"She is not ready," Mrs. Brown was pleading, a hand on Jane's shoulder, as though comforting. "She is far too ill to make the journey to the next home, you must consider the child."
"If we do not move her," Mr. Townsend murmured, his deep and soothing voice clipped and harsh, "then all shall be for naught!"
"You think that they…" Mrs. Brown trailed off, her gaze turning down upon Jane and she flinched mildly to be under such harsh scrutiny. She did not wish to be in such a situation and only wished to be back at home, with Charles at her side, keeping her warm. She closed her eyes, imagining the look upon his face when she told him the wonderful news that they had finally succeeded and such warm and good thoughts kept her strong through the dire times.
She watched Mrs. Brown rise to her feet, going to Mr. Townsend and whispering in a pitch too soft for Jane to make out the words. All she could think and pray was that Charles had not put himself in harm's way. Oh! Not after everything she had done to prevent that!
"No," Mr. Townsend murmured after a moment. "No, we won't be going just yet." He locked eyes with Jane. "You've earned yourself a two day reprieve, Mrs. Bingley. Do enjoy it." He bowed, as though he owed her such manners and she could not tell, then, whether the bile in her throat was from the sickness or in reaction to that horrid man.
Mrs. Brown lingered in the doorway, smiling at her serenely.
"Do not think," Jane mustered up her reserves of strength, "that I shall ever let you have my child." The firmness of her words belied a deeper strength to her than most people ever saw, or was privy to know of. Such times, however, called for desperate measures.
Mrs. Brown kept a firm hand on the doorknob and Jane did not flinch, not once, even when she saw the look of anger channeled back her way. "We shall simply see."
And with that, she departed, leaving Jane merely to the silence and her sickness.
Outside the stately manour sat an empty carriage.
Beside it stood a man with a newspaper; clearly older than the other two with him. He casually rested against the lamppost, reading of the current events of London as he kept a wary and watchful eye on the residence. A tap on his shoulder nearly set him off guard, but he exhaled when it was merely one of his companions on the trip. "Have you seen anything?" Bingley hissed, adjusting his top hat in his hands and wringing the life out of it before replacing it on his head to mask the rather obvious colour of his hair from anyone who might dare look out the window.
"No, I have not," Mr. Bennet replied, a displeased tone echoing in his words. "Where is Elizabeth?"
"I'm here, Papa," she answered the question before Mr. Bingley could. She handed them each a part of her outfit – a book to her father and a purse to her brother-in-law – as she dug out a piece of paper from the pocket of her coat. "Aha," she murmured to herself, taking each item back. "I spoke to the nearest shop, to see whether your servants had been buying food locally," she informed Bingley.
"And?" he inquired, eagerly.
Elizabeth smiled; a wide smile, full of knowing and success. "And Mr. Townsend has been in for milk and bread and tea twice this week," she reported. "The milk has been delivered to that home, the precise one we thought," she relayed, her voice in a hush. "We've the right place! Now we just have to get Jane out!"
"And how do you propose to do that, Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet archly inquired. "Shall we scale the walls? Perhaps Mr. Bingley is well-suited to it, but in my old age, I find I am not spry enough."
"No, this is what we need a diversion for," Mr. Bingley said, sounding rather like a young boy, excited to reveal the grand plan of his miniature wooden toy soldiers before marching them into battle against Caroline's poppets. "I did think upon calling Mrs. Townsend for the help. Surely she would help us to distract them long enough to creep in through a back door or window and get Jane away?"
Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet both turned upon Bingley. "Have you asked her?" Elizabeth prodded after a long pause.
A flicker of uncertainty came over Bingley's face, and he shook his head. "No, not yet, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea."
"Go," Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet directed at once, voices stern and loud. It did not take much more than that for him to hurry off down one of London's busy streets, back in the direction of Mrs. Townsend's home.
Elizabeth exhaled, staring up at the large home, surrounded by fencing and large trees. Her father must have heard her, because he kept a steady hand on her shoulder. "Do not worry so," he advised, leaning in to confide in her. "Constant anxiety can cause freckles."
"Not to mention becoming Mama," Elizabeth added dryly, but with a loving smile as she leaned in against her father's hand for comfort. "She will be all right. I'm sure of it. We simply need some help."
Darcy sat in the carriage along the seemingly interminable ride to London, not caring much for the nature about him, though Elizabeth had once remarked upon it favourably, comparing men and mountains and saying it was something she had once heard.
He had tried her very hardest to persuade her to allow men to win in that competition and it was with a very thorough kiss that he had won that battle. The carriage hit a rather large bump in the road and he grimaced, peering out the window and knocking on the glass partition.
"How much longer?" he demanded.
"Several hours yet, sir," his servant reported.
Darcy sat back, sighing, once more retreating into his memories in search of something to while away the time.
Bingley knocked with such vigour on Mrs. Townsend's door that he feared he might bring it down with his fervour. He was sure that despite having bathed properly the evening before that this morning, he reeked of desperation. It was several minutes again before the door was opened for him and he smiled weakly. "I've come back," he announced to Mrs. Townsend, taking off his hat and bowing for her.
"Mr. Bingley," she greeted. "Would you like to come in?"
"I am afraid my visit must be short. I have come to ask a favour of you that I realise I have no place in asking. However, it is my Jane," he pleaded, mustering a wary smile, trying to convince her, though he had yet to ask the favour. "And I would do anything for her. Even pose strange, forward questions."
She smiled, rather sadly at him. "You know," she mused. "You're very much like your father at times."
Bingley paused, confusion flooding his expression, but he could not ask further questions about that. "Will you help me get Jane back?"
It did not take but a moment for Mrs. Townsend to consider and she reached out to clasp his hand, nodding. "Of course, dear," she confirmed. "Your wife need not pay for my mistakes."
He did not puzzle out what mistakes those might be and instead focused on the relief that flooded him whole at the promising news. If all went well, he would see Jane within forty-eight hours, yet.
tbc
Hey to everyone who's been reviewing and enjoying the story. The reviews definitely make my day! Apologies for the slowness between parts as I've got a truckload of stuff due. I've also had a Modern AU idea for P&P, which is set all plotted out and I'll start writing it after I'm through this. It's not exactly like anything that's done before, but a little less actiony than this.
Thanks for reading!