by Abbey North
She blinked and looked up at him. “I was so certain it was someone in the militia, and now I do not know who it could be.”
He frowned. “Why have you abandoned your original hypothesis?”
“If men in the militia have been stolen from as well, it must be someone in Meryton.”
He shook his head. “Or perhaps it is one of the soldiers stealing from his own.”
Her eyes widened, and she stopped in the middle of the road. “Surely, no soldier would do that to his comrades?”
Darcy shrugged a shoulder. “I am not a thief, so I cannot pretend to think like one, but it seems to me if one is willing to steal from innocent peers, especially in cases where people have little they can afford to lose, I do not think they would draw the line at stealing from people they share time with and have easy access to their items.”
He had a suspect firmly in mind based on similar occurrences at Pemberley over the years, but he refused to mention the name, certain she would accuse him of unfairly judging the suspect. Surely, her mind was quick and lively, and she’d make the connection herself soon enough.
She looked uneasy, but she nodded. “Unfortunately, I believe your logic is sound. A thief is unlikely to ignore an opportunity for rapacity, is he?”
“I agree, it is most unlikely. It is a dishonorable thing to do, but I am certain there are some who are low enough for the task.”
Lizzy shook her head. “Most appalling, but it does little to aid my investigation. Assuming it is someone in the militia, how will I find them?”
Darcy hesitated and then shrugged. “I do not know how to advise you. I confess, I have never investigated like this before.”
Her lips twitched. “Surely you jest, Mr. Darcy. I find it highly unlikely that you cannot go to Bow Street and immediately procure a position as a Runner.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, I have no doubt they would desire a man of my accomplishments.”
She tipped her head, asking a little too sweetly, “What might those accomplishment be, Mr. Darcy?” The chit clearly believed he had few, if any.
He couldn’t let that assumption stand. “Let us walk as I enumerate them for you.”
7
Darcy had done his best to highlight his good points, though he thought Lizzy still seemed far too skeptical of his claims.
“You truly expect me to believe you can remember the name of every servant at Pemberley?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Indeed, I do. They are the ones who see to my comfort, and I owe them courtesy and respect. If the people below-stairs are unhappy, those of us above-stairs will certainly feel the fallout. I recall once when I was but a young man, not quite at my majority, I insulted the cook after she had toasted my bread more on one side than the other. It was a solid three months of burnt toast before she finally forgave the insult. It required a box of chocolates and an apology to restore calm.”
Lizzy laughed, and he realized she’d done that quite a few times over the intervening moments as they’d walked. “That I can believe, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am happy to see you are always prepared to think the worst of me.” He tried to inject his words with dry humor, but there was a part of him most melancholy about the idea, and he feared he’d revealed that when her eyes widened.
“Perhaps you have set me up to think the worst, Mr. Darcy. After all, unhandsome woman like me, in need of a pity dance partner, are bound to have a low opinion of one who shares such words.”
His eyes widened, and he stumbled in horror. “You heard what I said at the Assembly ball?”
She nodded. “Indeed, I did. I was not lurking or eavesdropping. I was there to get punch, and you and Mr. Bingley were on the other side of a large potted plant. I do believe Mr. Bingley complimented your ability to appear like one in fact,” she said with a note of teasing.
He flushed. “I apologize for my indiscreet words. I was tired, and I do not perform as well in social situations as Mr. Bingley. It allowed me to speak with intemperate impulse.”
“It hardly matters that you spoke the words aloud if you thought them.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Meryton will never compare to what you are used to, but it is most unfair to judge it without granting any possibility we might have our own lures.”
His heartrate accelerated for a moment, and he found it difficult to breathe. “Believe me, I understand there are certain charms in Meryton that can be found nowhere else.” Namely, the young woman walking beside him. He left that unspoken, wondering if she could infer his meaning.
If so, she appeared unmoved by it, though he hoped she was simply oblivious to what he’d intended. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. Just because he admired her brain and ability to engage in wits didn’t mean anything. At most, they could be friendly acquaintances, because he certainly wasn’t in the market for more.
When he took a wife, she would be of suitable breeding, and she would likely have similar wealth to him. She would not be cursed with a liability like Fanny Bennet for her mother. If his aunt had her wish, he would marry his cousin Anne, but he could not imagine doing so. She was more like a sister than anything, and any marriage to her would feel unnatural.
“May I ask you something, Mr. Darcy?” She sounded unexpectedly serious.
He paused, turning to face her as their walking ceased. “You may.” He braced himself, judging he probably wouldn’t like whatever she said by the way she was squaring her shoulders and seemed to be drawing in a deep breath for courage.
“Why did you deny Mr. Wickham his living when you knew that was your father’s wish? It was a cruel thing to do.”
His eyes widened. “I did what?” He couldn’t hide his cold anger. “What did he tell you I did?” As Lizzy told him, his anger grew steadily, and his words were terse when he said, “Mr. Wickham was not suited to be a vicar.”
She frowned. “He assured me your father had him educated for the role.”
Darcy snorted. “It is true my father paid to send him to Oxford alongside me.”
