The Lady's Jewels

by Perpetua Langley

  The other men who had responded to the scene raced to the wood line, but Wickham was gone.

  “Might I suggest, miss,” Warpole said, “that we get you inside. Then, I’ll go round and secure every weapon in the house and put a guard up. I expect Wickham has gone to ground, but one never can be sure of a villain like that.”

  “Indeed, I shall go in,” Elizabeth said, her heart slowing down from its rap-tap-tap. She patted Mercury’s neck and said, “Wickham’s arm is badly injured. Mr. Quinn will want to send out word of it as he’s likely to seek treatment somewhere.”

  Warpole nodded. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ miss, I never saw the like of this here scene. I spent my whole career thinking of fighting off highwaymen in defense of my mistress and here I get locked up in a wine cellar and a young lady fights off the rogue who done it.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “In truth, Mr. Warpole, what you witnessed was my Mercury fighting off the rogue. He is a mercurial creature, but he can be depended upon to protect me from danger. He has the courage of a lion and he is my staunch defender.”

  Warpole patted the horse’s head. “He’s a true horse, he is. I know them that’s true and them that don’t have the heart. He’s got the heart.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree. He ought to get extra oats tonight,” Elizabeth said.

  At the mention of oats, Mercury threw his head back and whinnied.

  Darcy strode out of the inn. Bingley and three of the armed men had stayed on horseback. “Nobody has seen George Wickham,” he said. “He has disappeared once again.”

  Darcy mounted his horse and said, “Let us go back to Pemberley and consider our next move.”

  They turned their horses and made their way out of Lambton, through the forest paths toward Pemberley. The armed men went on ahead, leaving Darcy alone with his friend. They went on in silence for some time, then Darcy said, “You will be very surprised to hear that I proposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  He did not quite know why he wished to tell Bingley of his shame, but it had weighed on him like an anchor around his neck ever since it had happened.

  Bingley did indeed look surprised. Shocked, even. Joy overspread his features. “That is wonderful! Of course, I did not expect it given, well, your ideas about things. Nevertheless, I could not be more delighted! We shall go on, the four of us, very merrily.”

  “Not so merrily,” Darcy said, tightlipped. “She declined.”

  “Declined?” Bingley asked. “She refused you? How strange, because I did think I noted…”

  “She declined,” Darcy said. “Quite quickly, too. She plainly did not care for what I had to say.”

  Bingley looked thoughtful and was silent for some moments. Then he said, “Darcy, you know I value my friendship with you above all others. That being made clear, I wonder what it was you did say to Miss Bennet. I only wonder it, as you can, on occasion…”

  “I know what you would say,” Darcy said. “I can be too brusque or judgmental or ill-humored. I promise you I was not any of those on this occasion. I explained to Miss Bennet how she had upended all my ideas of what I ought to look for in a wife. I no longer cared for rank or elegance or conduct beyond reproach. That is, my feelings had overwhelmed all my earlier notions.”

  Bingley stared at his friend, wide-eyed. “No. Darcy,” he said.

  “What do you mean? No, Darcy what?”

  Bingley did his best to suppress his laughter, being only partly successful. “My friend, when one proposes, one does not explain all the qualities one is no longer looking for. One explains all the qualities the lady possesses that are found so charming.”

  “But I said the truth!” Darcy said.

  “Actually,” Bingley said, “you did not. The truth is, you have been wrong-headed all your life and Miss Elizabeth Bennet has made you see it. You ought to go back and say so. Also, you might find she looks upon you more kindly if you are not enumerating your ridiculous list.”

  Darcy at once wished to push Bingley off his horse and thank him for sound advice. How had he not seen that Miss Bennet would be insulted to discover that the qualities she did possess had not been on that ridiculous list of his? How had he not seen fit to enumerate those qualities she did have? There were, perhaps, a hundred ways to propose and somehow he’d picked the very worst one—he’d explained where she’d been lacking and then all but stated that his feelings had overcome his rationality. How stupid, when she was not lacking anything he sought at all. It was only what he had thought he wished for, before becoming acquainted with Miss Bennet. He realized that what he’d meant did not strictly align with what he’d said.

