Mr. Witting did not realise that he had fallen asleep until he awoke again. His neck was aching due to the strange way he had slept while still sitting against the wall. The empty dish and cup had disappeared, and new ones had taken their place. The ale was the same, but the food was brown bread and a boiled egg. Once more, there was no cutlery provided, but the egg was so hard cooked that it did not make a difference.
After eating and drinking, Witting felt well enough to attempt to stand. He had to use the chamber pot anyhow. Using the wall for support, he managed to get to his feet. The room no longer seemed to sway, but he still didn't feel quite like himself. Tentatively, he took a step away from the wall, and then another. Despite his situation, he found solace in being able to care for his basic needs, and let out a sigh of relief.
Standing in front of the two large doors, he tried to push them, but they wouldn't budge, and he realised there was no handle on his side. Lying on the floor, he stretched out his hand, hoping to reach under the door and pull it open, but his fingers were too big.
He sat back on his haunches and let out a deep sigh as he contemplated his next move. He did not feel himself in danger. The food or drink was likely drugged — he could already feel himself getting sleepy again. But they had fed him, and the room in which he was held was safe and warm. He didn't know if friend or foe held him here or why. Not knowing what further steps to take, at least until his head cleared again, he laid down against the stack of coloured rags, trying to ignore the smell.
As it was Sunday, there were church services in Meryton. As it was the first Sunday since Mr. Witting's disappearance, the church was abuzz with speculation and gossip. Theories were put forward by everyone. He was a French spy who was found out by Colonel Forster. He had eloped with a maid from the inn. He had come into a fortune and had left without notice, not even bothering to stop for his things. Elizabeth did not believe any of the theories she heard as she walked to her family's pew, but she listened nonetheless.
At the end of Mr. Hadley's sermon, he added a request from Mr. Darcy that anyone who knew anything about Mr. Witting's disappearance please come forward. There would be a financial reward for any information that led to the discovery of Mr. Witting's whereabouts. In addition, everyone was asked to write to their friends and relatives, both those in neighbouring areas and further afield, including a description of Mr. Witting and the address of Netherfield. Copies of Mr. Witting's description and said address were made available at the back of the church.
"How much money do you think someone would get if they find him?" asked one of the younger Lucases of another as they exited the church.
"Mr. Darcy is terribly rich," said the other, "but I don't know what he might pay for a servant. A few pounds, at least."
"If I had my own money," said the first, "then I would buy as many sweets as I like, and Charlotte would not be able to tell me that I had eaten enough."
"I still could," said Charlotte, "for you would make yourself sick otherwise. Now, it is no matter, unless you have true information to give. I shall not have you telling lies to Mr. Darcy and giving false leads all over Hertfordshire."
Charlotte's two younger brothers protested that they were not going to lie. They only were speaking of if they found Mr. Witting somehow.
The other topic of discussion before and after church had been the two additional gentlemen sitting with the Netherfield party. They both looked to be about thirty and looked very much like Mr. Darcy, although their colouring was fairer. Mrs. Bennet speculated that they must be relations of his. Mr. Collins, wondering if this also meant that they were relations of Lady Catherine, determined to find out. Elizabeth had not known of this determination on his part until he approached her quite breathlessly as she was donning her pelisse to depart.
"Three. Nephews. Lady. Catherine. Quite well. So condescending. The viscount. Colonel," said Mr. Collins in gasps.
After they were all seated together in the carriage and he had caught his breath, Mr. Collins was able to explain in greater detail. The gentlemen with Mr. Darcy were his cousins, Lord Barlow and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He went on for some time about how honoured he was to have met three nephews of Lady Catherine and how delighted he should be to present her with news of them upon his return to Hunsford. This, Elizabeth did not pay attention to.
She was interested in the new guests at Netherfield and wondered if or when they might be introduced. She had to admit that the viscount had looked very handsome. His brother was less attractive, but not ill-favoured. In the eyes of Lydia and Kitty, his rank as a colonel made him more handsome than he otherwise would have been. They spoke of him for the rest of the day.
Mrs. Bennet was likewise excited, but her joy was divided between all four of the gentlemen at Netherfield. She had decided in her mind that Elizabeth ought not to have any of them. She had already turned down one eligible match; it was likely she would turn down another. Of course, Mr. Bingley was for Jane. It was a pity, for Jane was the sort of lady who ought to be nobility. She was not so pretty for nothing.
