WARNING: This chapter and several following will contain accounts of a woman in captivity. If this is disconcerting for you in any way, feel free to skip the next few chapters. I will put another bold note at the head of each chapter that contains part of the captivity narrative.
Anne awoke from a drugged stupor to find herself in a small windowless room. There was no furniture, only a mat on the ground where she had lain and several coarse blankets. Touching one, she recognized it. They were horse blankets! She tore at the side of the mat to confirm her suspicions. The mat was filled with hay and loose wool, that that which the stable boys slept on. Why ever was she sleeping on such a mat? Where was her mother? Where was Mrs. Younge?
Anne decided it would be best to see what she would learn. She stood, walked to the door, and tried the handle. Locked. Anne frowned. Why was she locked in a room? She decided that it must be a mistake and yelled for help.
Anne's throat was sore from yelling, and she was hungry and thirsty. She wondered if she would die of thirst. She wondered how she had found herself here and if anyone knew where she was. If someone did know where she was, what did they intend?
She decided that it did no good to sit and be useless as she had so often done. She had no assurances that anyone was coming to help her, nor that she would get out of the situation by any means other than her own wits. She stood and went to one corner of the room, counting how many paces until she reached the opposite wall. Fourteen paces. Then she did the same to measure the width of the room. Nine paces. The walls were white-washed stone. She tried to think of where she might be. A tenant's home? Perhaps in a storeroom? But there were no shelves or goods.
She sat down on the mat and tried to amuse herself. She remembered a poem that she had memorised a few years before and recited it silently to herself.
"STAY near me–do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!"
"Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:–with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings."
Anne wondered what it would have been like to have a sister. She remembered something Mrs. Younge had told her once. Wordsworth's sister wasn't called Emmeline. She was called Dorothy. Anne wondered who Emmaline was or if he simply liked the name.
'Mrs. Younge!' thought Anne. She remembered now. She had gone out in the phaeton with Mrs. Younge. She had become sleepy and allowed the groom to drive. Frederick, was that his name? They had stopped in the Commons and Anne had eaten a sandwich and drank some water to build her strength for the ride back.
She remembered that her mother had wanted to enclose the Commons so only especially permitted people could access them without being charged with trespassing. Her cousins, Andy, Rich, and Fitz had opposed her mother. They said that without the firewood and game from the Commons, many of the poorer residents of Huntsford would perish come winter. Ultimately, Anne had agreed with her cousins. She had often seen men chopping up fallen trees or plying small traps to catch rabbits and squirrels. 'Besides,' Cousin Andy had reasoned, 'without the villagers chopping the fallen trees and ensuring the rabbit and squirrel populations were in check, they would have to hire a man to care for the grounds'.
Anne wondered if the person who had come upon them was a villager or someone her mother would have allowed on the grounds. It would serve Anne right. The one time that Anne had actually asserted herself as owner of Rosings Park, thinking she was helping the people of Huntsford, and it backfires on her. Anne had wished to follow Fitz's and Rich's advice on the estate before. They had tried to get her to take her place as mistress ever since she turned five and twenty, but she never could bring herself to do so. She had no experience making decisions, and as Fitz did not wish to wed her, she had no notion of finding a husband to help her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a bucket being dropped from a trap door in the ceiling. She ran toward the opening, catching only a glimpse of the man who had thrown the bucket. It was the groom. She yelled to him, begging him to let her out, but he said nothing, only closing the trap door behind him.
Anne grabbed the bucket and was relieved to find bread, three apples, a waterskin, and dried meat inside. She supposed she should ration the food and water, for she had no notion of how often she would be fed. Still, she was very hungry. She had no way to know how long she had been asleep, but she was certain it was a long time by the hunger pangs that she felt. The meat was disgusting, like something she had never tasted before. It was extremely salty and tasted gamey. The bread felt hard and made her tongue dry. The texture was odd, with bits of something hard mixed in, but it was not fruit or nuts. The apple she ate was slightly soft, but it was the best part of the meal. She saved half the bread, most of the meat, and two apples. She drank half the water, which tasted of iron. She tied the remaining food up in a blanket, so the bucket might be used for other, less noble purposes. Then she lay down on the mat and fell asleep.
