Chasing Elizabeth

by Jennifer Joy

  It was a pity. He enjoyed her conversation. There was no guile or hypocrisy in Miss Elizabeth, but her curiosity and perceptiveness prohibited any further association. That, and her blinding friendship with the Lucases. While she had provided more information in a few minutes than he had gleaned since his arrival the afternoon before, Miss Elizabeth would be the first to warn them of his investigation out of a sense of misplaced loyalty. She would never believe Sir William capable of treachery, no matter how much proof was laid bare before her.

  And there was proof.

  Lucas Lodge was in debt. Heavily in debt. Sir William had cut off all his ties to trade too soon. He had not known how to manage an estate (and evidence suggested he had not gained much knowledge on that front since acquiring his property.) As a result, his farmland, and therefore, his income, suffered.

  Without the money to be earned from proper administration of his estate, Sir William had mortgaged Lucas Lodge in order to continue living as the gentleman he strove to prove himself to be. Would that he had gathered more wealth before he retired from trade as Bingley’s father had done! Sir William’s children would be the ones to suffer his impatience for grandeur.

  However, if Darcy was right about Sir William, he would come into a significant sum of money very soon. It only depended on Darcy to find out what service Sir William was willing to perform for The Four Horsemen before he went through with it.

  By all appearances, Sir William was too involved with his acquired status and too determined to act the part to concern himself with something so vulgar as money. His attitude was perfectly reflected in his eldest son, whose preference for town living and higher society showed he was equally disinclined to take responsibility for his inheritance. The likeness lent credibility to Sir William’s farce, making both the son and the father appear ignorant and harmless … when they could be anything but. The disguise was risky. And brilliant.

  And there was more. Darcy must not forget George Lucas. The assembly afforded the perfect opportunity to observe the man. He was liked and respected by his peers. He was considerate, as Darcy’s own experience with him had proved. No sooner had Darcy thanked George for his kindness toward Miss Elizabeth in the face of his own rudeness than George waved it off and praised him for being humble enough to admit his error. They had spoken of horses, then, and Darcy found George to be an excellent judge of quality horseflesh. It was, no doubt, the second son’s attempt to save his family’s estate which had led him to turn to horses. It was the only acceptable way for a gentleman to earn an income, the only one society and his own father allowed, and George did it all for a property he did not stand to inherit.

  Therein lurked a powerful motive.

  Like a loyal son, George kept within the strictures imposed upon him so that his father would not feel his failure, and society would not scorn their family. All of this done at the expense of George’s own freedom. It was a lot to ask for so little return.

  Darcy wondered how far George would go to secure his family’s place and future, given what he had already sacrificed.

  There could only be three explanations: One, George was unaware of his father’s activities. Two, he was under his father’s thumb and had little choice. Or three, he knew and was equally skillful at playing his part in throwing off suspicion through his role as the enterprising second son.

  Was George so devious? Darcy wished to believe him honest, but he must set aside emotion and look to the facts.

  He needed more facts. More clues to point him in the right direction.

  Darcy’s eyes roamed over the assembly, uncertain what he searched for until he saw Miss Elizabeth’s eyes meet his.

  Blast! Nodding his head as if their shared look had been a trifling coincidence, he forced his gaze to continue looking through the crowd. It was devilish difficult when he felt her observing him as intently as he avoided her.

  He had to move. To do something.

  He danced with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but too often he felt himself drawn to Miss Elizabeth’s smiling face. Darcy could not understand how, past midnight, she seemed to be enveloped in sunshine.

  The harder Darcy exerted himself to stay away from Miss Elizabeth, the more difficult the task became when the hour progressed and the crowd thinned.

  Bingley displayed a notable preference for Miss Bennet, and she, being a handsome lady with gentle manners, had also appealed to his sisters who believed themselves to possess the same qualities. Their acquaintance deepened quickly, as there was nobody else they could be presumed upon to befriend at the assembly. But it was ultimately Bingley’s sisters who came to Darcy’s aid and persuaded their brother to leave.

