Chapter XXIX
Soames bulled his way across the floor toward a group of older gentlemen milling about a set of French doors leading to the veranda. They were circulating in-and-out from the outdoor plaza, enjoying some of colonial Spain's finer tobacco offerings without destroying any lady's coiffure with the residue of their smoky, blue haze. A dark-suited gentleman, the Reverend Mr. Benton, came into the group from Sir Thaddeus' left. He whispered animatedly into Bennet's ear. Bennet's face darkened and soon became thunderous.
Mr. Bennet broke free from his new son's hand and started to march across the ballroom. So intent he was upon reaching his target—his wife and daughters—that he did not realize that Soames had changed direction to intercept him. Neither did Bennet realize that he had collected a small following: Benton, Fitzwilliam, and Sir William.
Soames fronted Thomas and halted his progress. He began in a low and, he thought, dangerous voice, "See here, Bennet. I have just learned that one of your daughters, Miss Eliza…"
Ah, thought Bennet, in your ignorance of our neighborhood you have revealed the source of whatever on dit has your small clothes in a knot. Only two ladies call Lizzy by that diminutive…and only one can get away with it without inciting my dark-eyed Fury as Lizzy loves her too well.
"…was seen cavorting with a servant at Longbourn's Dower House. I care not if you refuse to take your daughters in hand. Their bad behavior will be to your family's detriment."
Bennet snapped in an equally quiet tone, "Baronet or not, Soames, if you ever repeat those words and cast aspersions upon the reputation of a young woman whose manure-stained half-boots you could not presume to carry, I will call you out."
"And if you should best my father, I will call you out in turn," Benton breathed.
Fitzwilliam chimed in, "And if, for some reason, your life's blood is not staining the grass next to the Mimram, after you have met with these two gentlemen, I will challenge you. As an Earl's second son, a former officer in His Majesty's regulars, and a great respecter of the Bennet family, I, Richard Fitzwilliam of Pemberley, will be happy before the sun crosses its zenith on that fell day to cause you to regret saying anything about Miss Elizabeth."
Soames had been the only lion amongst the pack of jackals and hyenas on his savanna. The man visibly quailed before this united front. He threw his hands up to placate the three men, realizing that he had to assuage Bennet if he wanted to resolve his Smith problem.
He apologized, "I may have chosen my words poorly. Please, I entreat you, accept my apology. In my zeal to secure the safety of Meryton, I concentrated on the tittle-tattle which is being spread and ignored the deeper concern."
He then looked at Sir William and appealed to him, "I understand that you are magistrate for the town."
The knight averred that he was.
"Then, in your capacity as magistrate, Sir William," Soames continued, "I ask that you immediately mount a search of the Longbourn Dower House for the escaped convict known as William Smith!"
A genial man by nature, Sir William Lucas had been disturbed by the tense exchange. Soames' demand to search his neighbor's property further complicated matters. No matter which way Lucas decided, he would find himself crosswise: on the one hand, his longtime friend would be upset and, on the other, he would incur the wrath of a baronet. His face must have betrayed his awful quandary for Bennet threw him a rope.
"My dear Sir William, perhaps our visitor neglected to discover that I, too, am a magistrate. Meryton is populous enough to merit two.
"However, his…request…has placed you in an intolerable conflict. I believe that Mr. Fitzwilliam also stands as a magistrate in Lambton, Derbyshire. He will be able, I am sure, to validate what I say next.
"Sir William and I have always worked in tandem to adjudicate complaints to prevent the passion of the moment from overwhelming good sense. While any single magistrate can order a search of the nature that Sir Thaddeus requires, and, thus, Sir William could insist that our constables enter the Dower House, I am within my rights to deny such a venture: not as a magistrate, but rather as a sovereign citizen of His Majesty!
"And, before you object, Sir Thaddeus, know that I am standing upon some very clear precedent here. Need I remind you of the sacred nature of an Englishman's private property? Perhaps you are not up to the minute on Mr. Locke, but that great philosophe opined over a century ago about just that…you know life, liberty, and property?
"I have no intention of allowing any search of any of Longbourn's lands or buildings without a bona fide order from an unbiased party. And, if you think you can send your bully boys onto my land to mount an unsanctioned search, I assure they will be met with force.
"You lost your bondsman and have been searching for him for weeks. Now you have the brass to insist that we, in the dark of night, turn my late mother's home on its ear?
"I think not!
"But Sir William does have a solution ready-at-hand.
"If magistrates find themselves in an unresolvable conflict, they can send…"
"Yes," exclaimed Sir William, relieved that Bennet had led him to the pathway through the logjam, "I need to bring in a third magistrate, one who has no connection to Meryton!
"The right man would be Sir Michael Wheatley of The Beeches. His estate is on the far side of the Mimram, further down the Hertford Road."
Soames grasped at this, "Mr. Bennet's reticence to having his house searched is, I think, instructive. I wonder why he would balk if he had nothing to hide. Sir William, you must send for another magistrate immediately!"
Fitzwilliam snorted, "And such goes the argument of every tyrant and his minions who would say that the only rights that matter are theirs!"
Sir William coolly replied, "Let us forget philosophy and concentrate on practicalities. Have you not noticed, Sir Thaddeus? The night has turned uncommonly frosty, and it is already late. All of the drinking and dancing has led us far too close to the middle hours.
