“Oh, master,” Hill huffed as she waddled her ample frame into the hall. “Oh, I don’t know how it could have happened unawares!” she cried out.
“Now, now, Hill. Calm yourself and tell us what you know.” Mr Bennet took charge and waved his hands to quieten the servant down, but it was to no avail—Mrs Bennet heard the commotion from the drawing room and came rushing out with the Bingleys in tow.
“What is it? What has happened?” Mrs Bennet flapped about, making Hill increasingly nervous. Mary felt sorry for the poor woman, whose face was bright red and a sheen of perspiration had broken out over her skin. She looked on the verge of panicking herself.
“It’s Miss Kitty, mistress.”
“What about Kitty? Speak up!” she ordered, her voice rising an octave.
“Her outdoor things aren’t in her room.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Mrs Bennet screeched. She looked around at the gathered family for clarity. “Whatever does she mean?”
Mary felt weak and clutched her father’s arm for support. Her breathing was laboured. It’s all my fault for scolding her.
“Miss Kitty’s gone!” Hill cried, as she burst into tears.
Chapter Sixteen
Within five minutes, the men of the household, including John and Horace, the manservants, were dressed for the outdoors and assembled in the hallway.
“We ought to stay together in case one of us gets into trouble in the snow.” Mr Darcy took charge as he glanced out of the double doors as the snow began to fall once more.
“Agreed, Darcy.” Bingley tightened his scarf around his neck and tucked it into his coat collar to prevent any snowflakes getting inside.
“John and Horace, you take the route along the drive towards Meryton. Bingley, Mr Bennet, and I will take the lane. We will all meet where those two roads meet, at the little lane that goes to Lucas Lodge. If we haven’t found her by then, we will decide if we go on or come back.”
“Come back?” Mrs Bennet cried collapsing into Hill’s arms. “Oh, my darling girl!”
“We cannot search for Kitty if we are frozen, Mrs Bennet,” Darcy explained. “We will have to come back, warm up, and decide where to look next.”
“Agreed.” Mr Bennet nodded and strode off towards the door. “Let’s get to it then. The longer she is out there…” the wind whipped away the end of his sentence but Mary knew what he was thinking.
“Oh, Mr Bennet!” his wife cried as the five men stepped out into the icy weather.
Mary stood beside her mother, trembling both from fear and from the cold blast through the door. She felt sick to her stomach watching the scene unfold before their eyes.
“What shall we do?” Mrs Bennet asked as she watched the men trudge through the snow that was now above knee height.
“There is not much we can do, except wait,” Mary sighed as she rushed forward to assist Laura with the heavy doors.
Her mother wailed as they slammed shut against the weather and their view of the menfolk disappearing around the corner.
“Hill, help me get Mama to the drawing room. Let’s get warm.” Mary rushed over and squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “Come, Mama, let’s get you before the fire.”
Sobbing, Mrs Bennet allowed herself to be led by Mary and Hill into the drawing room and to be seated beside the fire. Mary knew full well that her mother could work herself up into such a frenzy of emotion that she would likely faint. She marched directly to the liquor stand and poured a large glass of brandy for her. At any other time, she would have protested being given such a large drink, but upon seeing the glass Mary brought her, Mrs Bennet snatched it up and drank heavily. Mary knew it was precisely what she needed to fortify her against her nerves. Mary only wished she could have a snifter herself.
“Oh!” she groaned as the brandy heated its way to her stomach. “Thank you, Mary. I needed that.”
“Hill,” Mary squared her shoulders and took charge of the situation as Mrs Bennet continued to weep, “will you please make a hot soup for when the menfolk return. They will need something warming and hearty. And when you have a moment, we shall have tea. I, for one, have not had breakfast and would appreciate a little something.” She turned back to her mother, concerned of a sudden that she was imbibing alcohol on an empty stomach. “Mama, are you in need of something to eat too?”
Mrs Bennet did not respond but continued to cry.
