Elizabeth was quickly achieving a state of panic similar to Bingley's as she clutched William tighter in her grasp. "She's what?" she echoed, searching about as though Jane was simply playing a game with them and hiding in the nearest closet.
"She's gone," Bingley said, distraught, his hair a mess and his clothes looking disheveled although it was sure that he hadn't been doing anything to cause such a thing. He thrust the paper into Elizabeth's hand and wrung his waistcoat with his fist, running that same hand through his hair, truly agitated. "Some of her clothes are gone, but not all, and several of her things!"
"She's left you?" Darcy inquired, suspiciously, studying the broken teacup on the ground, surrounded by an ample amount of liquid. He crouched down and surveyed the scene before him, rising to his feet. "No. No, she did not." It was simply too much of a mess to have been a fit of passion.
Elizabeth had unfurled the letter (the one that Bingley had found within his chambers) as best as she could with William in her arms. "Charles," she gasped. "This is a ransom notice! It says that the kidnapper has Jane and another important asset to the estate," she read on, pursing her lips. "Whatever could he mean?"
"The money, no doubt," Darcy swiftly replied, placing a firm hand on Bingley's shoulder. "Bingley, I need you to focus for me. We won't find Jane with you in this state. Look at me," he ordered. "We will find Jane," he promised, the sternness that was usually so brusque and off-putting was not reassuring. "And we will return her and whatever else was stolen back to you and Jane shall be swiftly returned to your waiting embrace."
"I don't care about the money," Bingley said immediately. "I merely want my Jane back!" He let out a chagrined exhalation. "I want her back in my arms, I want to be able to kiss her and promise her that this will never again happen and that I do not care about an heir, so long as I have her. I do not want my last words to my wife to be a placating half-truth that I can solve everything." He shook his head. "Darcy. Elizabeth. Please," he begged.
Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged a look, quickly realizing how difficult the man would be to deal with. Elizabeth raised a hand, almost as though she might try and slap sense into Bingley, but lowered her palm after a warning glance from Darcy. He murmured something to one of the maids hovering in the doorway, whispering about the mistress. That maid soon returned with a glass of ice-cold water that was pressed into Bingley's hand by Darcy himself.
"You need to calm yourself," Darcy ordered. "Is that clear?"
Bingley nodded, sinking down into a chair and staring off into the middle distance, as though the walking dead.
"Who could have done this," Elizabeth snapped, her own voice icy and angry. "No one should simply be able to take my sister away from me!" While Bingley was quickly going catatonic, Elizabeth was becoming enraged; polar opposites of emotions as they spun about the same troubling issue at hand.
Darcy recognized the fire in his wife and stepped forward. "We shall achieve nothing with panic and fury," he announced. "First things first, we must make haste in reporting Jane missing. Elizabeth, would you please read the letter aloud for us, my dear."
Elizabeth shot him a glare and he swallowed.
"Of course, my pearl," he corrected himself, with a murmur.
Elizabeth took a step forward and unfolded the letter, pacing back and forth. "It is scrawled and nearly illegible in places," she warned the men, having handed off William to the maid who hovered, keeping her son in her sight the whole of the time (after all, after there is one kidnapping, there is hardly ever a second for the family and friends are far too paranoid to let it occur lightly).
"Bingley," Elizabeth read. "That is how it begins, with no formal address or…"
"Please, just read the letter," Bingley pleaded, his voice terse as he paced back and forth, his hand almost yanking out at his red hair. "Just tell me what I must do."
Elizabeth read on silently and let out a distressed sound. "There are no instructions."
"What?" Bingley and Darcy sounded in tandem, echoing in pure shock.
"No instructions!" Elizabeth repeated incredulously. "It simply says that they," she said, stressing the 'they', "have Jane and an important asset to the estate. Your money, no doubt?"
"Or an heirloom," Darcy pointed out.
"I hardly think it matters," Elizabeth retorted acidically. "Given they have my sister." She held the letter to the light. "It says that you should look into the past affairs of your family, Charles, and that your father's sins are at fault for the taking of Jane and that it should be well-recorded in books in less-than-visible places. It goes on to say that with time, perhaps she shall be returned…as soon as you suffer as they have?" she swiftly finished the letter. "How dare they take on such a tone? Make you suffer," she remarked, the anger building up again. "I have half a mind to build a dungeon in Pemberly, just to make it even when we catch the men who did this."
