Abduction & Acrimony

by Abbey North

She continued on to Meryton before deciding she was being entirely too cowardly. The flash of red she’d seen had seemed to be fleeing, so he was unlikely to be lingering. It seemed the most responsible course of action to discover if he had simply been passing through, or if there was something more to his occupation of the area.

  Straightening her shoulders, she turned and walked back to the spot where she’d seen the red, carefully moving down the side of the hill, grimacing when her foot squelched in mud when she reached the end of the hill. She was near the riverbank, and it was a convenient campsite for someone living rough. She didn’t doubt that was what she was seeing with the fire ring composed of carefully arranged rocks.

  When she knelt to get closer, putting a hand near the charred wood, she discovered it was still warm, and there was a faint hint of smoke coming from it. There was a metal plate and cup nearby resting on a tree trunk, and she recognized the drab greatcoat she had seen Wickham wearing before hanging over a tree branch. It appeared to be drying, and she imagined he’d been caught in the rain last night.

  Satisfied she’d discovered his camping spot, she made note of the location and hurried back up the hill, having to drag herself up a couple of spots due to the steepness. By the time she reached the road, she looked quite a mess, and she considered returning to Longbourn instead of going on to Meryton, but she needed to alert Constable Walters to having found this location. Upon consideration, she decided to approach Colonel Forster first.

  With that thought in mind, she went straight to the militia barracks when she arrived in Meryton, finding Mr. Denny standing guard. He looked alarmed, and she frowned. “Is something troubling you, Mr. Denny?”

  “The state of you, miss,” he said before flushing. “You look like you have been injured.”

  Lizzy looked down, giving him a rueful smile. “I was distracted and tripped. I should be fine. Is Colonel Forster available?”

  He frowned as he shook his head. “I am afraid not, Miss Bennet. He was called to London this morning and shall not be returning for a few days. At that point, the militia will begin preparation to move to Brighton.”

  “That is a shame.” Lizzy wished they would be around longer, at least until Wickham’s apprehension. After thanking Mr. Denny and declining to speak with anyone else, because she couldn’t think of someone who would be equally helpful, she turned away from the barracks and approached Constable Walters’s office. Realizing all hopes rested on him was a dismal feeling, and she was sure it was futile even as she climbed the stairs and walked into his small building.

  He wasn’t at the front desk, so she cleared her throat and said loudly, “Constable Walters, are you in?”

  After a long moment, she heard shuffling sounds coming from the back, and then he appeared. He shot her a baleful glare, as though she’d greatly inconvenienced him. “What do you want, Miss Bennet?” His words were stiff, indicating he still hadn’t forgiven her for the insult of insisting he do his job.

  She frowned at him. “I believe I have found Mr. Wickham’s campsite, Mr. Walters.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I have half a mind to speak with your father, young lady. You do not need to be constantly interfering and inserting yourself into investigations where you do not belong.”

  She glared at him. “It was an accidental discovery, Constable Walters.” She kept her voice tight and cool, attempting to get him to listen, though she knew it was useless. “I fell while walking and noticed a flash of red. I moved closer and saw evidence of where he’s been sleeping.”

  The constable turned away from her, not even giving her the courtesy of eye contact. “Just your imagination, Miss Bennet. You likely want to feel important, since Mr. Darcy was kind enough to allow you a small bit of inclusion with his investigation into Wickham. It must have been exciting and giddy, but your time would be better spent focusing on finding a husband rather than pursuing this foolishness. The militia will find Wickham in good time.”

  “I was under the impression it was also your job to look for him, Constable.”

  He stiffened as he turned to glare at her. “I know my job.”

  She rolled her eyes, being frightfully rude, but done with the conversation. “Yet you continually refuse to do it. If Wickham gets away, it will be on your head, Constable Walters.”

  With a sniff in his direction, she turned and marched from the office, almost turning back to Longbourn automatically before recalling the errand that had brought her into Meryton. Instead, she changed course and headed to the general store, procuring a few yards of ribbon and ignoring the looks sent her direction. When she reached the front counter, Etta gave her a concerned look. “Are you injured, Miss Bennet?”

