The sudden sound of a cart made Mr Witting jump awake from his slumber against the stack of rags. In his attempt to stand, he was ambushed by a set of arms that wrapped around him, and a hand that muffled his cries.
"You must be silent and stay right where you are. I am a friend, and I am trying to keep you from being killed. Do you understand? Do not try to escape. Stay where you are. You are safe," said a man's voice.
Witting nodded his understanding. The man tentatively released him. He caught a brief glimpse of the man before he vanished, noticing only the worn clothes of a labourer and a shock of fiery red hair.
In a few moments, the sound of the cart returned, along with a man's voice telling someone else that it was "far 'nough". The sound of boys' laughter and chatter filled the air as they ran through the room. The sound of rustling and crinkling filled the air as the boys emptied their bags and boxes of rags onto a new pile that was forming against a wall. Then, they went to the pile of white rags and filled their boxes with clean rags, tossing the contents into the wagon. The boys who had no boxes or bags tried to make do by holding as much as they could in their arms. None of them seemed to pay Witting any mind, making him wonder why the man had felt the need to warn him to keep out of sight, when the boys would see him, regardless. Perhaps the boys were in his pay, but others outside were not.
The flurry of activity did not last long. After several minutes, the cart was pronounced full and pulled away. The boys were paid by the man, each seeming pleased by the extra 'bawbee' for their silence. The boys then went away, joking and laughing with each other about what they would do with their newfound riches.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the room, and Witting tensed as the man's footsteps grew closer.
When the man came into sight, he spoke reassuringly, "There's no need to be afraid."
Witting surveyed the man. Although tall and slender, he possessed a noticeable muscular build. The bright red hair on his head was tousled and unkempt, but not in the fashionable way that actually took hours to achieve. It was disarranged from work and wind, not a servant's hands. His clothes were made of rough canvas material, with random bleached spots. Witting couldn't help but notice the friendliness in his face and the kindness in his green eyes, but he remained cautious. Looks could be deceiving.
"I think I shall be the judge of that once you tell me more," said Witting.
The man dropped to the floor and seated himself cross-legged before responding. "Very well," he said. "First, it might be best to make introductions. I am Arthur. May I have your name?"
"You do not know it?" asked Witting.
"I do," said Arthur with a grin. "But I thought it might make you more comfortable if you introduced yourself. Very well, Mr. Witting, it is nice to meet you."
"I hope you will forgive me when I say that I do not believe it so pleasant to meet you, at least under these circumstances."
"I understand," said Arthur. "But it is necessary. Men want to kill you, and I am preventing them from doing so. If you leave here, and are not immediately bound for somewhere abroad, I fear for your life."
"Why would anyone wish to kill me?" Witting tried to remember what had happened prior to his coming here, but the last thing he could remember was speaking with Sarah outside the inn. He remembered having suspicions that there was some unrest in the area, given the introduction of threshers by Mr. Bingley, but harvest was over now. Besides, how could the threshers affect a paper mill?
"You are rather nosey," said Arthur. "You heard things that would be quite damning to some people, fatal even, and they want to save their necks."
"Are you one of those people?" asked Witting.
"In a way," he said. "But I don't hold with murder. You'll be put on a boat for America, but it don't sail for a few days and I gotta keep you hidden until then."
"And if I do not wish to go to America?" asked Mr. Witting. "Or if I go, and somehow return?"
"That would be unwise," said Arthur. "I'm real sorry about it, but it's the only way."
"Will you stop drugging me if I agree?" asked Witting.
Arthur hesitated. "You won't shout the place down?"
Witting agreed to be quiet.
"Or try to escape or harm the boys when they come in?"
Witting agreed to these terms as well, although he was quite sure he would not keep his word about the first part.
"Very well, but if you don't keep your part, you and I will both be dead, you understand?" Arthur's face was stern and Witting had no doubt that he believed what he said, so Witting said that he agreed.
"Good. Now, I am going to go get you some food and drink."
"Might I have some water too?" asked Witting.
Arthur paused. "The water about here isn't very good. The paper-making, you know. But I can see about getting you some. For now, I can give you small ale, but that is all."
Witting thanked Arthur, who left him alone for nearly an hour. When he returned, he brought the same ale as before, along with a plate of crusty bread and tough, bite-sized pieces of chicken. The chicken was bland and required prolonged chewing to swallow, but it was much better than the gruel he had the first day.
Then Arthur left him again, barring the door behind him.
"Sarah," asked Elizabeth. "Will you assist me in hemming and making over this gown?"
Sarah agreed that she would, given that all she had currently was the household mending, which could be put aside for the moment.