“Mama,” Mary spoke a little more loudly and insistently, “shall Hill fetch you something to eat?”
“Yes, yes.” Mrs Bennet waved her off and continued to sip at the liquid in the crystal glass. Mary watched her mother for a brief second before following their servant out of the room. Judging by the look on her mother’s face, she did not like the taste of the brandy, though she continued to sip at it, and Mary, content that her mother’s nerves were now settling down, quietly gave instructions to Hill as they both walked towards the kitchen.
Once in the cavernous and warm room, Hill was just turning away towards the range when she appeared to change her mind and turned back and placed a gentle hand on Mary’s own. Mary noted how red and raw her hands looked. “Oh, Miss Mary, love. Forgive me for asking, but are you all right?”
She had not spared a thought about her own feelings in the last few minutes. She admitted she was more concerned with Kitty’s safety and keeping their mother from having a fit of the nerves. “I’m well, thank you. I am just worried about Kitty.”
“Hmm… of course you are, dear.” The older woman looked her up and down. “Sit back down and I’ll put the kettle on.”
“I can’t leave Mama alone in the drawing room for too long,” she protested.
“Yes, you can. Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy are with her. You can wait here with me while I make tea, and when you return, the missus will see why you’ve been so long. A hot cup of tea will do her a world of good right now.” She returned to filling the large kettle with water, placing it on the iron range to heat, and glared at Mary.
Mary wondered what she meant by such a ferocious stare and frowned as she took a seat at the large wooden table in the middle of the room.
“What is it, lass? Out with it.”
Mary looked up and stared. “What is what, Hill? What do you mean?”
“What’s got you looking so peaky? You’re not one to let your emotions run amok with you. You forget I helped nurse you as a baby. I know you well.” Hill pursed her lips in an expression Mary knew she would hold until she gave in and told her what was on her mind.
Mary sighed. She was troubled. She believed that Kitty’s running away was all her own fault. “Very well, Hill. I will tell you.” She picked at an imaginary crumb on the table. “I scolded Kitty last night for being alone with Reverend Summers.” Her shoulders sagged with the confession.
Hill breathed out heavily. “Oh, lass! But she wasn’t alone. I was with them.”
Mary looked up and saw what she recognised as anger flit across Hill’s face. “What do you mean they weren’t alone, Hill?”
“Just that, Mary. They weren’t alone in the summer room because I was with them.”
“You were with them?” Mary’s mouth fell open and she half-stood up.
“Yes. I always sit in the summer room during parties to be handy to the mistress!” She huffed out a lungful of air. “You didn’t think your sister would be foolish enough to be alone with a man, did you? And a vicar at that!” She slammed down the knife she had picked up to scrape the carrots with. “Oh, Miss Mary!”
Mary’s throat constricted and her eyes stung with tears. She felt wretched and sank back down into the chair again. “It’s all my fault! What have I done?” she sobbed. “Kitty has run away and I am to blame!”
“Oh, lass!” Hill came around the table and hugged Mary to her stout form. “It’s not your fault at all. Kitty is hurting, and she’s hurting very deeply indeed. I wish some people in this house would see it!”
Mary sniffed back her tears and looked up at the mat
ronly figure. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Miss Mary. You and I both know that Kitty was meant to marry Sir Percival and that…” Mary watched her bite back her words. “Lydia stole him from her.”
“Stole him?” Mary looked horrified. “I thought they simply fell in love while she was grieving.”
“No, Miss Mary. She stole him. She set out to have him for herself the moment he set foot under this roof.” Hill nodded. “She’s a conniving one, she is, and always has been. I’ve said it many times.”
Mary nodded. She remembered the scoldings and tongue-lashings they had received from Hill, and Lydia was often called conniving then.
“She stole him all right. I know it. I shan’t utter a single word on how I know it, but I do. Servants see things others don’t, you know!” She tapped the side of her nose indicating that it was a secret she would keep. “The lass is heartbroken and now has run away. I daresay she hasn’t gone far.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Oh, miss, look outside. Have you ever seen snow that deep?”