She looked troubled. “Did you resent that? It must have been difficult to have your father treating him like a son.”
Darcy barely quelled the urge to roll his eyes. “My father was a warm and loving man, and he did care for George. He loved him like a son, but that didn’t mean he loved me any less. Once upon a time, I was as charmed by Wickham as you, but when we were away at Oxford, I saw the real him. He was a man prone to drinking and gambling, and he was a seducer of women.”
She gasped, looking outraged on Wickham’s behalf. “You go too far with your allegations, Mr. Darcy. It seems unbelievable.”
He snorted. “He is quite charming, but there is a viper beneath the surface. There was a young woman who cleaned rooms for us, and he left her in an indelicate way. She came to him for help, but he refused to see her. The next time someone came, it was her sister. The girl had procured a dangerous solution to the situation, and she needed help desperately. I ensured she was seen by a discreet surgeon, and then I gave the sisters money to start over away from London. I knew at that point, I could never in good conscience allow Wickham to be the spiritual leader of the people at Kympton.”
She still seemed determined to disbelieve him. “That is a serious accusation.”
“It most certainly is. When my father died, I was prepared to tell Wickham he would not be receiving the rectory, but he was the first to tell me he didn’t want it. He freely acknowledged he wasn’t a man of the right temperament for it, and he sold me a story about wanting to study the law instead.
“I gave him a bank draft for three thousand pounds, and I considered the matter closed. Apparently, he did too until he ran out of money. He tried to fleece me a couple more times, and I gave him money both times, but by the third time, I had to say no more. He had already gone through what would have been the full lifetime living and then some.”
Lizzy looked startled, but she wasn’t rejecting his words now. “How terrible.”
&nb
sp; “It is not the most terrible thing he did. The last time he came for money and I refused, he promised I would be sorry, and he would have his share of the Darcy inheritance one way or the other. I thought they were simply empty words until I visited my sister, who was staying for the summer in Ramsgate, and discovered her companion had been most inappropriately allowing Wickham access to her alone.”
Lizzy gasped. “No.”
He nodded. “I assure you, it is the truth. He had convinced her they were in love, and they were about to elope. She told me about it, expecting me to be happy for her, but when I wasn’t, she was surprised. I confronted Wickham, making it clear he would never get her dowry even if he managed to compromise her. Even if he persuaded her to marry him under dishonorable circumstances like going to Gretna Green, I would refuse to acknowledge the match, at least financially. I would never cut Georgiana out of my life, but I would never do a thing to benefit his. With those words, he disappeared, leaving my poor fifteen-year-old sister heartbroken as she came to understand his love had all been false, crafted to make her fall in love with him so she would make an unwise decision.”
Even reciting it was enough to make his breath catch his throat as he recalled the shattered look on Georgiana’s face when she’d finally accepted he wouldn’t be coming back to visit or defy Fitzwilliam’s edicts. She’d accepted he didn’t love her more than her dowry, so she had been despondent and cried on Darcy’s lap for the rest of that afternoon. Even now, it was enough to make his blood boil again recalling the level of her agony.
Lizzy looked similarly devastated, and he couldn’t hold back the impulse to put a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry to shatter your illusions, Miss Bennet. Wickham is not someone you can trust. Before you do something foolish like fall in love with him, I can assure you now there is no way he would take you as a wife. You lack sufficient dowry to hold his interest.”
After a moment, she nodded. She still looked shaky, but she wasn’t rejecting the truth of his words. “I did observe he seemed more charming than usual when it appeared to irritate you, so I suppose I am not surprised he is a man different from how he presents himself. I am most aggrieved on your sister’s behalf, and I thank you for enlightening me about the information before I did something foolish like come to care for the man.”
Her tremulous smile underscored how quickly she was blinking, and he was certain she was seconds from crying. Deciding to do the gentlemanly thing by giving her moments to compose herself, he said “I must fetch my horse. If you wait here, I will offer you a ride the rest of the way to Longbourn.”
Lizzy shook her head frantically. “I do thank you for the offer, Mr. Darcy, but I am no horsewoman. I shall walk the rest of the way.”
Recognizing she needed some time alone, Darcy didn’t offer to continue accompanying her. He waited until she had walked a short distance before summoning Goliath. The horse came a couple of minutes later, and he mounted and rode him, keeping enough distance between himself and Elizabeth to give her some privacy while ensuring she made it home safely. When she turned down the road for Longbourn and arrived at her drive, he rode on by, regretting any pain he’d caused her, though he knew he was saving her from a larger measure in future.
8
Lizzy didn’t have a definite plan in mind, but she decided to return to Meryton the next day to see what else she could find from the townspeople or perhaps from the militia. She still wasn’t certain how to broach that topic with any of them, for how did she introduce the idea someone among them was possibly stealing from them? It would be a gross betrayal of trust, and she could well imagine it would be a scenario where they would want to shoot the messenger.
Preoccupation with how to continue her investigation fled her mind when she saw clandestine movement ahead of her. She veered off the road to see what had caught her eye, realizing it was someone walking through the field. There wasn’t much cover to observe them while hiding her presence, but as they appeared to be approaching a shack that looked like it was barely standing, she didn’t feel like she had to get too close.
