Notes: see at the end. This chapter can also be entirely skipped. Warning: more silliness than usual ahead. :-)
The Mysterious Inn
A posting inn, somewhere between London and Meryton, Thursday 28 May
The Darcys had decided to break their journey and entered the inn, while their servants saw to the horses and went in search of a stable hand, for, surprisingly, there had been no-one outside.
There was no-one inside either, and the common room was in disarray.
"Where do you think the people have gone?" asked Elizabeth, side-stepping a red puddle.
"I have no idea, Mrs Darcy," her husband answered, kicking away a stained cleaver. "This place is not as I remembered."
"I wondered about it. You would not care for such a dirty place in any case," she said, wrinkling her nose at the pinkish jelly that could be seen on a nearby table. Chairs and tables were scattered all over, and shards of glass and organic matter of various origins littered the floor.
"We passed this inn on our way to London not long ago, and it was still perfectly decent. I cannot imagine what happened."
A tour at back of the building yielded nothing, though Elizabeth noticed that a great quantity of earth had been recently moved. She shook her head.
"The season is completely wrong for planting! What were they thinking?"
They entered the building again. Mr Darcy had sent Weston to look upstairs. A loud thud was heard. They climbed to investigate but found nothing that could help them.
"This inn is remarkably ill-kept," remarked Elizabeth as they went back downstairs. "Did you notice, in the second room, that blood-coloured smear that crossed the room in the direction of the window?"
Darcy absently nodded. "It looked fresh. Still, we still have not a clue regarding Weston's whereabouts."
They went out once again, this time in the front, to have a word with Walker, their driver, but could not find him. Smith and Reynolds had also gone.
Another look at the back, where they thought they had heard a noise, revealed that they must have missed the gardener. To Elizabeth's annoyance, a smaller flower bed had been prepared alongside the first.
"Will you just look at that!"
Her husband obliged. A knife embedded itself in the wall in front of which he had been standing not one moment before.
"What is the matter, dear?"
"This is a crime against landscaping!"
"Shall we investigate?"
"There is nothing but bad taste to investigate here," Elizabeth scoffed. "The horses must be refreshed by now. Let us leave."
"May I remind you that our servants have mysteriously disappeared?"
"You see mystery where there is none. They likely have gone to the next decent inn to get an ale. They know where we were to go, they will join us later. You know how to drive, I presume? Then drive on."
And off they went into the sunset.
"Mr Darcy, is that not a trench ahead of us?"
"Of course not, Elizabeth. If there had been one, there would be a bridge."
A third flower bed appeared in the inn's backyard.
So, notes. This was originally an April Fools' day post; it can be read either as the divagations of the author or as Darcy's nightmare. Or Smith's. Or Reynolds's. I do have a preference for it to be Darcy's, who would be mortified at the thought to act in so foolish a fashion (oh, and the first line of next installment should explain why it couldn't be Elizabeth's).
