RED

"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! Where's Lizzy?"

Darcy pulled Omega to a halt just inside the front gates for Longbourn, when he heard the rather loud questions from one of the younger Bennet sisters, although he could not name her on a bet.

Fortunately for him, the eldest Miss Bennet hissed, "Lydia," loud enough that he could hear it ten yards away, but apparently not loud enough for 'Lydia' to stop.

"Oh, La, Jane. What are you so worked up about? It is a simple question."

Jane looked exasperated, but resigned, while Darcy could not quite work out what he thought about the interaction himself. The youngest Miss Lydia was bold and brash, completely sure of herself – but so was his wife. Spitting out such a question at this junction might well be considered indecorous, but at that moment, Darcy was far more interested in information than propriety. At the very least, Miss Lydia seemed likely to tell him whatever she knew if he asked nicely.

He stopped and dropped from Omega, walked closer to the two women, bowed and said, "Good morning, Miss Bennet – Miss Lydia."

Both ladies curtsied. "Good morning."

Lydia said, "That is a fearsome handsome horse, Mr. Darcy, but I ask again, where is Lizzy? Who are you here to see? How long will you be visiting? Why does Lizzy not write? Will we be able to visit you in town?"

"Lydia, he might have a chance to answer if you could slow the barrage of questions down so he could get a word in edgewise," a new sister said as she emerged from the same path Miss Bennet and Miss Lydia had emerged from a moment before. Darcy noticed the fourth appearing right behind the third, the one wearing spectacles, so now he believed he had all the Bennet sisters, and could name half of them, which was progress.

Miss Bennet seemed to guess that he was a bit lost. "Thank you, Mary. Kitty, you remember Mr. Darcy," while looking at each sister to give him an idea of which was which.

Both ladies curtsied, to Darcy's bow, and the one on the left next to Miss Bennet said, "Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Welcome back to Longbourn."

Darcy bowed to the newcomers. "Miss Mary – Miss Catherine – Good Morning," guessing that 'Kitty' was most likely short for Catherine.

Jane said, "If you are here to see our father, Mr. Darcy, he is away. He is expected back for supper this evening. He has gone to Hatfield on business."

"Ah, I just came from there myself. It is unfortunate we did not meet."

Lydia said, "Mama is visiting her sister in Meryton, so she will be away for some hours. Where is Lizzy?"

Mary said, "You still have not given him a chance to answer, Lydia, and I am not entirely certain it is proper for us to be speaking here in the lane unchaperoned."

Catherine, or 'Kitty' as she seemed to be called – Darcy recalled that she was the one tied to the hip to Miss Lydia in most of his previous experience – replied.

"You are too fastidious, Mary. We are four ladies speaking with our brother in law, in plain sight, on our own estate. What could possibly be more proper?"

It hit Darcy that, silly as the Bennet sister may or may not be (and considering how badly he had failed his wife, who was he to judge), and as loud and persistent as the youngest was, Miss Catherine had hit on a home truth. Forced or not, desired or not, good idea or not, these four were now his sisters in law, and he had some obligation to them. He would have to think about that, as he had not given the Bennets much of any consideration since his nuptials. The obligation need not be overt, or generous, but it was there. If nothing else, their reputations were tied inextricably to the Darcy reputation for the duration, though nowhere near as tightly as some would think. It also occurred to him that the project of getting on his wife's good side might be advanced by being nice to her family.

Even though it was summer, there was a cool breeze blowing, there were no bothersome insects around, and the ladies had stopped him in front of a large tree that shaded the estate gates, so this was actually a better place to talk than a stuffy drawing room. He wondered at the advisability of talking to them seriously without their father present, but, considering how badly his last encounter with Mr. Bennet had gone, he was not convinced this tête-à-tête was all that bad of an idea.

Darcy's previous discussion with Mr. Bennet had degraded into a shouting match, partly because Darcy felt Mr. Bennet was more interested in his own amusement than his own daughter's future, and partly because the Bennet patriarch had done absolutely nothing to ensure that his daughters were marriageable and seemed to think most of his problems had been solved handily by his wife. The indolence Darcy might have been able to stomach, but not the smirking sense of superiority that just rolled off the elder Mr. Bennet. He had gotten so angry he cut his wife's pin money to a quarter of what he planned in pique, (when the original amount was nothing to boast about), which now shamed him to no end. Once again, he reflected that it was no wonder she had left. The only surprise was that she had stayed so long.

