Page 23 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)

The door to the greenhouse opened with a very soft creak, and Lieutenant Pratt, nominally a member of the English militia, froze in position, his eyes scanning the building for any signs of life.

It was most unlikely, of course; the Bennets clearly wished to keep their horticultural activities hidden from local society, and thus they would not be inclined to work on their tulips at night when any curious passerby might notice light.

Besides, it was winter, and the bulbs slept during the darkest months.

No, it should be safe enough, and it was.

There was no motion and no sounds, only the dim forms of the planters in the moonlight which shone through the large windows.

He had investigated the greenhouse twice in the previous days and knew roughly how many pots they would be stealing tonight.

Thankfully, the night was not bitterly cold, which meant the tulips would come to no harm during their brief sojourn outdoors.

He felt a mixture of triumph and anxiety – triumph because Monsieur Chauvelin would be most pleased with his success, and anxiety because the operation was not yet complete.

He needed to focus intently on the matter at hand, even if his potential adversaries were merely a lazy English gentleman and his gaggle of female relations.

“Come in, Wickham,” he hissed behind him, and the dark shape of George Wickham crept in beside him. Pratt was pleased with Wickham; the man skulked so well that the Frenchman thought it likely his fellow conspirator had been involved in unlawful pursuits in the past.

“How many are there?” Wickham muttered.

“Three dozen pots, each with multiple bulbs,” Pratt whispered back. “Take two pots and follow me.”

Wickham obediently selected two pots near the door and the twosome slithered out of the greenhouse, down a side path, and to a narrow lane where Edward Harrigan was waiting with a patient black mare attached to a small cart with tall sides.

The men carefully passed the elder Harrigan brother the pots and then scurried back toward the greenhouse.

At this rate, it would take less than an hour to remove all the pots from the greenhouse.

Colonel Forster was in town keeping the Bennets busy at an elaborate dinner, and the Harrigan brothers, who had been watching the stables the previous nights, had assured Pratt that the Bennet servants were not inclined to wander at night.

For a brief moment, Pratt considered calling Robert Harrigan to assist in carrying pots but then dismissed it. There should be no interruptions but just in case, the younger Harrigan needed to remain in position as a lookout.

/

William Collins wandered down the road toward Longbourn, so excited that he would have burst into loud song if he had a decent voice, which he did not. In fact, his father, the elder Mr. Collins, had once compared his singing to a tree frog – loud, but not harmonious.

So he did not sing, but his heart rejoiced within him, and his mind was ablaze with joy. Miss Charlotte Lucas had accepted his hand in marriage only a few minutes earlier!

His Charlotte was not a particularly handsome woman, of course, but she was not ugly either.

She was also sensible, good-natured, and obviously admired him.

He had never been in the company of a woman who appreciated him as much as Miss Lucas did.

He was quite certain that Lady Catherine would approve completely, especially when he explained that he would assist the Bennet ladies if it were necessary.

Not that it probably would be necessary – Mr. Bingley was, after all, very wealthy, and he was courting Miss Bennet assiduously.

It was a pity, really, that Sir William and Lady Lucas had been out to dinner this evening. Mr. Collins wished to ask for Sir William’s blessing on the match as soon as possible.

That was another thing – his fiancé’s father was a knight, not merely a gentleman! Really, he could only be thankful that Mr. Bennet had discouraged him from courting any of his daughters!

Collins marched down the front path of Longbourn toward the front door and then halted.

He could go inside, but the family was dining with Colonel Forster this evening, and there would only be servants within.

The happiness was singing in his veins, and he felt a most unaccustomed surge of energy.

The moon was out and he could see his way well enough – perhaps he would take a few minutes to stroll around the property.

Someday, maybe next year, maybe next decade, he and his beloved Charlotte would live here with their children. It was a most delightful thought.

He passed the stables and gazed at them with satisfaction. He was not himself much of a horseman, but it was gratifying to think that he would one day be able to maintain his own teams and carriages and stable boys.

There was a soft crunch beyond the stables and Mr. Collins turned in bewilderment.

That sounded like footsteps. How very odd!

Who would be out here at this time of night?

He took a few steps closer, his eyes straining in the moonlight, when a sound behind him caused him turn, just in time for a large fist to strike him on the face. He fell over with a moan.