Still, she craned her neck over the bush from where she was hiding, attempting to make out as many details about the person as possible. She felt confident labeling them a man simply from their height and the width of their shoulders, though it was moderately possible it could be a woman.
The oversized, drab greatcoat the figure wore made it difficult to tell much about the shape, and there was a large hat pulled down over their head. Still, she thought it was a man, and he tugged on the door for a moment before a squeaking sound of warped wood scraping against warped wood shattered the silence in the meadow.
It caused a bird to cry with fright, and she looked up, almost crying out herself as the bird took flight. It had startled her, but she managed to stifle her reaction, maintaining silence while she watched the figure take something from his coat and put it inside the building. Then he closed it, and she realized he was coming her way. He would be returning shortly, and she doubted the foliage in which she hid would provide enough coverage.
Uncertainly, she looked at the tree above her, wondering if she would have time to scale it before the figure got close enough to realize she’d been spying on him. It offered her best chance, so she tucked the hem of her dress and petticoat into her bodice, grasped the branches, and scurried her way up the tree. It was much harder than she remembered, but at least she was wearing slippers with thick soles meant for walking. Recalling the ease with which she and Lottie had scrambled up trees when they were younger, she marveled it had ever been second nature.
She was breathing heavily from the exertion, but she struggled to hold her breath as the man passed underneath her. Lizzy hoped to get a look at him, eager to identify him, but the best she got was a flash of red under the greatcoat, which suggested militia to her. She tried to crane her neck to get a better look, but that undermined her already precarious position, so she clung to the branch and abandoned the idea as she pressed her back against the bark to center herself.
She waited probably far longer than necessary, but she wanted to be to be sure he was gone, and that no one else was around to see her departure from the tree. She scurried off the branch and slipped down, relieved to be on solid ground moments later with only a skinned palm to show for her misadventure. She pressed it against the side of her dress, wincing at the blood left behind. It was only a small scrape, and though it stung, it wasn’t going to incapacitate her.
She looked around, once more ensuring the murky figure hadn’t returned before crossing the field to approach the old shed he’d been using for whatever nefarious purpose.
It was a ramshackle thing that had been there at least ten winters that she could recall. The tenants who’d leased the land had been gone since their father died, and to her knowledge, her father had been unable to find a new tenant. Or perhaps, knowing Douglas Bennet, he’d simply been too buried in his books these past five years to be bothered with such a trifle.
She moved closer, having a difficult time with the latch. It wasn’t that it was impervious or well-made. Rather, it was the damaged wood from exposure to moisture. When she finally got it open and tugged on the door, it made the same screeching sound she’d heard earlier that had startled the bird and nearly made her cry out.
As soon as Lizzy opened the door, she knew she’d found the cache of the Meryton thief. She hadn’t seen any of the items herself, but she’d heard enough about them to recognize Madame St. Croix’s beige lace that looked delicately impressive, wrapped in a length of plain muslin with a hint of the treasure beneath peeking out. It was resting atop a wooden barrel that reeked of cheap alcohol even from where she stood. There was a glittering necklace with diamonds and rubies, and a silver straight razor, among other items she hadn’t even known were missing. Of course, there was no sign of the chicken or the pie, but what thief would leave those lying around? He’d likely consumed them the day of the thefts.
Lizzy considered he
r options as she heard a whistling sound. She jerked upright, certain it was going to be the man who’d done all the thieving returning. While she’d like to identify him, she didn’t want it to be so hands-on, with just the two of them, since he was likely able to overpower her.
Her heart stopped beating for a moment, but it resumed with a faster thump when a young boy came into sight. He carried a fishing pole over his shoulder, and he was clearly intent on whiling away the hours. She waved at him, and he detoured from the road to cross the field toward her as she rushed to meet him.
“Hello, Miss Bennet, innit?” He asked with an adorably charming dimple flashing in his cheeks as he smiled.
“Indeed I am. I am afraid I do not know your name though, lad.”
“I am Charlie Buckingsale. Me father’s the miller.”
She smiled. “A most important job. Do you anticipate following him?”
He shrugged. “I guess so. Don’t know what else I’d do.”
She struggled to hide her smile, not wanting him to think she was laughing at him. “I must ask you to perform a weighty task, young Charlie.”
He tilted his head, looking intrigued. “What can I do for you, Miss? You must have everything.”
There was something heartrending about the innocent words that recognized the class differences between them. He probably had little concept of how low the Bennets ranked overall, and she blinked back unexpected tears at the thought of him being in awe of them.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Do you think you can take a message to Netherfield?” She frowned when she said Netherfield, having intended to say Meryton. She’d planned to ask the boy to fetch Constable Walters, though it seemed a futile task. Even when confronted with all the proof of the robberies, he’d probably find some way to believe a different version than whatever Lizzy suggested.
Knowing that man, he’d probably assume it was the little boy in front of her who’d stolen everything. No, she couldn’t risk his incompetence tainting the investigation. “I need you to get a message to Mr. Darcy.”