Looking at all four sisters peering anxiously at him, he decided that they would know what was happening sooner or later, and if Mr. Bennet, as the supposed head of the household, was angry about Darcy telling them in advance – well he could just learn to live with it or suffer through. Darcy knew full well he would probably be furious if someone did it in his house, but he was more interested in results than Mr. Bennet's comfort, and the sisters seemed to be the only ones he was likely to get any information out of without drawing blood. He was in no mood for playing the fool to Mr. Bennet's sport, so he decided to continue his path.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia – it saddens me to report that …" and then he paused, staring at the ground while they listened in rapt attention, and he finally looked back up, looked each in the eye, and admitted. "… I do not actually know. I was hoping to find her here."

They all gasped in shock, but none seemed as if they were likely to faint or show any other weakness, which Darcy always assumed were mostly for dramatic effect. He had been raised with women like Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Longman, so he knew better than to believe in the supposed fragility of women.

Jane looked quite shaken as she asked in a whisper, "What do you mean, you do not know, Mr. Darcy? Have you misplaced your wife?"

The attempt at modest humor was helpful, so Darcy replied, "I have been in France, and quite ill with Typhus for six months. When I returned, well …" and then he paused, looked at the ladies. "… your parents will no doubt be angry that I am telling you this. I will ask your word that it will not be spread about - to anyone, including Mrs. Bennet – especially Mrs. Bennet."

Jane looked at Lydia and Kitty, who appeared like they would be the weak link in the chain, and Lydia said, "La, Jane. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and since I was the only one actually supporting Lizzy's position in the end, I think you can depend on me."

Not able to follow the conversation, he asked, "What do you mean by 'supporting your sister's position', if you do not mind my asking, Miss Lydia?"

He had not actually answered the young lady's questions, but found her expression curious, and wanted to learn all he could.

All three were looking at him in surprise, until Lydia said, "You do not know?"

"Know what? I confess to being perplexed Miss Lydia, but anything you could tell me that might help me would be appreciated."

Mary asked incredulously. "How can you possibly not know?"

Darcy sighed. "Mrs. Darcy and I did not –" and then he paused wondering just how bone-crushingly stupid he was being with his admission, but he knew he would have to give something to get something.

He looked around and reiterated. "Private conversation," wondering what exact form of madness had overtaken him that finding out some clue as to his wife's location was more important than his pride, his embarrassment, good manners, good breeding, his reputation or even common sense.

He finally continued, "We did not get along, and I know she did not want to marry me. Beyond that, I can guess what you mean, but not be certain."

Jane sighed, looked at her sisters for a volunteer and came up short, and decided it was to be her duty.

"You are correct, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy did not want to marry you. She really did not want to marry you. She really-really did not want to marry you. Our father forced her."

She ended up staring at the ground, unable to even look at him, while Darcy's heart sank, and his stomach wished he had dispensed with breakfast in Hatfield.

Surprisingly, it was Kitty who took up the narrative. "She tried to run, Mr. Darcy …" and then she seemed to stand up straighter, perhaps to give herself courage, and added, "… twice!"

Darcy startled at the news and could not seem to answer with anything other than a mumble, as she swayed on his feet. He felt Longman's hand on his shoulder steadying him, and he wondered that the Bennet sisters did not seem to mind the groom's presence. Longman had a way about him that made people just trust him, so either the Bennets did not worry about him, they trusted Darcy's judgement, or they just did not think about it.

Mary said, "The first time she took just a valise, the money she had saved, maybe twenty-five or thirty pounds in her purse, and just left. She walked to Hatfield in the middle of the night and started taking coaches towards Manchester. She thought to hide out there, and she probably would have gotten away with it, but by luck, a thief-catcher caught her in Lambton and brought her back."

Darcy had suspected as much from the description he got in the bookstore from Bartlet, but to know she walked to Hatfield, in the middle of the night, just astounded him. He had to sheepishly admit to himself that he was impressed.

A small memory came back from his ride to Hatfield after the wedding. Elizabeth had looked to the side of the road when a dog barked, and Darcy had asked if she knew the farm. She had replied, 'I know the dog,' which made no sense at all that day, but made all the sense in the world now. Had she been chased by that dog in the middle of the night, in the dark? Might her flight have ended early with toothmarks on her leg? What had it taken to hear that, to know that was only the first of the many dogs, literal and figurative, that she might have to face alone; and still prefer that to becoming Mrs. Darcy?

He found himself swaying, but Longman was no more enamored with gentlemen fainting than ladies, so a solid squeeze on the shoulder reminded Darcy that he needed to get hold of himself.