  She almost snapped at the woman before realizing she was still experiencing anger at Walters, and she had no business venting her spleen at the poor shopkeeper, who was only asking after her health. She forced a smile she wasn’t quite feeling when she said, “I tripped on my walk here. I grew distracted and fell after stubbing my toe on a rock. I was already closer to town than home, so it seemed silly not to finish my errand.”

  “Of course, Miss Bennet,” said Etta, though she appeared uncertain. Likely, she couldn’t contemplate any young woman of Lizzy’s standing finding it accepted to appear town as anything less than perfectly groomed. Lizzy would’ve returned home if her only task had been to procure lace, but it had seemed crucial to alert Colonel Forster she had found Wickham’s campsite. She wished she had simply gone home.

  After she had paid for her purchase, she turned and walked sedately from the store. She struggled to maintain decorum, torn between annoyance and frustration that Walters wouldn’t listen to her. She had a compulsion to seek out Fitzwilliam Darcy, who had more sway with the constable, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Colonel Forster would be back in a couple of days, and though the militia would be decamping soon, surely they would find Wickham before they left for Brighton.

  Assuring herself she had done all she could in the circumstances, short of going to Darcy, a prospect she found completely untenable, she made her way home instead. She didn’t even linger at the spot where she’d tripped on the rock, though she did glance down, unable to see the campsite when standing.

  That would make it more difficult for the militia to find as well, but she was determined to present herself to Colonel Forster upon his return and offer to personally show him the location she had discovered, assuming Wickham hadn’t moved by then. If he had, they would be back to fruitless searching again.

  When she returned home, Lizzy went upstairs and got out her sewing kit, more than capable of applying a little lace herself. Madame St. Croix had left already, and quiet had been restored to the household.

  She was in the middle of adding the lace when there was a knock at her door. It startled her enough for her to stab her finger with the needle, and she muttered under her breath before calling, “Come in,” as she dabbed the wound with a handkerchief she drew from her pocket.

  Mary entered a moment later, looking uncertain. “Do you have a moment, Lizzy?”

  It was unusual for Mary to come to her, so she made time for her. “Of course. What is wrong?”

  Mary looked uncertain for a moment. “I do not think anything is wrong, per se, but I worry about Lydia and Kitty. They behave most inappropriately with the officers.”

  Lizzy nodded. “That is why we must keep a close eye on them and ensure they do not do anything they will regret or that reflects badly on the family. At least the militia will soon depart for Brighton.”

  Mary took a seat on Lizzy’s bed as Lizzy returned to sewing. “They do flirt shamelessly with them. It is no wonder every soldier believes our sisters are in love with them all.” There was a strange note to her voice.

  Lizzy nodded, somewhat distracted by her task and wanting to avoid stabbing her finger again. “Mmhmm.”

  “If they are so forward and flirtatious, how can young men fail to notice such a thing?”

&nbs
p; Something in Mary’s tone alerted Lizzy the conversation wasn’t strictly about Kitty and Lydia’s bad behavior. Abandoning her lace, she turned to Mary and sat on the bed beside her. “The flirtations bother you?”

  Mary frowned. “Not so much… That is, I do not understand them. How do they manage to convey their casual interest and have the young men at their mercy?”

  Lizzy’s lips twitched, but she struggled to stifle any show of amusement. “Is there a particular young man whose interest you wish to acquire, Mary?”

  Mary’s eyes widened, and she shook her head forcefully, but she appeared to be denying the possibility too strongly. “Of course not. I was simply…curious about human behavior. That is all, and I know you are well-read, so I assumed you might have an opinion about it.”

  She struggled to maintain a serious expression and keep her tone more academic than personal. “That is all part of a larger dance between men and women. Each party sends out signals, and it is up to the other to respond. It is how one establishes interest in another. Some are more skilled at this tactic than others. I confess, I have never been much of a flirt. If you wish to know more about the art of flirting, you will need to speak with Lydia or Kitty.”

