Page 3 of Strange Happenings at Longbourn (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #11)
Chapter Three
"Hill! Hill! Come at once!" Mrs. Bennet's shrieks could be heard halfway across the house.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her book.
Her early-morning walk had been refreshing.
She could even admit to herself some disappointment at not having encountered Mr. Darcy.
The gentleman was an enigma. Which character was the accurate sketch—the proud, disdainful, insulting man from the assembly, or the humble, contrite, apologetic man from Oakham Mount?
Ever curious about how a person's behavior might change over the course of their lives, Elizabeth felt determined to find out.
That evening, the Bennets were to attend a soiree at Lucas Lodge.
Sir William and Lady Lucas hosted frequently.
Both enjoyed company and entertainment, and their gatherings were well-attended.
Elizabeth knew from Charlotte that the Netherfield residents had received an invitation.
She hoped for a chance to have another discussion with Mr. Darcy to further her study of his character.
A noise from the hallway caught Elizabeth's attention, and she closed her book. Standing and walking to the doorway, she stuck her head out in the hall. Two maids whispered frantically, with identical looks of worry and distress on their faces.
"Sally, Molly," she said. "What has you both in such…excited spirits?"
Both girls stopped talking and dropped their gazes to their shoes. Sally held a basket of clean linens, and Molly hefted a coal bucket.
"Nothing, miss," they mumbled in tandem. Both girls then went their separate ways, leaving Elizabeth wondering what had upset them. Shrugging, she took her book back to her room, curling up in the window seat to read until it was time to dress for the evening.
Her solitude was disrupted when Lydia burst into the room. "Tell them I did not do it!" she cried, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. "Everyone thinks it is all my fault, and I did nothing at all!"
Why Lydia came to Elizabeth was beyond the latter's understanding, but she sat up and opened her arms for an embrace. Lydia, still a young girl in so many ways, fell into her sister's arms, her hiccuping sobs gradually quieting.
"Even Mama is mad and thinks I had something to do with it," she mumbled against Elizabeth's shoulder. "And I could not have possibly! I spent the entire afternoon remaking a bonnet."
"I am afraid I have not the pleasure of understanding you." Elizabeth loosened her arms and eased Lydia back so she could see her face. "What has occurred?"
"Did you not hear the yells?" Lydia wiped her cheeks. "Mama says someone has been in her chambers. Her candles are gone—the nice beeswax ones—and every pair of gloves she has is missing one of the set. I do not understand why I am the one being blamed!"
Elizabeth chuckled. "You are rather mischievous." She patted her sister's shoulder. "It stands to reason that others would suspect you. It is, I suppose, rather the opposite of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. "
"What?" Lydia looked confused.
"Papa has a tome in his library. It is a collection of fables by Aesop. Samuel Croxall made the 1722 edition our father uses. A young shepherd boy is tasked with watching over his village’s sheep.
Bored and craving attention, he shouts that a wolf is attacking the flock.
The villagers rush to help, only to find there is no wolf—the boy was lying for amusement.
He does it again, and once more the villagers are fooled.
"But when a real wolf finally appears and threatens the sheep, the boy cries out in genuine fear. This time, no one comes—thinking it’s another false alarm.
As a result, the wolf scatters or devours the flock.
" Elizabeth paused. "Your situation is similar.
You have teased and taken things so often that others naturally blame you, just as the boy's actions made people distrust his claims of a wolf. "
Lydia's brow wrinkled. "I suppose I understand, but that does not make me feel any better.
Kitty thinks I stole her locket, and Mama thinks I have taken half her gloves and her candles.
She has declared I may not go out tonight unless the items are returned.
Except I did not take them!" Lydia began to cry again.
"I want to go to Lucas Lodge!" She stamped her foot.
The poor dear had never experienced her mother's disapprobation. Elizabeth could not help but feel Lydia was not lying. There was a sincerity in her words that begged her to believe the young girl, though experience would say not to trust her in the slightest .
"I am afraid Mama has never listened to me," Elizabeth said apologetically. "I will try, but I do not believe there is anything I can do."
Lydia sighed. "I shall never take anything that is not mine again," she grumbled.
"That is a wonderful resolution." Elizabeth's praise made Lydia smile shyly, an expression wholly unusual for the young lady. "But someone is taking things, Lydia. That is a mystery that will need to be solved."
"And soon! I should hate to be stuck at Longbourn while you are all enjoying yourselves." Sighing, Lydia turned to leave. She paused at the door and turned back to her sister. "Thank you for believing me," she murmured before hurrying away.
A quick word with Jane gave Elizabeth the rest of the story.
Mrs. Bennet had gone to her chambers to take a bath and ready herself for the evening.
As she had bustled around to light candles, she had noticed every candelabrum and candlestick was empty.
Confused, for the maid had just put new ones in yesterday, Mrs. Bennet called for Hill.
Hill, in turn, called for Sally, who confirmed she had replaced them just yesterday afternoon. They had been used only once.
Mrs. Bennet, thinking someone had played a prank, began to search her drawers in hopes of discovering where her candles had gone, only to discover her gloves missing. Lydia and Kitty were called and interrogated, and for the first time, the Bennet matriarch turned her ire on her youngest child.
"Lydia is rather upset," Elizabeth told Jane.
"I know our mother dotes upon her, but our younger sister is of an age to behave." Jane shrugged.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I do not believe Lydia is the culprit," she confided. "You know our sisters have never been able to lie to me—not successfully, anyhow. Lydia's distress is genuine."