"Or women, or man and a woman," Darcy pointed out. "Bingley, see which of your staff are currently missing. I think we might just have our kidnapper then."
"My staff? You think of…" Bingley did not finish his sentence, however, for he charged off immediately, the inspiration of having his love gone missing setting fire to his feet. His voice could be heard down the halls, stringently summoning his staff to stand accountable for the chaotic events of the evening.
Elizabeth turned to Darcy, taking William back into her arms and allowing herself to crumble in his presence. "My sister is gone," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke the words. "Darcy…"
"We'll find her," he assured, pressing a kiss to Elizabeth's forehead and to her temple, kissing her lips slowly and reassuringly. When finally, both he was calmer and she appeared calmer, he eased away.
Elizabeth nodded, clutching her son tightly to her chest. "Mama and Papa must not know," she realized quickly. "There would be an incredible fuss, it would only harm our search."
"Elizabeth, I don't think it fair to keep your family in the dark," Darcy warned.
"Nonsense," she said in quick reply, surveying the broken teacup one last time. "The dark is a perfectly suitable place. After all, it is where they kept us for so many years, when the knowledge of proper manners shone so bright outside our door, it might have blinded us had they glimpsed it." Her vitriolic words were out of character for her and Darcy worried that the stress of the day was wearing on her nerves. "Oh, honestly," she sighed. "I just want Jane home safely. After that, it is simply a tall tale to tell Mama and Papa. First, Jane must be found. And then, we shall notify the families."
Jane felt rather woozy and quite out of place, as though something strange had just happened. Had she hit her head? No. No, she had been enjoying her tea, and then…
"Mrs. Bingley?" a familiar voice whispered, groaning mildly.
Jane's eyes fluttered open slowly and she looked to the side to find Mr. Townsend tied up in a chair above her. She seemed to be sprawled upon the floor of a…stable? There was hay about and she sat up, hurrying to untie the ropes that bound the family's butler. Whatever could he be doing here? What might have happened? "Mr. Townsend, are you all right?" she asked worriedly, finishing up the last of the ropes. "What happened?"
He rubbed at the back of his head, fingers coming back and they were coated with specks of blood. Jane gasped, covering her mouth in horror. She quickly looked about in search of something that might clean him up, and found a bucket of seemingly fresh water.
"I hardly know, ma'am," Mr. Townsend replied groggily. "I had just finished preparing Master Bingley's room for the evening when everything went suddenly dark."
Jane murmured with worry, patting down Mr. Townsend's head and wincing when she felt a sharp pain in his stomach, so severe that it stunted her work.
"Mrs. Bingley? Mrs. Bingley, are you all right?" Mr. Townsend remarked with grave worry.
She had not felt so ill in months, the last time having been after a particularly inspired dish by their house cook (something of India, apparently). Jane's stomach had not settled for a week at the spices and upon resuming their old diet, everything had returned to normal. Now again, she felt pain in her stomach to rival that of months ago. Perhaps she had imbibed something gone bad?
"Simply a bit of…indi…" she murmured, a hand to her stomach.
"Mistress, was your tea rather odd?" Mr. Townsend asked worriedly. "The sugar seemed to be disturbed and given our present situation, I daresay that something did not go as planned."
Jane took a deep breath and calmed herself and the pain eased itself away and she resumed her work untying the ropes. "Do you know where we are?" It certainly appeared to be a stable, but there was no sign of livestock. She rose to her feet and peered around, her form casting a silhouette on the ground. Behind her, she heard Mr. Townsend rustling and pressing the cloth to his bleeding head. "I do not know," she admitted, worried. How she did wish for Charles! "Perhaps a house? Perhaps town?"
Mr. Townsend approached at her side and tugged her closer. "Mrs. Bingley, I do not think it prudent," he whispered, "for us to wander when we do not yet know who has taken us."
Jane regarded Mr. Townsend with wide eyes and nodded, almost skittishly. She fidgeted with her hands, twisting the rings upon her finger and wishing for her husband more than anything else, for she was still filled with the fervent belief that her husband would best any evil that threatened to part them.