  Mary looked disconcerted. “If one wanted to establish a connection without shameless flirting, it seems you would be a better person with whom to speak.”

  Lizzy laughed then. “Because I have such experience upon which to draw,” she said in a gently teasing tone. “I imagine the younger girls would give you the opinion that you should not be too intelligent, and you should defer to the man’s interest while allowing him to take the lead. I find such advice too restrictive. I think it is better for us to be ourselves right from the start, but you also know my stance on marriage.”

  “A leg shackle you intend to avoid unless you fall deeply in love.” Mary nodded. “I do see the sense in that, and I thought that was a sensible course until recently.”

  “Has someone in particular changed your mind?”

  Mary flushed slightly. “It is nothing. Merely academic curiosity.”

  “Of course.” Lizzy stood up. “If you are done discussing academics, I must finish this lace. However, if you need to continue our conversation…?”

  Mary stood up hastily, smoothing down her dress. “No, you have fulfilled my curiosity on the topic satisfactorily. Thank you, Lizzy. I always enjoy an intelligent discourse.”

  Lizzy maintained a straight face until Mary had left, and then she allowed herself a small grin. It was a wonder Mary had noticed any man at all with the way her nose was almost always buried in “Fordyce’s Sermons” or focused on the sheet music she played at the pianoforte for as long and as often as she could before their mother’s nerves inevitably led Fanny to imposing silence upon all of them.

  Lizzy speculated a bit about which man had Mary’s interest, and she struggled to recall if she’d seen her sister interact with any man particularly more than the other recently. She remembered at a recent visit to their uncle’s office, Mary had seemed to speak for a long moment to the clerk. Could that be the man who had captured Mary’s attention?

  He was a studious fellow, and she imagined he would match Mary well in temperament, but Lizzy had a difficult time imagining the two of them overcoming their shyness to express interest in the other. It seemed like that would be a long courtship if she had identified the correct party. She wished her sister well, but after her recent emotional disappointments, she was certainly in no frame of mind to want to revise her opinion on marriage or commitment.

  When her thoughts tried to turn to Mr. Darcy, she ruthlessly squashed them and focused on the lace, determined to finish the project in time to prepare for the ball that evening. She had no one to impress, but she intended to look stunning nonetheless.

  7

  They arrived at a fashionable time, not too early and not too late. Lizzy was surprised by her mother’s restraint. She’d expected Fanny to be waiting on Mr. Bingley’s doorstep an hour before guests would be accepted, but they arrived shortly after the ball had begun.

  Mr. Bingley approached immediately, and he seemed to be quite enchanted with Jane in her lovely pink and yellow-striped dress Madame St. Croix had sewn for her over the last few days. He took Jane’s hand and kissed the back of it quickly before standing up, his admiration clear in his gaze. “You look quite fetching this evening, Miss Jane.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. You are most handsome as well.” Jane’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away for a moment, clearly overwhelmed.

  Lizzy eyed them with approval, almost surprised to see Mr. Bingley interacting with Jane in the same way he always had. She had feared Darcy’s words would’ve carried more weight, and she’d half-expected Charles to be aloof.

  “Pardon me a moment,” said Mr. Bingley. “Lord Lucas is gesturing for me.”

  Jane smiled and excused him before turning to Lizzy. She looked like she wanted to giggle madly.

  Lizzy squeezed her hand in a reassuring fashion before looking around. She tried to find Miss Georgiana in the crush, but she didn’t see her. With Jane accompanying her, she moved deeper into the room, hoping she’d overlooked Georgiana in the corner. She almost ran into Caroline Bingley, and they both stopped at the last moment to prevent a collision. “Excuse me,” said Lizzy, her heartrate slightly increased from the near miss.

  “Of course,” said Caroline in a condescending fashion. “It must be difficult to watch where one is going when they are gawking at everything around them as though they had never seen something so delightful before.”