Mary shook her head. “No, never.”
“There you are then. Miss Kitty hasn’t gone far, and I pray she’s nice and warm wherever she is.”
Mary thought for a moment and gasped.
“What is it?”
She looked up at Hill, her eyes wide. “I think I know where she might be!”
Chapter Seventeen
Kitty slipped her feet into her winter boots and tied the laces tightly. She knew no matter how well dressed she was, she would be cold and wet within a few minutes. She had a vague idea of where she would run to. She wanted to hide away from the censure, the snide comments, and the continuing insinuation that she was somehow at fault for her sister running off and marrying the man she, Kitty, was supposed to marry. She knew she was acting irrationally, but she didn’t care. The pain in her chest was so overwhelming that she could not see anything else at all.
Fastening her bonnet under her chin, she crossed to the door of her room and gently turned the doorknob. It clicked quietly and she pulled it open a crack. Her door had an annoying habit of creaking loudly if it was opened more than a foot wide. She held it open and slid through, avoiding the creak, closed it behind her, and tiptoed down the stairs to the front door.
Kitty, standing before the bolted and locked door, looked toward where the spare key was hidden—under the rug before the hallway fireplace. She quickly found the key as she rushed to the door. She slipped the key in the lock and turned it until it clicked, and then she removed the key and replaced it in its hiding place. If Kitty stood on her toes and stretched, she knew she could just about reach the top bolt. It was stiff with the cold, but she found that wriggling it as she tried to pull it back made the job easier. She repeated the action with the second one and, within a few short minutes, Kitty was standing on the doorstep of Longbourn looking up at the sky and the heavy snowfall against the dark grey.
She pulled her scarf higher up over her mouth and her ears, put her head down, and stepped out into the white world. As she neared the gates, she regretted her decision. The wind was icy and biting; her exposed face stung from the bitter wind. Her skirts were already heavy with moisture. “No,” she spoke into the wind which instantly whisked her voice away. “I cannot stop now. I have to get away, if only for a short while.”
Chapter Eighteen
The biting wind stung the faces of the three gentlemen as they leant into it. There was no way forward other than to push themselves into an unnatural angle and fight the force of the storm. It was as though the minute the menfolk left Longbourn, the weather conspired against them to thwart any hopes or chances of finding Kitty.
Their legs burned with the exertion and their breath came in heavy pants as Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, and Mr Bennet pressed onwards in the encroaching whiteout. Each one of them had a sinking feeling that they might not make their rendezvous with John and Horace. Mr Bennet was falling behind. “Foolish man!” Darcy chided himself. “I should have insisted he stay behind with Mrs Bennet and Mary.” With every laboured step they took, each man prayed for help.
Ahead of them, they could just make out the outline of the church in the swirling snow as they made their way slowly down the lane that ran alongside Mr Bennet’s property. Mr Darcy reached out an arm, which was immediately blown backward by the force of the wind. He wrenched it forward and grasped hold of Mr Bennet’s shoulder. Once he had his father-in-law’s attention, he pointed towards the church. “Let’s get to the shelter of the church!” he bellowed, the wind whipping the sound away.
He saw Mr Bennet frown. Mr Darcy exaggeratedly pointed to the church and cried, “The church!”
Mr Bennet turned and peered through the thickening gloom, then looked back at Darcy and his eyes crinkled in a smile. He understood.
Mr Darcy moved round to his left and to his friend Bingley, who was already nodding that he understood the intention. As one man, they linked arms and trudged on through the snow until they reached the relative safety of the south porch of the church.
Darcy pulled his scarf off from around his nose and mouth. “Dear God, we cannot fight on in this storm. It is futile.”
“I cannot abandon Kitty!” Mr Bennet yelled above the howling wind, his voice cracking with emotion and desperation.