"A sober rider, even in good weather and daylight, could not raise Sir Michael's home for at least three hours. The road surface is bound to be icy. Anyone would have to pick his way along, probably doubling his time. I would not send a coach for fear that we would kill our men if the rims slipped and threw everyone into the ditch.
"No, we will wait until daylight."
Soames growled something incomprehensible about sending one of his men to fetch Sir Michael. Lucas recognized that he could not further push the baronet toward a delay. He allowed that Sir Thaddeus was free to risk his own servants' lives where neither he nor Mr. Bennet would.
Soames collared a footman walking past and was pointed toward a writing table in an alcove. After penning a hasty note, Sir Thaddeus sealed it with a glob of wax but ignored thrusting his signet ring into the cooling mass. He had not yet absorbed all of the habits of his new station. He shoved the missive into the waiting man's hands before sending him on his way. However, so anxious had been he to act, he neglected the look thrown Fitzwilliam's way by the departing attendant.
Pemberley's guardian ghosted away onto the veranda.
He casually pulled two cigars from his tail-pocket. The shadow of one of Netherfield's columns broadened and distorted as a man's figure materialized from the darkness. Fitzwilliam handed one of the cylinders to him. Then the two men bent themselves to the male ritual of rolling the cigars between their hands to break the filler and biting off the end before lighting the smokes from a tinderbox. The two men puffed companionably, pausing once or twice to admire their Habaneros' pungent aroma redolent of tropical nights.
"Ah, Sergeant Tomlinson, good of you to join me. The General was happy to recall that you and I had worked well together in years gone by. His release of you for extended leave in my service has proven quite fortuitous. I needed a man of your talents in this delicate situation," Fitzwilliam said.
"You are well-met, Major. Sorry, zur, 'tis far too difficult ta call you anything but…," the soldier-cum-footman replied.
Fitzwilliam assumed immediate command and asked, "Have you heard anything unusual about Longbourn's Dower House? Anything at all?
Tomlinson straightened at his former commander's tone and responded around an exhalation of a rich cloud thickened by the chill air, "Nothin' t'all, Major, zur. The serv'nts 'ere are like any t'uther bunch. They'd be gabbin' like ol' wimmen if'n they's knew sum'thin.
"But, thut barn down whur th' convicts are kept: the folks up'n 'ere at th' big 'ouse don' talk 'bout it. They act like 'tis some sorta evil place.
"Then that 'opped up labor factor…that Soames feller…I know 'e's a baronet an' all, but I can't give 'im the nod like 'e's my better…wants me to run down there fast-as-ye-please…and 'and off a note to 'is 'ead man."
He handed over Soames' message and continued, "Th' gen'lman insisted I carry this ov'r ta the barn down by Longbourn's prop'ty line. Seems 'e knows right whur 'tis.
"Guess 'e figured 'e'd risen above the mark whur 'e 'as to do 'is own dirty work. Thought 'e'd send some dumb-as-a-stump footm'n." Tomlinson chortled, a sound that had been the last noise heard by over a dozen sleepy French sentries.
Richard flipped the folded stationery in his hands as he thoughtfully drew on his cigar. The virgin wax seal caught his eye.
He muttered, "Oh you darling bloody fool. Wellesley would have had my guts for garters if I had been so stupid as to send him any communication—even about mess potables—without a properly marked seal. Such a thing is drilled into the head of every wet-behind-the-ears coronet and ensign as one of the basics of operational security. Just shows that Soames has not shed his old habits of using penny-for-a-dozen wafers on his correspondence.
"Your blade, Sergeant," ordered Fitzwilliam.
Using the tip of the gleaming double-edged weapon, Richard carefully pried away at one edge of the seal until the blob separated from the paper. He unfolded the note and quickly scanned the baronet's words. His bushy brows rose toward his hairline.
Responding to Tomlinson's quizzical look, he said, "I realize that I have not read you into everything that has happened but suffice to say that we are nearing the crisis in a rather long story. Now, at this very moment, we will need to make haste slowly!
"I have plans I must set into motion. They will take a few hours to execute. I must be away quickly.
"You, however, need to exercise every trick you learned as a private soldier when some officer insisted that you perform a truly ridiculous or unpleasant task. Drag your feet. Stop in the kitchen for a mug of cider. Whisper in the ear of a maid.
"Just take your own sweet time getting that message down to…what is his name?
"Wadkins."
"Yes, Wadkins. Use subaltern time to get this letter to Wadkins. The later he gets it the better. He will not be able to mount sufficient pickets with the men he has on hand. He still has eight-and-thirty convicts to guard.
'Tis already far too late for him to send riders into Town and expect reinforcements before dawn. That will leave gaps in the ring that he will have to erect around Meryton.
"But I cannot have him mucking about when I launch our strategic retreat. So, I repeat, Sergeant, take your time. And, once you place the note in Wadkins' hand, hie yourself over to Longbourn. They will have need of your talents.
"Now, though, I must get to Mr. Bennet and alert him to the danger in which his family has been placed by this gossip.
"Let me send you on your way. We will meet up at the agreed-upon location. Keep your head down, but your eyes must be open. Protect all of them!"
With that, he refolded the letter and blew his cigar ember cherry-red to re-melt the wax globule into its previous position.