Darcy said, "That explains quite a lot, Miss Catherine. I learned recently that she had been to Lambton, but not the scope of the thing. Did she bring a maid back with her? I know she became close to one named Molly Hatcher and took her along wherever she went."

Jane replied, "We were not here when they returned." then she faltered, but finally added, "Father started locking her into her room at night, and roping the door shut for good measure. "

Lydia hopefully added, "He did not want her to pick the locks and escape."

"Was picking a lock something she could do?" Darcy asked in surprise.

Lydia laughed. "Of course! We all can! Can't everybody?"

Darcy just shook his head, wondering how much of a secret life women had. For his own part, if his escape from a prison depended on him picking a lock, he would starve to death before he worked it out.

Lydia said, "Maybe all women do not know, but all sisters of Elizabeth Bennet do. She taught us. She was reading Gothic Novels day and night at the time, so she was convinced at least one of us would get locked up in a dreary tower someday."

Darcy wondered if she thought her prophecy had come true at Pemberley but did not dwell on the thought.

"So, you say your father – roped her in? That seems –" and he tried to think of a polite word.

Mary helpfully said, "Will 'extreme' or 'excessive' do, Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, I think it might."

Lydia laughed. "Not extreme enough!"

"What do you mean?"

"She took a file that was dropped in the garden, and one of father's old large books that she hated, and knocked out the," then she looked around at her sisters, and asked, "you know – the things in the other side of the door."

Darcy guessed. "Hinge pins?"

"Yes, that was it. Father roped one side of the door closed, so Lizzy opened the other side. Then she took a bag of apples and onions and walked to London. She seemed to think she could convince your Uncle Matlock to save her from her fate."

A memory of a conversation with his uncle and Bingley just before the wedding came back to him as if he had experienced it the day before, and he asked, "Did she take your father's coat?"

"Yes, of course. It was December, and she was walking to London! What would you expect?" Lydia stated as boldly as if she did that every day.

Darcy was stunned, and at first wanted to disbelieve it, but it told him something. London was only twenty-five miles or so, about eight to ten hours of walking for the then Miss Elizabeth. If she had walked to Hatfield in the middle of the night, she could obviously work out how fast she could walk. It was a brave and foolhardy maneuver, but he had to give credit where credit was due. It was bold and brash and might even have worked if she applied the old carrot and stick to his uncle. Offer to go somewhere quietly to preserve his reputation as the carrot and offer to ruin him socially as the stick. It very well might have worked. Approaching his uncle was clever, as she knew that by the time she arrived, Darcy House would be watched carefully.

Longman surprised everyone by saying, "She would do that."

The three ladies looked at the groom in surprise, and Darcy said, "This is Mr. Longman, my oldest and most trusted associate, and the Stable Master for all Darcy stables."

Longman bowed, and the ladies, not quite knowing what to do with a groom introduced as something closer to a peer.

Longman said, "Do not fret about how to greet me, Ladies. Your sister never did."

Mary asked, "Did you know her well, Mr. Longman?"

Longman replied, "She was kind to horses," to which Darcy added, "that is Longman's highest praise. He taught your sister to ride," which piqued his curiosity, since that was something he had been wondering.

Longman replied, "She had the basics, but needed some work. This is her horse, Omega."

The sisters were long confused by just how many rules of propriety were being trampled in the dust, but they reacted exactly as Longman had intended. They all crowded around Omega to coo and pet him.

Longman returned to his own horse, pulled some apples and carrots from his bag, and handed it to the sisters to feed the horse. He thought it would be useful to calm the whole situation down, but once they finished feeding both horses just to be fair, he faded back into the background.

Darcy had, as per Longman's design managed to regain his equilibrium, and that caused him to recall almost her last words to him, back in the carriage. They had been lost memories after Typhus, but they came back to him with the force of a hammer blow right in that moment. Mrs. Darcy had just torn his hide off about his manners, calling him loaded with 'selfish disdain of the feelings of others', and that he would be the 'last man in the world whom she could ever be prevailed on to marry.'

He had angrily accused her of taking Wickham's lies to heart.

She had said, quite angrily as he recalled, 'Pay more attention, Mr. Darcy. When I said, 'a month', I meant literally 'one month', not some vague interval between one and three months. That opinion preceded my acquaintance with Mr. Wickham, and it was based entirely on my interactions with you.'

He looked at Jane, who seemed to be recovering her equilibrium. "She never did like me, did she? Never for a second. Not even a little."

Jane cringed and stared at the ground. "No, sir – she did not."