Page 15

Once the Hills had folded the blanket and laid it carefully back in the cart, Mr. Bennet accompanied them for a careful look at the surrounding area.

The lane ascended a knoll, curved at the top of it, and joined the road to London a few yards further on.

The intersection was nearby, but it was screened from the view of anyone who had not ascended the knoll.

Archer’s land, separated from the lane by the hedgerow, also ran uphill.

The flat, low-lying area was under cultivation and ready for harvest. The hillside was a waste area of grasses and wildflowers.

The land was screened from the London road by a strip of open woodland about twenty yards wide at the top of the knoll.

Tim was first to scramble up, and he gave a shout when he reached the top. “Here! Here’s where they were!”

The open area under the trees was covered with forest litter and old leaves, damp from past rain, and semi-secluded both from the London road and the lane and farmland.

It was clear that horses had spent some time there both from the number of hoofprints and the quantity of dung that littered the area.

There were human footprints as well. Although most of these were blurred and muddled, it was possible, with care, to make out the presence of a third pair of men’s boots.

“These are much finer than the other pairs of boots,” said Jem.

“No hobnails.” This led to a short debate about whether they belonged to Elizabeth, but they were much too large.

She had either been carried or she was too small and light to have disturbed the leaves and mud.

Mr. Bennet could clearly make out the narrow ruts where the carriage or other conveyance had rested, and closer scrutiny yielded shallower ruts curving out of the woods only to be lost in the grassy verge of the turnpike that led south to London.

The ruts led to the south. “See what else you can uncover,” he ordered the Hills before scrambling back down the hill, through the hedgerow, and back to his waiting horse.

He turned to the small knot of farmers waiting there.

“Someone needs to ride to the first tollgate and inquire if two or three men, and possibly a woman, were seen driving south in a carriage drawn by two horses, at least one of which was a gray.”

Ezra’s father, a man named Croft, stepped forward. “M’wife has come for the boy, sir, and I’ve got a good horse. I’ll go.”

“Mr. Croft, would you do me the favor of bringing Ezra to see me at Longbourn this afternoon when you return? We would like to ask him a few more questions. I will talk with him. He seems to like me.”

“Indeed, he does, sir. I will bring him to you later this afternoon.” Croft was away as soon as Mr. Bennet nodded.

Meanwhile, the Hills supervised the storage of the farm cart in Mr. Archer’s shed as Mr. Bennet turned towards home. He would need to answer Mr. Darcy’s letter as quickly as possible.

Mr. Bennet, whose headquarters were his library, finished his note to Darcy before ringing for a cold luncheon.

Mrs. Hill brought it to him, and he detained her for a few moments, informing her of the progress they had made that morning.

“I feel I should tell you, Mrs. Hill, that your sons do you great credit. I have found them not lacking in intelligence, they are resourceful, and their powers of reasoning are above the common way. When Lizzy is found, as I believe she will be, we must all have a conversation about their futures.”

Hill smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, sir. Their father and I have tried to bring them up to be good men. We are happy to know that they are able to assist you in this terrible business.”

Late in the afternoon, Mr. Bennet found time to take a brief turn around the garden. He no longer enjoyed this activity; his eyes were now alert for signs of danger. He encountered Ezra’s father with the boy walking up the drive.

“Sir, I rode south to the first tollgate. The gatekeeper had no recollection of any such carriage, but he suggested that I wait for his wife, who often keeps an eye on the gate if he must be away. It took an hour, but when she finally returned, she was helpful. She recalls a closed carriage with a man seated next to the driver on the box and drawn by matched grays. Both men were wearing smock-frocks. The curtains were pulled over the windows, and she could not see who was within. Her only other recollection was that the men were in a hurry and were rude and unmannerly.”

“And when was this?”

“Day before yesterday, sir. Mid-afternoon.” He reached into a pocket and extracted a large, somewhat rusty, key. “This is from Mr. Archer, sir. It’s the key to his shed where the cart is stored. ”

“Thank you, Mr. Croft.” Mr. Bennet turned to Ezra, greeted him, and shook his hand gravely. “Will you take a short walk with me?” Ezra, as he had before, took Mr. Bennet by the hand, and they started off. “I thought I might show you my favorite hiding place.”