Jane furrowed her brow. "Then who—”
"That is the true mystery. Mama will turn to the servants next. If we have a thief in our midst, then we must root them out."
Lucas Lodge
Lydia did not cease her protestations of ill use until the family departed. She tried to accompany them, only to be turned back to her room .
"My new gloves, Lydia!" Mrs. Bennet snapped. "Your Uncle Gardiner procured them especially for me, and I planned to wear them tonight! No, you will stay home. I cannot bear the sight of you right now."
Lydia had promptly burst into tears once more before running off to her rooms. Kitty seemed rather smug about the entire thing, and Elizabeth wondered whether she had something to do with the missing items. Perhaps she had happened upon the idea after her locket had been taken.
Mrs. Bennet's complaints of ill-use filled the carriage on the way to Lucas Lodge. Mr. Bennet shared an exasperated look with Elizabeth. The latter shrugged and turned her attention to the carriage window, staring sightlessly out into the night.
Lucas Lodge was ablaze with lights. The Bennets traipsed inside, eager to be out of the chill and in the drawing room with their friends.
Immediately, Elizabeth noticed several red-coated soldiers milling about the room.
Kitty's expression brightened considerably when she saw them and she hurried off to find Maria Lucas.
"I do not see the Netherfield party yet," Jane murmured quietly in Elizabeth's ear. She looked lovely in a gown of blue silk. Pearl pins dotted her coiffure, and her elbow-length gloves had shimmering embroidery up and down the arms.
"I have it on good authority that they will be here," Elizabeth assured her sister. "Charlotte says the invitation was sent and accepted."
As if summoned by their conversation, the aforementioned group arrived in the doorway.
Elizabeth's gaze immediately sought Mr. Darcy.
Their eyes met, and he tipped his head ever so slightly in greeting.
His eyes twinkled with good humor—a vastly different expression than the one he wore at the assembly.
It was not long before Miss Bingley and her sister were drawn into conversation, leaving the gentlemen to escape. Mr. Hurst disappeared into a card room, and the other two approached Jane and Elizabeth.
"Good evening!" Mr. Bingley's beaming countenance made Jane blush, and she greeted him in return.
“Mr. Bingley,” she said softly, her smile radiant. “How lovely to see you again.”
“And you, Miss Bennet—indeed, this evening has improved dramatically since my arrival,” he said with unfeigned delight. He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, you are looking particularly well this evening. I do hope we are not too late?”
“Not in the least,” she replied, curtsying. “In fact, you have arrived just in time to save us from the beginning of yet another one of Sir William’s speeches. ”
Mr. Bingley laughed good-naturedly. “He means well. And now, if I may—Miss Bennet, might I beg for the honor of your company for the first dance? I understand Sir William always rolls the rugs away.”
Jane nodded, her blush deepening, and allowed herself to be led away with a shy glance at Elizabeth, who smiled encouragingly.
Darcy remained, hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm but attentive.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, dipping a curtsy. “I had begun to think you might be avoiding Hertfordshire society altogether after the assembly.” Her teasing made him smile slightly.
“I assure you I had no such intention.” His tone was smooth, but a glimmer of wryness danced in his eyes. “I have found company outside the drawing rooms of late. Though I must admit, the idea of another evening under twinkling chandeliers was…daunting.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “At least the company is more agreeable this time.”
“I would agree,” he said, looking at her directly.
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the din of the gathering ebbing and flowing around them like waves.
“You seem distracted,” he observed after a moment. “Forgive me for saying so.”
Elizabeth sighed, folding her hands before her. “It has been a most peculiar day. There was some household excitement this afternoon. My youngest sister, Lydia, is notably absent this evening as a result.”
Darcy raised a brow. “Indeed? I hope she is not unwell.”
“No, only confined to her room. My mother discovered that all her best beeswax candles had vanished, and, oddly enough, every pair of her gloves is now missing one. Lydia is suspected of the mischief, though she insists she is innocent.”
“And do you believe her?” Darcy asked, his brow creasing slightly.
“I do.” Elizabeth met his gaze steadily. “Lydia is often a nuisance and has made her fair share of mischief, but she was sincerely distressed. She came to me in tears, and while she may lack restraint, I have never known her to weep over a prank gone wrong.”
Darcy nodded slowly. “Even so, consequences are necessary. If one is habitually careless, others will naturally assume guilt. ”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Just as in the tale of the boy who cried wolf, yes. I even told Lydia as much. But I could not help noticing that she was truly wounded by being disbelieved. And something about the entire affair feels odd.”
“How so?”
“I encountered two of the maids earlier in the day. They were whispering in the hallway and looked quite distressed. When I questioned them, they insisted nothing was wrong and ran off in opposite directions.”
Darcy's expression sharpened slightly. “You believe they may know something?”
“I am not certain,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I find it strange. If Lydia did not take the items—and I believe she did not—then who did?”
Darcy studied her for a long moment. “Then we must return to the question: Who is the culprit? ”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Indeed. I am beginning to wonder if the answer lies not with my sisters, but with someone else entirely. The servants seem agitated. I daresay something is amiss below stairs.”
Darcy glanced around the room briefly, then returned his attention to her. “May I offer my assistance in resolving the matter? If only to ensure the Bennet household is restored to peace—and to prevent any more innocent parties from being unfairly blamed.”
Elizabeth looked at him, surprised, and then inclined her head. “I believe I should like that very much, Mr. Darcy.”
A spark of something—interest, challenge, perhaps admiration—passed between them. The music began to swell once more, and the question of gloves and candles hung between them, unanswered but put aside for the evening.