  It was for the best. Darcy had a letter to write to Georgiana and another to Richard, one which he would have to phrase with care in case of interception. To an outsider’s eye, it would appear as if Darcy merely wrote to his cousin about a ball and his new surroundings. To Richard, though, he would communicate his progress, relaying all the information he had acquired which might help complete their mission. Anything to capture The Four Horsemen so he would be free to return to Pemberley.

  Yes, he must focus on his assignment. He must keep his eyes on the prize — and away from Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  Chapter 8

  With renewed focus and vigor, Darcy aimed his full attention on his investigation.

  He invited Sir William to fish on the largest of Netherfield Park’s three ponds. Fishing lent itself to casual conversation, and Darcy had planned to make good use of it. He had hoped Sir William might relax his guard and loosen his tongue, but as it turned out, there had been no time at all for conversation. From the moment the first hook hit the water, Darcy and Sir William had been kept busy as fish after fish bit the bait. Evidently, the inhabitants of the pond had been at peace for far too long.

  The successful fishing expedition was reciprocated with an invitation to a picnic at Lucas Lodge. Darcy had feared Miss Elizabeth would be there. He did not need her observing him as he tried to extract information from Sir William.

  As it turned out, none of the Bennets had been invited. Darcy later learned from Miss Bingley, who scoffed and mocked the Misses Lucas, that Sir William and Lady Lucas had hoped that he or Bingley might form an attachment to one of their daughters. He ought to have known their reasons for extending hospitality to two newly arrived, unmarried gentleman, but as always, Darcy took care not to give cause for encouragement. He had no business getting close to anyone. Not only would it complicate affairs, but it would endanger the life of the lady to whom his affections were attached. Now was not the time for love. Now was the time to capture The Four Horsemen and return to his normal life at Pemberley. Then, and only then, could he think of superfluous things such as love.

  Not to suggest that Miss Lucas was not worthy of a good husband. Only that Darcy could never put himself in that role. Miss Lucas was as sensible as Miss Elizabeth had claimed her to be. If Richard were ever to settle down and marry, he would do well to seek such a wife.

  Three days following the Meryton Assembly, Bingley’s butler brought a letter to Darcy while he was dressing. It had been delivered by a messenger.

  Wilson wiped the last of the lather from Darcy’s chin. “Is it from the colonel?” he asked, cleaning the blade with a cloth.

  “It is, though with its brevity, I wonder why it took him so long to send.” Darcy read the page in a glance, then dropped the paper into the fire. Watching the flame consume the message until it was nothing more than a thimble-full of ash, he said in a low tone, “I must work fast, Wilson. The Four Horsemen were seen together at a club.”

  Wilson’s busy hands paused. “They have never risked being seen together before.”

  “Exactly. I fear, as does Richard, that a grander scheme is afoot. We cannot allow them the upper hand much longer. We must discover what they plan and what Sir William has to do with it. I will own, Wilson, I have never met Sir William’s equal. He does not crack or slip up. He
seems to have no defects at all.”

  Packing the shaving utensils, Wilson stepped in front of Darcy to see to his cravat. “I have befriended the groom at Lucas Lodge as you suggested. Mercer is his name. A fine fellow so far as I can tell. He has nothing but kind things to say about Sir William and Master George, as he calls him.”

  “What of Mr. Lucas? John?”

  “All I have learned of him so far is that Mr. Lucas enjoys a lively fox hunt. He does not speak much of him. Either Mercer does not like the gentleman and, in good taste, denies himself the indulgence of speaking against Sir William’s heir, or he simply does not have much to say about the man. It is my understanding that Mr. Lucas prefers the high society and comforts of London to the country and is not often in residence at Lucas Lodge.” Wilson stepped back, surveying his handiwork.

  Darcy rubbed his chin. “Very good. Keep up your acquaintance with Mercer. You might have greater success with a stable boy, but be cautious not to arouse suspicion.”