  Lizzy managed to restrain the urge to respond in kind. Instead, she kept her voice level when she said, “I was looking for Miss Georgiana. We had such a delightful walk the other day, and I was hoping to speak with her again.”

  Miss Bingley clearly did not like that. “You have spent time with Miss Georgiana alone?” She sniffed. “I rather wonder why Mr. Darcy has not put a stop to that.”

  Lizzy gritted her teeth. “Have you seen Georgiana?”

  She sniffed. “I have not yet, but I suspect she is making every effort with her appearance. No doubt, she wants to look exquisite for tonight.”

  “Is there something special about tonight?” asked Jane.

  Caroline leaned a little closer, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “I cannot say it is officially going to be a special night, but Georgiana would be eager to make a good impression on my dear brother, would she not?”

  “She would?” asked Jane, her voice little more than a whisper.

  Caroline nodded. “Of course. It is hardly a secret that they share a deep affection for each other. I should not be at all surprised to find out there will be announcements coming soon.” With those words, Caroline nodded at both of them and moved on.

  Lizzy recognized Jane’s devastation, and she grasped her shoulder. “You must ignore her provocation. The woman likes to create conflict.”

  “I cannot believe she would tell tales about such a thing. What if Mr. Bingley is all but formally engaged to Miss Darcy? Why did he not say something?”

  Lizzy opened her mouth, looking for words that would reassure her sister. All she could think of were ways she could castigate Caroline Bingley’s character, and that would do little good under the circumstances. “Mr. Bingley does not act like a man who is de facto engaged to someone else. He is besotted with you, Jane, and you feel the same for him.”

  Jane’s shoulders stiffened. “I can hardly allow such feelings to grow for a man who might be promised to another.”

  Lizzy wanted to keep arguing, but Charles was approaching them, and she grimaced when she saw Mr. Darcy standing behind his friend. When they reached them, Lizzy stiffened, not looking at Darcy when she muttered a greeting. His was equally cool with her.

  “I have dealt with the matter with Lord Lucas. I would like to request two dances with you, Miss Jane.”

  Lizzy barely stifled a groan when Jane straightened her shoulders
and said in a cool tone, “I am afraid I do not feel like dancing this evening, Mr. Bingley. I believe I shall join my sister by the wall.” With those words, she turned and strode away.

  Mr. Bingley looked devastated, and Lizzy didn’t miss the knowing glance Darcy sent his friend. Charles Bingley, appearing morose, turned and walked away.

  Lizzy started to do the same, having no wish to interact with Darcy, but his words stopped her. “Do you still believe your sister has great affection for Bingley?” He sounded smug.

  She glared at him. “There are factors of which you are unaware, and if I cared an iota about your opinion, I might bother to clarify them for you. As I do not, I will simply wish you good evening.” It was a fine speech, and it would’ve been finer if she’d been able to make her escape right then.

  Instead, Fanny approached, putting an arm around Lizzy’s waist. “You two do make a delightful pair. Perhaps you will deign to dance with my daughter this evening, Mr. Darcy, assuming you are not too disinclined to dance this evening?” Her mother issued the challenge in an arch fashion that had Lizzy cringing.

  “I am not seeking a dance partner this evening. I believe I shall join Jane and Mary,” said Lizzy quickly.

  Fanny looked at the corner where Mary and Jane sat, and her horror was obvious. “What is your sister doing there? She was just speaking to Mr. Bingley. She has undone all my hard work… How does the girl ever expect to capture a fine husband if she does not engage with him?”

  Lizzy wanted to melt into a pile of shame at her mother’s words, especially when she saw the clear distaste in Darcy’s expression. She pulled away from Fanny, who was no longer paying attention to her anyway, and fled across the floor.

  She went to the refreshment table and helped herself to a cup of ratafia, shoulders tensing when she heard Darcy speaking behind her again. “Surely you will now concede why I cannot allow Bingley to risk his heart on someone like your sister.”

  She turned to him, barely resisting the urge to toss her punch in his face. “You have misconstrued everything. Jane is not influenced by my mother.”