Lizzy could not believe she had slept through the ruckus that night, though it was probably fortunate she had considering what people whispered about her already. It would not have done for her to be seen out of bed in the middle of the night in the vicinity of Darcy's room even when every other guest in the house had been there as well. Apparently of the party only she, Miss Madigan and the Colonel—who had decided to revisit the center of the hedge maze by moonlight, and Lord Matlock—who had been so inebriated he had fallen asleep on the divan in the study and had not been roused until well into the afternoon—had missed the excitement.
She had gone down to breakfast that morning and found the cast of characters revised. Lady Bennington had dragged her daughter home in shame. Mr. Bingley had arrived and was affable as ever though somewhat dispirited. No one had told her what had happened the previous evening until, after observing the odd looks Darcy and poor Miss Tulley were getting, she questioned Lady Matlock who related the story with her usual humor.
It was difficult not to find the situation at least a little bit amusing. If such absurdity had happened to anyone other than Darcy, Lizzy would have laughed wholeheartedly (though not in the presence of those involved, of course, because it was really rather terrible for them). However, it had happened to Darcy and it was the last thing they needed.
Well, she supposed her being with child was the last thing they needed, but she could not regret that at all. Years ago she had given up the idea of marriage and motherhood and now finding herself on the way to both realized she was quite happy with the state of things. All would be well because . . . well, why shouldn't it be? The disapproval of Society seemed oddly insignificant now. She had a life to bring into the world—what could be more important than that?
The horses slowed as the carriage neared her sisters' cottage. She gathered up the box of confections she had brought to celebrate her engagement. She would at least be able to share some happy news today, if not the specific news she wanted most to share.
"Mr. Mumford!" Lizzy cried in astonishment, "You are to marry Mr. Mumford!"
She realized she sounded just like her younger sisters had only minutes before when she had announced her own engagement. Mary and Kitty had both said "Mr. Darcy—the Mr. Darcy we knew in Hertfordshire?". It had taken several emphatic repetitions of "Yes!" before they would believe it was that Mr. Darcy she was to wed.
Before she could stop herself, Lizzy said, "The surgeon?"
"Yes, Lizzy, do we know any other Mr. Mumfords?" Jane replied with teasing exasperation. Yet Lizzy could detect bitterness lingering just beneath the surface of her elder sister's good humor.
Jane had been behaving strangely since she had arrived. Lizzy's announcement of her engagement had made her behavior even odder. She of course performed all the necessary niceties upon hearing such an announcement. She wished Lizzy joy and smiled, but she was not pleased about it. When she suggested they go for a tour of the village just the two of them, Lizzy readily accepted expecting Jane to disclose whatever was bothering her.
"Do Mary and Kitty not know?"
"No, I haven't told them yet. We are waiting to make a formal announcement when he has things more settled. He means to resign his position in London since I cannot live there. He plans to find a practice in a smaller city and let a comfortable house—it may be several months before we wed."
"You are certain about this, Jane? You have not known him long. I did not realize you had carried on your acquaintance with him. How many times have you even met with him?" asked Lizzy heedless of the censure in her tone.
"He visited here about a week after we have moved to check how I was and to collect a sample of mucus."
"Mucus?" Lizzy said with undisguised amazement and disgust.
Jane nodded. "He has a great passion for mucus," she said fondly. As she spoke of him the tension in her countenance eased a little, "He is submitting a paper on the subject to the Royal Society of Medicine or some other society like that. He returned several times. He stayed to dinner twice."
"Hopefully he did not discuss mucus while you dined."
Jane answered her teasing with uncharacteristic irritation. "He did not," she said. "He can be very genteel when he wants to be, but mostly he doesn't have patience for it. It hardly matters—it is not at all essential for a man in his profession to be refined. Compassion is the more important quality.
"He runs a charity clinic, you know. For men who were wounded on the Continent whose injuries were not properly treated. Field hospitals are particularly bad about improperly setting bones apparently. The charity was funded by a gentleman whose cousin is an injured solider—your Mr. Darcy, in fact."
Jane paused her narrative here and gave Lizzy a significant look which she did not know how to interpret. She was surprised Darcy had never told her about the charity but then perhaps it was not so surprising he had never mentioned it. To boast of his good deeds was not at all like him.
"And that is not all Mr. Mumford does," Jane continued. "He goes to the slums of London and offers medical services to the poor."
"Mr. Mumford is a paragon to be sure. Do not feel you must convince me of his merit, Jane. I am sorry I was not more enthusiastic when you first told me. I suppose I am just concerned by how quickly this all came about."
"If you are concerned for me, think what I must feel about your engagement."
"There is no cause for concern there. I know I once spoke so decidedly against Mr. Darcy, but so much has changed since then."
"Such as you becoming his mistress?"
Stricken, Lizzy halted their progress. "Mr. Mumford told you?"
"He confided it to me by mistake. He thought I already knew. After how often I spoke to him of you—how close I claimed we were—it is no wonder he would think you would have told me yourself. Oh, Lizzy, why did you do it?" Her voice was the severest Lizzy had ever heard it to be.
