Elizabeth smiled to herself as she thought of Mr. Murderfoot. He would be an entirely different matter. That fierce tabby ruled the kitchens and Elizabeth very much doubted if Monday and Tuesday could hold up against his formidable visage. Mr. Murderfoot, if Elizabeth understood the effect of his temperament correctly, struck fear into the hearts of mice and mastiffs alike.
They had reached the bottom of the hill and turned onto the straight path leading through the wood. Elizabeth felt the chill of it, the sun barely reaching through the tangled branches of old oak trees. They went on in silence, all of the party wearying of the trip.
As they came out from under the trees into the sunshine, Lady Castlereagh deeply sighed. “I am not often flustered, Miss Bennet, but this day’s events have given me a turn. I shall feel better when I have Darcy, Bingley and Quill by my side.”
“Are the three gentlemen skilled at managing this sort of thing?” Elizabeth asked. She thought she had better ask, as she could not imagine what sort of men would be called to such a scene. She feared they might be rather rough sorts.
“Very skilled, Miss Bennet. They were instrumental in discovering the whereabouts of Fleur, my last lady’s maid, just months ago. She suddenly disappeared and naturally we feared the worst. Darcy and Bingley were on the case instantly, then Darcy brought in Mr. Quill, a retired Bow Street man.”
“Heavens,” Elizabeth said, “and were they able to rescue the lady from whatever trouble she had fallen into?”
Lady Castlereagh pursed her lips. “If only the girl needed rescuing. As it happens, she ran off with the butler who worked in a house across the park. That house was remarkably ill-run and that butler spent a deal of time lingering out of doors, hoping to encounter my maid. They are off to America to settle the frontier or some such nonsense. Imagine, leaving a post as a lady’s maid, only to wander round the wilderness with a butler.”
Elizabeth suppressed a giggle. She could not imagine wandering around the wilderness with a butler, though she could imagine a lady’s maid daring much for the chance of a family, wherever that family was to be located. She did wonder, though, how a butler would fare at chopping down trees and other vigorous tasks that must be done to subdue the out of doors.
“I should have known a French maid would be flighty. I have since employed a more sensible girl. She’s come in from the countryside and it took weeks to train her properly, but I am convinced that were a butler in the neighborhood to come knocking she’d send him packing.”
The cart turned a bend in the road and Longbourn came into view. “We are nearly there, my lady.”
“Thank heavens,” Lady Castlereagh replied.
Elizabeth watched her family file out of the house to meet the cart. Mrs. Bennet led the way and wore an expression her daughter was all too familiar with. Elizabeth had often joked with Jane that their mother was a veritable Lord Nelson sailing into battle.
Elizabeth sighed. Mrs. Bennet would be, even now, devising schemes to throw her daughters in front of the lady’s likely male relatives. It would be of no concern to her that there was currently no knowledge of any single gentleman relative. Mrs. Bennet was of a mind that everybody had them, they must only be located.
Elizabeth knew Jane would have cautioned her mother sternly to forgo opportuning their injured guest. She knew equally well that her mother would have brushed off that sage counsel like flies in summer. She could only wonder what would be the result when Mrs. Bennet realized she had the great Lady Castlereagh in her clutches.
Chapter Two
The introduction of Mrs. Bennet to Lady Castlereagh had gone smoother than expected. Mrs. Bennet had fairly staggered when she heard the name and looked to be girding herself for battle. However, Mr. Bennet had taken the lead and insisted that no conversation was to be had on the drive. Lady Castlereagh must be got into the drawing room immediately.
The lady found she could walk on the arm of Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Bennet was left to trail behind.
Lydia and Kitty were all giggles, their nervousness at the sight of the grand lady apparent. Still, it was a more natural expression than Mary’s. Poor Mary, ever seeking to elevate book learning above all else, attempted a mien of casual boredom, in which she was entirely unsuccessful.
