A/N: Hey gang. This chapter makes this story officially a novel (with 40,000 words being the usual definition), so thanks so much for reading.
Charles Bingley was enjoying a fine ride atop his coach with the coachman. Now this wasn't his normal practice, but desperate times and all that. He'd been cooped up in the coach with Miss Lydia Bennet for several hours, and he just couldn't take any more. Every man has limits, no matter how amiable he may be, and Charles Bingley had reached his. Miss Darcy was perfectly lovely and easy to get along with, but her Bennet sisters were insufferable. He had tried everything. Talk of the weather, talk of the roads, talk of town, talk of his family, talk of parties, dances, politics all to no avail. Nothing could dislodge Miss Lydia from talk of lace, or balls, or bonnets or more lace and more balls and ribbons and more bonnets and red coats and more lace and more red coats and… It was exhausting. Her voice was something like a cross between a cat being mauled and a schoolboy scraping chalkboards with his fingers. He finally crawled out the window without even stopping, climbed hand-over hand up the side of the coach to the top, to sit with the roster.
The coachman even had a hip flask, so in no time at all, Charles Bingley was completely happy with his lot. The footmen were surprisingly entertaining fellows, and the coachman was clearly the best of men.
He was just sharing the last of the flask and calculating where the next likely flask was when he heard the loudest and most unladylike shriek of his life. Now, keep in mind that he was brother to Caroline Bingley, so he was quite accustomed to loud shrieks, flying crockery, flying paintings, flying bracelets… well, in the end he could generalize to flying expensive things, yet this shriek was at a whole new level. It scared the footmen. It scared the driver. It even scared the horses, which was momentarily a little exciting since they practically ran the coach off the road, which would have been bad. It was inconveniently timed since the driver had just handed the reigns to Bingley so he could replenish his flask from a convenient bottle he kept hidden under the seat, which would have been fine except Bingley didn't have the slightest idea how to drive a coach. The horses recovered just barely in time though so all was well.
"Lydia Bennet! Kitty Bennet! Be silent THIS INSTANT or I am no longer our sister, and I will insure that my cousin the COLONEL will make sure you never talk to a red coat again during your natural life and half of your afterlife."
This was surprising in several ways. First off, prior to her visit to Longbourn, Miss Darcy was the shyest and most timid girl Mr. Bingley had ever met, and it was rare to get a few words out of her, even at a normal tone of voice. Even after her that, to get a shriek that would have Out Caroline to shame was shocking. The only possible explanation was she was now emulating the more formidable side of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which she had not had cause to do before. Also, she wasn't technically a sister, even though marriage as far as he knew; and the youngest Bennet sisters never paid the least attention even to the real eldest Bennet sisters.
All this was extraordinary enough, but that was nothing… nothing at all, compared to what came next. Miss Lydia Bennet actually shut up, for the first time in her life! She said nothing at all, whatsoever for the entirety of the rest of the trip to Rosings. Not a peep. Not a word. Not a sound. Not a pout. Not a whimper. This was unprecedented. Even the horses picked up their pace in a jaunty little trot.
For Charles Bingley, all was right with the world for the rest of the trip to Rosings, but he didn't get back in the coach. He wasn't brave enough to tempt fate.
When the Bingley coach arrived at Rosings, they found the most extraordinary thing. Rosings was empty and silent as a tomb. Not a single soul stirred. It was as if a great plague had wiped it out in one fell swoop… well, except for the butler, and the housekeeper, and the kitchen staff, and the gardeners, and the tenants, and… well, pretty much everyone was still there except Lady Catherine and Miss Anne.
With the utmost urgency, Bingley performed an investigation worthy of the Bow Street Runners. Well, naturally he had a bathe first, then dress for dinner, then sit down to dinner with a curiously still silent Lydia Bennet and the rest of his ragtag group. Then of course, his exertions with the hip flask finally caught up with him, he retired early. In the morning, the housekeeper was so happy to be able to set up breakfast as she pleased without hearing the shrill voice of Lady Catherine, she set a massive spread and it would have been rude to not sit down for a repast, which obviously then required a nap.
So it was that with the utmost dispatch, right at the crack of noon, Charles Bingley engaged the keenest of detective skills, and was informed by the butler that Lady Catherine, and surprisingly, another coach came in just the previous day; and both inhabitants of that coach, along with Lady Catherine were absconded by highwaymen.
Most interesting of all was the identity of the two additional ladies who had been taken. From the description of the two, he calculated that it must be none other than Madeline Gardiner and Jane Bennet.
Oh Dear. It turned out that Georgiana Darcy had been right… and come to think of it, he'd never found out what she overheard back in Meryton that set her on this path, so he must do that posthaste.
Charles was just about to convene a council of war with Miss Darcy, when he was interrupted by the most unexpected person, who proceeded to school him like a whelp.
"Mr. Bingley. Miss Darcy. You took your time getting here, but you have made it so it's time for us to be away to effect a rescue mission. I assume you've probably already been apprised of the situation. Be prepared to leave within the hour and bring all the troops you have with you. I will need to know any intelligence you have gathered, but we can discuss that in the coach. Mr. Bingley, have two horses saddled to go with us, and bring all the armed footmen your aunt has under her employ, as well as Mr. Darcy's men."
With that, the new leader of the group turned around to organize the rest of the rescue mission, and Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy started herding their kittens towards the coach, with a quick bow and a proper acknowledgement to the new and much appreciated leader, "Yes, Mrs. Collins."