitty replied.

“I can sit with her, to be here if she wakes.”

Kitty must have shaken her head, because the next words were Jane again, saying, “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Kitty answered.

A soft thump sounded. A book closing.

Spurred by the sound, Lydia hurried the rest of the way across the room. She slipped out and drew the door closed, catching a glimpse of movement in the direction of her mother’s room as she did. She spun to the right and yanked open the door to Kitty’s bedroom, darting in .

Her heart still pounding, she turned back to press an ear to the door.

The door to their mother’s room closed with a click. Soft footfalls moved down the hallway. Lydia held her breath. If Kitty had changed her mind and Jane had remained with their mother…

But the footfalls continued along the hallway.

Lydia let out her breath and turned to survey Kitty’s room.

With a smirk, she went to the wardrobe, well aware of Kitty’s supposedly-secret hiding place in a hat box on the shelf there. Having already spent her pin money sending that letter to Elizabeth in London, Lydia needed funds. The post might collect payment from the receiver, but a rider to take an express would want to be paid upfront.

Taking down the hatbox, Lydia removed a garish orange hat that Kitty never wore, nor should anyone ever, and turned it over. Tucked up into the inside was a pouch, and within, every half-penny Kitty had ever saved. Money Lydia would put to good use.

She took what she needed, resisted the urge to take a few pennies more, and returned the hat to the box, and the box to its place on the shelf. Then, the key in one pocket and the money in the other, she hurried downstairs and let herself into Papa Arthur’s study.

Lydia examined the desk carefully, pushing and prodding at the designs, trying to recall what Mary had done. Standing at the end with the secret drawer, she closed her eyes, conjuring her memory of that night. The first night she’d been a part of her sisters’ group. Mary had held her arms out wide to reach around both corners of the desk at once. Lydia did likewise. She found two carved florets and pushed.

Nothing happened. Frowning, she opened her eyes. Reaching farther, she pushed two more. Worry bloomed in her. Mary had pushed two flowers. Lydia was certain. She dropped her arms and circled the desk, endeavoring to step with care. She did not want to be heard from outside the closed door.

She returned to the end of the desk that held the secret compartment. Her gaze went to Papa Arthur’s letter opener. Could she pry the door open?

Deciding to try again, she reached out both arms…then paused. She was much taller than Mary. She’d never considered it before, but if her legs were longer, mightn’t her arms be as well? Mary had been hardly able to place a hand around each corner, but Lydia didn’t have that trouble.

She pressed two more flowers. The ones nearest to the corners.

The secret drawer slid open.

Lydia grinned, barely suppressing a crow of triumph.

She took out the two letters addressed to the earl and shoved them into her pockets, although they did not exactly fit, and pushed the secret drawer back closed. Within the desk, she heard the mechanism click.

Her gaze went to the letter opener again and she frowned. She should write two letters as well, explaining who she was and what was taking place. The earl should know that their need of him was urgent.

She went around the desk but quickly found that while Mama had left Papa Arthur’s study unchanged, waiting for Thomas to claim it, someone had conscientiously cleaned out the ink well so it would not become full of dried ink. She would have to write her letters in her room.

Another heart-pounding climb of the staircase, Papa Arthur’s letters protruding from her pockets, found Lydia at the desk in the sitting room she shared with Mary. She completed the two missives quickly.

The final part of her plan, giving the letters to one of their footmen to mail, caused sweat to cut a thin trail down her back, but was accomplished with ease. The man, who Lydia knew couldn’t read, took the letters and the funds and promised to see them into Meryton and sent by the quickest means possible, as he did whenever a member of the family made such a request. Just as when she’d written to Elizabeth to call her back from London, it didn’t seem to trouble their footman at all that Lydia rarely wrote letters. He likely assumed they were for her Aunt Gardiner, as they normally would be.

Her mission accomplished, except for returning her mother’s key, which she would undertake later, Lydia went to her room and flopped down on her bed, shaking, elated, and exhausted. She grinned up at the ceiling, quite proud. She’d made a decision and had carried it out, just like Elizabeth would.