The drawing room had been straightened and looked its best, Elizabeth silently thanking Jane for her foresight. Lady Castlereagh was seated in Mrs. Bennet’s chair in front of the fire, tea in hand. Lydia and Kitty hung back, unsure of where to put themselves. Mary very determinedly held a book open, meant to impress anybody who happened to notice, which was nobody. Elizabeth, Jane and Mrs. Bennet were arranged on the sofa, while Monday and Tuesday took up most of the floor in front of them.
“Imagine our surprise,” Mrs. Bennet said, “to discover a patroness of Almacks requiring assistance.”
Lady Castlereagh observed Mrs. Bennet closely, then said, “I should be very sorry to have to sleep in a tree.”
“A tree, my lady!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “No guest of Longbourn’s has ever found themselves in such circumstances.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, “Lady Castlereagh prefers sleeping in trees to discussing her patronage of Almacks.”
“Just so, Miss Bennet,” Lady Castlereagh said, nodding approvingly.
“I see,” Mrs. Bennet answered, the look of disappointment evident on her face. She was momentarily stymied, but Elizabeth was certain it was not a permanent state. Her mama’s mind would be racing ahead, searching for a new line of attack—a crack in the defenses, a line of sight to aim her cannon, a wall that might be breached. If Napoleon saw such a determined mind coming at him, he would surely turn tail and run for the hills.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Castlereagh said, “I recall you did commit yourself to acting as my scribe.”
“Indeed, I did,” Elizabeth said. “Should you not wish to wait until Doctor Kellerman has been here to examine you?”
“I do not wish it,” the lady said. “He shall arrive and wait until it is convenient.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth said, leaping up. Though she did wonder what Doctor Kellerman would make of waiting. He was an old country doctor and much upon his horse going from one sick person to the next. He generally did not even sit when he drank a cup of tea and took to scolding if he discovered his patient was not sick enough to warrant a visit.
“I will gather my writing things and we may begin as soon as you like,” Elizabeth said.
“Instantly, Miss Bennet. It is my experience that when one has determined to do a thing, it ought to be done instantly,” Lady Castlereagh said. “Mrs. Bennet, I understand you will be gracious enough to host Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Quill.”
Elizabeth realized that she’d not had a moment to apprise her mother of this development and hurriedly said, “Mama, those three gentlemen will be called in to discover what has happened to Lady Castlereagh’s jewels and where her coachman and grooms may be. It will be easily managed with a few rearrangements.”
“Three gentlemen?” Mrs. Bennet said with a look of interest. “And would these three gentlemen bring their wives?”
“There are no wives, Mrs. Bennet. I understand Mr. Quill is a widow. As for Darcy and Bingley, they have so far avoided the net.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Bennet said, rubbing her hands together. “Would you imply that the gentlemen are eligible?”
“I do not imply, Mrs. Bennet. I do not go in for that sort of thing.”
Mrs. Bennet waited expectantly to hear further details, but she was to be disappointed. Lady Castlereagh had said all she would say on the subject of the three mysterious gentlemen.
Elizabeth sat down with a sheet of paper and her own new crow quill, ready to hear what Lady Castlereagh would dictate.
My dear Darcy—
Calamity has struck, you must come to me immediately. I have been set upon and beaten insensible, my jewels stolen, and my coachman and grooms are vanished. You were so good as to discover the whereabouts of my wretch
ed, ungrateful, foolish maid, so I am certain you can solve this mystery. Bring Bingley and Mr. Quill. I recover from my injuries at Mr. Bennet’s house, Longbourn, in Hertfordshire, somewhere in the vicinity of a vista named Pumpkin Hill. It is an out-of-the-way little place, but I know you shall find it in all haste.
“Now, Miss Bennet, hand me the paper so I may sign, otherwise, Darcy is sure to think it a forgery and he is being lured to the countryside by rapscallions.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Mr. Darcy must be of a suspicious temperament, were he ever on the alert for rapscallions.
In large and rounded letters, the lady signed: Emily Stewart
“Now, Miss Bennet, on to Mr. Bingley.”
My dear Bingley—
I have told Darcy all about it. Bring Quill.
Elizabeth waited to hear what else she would communicate to Mr. Bingley, but the lady appeared to deem her cryptic note sufficient and so she sanded the letter. A commotion in the hall took her attention and Doctor Kellerman was soon shown in.