Looking around the strange barn, she shivered. Night was closing in and was quite cold and she wore a simple dress and no more.
"Mrs. Bingley, please take my coat," Mr. Townsend spoke quietly, draping it over her shoulders without another word. "We cannot have you catching cold. It would be very ill at this time."
She closed her eyes and though she was grateful to be trapped with someone so very kind and thoughtful, she wished that she were at home in her warm bed and wrapped up in Charles' arms. She wished this, even if it meant that they must be forced to discuss some sombre topics as the lack of children. She pressed her lips together and when she opened her eyes, she was still peering at the creaky wooden beams of the rafters of the barn. She exhaled and her breath appeared in tiny puffs of condensation before her and she gave a soft sigh.
"We should wait until morning," she murmured, sinking down into the chair that Mr. Townsend had previously preoccupied, staring forward into space.
Honestly, she could not fathom how the situation had become so very dreadful so very quickly.
Bingley was upon his knees within the library, upending each book with a comment and a snide remark upon his father's estate, muttering on. Darcy had never seen him in such a state and he had seen Bingley in many states, mostly those that were happy and at peace. But then, Bingley had never had his dear wife stolen from him and to see a man lose the thing he loves the most is a horrid sight.
"This is madness!" Bingley announced, sitting knee-high in books and journals kept by his father. "Louisa holds some of Mother's things and Caroline inherited most of her jewelry, but I have all of father's things and I can find no trace of whatever this madman or madmen or madwomen might want or wish!"
His eyes were growing wilder and Darcy was beginning to fear that he would not be able to calm Bingley down. The very idea of having Bingley awake without Jane beside him was enough to worry Darcy into thinking of prescribing the angry younger man to take some ether to bed with him.
Elizabeth was more patiently going through journals, but there was a glint in her eye that betrayed the more serious nature to her quest. Darcy feared for whomever had stolen Jane, for they would have not only the combined wrath of himself and the Bennets, but also a very enraged sister and very aggressive husband.
"Charles," Elizabeth murmured. "Are you sure you don't recall anything, no stories, perhaps?"
Bingley gave a frustrated sound. "Mrs. Darcy, I assure you that I recall nothing of the sort! I am sorry to say that we Bingleys are sadly neglect of familial drama, something that you and your husband cannot claim, I do not think." The words and the emotion behind them were cruel and rare and he apologized softly under his breath before continuing to search.
Elizabeth had been taken aback, but Darcy paid no mind. A man out of his mind was hardly accountable for the errors of his judgment during his madness.
"Wait," he said after a moment, staring up at Elizabeth and Darcy. "Oh, dear Lord, wait."
"Yes?" Darcy encouraged. Finally, it appeared that there was a lead. He hardly wanted to act as a detective as he was not suited for such tasks, but Darcy considered himself a man of intelligence (quite above the normal stock as far as gentlemen went) and the notion of solving the mystery and bringing back his sister-in-law (whom he had grown quite endeared with, as all sisters-in-law should be) to his dearest friend would please him most of all.
Bingley stood and began pacing, wringing the tail of his waistcoat and pausing every now and again to think, or as it to begin speaking, but merely closing his mouth. Eventually, he stopped and drew in a large breath. "I was speaking to Jane of this just last night," he said, Jane's name coming across upon his lips in a painful manner. "About how my parents had trouble conceiving at first. There were rumours about that there was, in fact, no trouble conceiving."
Darcy narrowed his eyes and Elizabeth leaned forward, clearly interested.
"It is a silly thing," Bingley insisted, as though he now did not believe even his own words.
"Charles!" Elizabeth reacted, simultaneously with Darcy's frustrated plea of, "Bingley!"
Bingley gave a sharp yelp of frustration. "Oh, honestly, the rumours were that my father was not sleeping with my mother during the first two years of their marriage! He was supposedly sleeping with some other woman!"
Darcy's mind was already spinning with the new information. "Pour through the books, look for any women that might be angry at being spurned when Bingley Senior returned to his wife and settled down to have a family."
Bingley nodded and returned to his fortress of books and Elizabeth buried her nose in a book once more. Darcy, for his part, turned on his heel.
He was going to question the staff.
tbc