"You are angry," said Lizzy, a little stunned. She understood Jane's feelings, but was at the same time was startled at her response. "It is right that you should be. I have risked your respectability. But you must know how careful I was. I was not at all like Lydia."
"I am not afraid for my reputation. I am angry because you did not tell me. That you put such a thing on my conscience!"
"Your conscience?"
"I know you did it for my sake."
"No, Jane, do not take it on yourself. My motivations were as selfish as my actions."
Jane shook her head disbelievingly. "Whatever has happened it does not matter now. Though Mr. Mumford does not have the funds to support us in any sort of style, you can live with us once we are wed. I can take care of Mary and Kitty as well. You do not have to marry Mr. Darcy."
"I really fear I must. But do not worry, it will not be a terrible imposition as I am hopelessly in love with him."
"How can you love him? I do not understand it."
"Nor do I. I have given up trying to understand it. Oh, please, do not judge him harshly, Jane. You were always the one willing to give second chances while I was always ready to call the executioner."
"It was easier to forgive when it was not you who had been harmed."
Lizzy did not feel she had been harmed, but she knew Jane would never see it that way. Instead of arguing she said, "If I had a thousand years I could not explain Fitzwilliam Darcy. I love him, but that is not to say I am unaware of his faults. I understand the realities of marriage as well as anyone can and I would not enter into such an arrangement with any man who I was not certain loved and respected me.
"He would never hurt me. My ability to judge the character of others has perhaps never been reliable, but I am certain of him. Do not worry for me, Jane."
"I will try not to worry. Oh, I do hope he will make you happy. There is no one who deserves happiness more than you."
"I can think of quite a few people . . . you for instance."
"Mr. Mumford has already made me so happy, Lizzy. No one could be happier."
/>
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"Well, then—we will both of us be the happiest women in the world."
"We shall," agree Jane. Almost as quickly as she had spoken her face fell. "Will Mrs. Darcy be allowed to associate with the wife of a surgeon?"
"Mrs. Darcy's husband will be clever enough to know he cannot disallow her anything, especially not associating with her own sister. And he would never forbid it besides. As I have said, he would never hurt me."
Lizzy laced her arm through Jane's and continued down the lane. In a jovial tone she said, "Now you must tell me more about Mr. Mumford since it seems you have told him all about me. Though I must ask you to leave out any mention of mucus or bile or any other bodily humors."
As Lizzy made the journey back to London a few hours later she reflected pleasantly upon her visit. Her sisters had settled into the new house nicely and Jane's health appeared to be nearly recovered. They had walked for a half an hour and Jane had not tired. While she was still concerned about Jane's sudden engagement she took comfort in knowing the wedding was some months away and Jane, though often too quick to approve of people, was sensible.
The same feeling of lightness she had experienced earlier settled upon her now. Everything was going to be wonderful.
As if to make a counterpoint to her optimism, the carriage suddenly stopped. The door was flung open and before she could even think of running, two hulking men entered. One took the place beside her and the other sat across from her.
"Things will go better for you if you keep quiet, girl," said the man across from her menacingly. Then he knocked on the ceiling of the carriage and it lurched forward.
Chapter Twenty-Six
"So if I put down my five of spades, would that mean I win?" Lizzy asked as she scrutinized her hand.
Kip had been trying to teach her the confusing and, she suspected, Kip-invented card game for the last hour with little success.
"No, m'lady. Here, lemme see your cards again," said Kip.
Lizzy placed her cards on the rickety table and pushed them towards the great hulking lad. She had told him more than once that he need not call her "m'lady" as she had no title, but he insisted. Prior to yesterday he had never met a member of the higher classes. Apparently he had mistakenly called "the lady as gave us instructions" ma'am and was rather nervous of ever repeating such an offense again.
Kip and his older brother Danny were the most respectful kidnappers a woman could ever hope for. Excepting those few minutes of terror in the carriage when she had been certain she was about to die, her captivity thus far had been almost pleasant. Inconvenient, of course—she would prefer to be at the dinner party she had been scheduled to attend (not that the company would be much better, but the food . . . ah, how she missed the food)—but she was not terribly worried about her immediate future.
They were not going to kill her. Danny had threatened to hit her if she kept fighting and she knew he had meant it, but she also knew he was rather ashamed to have made such a threat. Beyond the threats, she could not complain of her treatment. They had removed the bindings they had placed on her earlier and she had been given sufficient, albeit stale bread for her supper.
She was, however, a little concerned about the more distant future. As was Danny, if his anxious watch of the street was any indication. He had taken up his post in front of the window about the time Kip had begun teaching her the game and he had not looked away since. Apparently there was to be a wagon to take them to their next hideaway and it was late.
"See here, you oughta 've put down your two of hearts," instructed Kip, bringing Lizzy's attention back to the table.
"I think this game may be too clever for me."
"Naw, you're catching on right enough," he said, then pinkening a bit at the ears he added, "I think you're real clever, Miss."