“You have a hiding place, sir?”

“Certainly. If you had that many girls in your family, would you not want a hiding place?”

They strolled to the edge of the lawn, where a large tree stood.

Beneath its branches, half hidden from view, was a comfortable bench.

Mr. Bennet held up the branches with a theatrical gesture.

“Come in! Welcome to my hiding place. Ezra, you have been such a helpful boy. Those things you told us about the two men and the cart will help us find Miss Elizabeth, I am sure.”

“I hope so, sir!”

“And I know she will want to thank you herself when she is found. What I want to talk to you about is this. If you think very hard, can you remember anything else about those two men? It’s very important for you not to tell me anything that is not true, just because you want to help or because you think I might like to hear it.

But if you sit and think quietly, can you remember anything at all? ”

“Can you tell me what sorts of things, sir?”

“Were they tall or short, thin or fat? Did they have beards? What color was their hair? Or their hats? Anything odd about their appearance like a crooked nose?”

With the help of Mr. Bennet’s secret supply of peppermints, which he kept in a tin in his pocket, Ezra was able to recall several helpful facts.

Both men wore dilapidated felt hats rather than the straw hats favored by the area’s farmers.

One was tall and stout, about the height of Ezra’s own father, but stouter.

The other was about Mr. Bennet’s size and was not fat.

Neither man wore a beard, but both men looked as if they needed to shave.

Their smocks were clean, and their boots were new.

Ezra thought, but was not completely sure, that one of them, the tall one, had a missing finger on his left hand.

It might have been the pointer finger, and only half of it was gone. He was not driving the cart.

When the boy said, “Those are all the things I truly remember, sir,” Mr. Bennet stood up and shook his hand, now sticky with peppermint.

“You have helped a great deal, Ezra, and I will tell your father he can be proud of you.” A second coin of unspecified value changed hands, and Mr. Bennet also handed over his treasure trove of peppermints. The boy took his hand, and the two strolled back across the lawn to Ezra’s father.

Shortly after their departure, Mr. Bennet sat in his library writing another express to Darcy in London.

He reported on the discovery of the cart, its contents, and the footprints, and he carefully described his conversation with Ezra, his efforts to win the boy’s trust, and all of Ezra’s recollections.

It seemed apparent that both crimes had been carried out by the same two men.

He wondered where they were at this moment.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes, which smarted with fatigue and lack of sleep.

He had found that in the strange unreality of a world where his beloved Lizzy had vanished, he could keep his fears at bay so long as he kept himself occupied during the day with efforts to find her and apprehend her captors.

However, any moments of relaxation, any rest at night, invited worry and despair to creep into his mind unbidden.

His battles with anxiety and hopelessness were just as fatiguing as his efforts to find his child.

He shook himself resolutely and went to prepare for dinner.

True to his word, Mr. Bennet visited his wife after dinner.

He found her abed, propped up on pillows, staring out at the rapidly gathering darkness.

He seated himself in the bedside chair. “Draw those curtains if you please, Jane. And why don’t you go down and have tea with your sisters? I will stay here with your mother.”

As Jane slipped from the room, he entwined his fingers with his wife’s in the same way he had done when they were courting and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Now, Fanny,” he said quietly. “I have been neglecting you terribly, and I want to apologize for that.” Her eyes searched his face anxiously as he continued.

“We have every reason in the world to believe that Lizzy is still alive and that she will be found. Mr. Darcy and your brother Edward are searching in London, and Mr. Darcy has good men, well-trained men, in his employ.” He noticed with a pang that tears were rolling silently down her cheeks, and he wiped them tenderly away with his handkerchief.

“Your job, Fanny, is to rest, eat, and recover. Elizabeth will want her mother when we get her home. You must be ready. Now, I’ll just sit here with you until you fall asleep, shall I? ”

His wife squeezed his hand and favored him with a sad, watery smile before obediently closing her eyes. It was not long before her regular breathing told him that she was sleeping, but it was many minutes before her hand relaxed and let go of his.