The doctor was a hale man of forty, his paunch held in by a tight waist coat. His boots were muddy, as a country doctor’s boots always were, and he wore an expression of irritation and stoicism.
“Well?” he said, looking suspiciously at Mary. “Who is dying of the common cold this time?”
Jane hurried to the doctor’s side. “Doctor Kellerman,” she said, “our patient is Lady Castlereagh, just there. She has had a knock on the head, and we discovered her quite alone in her carriage.”
Doctor Kellerman looked critically at Lady Castlereagh. Lady Castlereagh looked equally critically at the doctor.
“All right,” the doctor said, seeming convinced that there was a worthy patient in the room. “Let us have a look.”
The doctor examined the bump on Lady Castlereagh’s head. “Memory loss?”
“Yes,” the lady answered. “In fact, I do not recall how I was struck.”
“As I thought,” the doctor said gruffly. He peered into Lady Castlereagh’s eyes. “The patient is conscious, pupils equal and shows no sign of delirium. Very good. No traveling for a month, sleep on two pillows and drink plenty of beef tea. You’ll live, unlike poor old Jasper Wilkins, who’s got one foot in the grave and the other on a thick slab of butter.”
Elizabeth suppressed a gasp. Lady Castlereagh must impress anybody who encountered her, except apparently, Doctor Kellerman. She waited for the lady’s temper to rise at the doctor’s cavalier treatment.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Lady Castlereagh smiled. “Now there,” she said, “that is the good country doctor of my youth. My own London man tiptoes around and cannot think of anything to do but blood-letting, no matter what I complain of.”
Doctor Kellerman folded his arms. “Blood-letting is stuff and nonsense. I won’t do it, no matter how the patient begs. I say to them, ‘Man, do you not know that you need that blood of yours? Have you not seen a body that’s lost too much of it?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lady Castlereagh said. “You will come and see me in a few days?”
“If you insist,” the doctor said. “Though I already told you that you will live.”
This elicited peals of laughter from the lady. “Doctor Kellerman, you are a man of great good sense. I am afraid I am too used to being cossetted. Very well, I shall not call for you without further cause.”
This elicited a rare blush from the doctor. “I may, as it happens, be passing by the day after tomorrow. I shall look in.”
Elizabeth supposed the good doctor wasn’t always as appreciated as he might be and was rather pleased to be christened full of good sense by this august personage.
The next day found Lady Castlereagh settling into the Bennet household. She was to be there above a month, as the doctor had been firm in his directive to avoid travel. They had all begun to grow comfortable with one another, once Lady Castlereagh had convinced Mrs. Bennet that any mention of Almacks would be met with stony silence.
Hill acted as lady’s maid, and that voluble personage was, for once, quiet and reserved. Elizabeth suspected she lived in terror of accidently sticking a pin into rarified skin. Lady Castlereagh’s own maid, Jenny, would make her way to Longbourn with the lady’s trunks. Hill spent a deal of time in the kitchens lamenting that the girl could not arrive too soon.
Mrs. Bennet had turned her attention from Almacks to the three gentlemen who would arrive. Despite the fact that Lady Castlereagh had said virtually nothing about them, Mrs. Bennet was convinced of their immense fortunes, easy-going natures and uncommon good looks. She was equally certain that all three men were desperate to be married, if only they might stumble upon an eligible female.
In a moment alone, Elizabeth had pointed out to her mother that London was overflowing with eligible females just as desperate to be married, and so one would presume they would stumble into each other there. Mrs. Bennet scolded that she would not land a gentleman by going forth with such a view. For herself, Elizabeth did not care to land anybody. It sounded too much like winning a hand at piquet.
Monday and Tuesday had the run of the house, but for the kitchens. They had daringly attempted a foray into that sanctum but returned equally quickly with scratched noses. Elizabeth presumed Mr. Murderfoot had not wasted a moment in clearing up who’s terrain they encroached upon. The mastiffs sometimes sat wistfully at the door, drawn by some smell of cooking emanating from that part of the house, but the fat tabby would patrol the perimeter and so they dared go no further.