"Where should we begin?" asked Lord Barlow as they rode in the carriage towards London.
"That depends on what is known," said Wickham, "I assume that you have already searched every inch of Rosings?" said Wickham.
"Indeed," said Lord Barlow, "Mr. Collins has been essential in the search of the estate. He may be a silly man, but he is loyal. He organized all of the tenants and servants into groups of four, assigning each a portion of the estate to search. My aunt was in hysterics, not knowing what to do. A coach, that was thought to be one of Rosings' was seen leaving the area that day, and it was tracked as far as London, but there we lost track of it. It was unmarked, so there was no sign upon its entering the city."
"Where was she taken from?" asked Wickham.
"From the Commons, or so we believe. According to my aunt, they had taken driven out, for the weather was unusually fine."
"Is anyone else missing?"
"No, sir. Two of the men were gone from the estate on their half days, but they returned at their regular times and seemed to act no different the next day."
"Who were the men?" asked Wickham.
"A groom named Fred and a footman named Nick."
"How long have they been in your aunt's employ? In fact, how long has Mrs. Younge been in her employ? I do not believe you mentioned it."
"Nick has been in her employ since he was just a boot boy. Fred for about a twelvemonth. Mrs. Younge…I do not know exactly. She was there in the Spring when last my brother visited."
"So at least eight months, then?" asked Wickham.
"Thereabouts."
"I think we need to talk to Fred. He was hired at nearly the same time as Mrs. Younge. Can you redirect the coachman towards Rosings?" asked Wickham.
"Of course, but we have already spoken with him. He has not seen her."
"He certainly would not tell you if he had. He may need some…convincing, if he is in league with Mrs. Younge."
Darcy paced his study at Darcy House. He had men from Richard's regiment searching the city, but they had found no sign of Anne. The men from the road north had found no sign either. Other than the coach leaving the estate and going to London, Anne and Mrs. Younge had simply disappeared. He wondered if she had gone off at her own choice. If any of the servants were involved, that would explain why they would not tell. It would also explain why all of Anne's jewels were missing. Then again, were Mrs. Younge in league with the villains, she might have taken the jewels.
"Brother," said Georgiana, standing in the doorway.
"Yes, Georgie?" asked Darcy.
"Is Anne…Is Anne alive, do you think?" asked Georgiana, "I keep thinking, since there has been no sign of them, that whoever took them might have taken the jewels and killed them."
"That makes no sense, Georgiana," said Darcy, "They were out for a picnic. Why would they stop to kill them instead of escaping?"
"Maybe they were mad at Aunt Catherine? She isn't very nice to her servants," she replied.
"I suppose we must consider the possibility," said Darcy, taking a seat at his desk. "I will send a few men to the morgues and ask at the anatomy schools with descriptions of Anne and Mrs. Younge."
"I'm sorry," said Georgiana, "I have distressed you."
"No, Georgiana," said Darcy, "I must consider the possibility. You are right to bring it up."
"When shall Papa come back?" whined Esther Marie to her Aunt Lizzy.
"I don't know, sweetling," said Elizabeth, "If I knew I would tell you, but he has very important business to handle. I am sure he misses you."
"Dear Miss Esther, would you like to find Miss Olivia and see if she wishes to play? Or perhaps one of the boys might wish to play soldiers and princesses?" asked Miss Breadford.
Esther Marie nodded and said she wanted to play with other children.
"Come, I think they are in the nursery," said Miss Breadford, leading Esther away.
Elizabeth mouthed her thanks to the governess as she led the young girl away. While she loved her niece, she could take no more of her at this moment. Elizabeth knew that she missed her papa, but it did not make it easier to bear. It seemed that now that Esther was returned to her father's home, she was worried he would not come back.
Elizabeth wished she could whine and cry as the child did. She missed Darcy. It had been only since October that she had known him, but she had never since then spent so long apart from her friend. She knew she did not yet consider herself to be in love with him, but she knew she needed him in her life. Even if he were to return married to his cousin, she would grin and bear it. It would be uncomfortable at first, but it would be worth it so she would not lose her dearest friend.