Mr. Darcy and his cousins were more difficult to determine. Mr. Darcy was serious, dull, and did not like to dance. However, he was very rich and handsome. Despite this, she doubted that his wealth would compensate for his flaws, but maybe Mary would be convinced that she could reform him. She found it hard to choose between Lord Barlow and Colonel Fitzwilliam for Lydia. Lydia was her favourite after Jane, and she wished to ensure she was well married. Lydia was certainly pretty enough to be a viscountess, but Lydia did so love a red coat. She determined that Lydia might not like being a viscountess, for she had seen that the nobility had to act very formally at times. Thus, she decided that the colonel would be for Lydia and Kitty could marry his Lordship.
With this all settled in Mrs. Bennet's mind, she began to plan what she could do to make these matches come about. Upon returning home, she went to find Mrs. Hill. They together planned a series of card parties and dinners for the rest of the winter — for she assumed that once the gentlemen fell in love, that they would be settled at Netherfield.
Lydia came bounding into Elizabeth's room. Elizabeth and Jane were sitting together, Elizabeth reading aloud and Jane sewing. Kitty was close at Lydia's heels.
"I know what happened to Mr. Witting," proclaimed Lydia.
"You do?" asked Elizabeth, interestedly.
"I do." Lydia sounded triumphant.
Elizabeth moved over on her bed to allow her younger sisters enough room to sit.
"Well," Lydia said dramatically once she was settled, "The maids were coming home from their half day when we came upon them on the grounds. We walked back with them and talked with them a little, saying that Mr. Witting going missing was a shame and asking if they had been friends with him."
Kitty added, "I asked if they thought Sarah would be well, or if she was very broken up about it."
"They weren't very kind towards Sarah at all!" exclaimed Lydia. "They called her a nasty, freckled girl, and said that they did not know what Mr. Witting saw in her. They claimed that Sarah would be well enough, given that she didn't care a bit for Mr. Witting. They thought she was just pretending to, since Pemberley lets servants marry and it would be a step up for Sarah. She would probably be made lady's maid when Mr. Darcy takes a wife."
"Then they said that Mr. Witting would do much better with one of them, since they are better at doing hair and would be better lady's maids," said Kitty.
"Yes. And they talked about how Mr. Witting was so handsome, and it would be a shame if he were dead, because he was so handsome that he ought not to die, but they did not seem very upset about it." Lydia was nearly bouncing with excitement now.
"But how does this tell you what has happened to Mr. Witting?" asked Elizabeth.
"Don't you see?" exclaimed Lydia. "I think they are only pretending to be sad, because they are the ones who are holding him. They mean to make him fall in love with one of them instead, which, of course, he will. They will be kind to him while the other is cruel, which just makes a person fall in love. Then, once he is in love and agrees to go along with their story, he will suddenly reappear and they shall go off to Pemberley together."
"Or they tried to poison Sarah and poisoned Mr. Witting accidentally instead," added Kitty. "Lydia says that is how it always happens in the penny papers."
"Oh yes, there might be that," said Lydia.
"But how did two women of Polly and Hannah's size subdue a man of Mr. Witting's size?" Elizabeth kept her composure, but only barely, as she spoke. She did not wish to insult her sisters by laughing at them.
Lydia waved this away. "They might have had help, of course, or if he was dead, they could have cut up the body, so it was easier to carry."
"Without anyone seeing or finding any hint of blood?"
"They are maids," said Lydia with exasperation. "They could clean everything. Besides, would anyone ever suspect that one of the maids was up to something if they saw her wearing a bloody apron? No, they would just assume that she had helped slaughter one of the chickens or something."
Elizabeth had to bite the insides of her cheeks now to keep from laughing. Jane was the one who replied, "While I appreciate your reasoning, Lydia, I beg you not to share it with others. We might mention what the maids told you to Sir William, though."
Lydia's face fell. "You don't think I am right, do you?" she asked.
"We just think there isn't enough evidence. It could be possible," said Elizabeth, trying to be diplomatic, "but I do not think it likely."
Lydia huffed and left the room. Kitty looked torn between Jane and Lizzy or Lydia, but ultimately followed after her younger sister.
"They certainly have vivid imaginations," said Jane.
"That they do. I just wonder if I am making a mistake by including them," Elizabeth replied.
"I think," said Jane slowly, "that if you did not, they would be off on their own doing the same thing. They are caring girls, and they wish for Mr. Witting to be found and for Mr. Darcy's suffering to be over."
"Only you could turn vice into virtue, Jane," said Elizabeth with a laugh. "But you are probably right. At least if they are working with me, I can direct them to the safest tasks, even if they do begin to believe that our maids are murderers. Chopping the body into pieces? Where did Lydia come up with that? Sir Francis stories never go into detail about the blood and gore. Usually people are poisoned and they try to pass it off as natural."
"I do not know, but perhaps we ought to check on what else they are reading," said Jane. "They have been walking to town and to the circulating library alone."
Elizabeth agreed, before changing the topic back to what they had been discussing before Lydia had burst in.