  “Of course,” Wilson said with a bow.

  Servants, unencumbered by the restrictions placed upon the gentle classes, were freer to discuss matters Darcy could never broach with a newly formed acquaintance. Many times, he envied them their candor. How much time it would save him! But he had to play by the rules others had made and passed down through generations. He could not rightfully scorn society’s strictures — not when his previous successes could be credited, in great part, to his role in society. Few suspected a landed gentleman from a respected family who had everything to lose — a beloved estate which had been handed down through generations of Darcys, a sister under his protection, and no heirs to carry on the legacy of his family — of working as a secret government agent.

  Time was of the essence, and if Darcy had learned nothing from Sir William in the past three days, he had to adjust his plan. He would spend more time around the gentleman’s sons, and he had an idea of how best to do that.

  Bingley was already in the breakfast parlor. To Darcy’s good fortune, he was alone.

  “Good morning, Bingley,” he said, sitting at the table and pouring a cup of coffee.

  Bingley looked positively miserable. “We are to have trout again today. Pray do not fish any more in my ponds, Darcy. You know I have an aversion to creatures with gills.”

  Darcy stifled a smile. Bingley had inadvertently given him just the entry he needed to affect his plan. “Then, we shall have to find another way to entertain ourselves. You ought to invite your closest neighbors to dine.”

  Bingley shot upright in his seat, his miserable mien transformed into his usual merriness. “What a splendid idea! I shall ask Caroline to invite the Bennets to dine with us this same evening.”

  Darcy’s heart pounded against his ribs. Those were not the neighbors Darcy had intended Bingley to invite.

  Taking a deep breath, Darcy said, “Are not the Lucases closest?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” Bingley absentmindedly tugged his hair with a silly grin on his face. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are good friends with Miss Lucas. They will enjoy her company as well as ours. I daresay the addition of Miss Lucas’ brothers at the table will balance the numbers.”

  Darcy could not fathom how a table could be balanced with a family of five unmarried daughters occupying most of the seats, but if it got Sir William and his sons to Netherfield Park, Darcy was not about to argue the point.

  Miss Bingley entered the breakfast parlor then, her stiff silk skirts abrasive to Darcy’s ears.

  “Caroline! Will you help me arrange for a dinner party this evening?” Bingley asked, eager to carry out his plan now that he had one.

  She clapped her hands. “How lovely! Whom are we to invite? Has a new family of quality returned from town? I heard of a Miss King who seems promising.” Picking up a plate on the sideboard, she turned to the platter of sausages.

  “The Bennets and the Lucases.”

  With a resounding thud, Miss Bingley set her plate down on the narrow table. She spun around to glare at her brother. “Have you gone mad, Charles? The Bennets are vulgar, and the Lucases are quite possibly the drollest family I have ever been forced to meet.” She splayed her hand over her heart, her cheeks in high color. “Did you know that Sir William offered to show me around St. James? Me? As if he is of the first circles! As if he could possibly be of any assistance to me!”

  Her brother’s face darkened. “Have you forgotten our origins, Caroline? Sir William, at least, has a title.”

  “A bought one! It means nothing,” she huffed.

  “I find Sir William to be a pleasant fellow. Not one to give himself airs, though he very well might, given his knighthood,” Bingley insisted. “Do not speak so unkindly of a gentleman I would befriend. As for the Bennets, what have you against them? You said you adored Miss Bennet. You and Louisa have been full of praise for her.”

  “She, I will agree to invite. She, at least … and Miss Elizabeth,” she added begrudgingly, “did not make spectacles of themselves at the assembly. But even you must admit their younger sisters were as abominable as their mother. And did Mr. Bennet move one finger to subdue them? No. He was too busy in his own debates to care for the reputations of his daughters and anyone with whom they were in association.”

  Darcy had entertained similar thoughts about the Bennets, but it was unpleasant to hear Miss Bingley express them.