  He would propose again. And this time, he would see to it that he expressed what he ought to have done the first time.

  Elizabeth had ridden Mercury to the stables and handed him over. Upon entering the drawing room, Miss Darcy ran to her and clutched her in an embrace. Lady Castlereagh was not far behind.

  Through Miss Darcy’s sobs, Lady Castlereagh said, “Miss Bennet! What a debt we owe to you!”

  “I am sure you do not, my lady,” Elizabeth said, “as I only happened to come upon the scene quite by accident.”

  “That may be true,” Lady Castlereagh said, “but it is what you did when you happened upon the scene that saved Miss Darcy.”

  “You did, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy said, letting go of Elizabeth and somewhat recovering herself. “I have never seen a lady act with such bravery!”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I suppose I did feel rather brave on Mercury. He is, himself, a rather brave horse. I am only glad that you are all right, Miss Darcy.”

  “Come,” Lady Castlereagh said, “do sit down.” She led Elizabeth to an arrangement of chairs. Elizabeth was surprised to find Caroline Bingley in one of them.

  “I see Miss Bennet has saved the day,” she said with a tight smile.

  Elizabeth did not answer, as she thought there was not much compliment in the tone.

  Lady Castlereagh spoke to a footman coming into the room. “Bring us Madeira, James. I feel we could all use a glass to settle us after this trying circumstance.”

  James hurried off, but not before Elizabeth noted his flushed cheeks and his undue staring at her. She supposed Wickham’s attack was all the talk below stairs.

  “I was so very frightened, Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy said. “George, I mean, Mr. Wickham, was very determined that we elope to Scotland whether I agreed or no. He is so different than he was! He used to be so kind, but he is no longer.”

  “Indeed, he is not,” Elizabeth said. “He drew a pistol after you ran toward the house.”

  “A pistol!” Miss Darcy cried.

  “Do not upset yourself, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “All has come right in the end and he will be caught.”

  Before Miss Darcy could answer, Mr. Quinn hurried into the room. “I have every man available armed and guarding the house.” He saw Elizabeth and said, “Miss Bennet! Your actions today are nothing short of wonderful!”

  Elizabeth was beginning to grow embarrassed at the attention heaped upon her. “Really, Mr. Quinn, I was only fortunate to have come along. Now, I suppose we ought to discuss just how it is that Wickham is here, and not in Derbyshire as we thought.”

  “Just so,” Mr. Quinn said. “I believe he must have been there, as the maid at Pemberley reports it. I suspect he went to Derbyshire to create the ruse and have us believe that there was no danger here. His plan worked remarkably well—he was able to lead Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and the armed men away from the scene.”

  James brought in a silver tray with a decanter of Madeira and small crystal glasses. He poured and handed them out. Elizabeth took a sip and felt the slight burn in her throat. She was not one to imbibe during the day, but on this day the drink felt entirely necessary. The rush of danger was beginning to subside and it left her feeling a little weak and trembly.

  “They may already know they have been tricked and be headed back to us, as I will guess that they w
ill find no sign that Wickham ever stayed on in the village.”

  Another footman came in, handed Mr. Quinn a note, and said, “The messenger waits, sir.”

  Mr. Quinn tore it open. “It is a hurriedly written message from Mr. Darcy. It says, Wickham is not at the inn, I have sent the men out to search the area.”

  Elizabeth blushed at the mention of Mr. Darcy, which was the silliest thing in the world. She would have to do better in future. She noticed Miss Bingley staring at her, which only increased her confusion.

  “So,” Mr. Quinn said, “they have not figured out that Wickham never stayed on nearby. At least, they hadn’t done when this note was written. I will send back word so they may travel here in all haste.”

  “Do tell my brother of Miss Bennet’s bravery, Mr. Quinn,” Miss Darcy said.

  “Please do not, Mr. Quinn,” Elizabeth said. “The gentlemen must only be apprised that Wickham was here, an attempt was made, and Miss Darcy is quite safe.”