“No one is suggesting abandoning her, but we can barely move, let alone see to find her in this,” Bingley cried out.
Mr Darcy tried the door to the church. It was stiff but creaked open a little. The three men squeezed in through the gap and the silence within the chapel made their ears ring. “I have never known anything like it,” Darcy sighed pulling off his now wet gloves and laying them over the back of a pew in the futile hope they would dry a little. “We shall rest a while in here and then head back to Longbourn if the weather does not improve.” Darcy could see the tears welling in Mr Bennet’s eyes. “I cannot believe Kitty would be so foolhardy as to be out in this storm. Most certainly she would have sought shelter.”
Bingley nodded as he sat down in a pew and took off his wet outer garments. “Yes, she knows this area very well indeed. She would know where to take refuge.”
Mr Bennet was silent, looked dejected and suddenly very small.
“For certain if she left the house hours ago, it could be that she is already at Lucas Lodge.” Darcy shrugged his coat off his shoulders and slapped his body to warm up.
“Indeed,” Bingley agreed, but Darcy could see their words of encouragement were having little or no effect on their father-in-law. He did not know what else to say to the man.
A very faint shuffling sound in the corner of the church past the nave caught the attention of the three gentlemen.
“Could it be?” Immediately, Mr Bennet was on his feet and rushing across the church towards the sound. As he approached the source he cried out, “Kitty!”
Mr Darcy was hot on his heels, following him up through the nave, past the rows of pews and towards a door in the side wall. Was Kitty hiding in there?
As Mr Bennet opened the door and stepped through. He cried out in disappointment.
“What is it?” Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley almost crashed into each other as they rushed in behind him.
Standing in the middle of a small anteroom was Reverend Summers.
“Dear Lord, you frightened me half to death!” He stood with his hand on his heart, looking wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the three men before him.
Darcy stepped forward. “Forgive us, Reverend. We were looking for Kitty.”
“Looking for Kitty?” he exclaimed, his brow furrowed. “In this weather?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?” Mr Bennet’s voice held such a note of desperation that Darcy ached for him. “Please, Reverend, you must help me find my girl.”
Darcy watched as Reverend Summers stepped forward and placed his hands upon Mr Bennet’s shoulders.
“Mr Bennet, I assure you I have not seen Miss Bennet.” He looked with confu
sion at Mr Darcy directly. “How long has she been missing?”
“We cannot be certain, but at least for few hours.”
“A few hours?”
The three of them watched the information sink in. The reverend was clearly distressed by the news.
“You cannot venture out again in this weather.” He addressed Mr Bennet once again. “Please, I implore you, come with me to the vicarage and take some tea. Then, if the storm has abated, you may go out once again to search for Miss Bennet, and I will join you.”
Mr Bennet looked haggard and exhausted. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Follow me.” Reverend Summers turned about and headed towards the door on the other side of the anteroom. “I cleared a path on the way in here, but heaven knows how deep it will be now. Still,” he sighed as he wrenched open the door, letting in a blast of frigid air, “it’s not a long walk down the path to the vicarage.”
In one long line, the four gentlemen made their way out of the church, along the path which was now ankle-deep in snow, and towards the reverend’s home. The minister led the way, bending his head downwards against the wind. It took a couple of minutes for the four of them to walk the two hundred yards and, when they finally bundled into the vicarage kitchen, all of them were so covered in snow that they looked like snowmen.
“Take your outdoor things off and hang them near the range. It’s still hot. I’ll pop the kettle on and go looking for Dorcas, my housekeeper,” Reverend Summers instructed as he shed his coat and scarf and straightaway left his guests alone to search for his servant.
Darcy watched Mr Bennet’s numb fingers fumble with the buttons on his greatcoat, and his heart wrenched for the man. He did not know how he would feel if his child went missing in such dangerous weather. Part of Darcy thought Kitty a fool, but the largest part of him sympathised with how she was feeling. Her heart was breaking, and he was not unfamiliar with that particular sensation himself.
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