Charlotte had come to the house mid-morning. She was well-received by the lady, as she was everywhere. Charlotte might not be a great beauty, but she had such a pleasing demeanor that people were naturally drawn to her. She was suitably rapt as Lady Castlereagh recounted her adventure. Privately, Charlotte told Elizabeth and Jane that Meryton could talk of nothing else and all hoped to catch a glimpse of the great lady.
Lady Castlereagh had dictated a list of her jewels to Elizabeth. It was shocking, to say the least. Elizabeth, herself, owned only a small gold locket. Lady Castlereagh seemed to have mined all the jewels in the world—emeralds, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals, garnets, topaz, citrine, lapis lazuli, pearls and one very pale, yellow stone that nobody seemed to be able to name. The settings were various, of silver and gold. The descriptions of each were of delicate silver bows dotted with various stones and elaborate, heavy necklaces showing off larger gems. Some she had inherited, some had been given her by Lord Castlereagh. The exhaustive list had given Elizabeth pause. Anybody knowing the value of it, and that she traveled with it, might have been driven to enact a scheme to relieve her of them.
Elizabeth had inquired why she had been traveling with so many jewels, but Lady Castlereagh had looked at her as if she’d gone mad. How was she to know beforehand which she wished to wear?
Lady Castlereagh had become rather sanguine about the missing jewels, as she had full confidence in Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Quinn having the ability to get them back. She was also confident that her coachman and grooms would turn up. Elizabeth was not so certain. It seemed to her that they were likely involved and might be anywhere by now. Still, she did not see a reason to trouble the lady with her doubts.
Their dinner went on pleasantly, as Lady Castlereagh appreciated Mr. Bennet’s wit. He was skilled at weaving stories of human foibles, at once charming and ridiculous. Lydia and Kitty remained suitably cowed and did not display their usual boisterousness. In an unchecked moment, Lydia had made some comment on who might be the handsomest of the officers who were bivouacked at various houses in Meryton. The lady had given her such a withering look that Elizabeth had wondered if Lydia might slide under the table. Kitty noted her sister’s fate and said little. Mary had gamely tried to showcase her learning by discussing Greek literature, but Lady Castlereagh had hinted that she found The Iliad dull.
They all went on quietly that first evening, and yet there was an undertone of expectation. Three gentlemen were e
xpected to descend upon them. They knew not when, nor what to expect, but it was certain to be the most exciting event that had occurred at Longbourn since the kitchens caught fire ten years before.
Bingley rushed into Darcy’s library, waving a paper. “Well? She says you are to know all about it. I am only told to bring Quinn. Bring Quinn where? Why? What has happened to our dear Lady Castlereagh?”
Darcy let Bingley exhaust himself with questions. His friend, faced with an emergency, would wave papers around before settling to a course of action. When Bingley saw that he must stop talking to get any answers, he threw himself into a chair.
“Well?” he said.
“She has been set upon, her jewels stolen, and her coachman and grooms have disappeared. She asks that we go to her immediately and set about tracking down the culprit.”
Bingley leaned forward in his chair. “What? Where? How? We are not professionals! Oh, it was one thing to go poking about, asking after a lady’s maid, but shall we be in pursuit of a jewel thief now? Possibly even a murderer? How are we to do it?”
Darcy tented his fingers. “We will go to Hertfordshire. And, as the lady said, we will bring Quinn.”
“Of course, we must go,” Bingley said. “We cannot leave Lady Castlereagh in the lurch and I suppose Quinn will lead us forward. Though Caroline will be very put out—she expects me to escort her to Mrs. Randall’s ball on the morrow. She expects you to ask for the first.”
Darcy’s irritation was evident, though he attempted to hide it. He did not see why having Bingley as a friend must also mean he must pay endless attention to Bingley’s sister. The lady was grasping and whatever attention was paid her, there was always a demand for more. Darcy often thought of her as a dark whirlpool, whatever was thrown into her disappeared, but she was never satisfied and she never stopped spinning.
The Lady's Jewels Page 2