  Bingley said, “Then, I insist you include Miss Elizabeth in your invitation, Caroline. You are too harsh.”

  “And should I lower my standards merely because we are not in town?”

  Darcy exhaled. Had he not wished he could be free of the norms of high society only moments ago? While he would never act on certain desires, he realized the futility of casting judgment so quickly on a family who did — especially when they did not frequent town nor have the advantage of wider association. Really, what harm could Mrs. Bennet do outside of Meryton?

  As for Mr. Bennet, Darcy did not know enough about him to form an opinion. His conversation had been diverting and well-informed, but his interest in academics and philosophy seemed to exceed his interest in his own family. That was a big point in his disfavor, but Darcy tried not to dwell on it out of a sense of rebellion. He would not imitate Miss Bingley’s intolerant criticism.

  Bingley drained his teacup. “Miss Bennet is a lady through and through. I defy you to say otherwise. Miss Elizabeth is charming as well, although I will own that a lot of her conversation was over my head. You had best seat her next to Darcy at the table tonight … if she does not object. You seem to have made peace with each other even after your insult.”

  Darcy nearly choked on his coffee at Bingley’s frank admission and the consequential horror twisting Miss Bingley’s features. He might have laughed at the irony had the stakes not been so high. “I apologized, and Miss Elizabeth graciously accepted my apology,” he replied.

  It was settled. Miss Bingley would invite the two eldest Bennet daughters to dine at Netherfield that evening. Nothing, however, convinced her to include the Lucases, for boredom was a sin greater than a lack of connections when she had been put upon to suffer too much monotony in the country.

  Not only were the Lucases not invited, meriting Darcy’s scheme utterly useless, but now he would have to endure an evening in Miss Elizabeth’s company.

  An evening which had come about at his doing.

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth tried not to watch the clock. She failed repeatedly as the hour for her and Jane to depart for Netherfield Park crept closer.

  The moment eventually did arrive, finally, and they left Longbourn (an event which their lethargic horses extended to the best of their capabilities despite the alternating coaxing and threatening shouts of the coachman.)

  Elizabeth peered up at the azure sky through the glass of the carriage window, her fingers rubbing over her colorful brooch. “Poor Mama was quite vexed at the lack of rain. There is nary a cloud in the sky.”

  It was a gl
orious day, and what was better, Jane beamed happiness. Elizabeth directed all of her own restlessness toward her anticipation of an evening away from Longbourn. Maybe, just maybe, she would catch a glimpse of Tempest. If not, she would content herself in her sister’s contentment.

  Jane leaned against the squabs, relaxing now that they were no longer under the scrutinizing stares of their mother (who held ambitious expectations for both of her daughters) and their jealous sisters. Kitty and Lydia because if they were denied diversion, they would deny everyone else of it, too. Mary because she resented not having been invited at all, though she would never admit it lest it sound sinfully covetous.

  “I am so glad Papa allowed us to use the carriage, Lizzy. We would have arrived to dinner dusty and smelling of horses.”

  Her father had said nothing more about her riding, but his allowance of the carriage seemed to prove how seriously he took her prohibition. Elizabeth had not told Jane the whole of it, blaming her puffy eyes and red nose of three days before to the delay in her trip with Aunt and Uncle.

  “We could have walked faster to Netherfield than the horses will convey us,” she teased.

  “And have us ruin our complexions?” Jane teased in turn.

  Fanning her face with her hand, Elizabeth did her best imitation of Mama. “No gentleman of fortune would ever agree to marry a lady with sun-bronzed skin.”

  Contrary to her mother, Elizabeth held no lofty expectations for the evening. She did not anticipate a proposal of marriage, nor did she wish to impose that sort of pressure on what should be an enjoyable dinner — enjoyable for Jane, that is. It would be torture being so near Tempest, knowing she might see her but she could not ride her. What she would give for one more run across the fields…. She must not dwell on such things. Shaking off her melancholy, she concentrated on Miss Bingley’s invitation.