Page 39 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

He scoffed but offered no protest, no defence—only a terse nod.

“Very well,” he muttered. “Do what you will.”

“I shall be at Longbourn by nine in the morning,” I told him.

“Any of your daughters who wish to come will be welcome. I will arrange for a second carriage for their belongings, and I shall ride with my servants. However, they will require a maid to accompany them. Can you see to it that one is provided?”

The man nodded before waving me off. I did not trouble myself with Mrs. Bennet, choosing to let her husband tell her what he had agreed to; instead, I went to Mr. Phillips.

“I am aware that the hour is late,” I said firmly, “but I require a document to be drawn up granting me legal guardianship of the Bennet daughters—all five of them. It is evident that Mr. Bennet has long since abdicated his duties as a father, and I can no longer, in good conscience, stand idle and let his negligence further endanger their welfare. I fully intend to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet upon her return, but in the meantime, I will not allow her sisters to remain under his careless supervision whilst I undertake the search for her. ”

“How soon do you need it?” he asked.

“I plan to depart no later than nine tomorrow morning. Can you have it prepared by then?”

Mr. Phillips assured me that not only could he draw up the necessary document, but he would also come to Longbourn at half past eight the following morning to witness Mr. Bennet’s signature.

He offered a measure of comfort as well, suggesting that the Bennet daughters would not be judged too harshly alongside their parents once the inevitable gossip began to spread.

After informing the Misses Bennet of the arrangements made on their behalf, I personally escorted the four young women to the carriage waiting just outside.

Determined to see them away before further drama could unfold, I offered quiet words of reassurance to each sister as I helped them into the vehicle I had ordered a short time earlier.

Once the door was closed securely behind them, I paused briefly, drawing in a steadying breath. I would now need to return to the house—to face whatever chaos still lingered inside and do what I could to restore some semblance of order before the night was through.

Inside the house, the scene remained as chaotic as ever.

Mr. Bennet, still seeming unbothered by the events of the evening, continued to observe the commotion with detached amusement, as though the drama unfolding around him were nothing more than a farcical play.

Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, had taken to loud wailing, bemoaning the sudden disapproval of her neighbours.

Her shrill complaints were aimed at anyone who would listen—though very few remained to do so.

Mr. Collins appeared to fare no better. Red-faced and agitated, he paced near the drawing room door, grumbling at the injustice of being ignored.

That no one had asked his opinion on the matter—particularly when he had so many to offer—was, in his mind, a grave slight.

He attempted several times to interject, but each effort was waved off or dismissed entirely, leaving him to stew in his wounded pride.

Bingley still paced the room, waiting to hear word about his sister but unwilling to go upstairs to find out. There were a few guests, other than the Bennets, still in the ballroom and entrance hall, so I spoke to the gentlemen I knew, gently encouraging them to depart.

The last person I spoke to was Sir William Lucas. “I am certain my friend would appreciate the gossip being contained as much as possible, particularly after his sister collapsed,” I said, much as I had done to the others before him.

Sir William nodded slowly. “You truly mean to discover where Miss Elizabeth has gone?” he asked after a pause.

“I do,” I said firmly.

“There was a brother and sister who worked here at Netherfield for a short time,” he said thoughtfully.

“Apparently, they are no longer here. I do not know much about them, but one of my tenant’s sons is employed at the estate and mentioned their sudden disappearance nearly a week ago.

At the time, I thought little of it, but after all that has come to light this evening, I find myself wondering if there was more to it. ”

“Do you know their names?” I asked. “Have they returned?”

“They were strangers to the area, brought by the Bingleys, I believe,” he replied.

“The young man—my tenant’s son—had just begun courting the girl.

He was quite taken with her and was understandably alarmed when she vanished without a word.

No, they have not returned, nor does anyone know where or why they left. ”

“I will speak with Bingley and Mrs. Hurst,” I replied. “Perhaps they know more about the pair—or at least enough to help me trace where they might have gone. ”

“For what it is worth,” Sir William added, “I believe the lass was Scottish. She had red hair, and I think her name was Isla.”

“Thank you, Sir William,” I said, inclining my head as he gathered his family and took his leave.