  “Now, now,” Mr. Quinn said, holding up a hand, “it is my letter and I think I know how to write it.” He rose and said, “I shall do so this minute, but in the meantime, Miss Bennet, you ought to stay here, rather than travel to Longbourn. Mr. Wickham is armed, injured and no doubt infuriated with you. Miss Darcy may be his target, but a man so enraged might easily turn to vengeance. Send word to your father that you remain here and he is to be on his guard.”

  Elizabeth nodded, as she could only see the sense in Mr. Quinn’s words. She had never in her life looked upon such evil in a man and would not even guess at what he might try next.

  “Goodness,” Elizabeth said, “amidst all the excitement I quite forgot my reason for coming. You did ask, my lady, that I see about Tuesday.” She walked to the two mastiffs lounging by the fire and peered down at her.

  The dogs stared up at her and Elizabeth did not see that there was anything wrong with either one of them, other than Tuesday was beginning to run to fat from all the tidbits that were to be had in the vicinity of the kitchens.

  “I fear,” Lady Castlereagh said, “that something is amiss. My Tuesday is quite put out. She’s taken to shredding various of my things, including a pelisse I thought charming. It now lays as a heap of rags next to my bed and she growled when Jenny attempted to dispose of it.”

  What was the matter with Tuesday became clear in a moment.

  Elizabeth smiled. “I believe, my lady, that Tuesday is quite well. I also believe that despite Lord Castlereagh putting his foot down, there is soon to be a Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”

  Lady Castlereagh clapped her hands. “Pups! We are to have pups in the house. How wonderful.”

  Just then, a young man hurried into the room. Lady Castlereagh looked in his direction, joy overspreading her features. “Freddie!”

  Elizabeth went to the desk situated in front of the window overlooking the drive. She composed a letter for her father describing the events of the afternoon and a note to Jane that word had been had from Derbyshire and Mr. Bingley was quite safe.

  Lady Castlereagh had sent Miss Darcy upstairs to rest before dinner, the lady determining that the girl must suffer greatly from nerves after her harrowing experience. Elizabeth thought it too bad, as Freddie seemed very happy to see her. They had met here and there over the years, but Elizabeth knew that at their age, each year produced vast differences. When last they met the year before, they might have been as children. Now, Miss Darcy was a young lady and Freddie was a young gentleman, and both seemed to note it.

  Freddie, a handsome boy of fifteen or sixteen, had the manners and charm of a gentleman older than that. He also had the heart of Lady Castlereagh in the palm of his hand.

  The two hurried off together so that Lady Castlereagh might inform him of all that had happened to her and Freddie might inform her of his doings at Eton. Elizabeth imagined that Freddie would have a lot to say on that score, as he was lively and friendly and sure to have a wide acquaintance there.

  Miss Bingley had taken herself into the small room attached to the drawing room. Elizabeth could see through the open door that she sat, ramrod straight and tight-lipped as ever, holding a book in front of her. Elizabeth was irked by her, as one is when encountering a person who may wish one ill, and she hoped the lady would take herself off to her own bedchamber.

  What was Jane to do with such a sister-in-law as that? After their first encounter, the lady had worked to make herself agreeable and had practically fawned over Jane. But it was an act. Elizabeth was certain of it. She dearly hoped Miss Bingley had not the energy or inclination to cause mischief between her sister and Mr. Bingley.

  Elizabeth listened to the clatter of hoofbeats outside. She supposed it was the messenger setting off to Pemberley with Mr. Quinn’s letter. She dearly hoped he had not outlined the specifics of the attack. She could not face Mr. Darcy just now, not even in a letter. She would not have herself brought to his attention, only so he could mull his lucky escape from his own imprudence. With time to think of it, he had no doubt concluded that he had been rash, and that he had been fortunate to be refused.

  Elizabeth paused. It could not be the messenger, the clatter of hoofbeats was of more than one horse. It sounded as if a carriage had arrived in all speed. Elizabeth turned to the window. Miss Bingley walked to the glass and peered out, then stepped back as if she had been bit by a viper. She turned on her heel, marched back into the small room and closed the door.

  “What on earth?” Elizabeth said softly.

