Page 11 of Searching for Elizabeth (A Pride and Prejudice Variation)

—late afternoon—

Fitzwilliam Darcy rode back to Netherfield to check with Smithson, to see if rumors and gossip traveling the servant network had shone a light on what had happened at Longbourn.

“Sir, I will report all manner of gossip I have been able to discover: I imagine you will care nothing about most or all of it, but in case it is helpful, I shall hold nothing back.”

“Yes. Indeed, I am not at all sure what I am looking for, either, so relay every titbit.”

Smithson nodded and began his report: “Mrs. Goulding fired her lady’s maid because she accused her of stealing a broach. Mrs. Long was aggressively pushing her niece toward the Goulding heir, hoping for a match…”

Smithson went on and on with gossip of questionable interest, but Darcy schooled himself to listen carefully. Finally one item stopped him cold:

Apparently one of Netherfield’s tenants, a young man, had been hired as a server for the ball, and he had overheard Mrs. Bennet saying that Bingley would soon propose to Jane Bennet, hopefully that very night, and that she knew for a fact that Mr. Collins would propose to Miss Elizabeth the very next day.

It was just as he had feared: Mr. Collins had designs on Miss Elizabeth!

Darcy held his hand up, stopping the flow of Smithson’s words. He did not want to miss anything, and just then he did not think he could listen. He was rocked down to his stockings with the image of that officious, prattling, ignorant, clumsy, malodorous man wedded to his beloved. It had been difficult enough to watch Elizabeth dance a single set with him. She winced every time Collins stepped on her toes; her polite smile had wavered a few times when they were jostled together by his bumbling and misstepping and ruining the dance pattern; and Darcy had seen her press her lips together desperately after the fool had said something to her with a particularly smarmy leer.

Rising from his seat, Darcy got up, poured himself a finger of brandy, sipped the spirit, and then resumed his seat.

“Carry on,”

he told his valet.

Smithson reported several more items and then said, “Another thing about Mr. Collins, sir: The housemaid at Lucas Lodge—the family does not keep a cook or housekeeper— told Netherfield’s kitchen maid, Hannah, that the parson showed up at the lodge yesterday evening, and he was, she said, ‘in a snit.’ The Lucas housemaid said that Mr. Collins complained that he had been—and I quote— ‘immensely insulted’ by an ‘ungrateful miss’ who would likely never receive another offer from ‘such an eligible man’ as himself.”

Smithson paused, letting Darcy absorb the implication; it seemed that Elizabeth had turned Collins down. Thank god!

Several minutes later, when Smithson concluded retelling all the gossip he had collected, Darcy said, “I believe you have not said anything that originated from Longbourn itself. I know that they have, at the minimum, one maid, a cook, a housekeeper named Mrs. Hill, and Mr. Hill, who is, I believe, a man of all work. I have seen three workers in the stables, as well. Was there nothing that originated from any of these servants?”

Smithson reflected and finally said, “They may be a very closed-lip group, at least to servants not in the same house; this of course is a sign of a well-run house with a loyal staff. But…I am not sure that Longbourn is all that well-run. I am just going by its general reputation; I cannot say that I know anything very specific about the subject.”

Darcy nodded.

“But…”

Smithson said, hesitating, “it was not really a rumor or gossip, so I did not think to include this, but I do remember hearing that the housekeeper was very unhappy looking yesterday.”

Darcy nodded. He liked Mrs. Hill, from what he had seen, but he thought it would be difficult to speak with her alone, at least without raising questions from the Bennets. But it would be easy enough to talk privately with her husband, as he was often outside.

Assuming that Miss Mary was correct, that Elizabeth was somewhere safe in a cottage with a fireplace and some food (not a lot), Darcy felt less panicky than he had the night before. Still, Netherfield was so close to empty, so quiet, he hated to stay there until dinner and nighttime. He decided to ride once again, to search a bit more.

Darcy decided that, every time he searched for Elizabeth, he would carry along some food. He approached Netherfield’s housekeeper and arranged to have a packet made up of foods that would keep for a long time. He did not bother to explain the need, and he was satisfied with the prompt compliance with his request.

As he rode towards Longbourn, Darcy had a revelation: Elizabeth always walked. Wherever this cottage was, she had discovered it by walking, not riding. And so he should search for it the same way.

How could an entire cottage not be known to anybody other than Elizabeth and Miss Mary? Was that not entirely unlikely? It must not be in a field or glade or meadow. It must be in an overgrown part of the forest.

Darcy could only speculate as to its condition!

Riding into the forest, Darcy soon found himself following a wide trail. He discovered a glade where he could leave his mount to happily munch for an hour or two, and, tying off the reins, he carefully looked around, memorizing individual trees and a singular boulder. He would have to be mindful in order to search for Elizabeth and not get lost himself, and his mouth twisted upward in an ironic smile. It would not do to get so lost that the lovely Elizabeth would have to rescue him!

Setting off on foot, he looked for narrow foot trails and any other trail offshoots. He took the time to carefully bend a branch or twig that grew around waist height every six feet or so; that way, even days later, he would be able to tell that this was a route he had explored.

Darcy walked and walked, carrying the packet of food. He walked until the lengthening shadows convinced him to go back to his horse, back to the manor, back to another restless night.