Kip had been flattering her with these little compliments for the last three hours. It would seemed the poor boy had developed a tender regard for her. Eighteen year old farm boys with little experience of the fairer sex often found it easy to become infatuated and despite his chosen profession and the seedy locale of his lodgings Lizzy was certain Kip was inexperienced.
The brothers had come to London only a few months ago hoping to make their fortune as so many farm laborers were doing these days. Instead of prosperity they had found a new, harsher sort of poverty. Factory work, if one could get it, paid only slightly better and the city came with its own expenses . . . and dangers. From what Kip had told her—and he had told her quite a lot for he was of a gregarious nature—they had fallen in with the Wrong Sort of People.
It had all seem so innocent at first. A man had offered them a job. He was dressed posh, almost like a real nob and even Danny, who did the worrying for the pair as elder siblings often must, thought the job was legitimate. All they had to do was collect debts. Not an appealing job to be sure. No one likes a debt collector. But if people owed money they ought to pay, right? Fair is fair.
And the job was to pay well and they had really wanted to start sending something back home to Ma and the girls—that was the whole point of this enterprise after all. So had they agreed to work for Nate Jones. No mention of head bashing had been made at the time of their employment.
Too late they realized they had signed themselves on with a gang of criminals whose leader was as vicious as he was cunning. Collecting debts for Jones required intimidation and the occasional head bashing. Kip particularly disliked the head bashing portion of his new career, but "Things go real bad for you if you don't bring Jones back his money," Kip had said holding up his left hand with its crippled thumb which stuck out uselessly at an odd angle.
Worst of all these "debts" they had been tasked to collect were not the result of loans, rather they were fees Jones charged businesses and residents for his protection. From his gang. Though they knew their mother would be ashamed of them, fear of Jones kept them bashing heads.
Kidnapping was new to them, however. Jones's operation was not yet so sophisticated that it was snatching gentlewomen out of carriages. Kip and Danny had been directly employed by Lady Catherine. From what Lizzy gathered her kidnapping was to be their final criminal endeavor before returning to wherever they called home. With her in tow. The particulars of the plan became a bit hazy after that point. Kip seemed to think they would be taking her to live with them in their mother's house. Danny disagreed on this point, but would not reveal the true plans.
All and all Lizzy thought this kidnapping seemed rather amateurish. While she certainly did not want to be marooned out in the wilds of some unknown county, she did not see how any of this would stop her from wedding Darcy which must be the object of this scheme. Eventually he would find her or she would make her escape.
Truthfully she had hoped he might have found her by now. She supposed she must be patient. By her estimate it had only been a few hours since she ought to have been home. Lady Matlock would have found it odd when the carriage did not bring her back on time, but might not have thought anything of it immediately. Lizzy had been with her sisters, after all. Lady Matlock might think she had simply lost track of time.
As the hour of the dinner party had approached Lady Matlock would have raised the alarm. Or would she, Lizzy wondered? No, no. Nothing could make her doubt Lady Matlock. She was too kind. Besides, if she had wanted to be rid of her she was intelligent enough to come up with a better plan to do so.
Lord Matlock, however, Lizzy could not exonerate. It had been his carriage that had led her to her kidnappers, though she had thought it might not have been the usual coachman driving. The principle villain however must be Lady Catherine. Kip's account pointed to her.
How would Lady Catherine explain her absence to Darcy? Lizzy had been considering this these past hours. She might send a note to Lady Matlock alleging to be from Lizzy, explaining she had decided to stay the night with her sisters. Darcy would recognize such a note as forgery as he was well-acquainted with her han
dwriting, but Lady Matlock might not. However, it would only buy a day at most before Darcy would begin the search. What else could Lady Catherine possibly do? She could claim that Lizzy had run away, but that seemed even more fantastical.
Unless Danny's hidden instructions had been to dump her body into the Thames (which she highly doubted he had the stomach to follow through on even if he had been told to do so) she did not see how this scheme would serve to do anything other than make Darcy very angry.
As angry as he might be at some future date, Lizzy was beginning to appreciate the fact that Darcy might not realize her absence until she was halfway to Wiltshire. In the mean time she might just have to rescue herself . . . and that was fine. Really. She could do it. She just wasn't sure how at the moment.
She knew she did not want to risk Danny hitting her. He was a big man and could inflict a great amount of damage without trying. What she needed was a distraction.
As if answering her prayers, a knock came at the door.
"Who is it?" Danny asked, crossing the small room in a few steps. He stood by the door, body tense.
"Jack . . . and some friends. Ole Jones sent us to check up on you."
Lizzy read the fear on Kip's face. Jack, she thought, must be the henchman Jones sent when he suspected his employees of being naughty.
"What ya wanting?" This came from Danny. Kip had gone white and looked beyond speech.
"Old hag downstairs says you got a girl in there. A real fine lass dressed up in fancy rags, she says."
"It's just our sister. Old nosy bitch been telling tales."
The Ruin of Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 25