  Elizabeth did not recognize the crest nor the carriage, but perhaps it was news of some sort.

  One of Netherfield’s footmen hurried from the house, opened the door and put down the steps. He held his hand out to help a lady down. She was stout and middle-aged, and Elizabeth had never seen her before. She was dressed richly and it occurred to her that the lady must be one of Lady Castlereagh’s friends.

  The lady spoke to the footman, and sharply it seemed. He turned and hurried up the steps with a look of alarm. The lady followed just as quickly, though she required the use of a cane.

  Elizabeth turned back to the desk but did not seat herself. Whoever the lady was, she would be led into the drawing room and Elizabeth must receive her in Lady Castlereagh’s absence.

  From the hall, she heard the raised voice of the lady. “I have been informed she is here! Take me to her this instant!”

  How extraordinary that the lady should be so loud. And demanding. Lady Castlereagh was all affability, how strange she should befriend a lady with such a temper.

  “To Miss Bennet, you imbecile. I wish to speak with Miss Bennet!”

  Elizabeth gripped the side of the desk. Why should this irate lady seek her out? Was she some sort of relation of Wickham’s, come to find out why she injured him? That would be a strange development, but she could not fathom any other reason she might have provoked anybody’s ire.

  She steeled herself for what was sure to be an unpleasant interview, whatever the subject.

  The lady sailed in, hobbling at full speed and throwing her cape at the footman who jogged behind her.

  She pointed at Elizabeth. “Are you Miss Bennet?” she said.

  Elizabeth curtsied and said, “One of the Miss Bennets, madam, I have four sisters.” As she said it, she began to wonder if there might not have been some sort of mix-up. Lydia might very well have stirred up trouble somewhere. It would be very like her.

  “I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” the lady said, in a tone that made her very name threatening.

  “Lady Catherine!” Elizabeth said in surprise. “Mr. Collins has spoken of you. Often.”

  The lady sniffed, as if she had smelled something distasteful. “I wondered if it were the same Bennets. A shame.”

  Elizabeth could not think what the lady alluded to, though it had just occurred to her that this same Lady Catherine was Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy’s aunt.

  “I wonder, Lady Catherine,” she said hurriedly, “if I ought not send wor
d to Miss Darcy that you have arrived.”

  “I have come to see you, Miss Bennet,” Lady Catherine said. “I have had an anonymous letter reporting that my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, has made you a proposal.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught. How could the lady have known it? She had, herself, told nobody. The only other person privy to that conversation had been Mr. Darcy himself. But if he had told his aunt of her refusal, what could be the purpose of her visit? In any case, were he to wish to apprise his aunt of the matter, he would hardly send a letter anonymously.

  “Has he done such a foolish thing?” Lady Catherine asked.

  Elizabeth was beginning to find the lady too rude to countenance. Her initial fright had begun to fade. After all, she had only hours before faced down a man with a pistol. She need not cower in front of this matron.

  “Whatever questions may have been asked me, by whoever has asked them, are rather my own business,” Elizabeth said.

  “Do you refuse to answer?” Lady Catherine asked, her cheeks puffing in and out like a bellows.

  “I rather do,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

  Lady Catherine threw her cane to the floor. “Miss Bennet, I have come here to tell you in no uncertain terms that you are not worthy of the Darcy name. Who are you? A country nobody. Do you really think that the family would welcome you? Do you not see that you would make Darcy miserable when he eventually awoke to his mistake?”

  Though Elizabeth was perfectly able to see that this side of the family, at least, would not welcome her and it was already her opinion that she should make Mr. Darcy miserable if he were to throw over his long-held beliefs, she had no intention of acknowledging such.

  “Darcy is meant for my Anne. It has always been so and I will not allow an interloper such as yourself to meddle in well laid plans.”

  “I presume, then, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said, “that Mr. Darcy must be fully aware of these well laid plans and you can have no cause to imagine he veers from them.”

  “You insufferable little minx!”

  Lady Castlereagh swept into the room, followed by Freddie. “I believe I have heard enough of this ludicrous interview. Lady Catherine, you had best be off. I will give Georgiana your regards.”