Kitty had recently outgrown one of her dinner gowns, which was fortunate for Elizabeth, who was the shortest of the Bennets. She rarely received new clothing, but she had the most, as all the old gowns eventually went to her.
"Are you doing anything but changing the fit, miss?" asked Sarah as she went with Elizabeth up to her room.
"I don't know yet," said Elizabeth. "I don't know that I like the style it is, but I don't know how it can be made over without completely taking it apart."
Sarah helped Elizabeth out of her current gown and into the other. "It will need to be let out at the bust," said Sarah, "and taken in a little at your waist."
Elizabeth had grown into womanhood earlier than most, and in much fuller measure than her sisters. This made making over gowns was difficult at times, but fichus and lace were often used to cover the assets she had that her sisters did not. Such was the problem with this gown, which dipped far lower than any lady could consider proper.
"Have you still that rose lace, Miss?" asked Sarah.
Elizabeth made a face. "Lydia stole it to trim her bonnet last week. I told her not to, but Mamma let her anyhow. Papa said I might have a few shillings for new lace to replace it, though."
"Very good, Miss. I think that white lace would look better anyhow." Sarah measured as she spoke, sometimes making a mark with a pencil.
"Do you have any siblings, Sarah?" asked Elizabeth. "I do not think you have ever told me if you did."
"Aye, Miss. I do. We used to be seven, but now there's only four. Two girls — Laura is older than me by two years, and two boys. Both my brothers are older than us girls, and they are out and married with bairns of their own."
"You have nieces and nephews? How old?" asked Elizabeth.
"Pray, remain still, miss," said Sarah. "I nearly pricked you."
"I am sorry," said Elizabeth.
"It's no trouble. I just don't want to hurt you. I have three nephews. They are aged four, one, and just born. It's troublesome, though, with them being so young. They need to be looked after and can't work yet, so one of my sisters or I have to be looking after them always. With the new machines at the mills, there's less work too. The master has been very good to us, though. He lets me take whatever extra there is after everyone has eaten to my brothers."
"I had no notion that your family was on hard times, Sarah," said Elizabeth. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Nay. Your father is already helping. They will be well now," said Sarah. "Your family is good to us." She rapidly changed the subject, not wishing for pity. "Is this gown for the dinner your mother is hosting tomorrow or have I more time to finish it?"
"My mother is hosting a dinner tomorrow?" asked Elizabeth.
"Oh, I did not know that you were unaware," said Sarah. "Perhaps I oughtn't have mentioned it. She invited some of the officers and the Netherfield gentlemen, as well as the Phillipses. That is all I know."
Of course she did. Elizabeth's mother could not let an opportunity to host nobility go by. Nor would she waste a chance to put Jane in Mr. Bingley's way. She thanked Sarah for the information and said that she could always wear a different gown if this one was not completed in time. Sarah promised to work on it and attempt to have it completed, but that she would be very busy in the kitchen on the morrow. Elizabeth understood fully and reassured her again that any of her other gowns would do well enough.
Unlike the previous morning, Elizabeth did not have her sisters' company on her walk. It seemed their ambition was only acute when they needed to sneak about. Now that Elizabeth was on their side, they let their morning schedule return to its norm. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, her father now insisted that she not walk alone. A kidnapper or murderer was about and somehow young Michael, the stable hand, would prevent her being taken by ruffians. Elizabeth thought it was more likely that both she and Michael would be taken, but her father felt reassured. She supposed it had taken a violent crime in order for Mr. Bennet to begin safeguarding his family.
Michael was a good boy of eleven. He attended the village school from noon until three each day during the week. Another of the stable hands attended the morning school, allowing for there to always be someone about to assist. When they were about half way through the walk, Michael pointed out the gentleman coming towards them. The morning mist and the distance made it difficult to see, but Elizabeth eventually discerned the figure of Mr. Darcy on horseback.
When Mr. Darcy caught sight of them, he tipped his hat to Elizabeth before dismounting. After Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged greetings, Michael took Mr. Darcy's horse and discreetly trailed behind to provide chaperonage without overhearing, as expected of a dutiful servant. Their conversation consisted of the niceties for several minutes until Elizabeth mentioned the arrival of Mr. Darcy's relations and asked if Colonel Fitzwilliam had been able to engage a private investigator as he had asked.
Mr. Darcy seemed at a loss how to respond to this, which was curious to Elizabeth. The question was simple, requiring a yes or no answer. He was thoughtful and they walked in silence for some minutes before he said anything.
"If I tell you something, will you keep it to yourself?" he finally responded.
"Certainly," she replied. "You have my word."
"I mentioned before that my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, works for the Home Office," Mr. Darcy began.
Elizabeth stated that she recalled him mentioning this.
"He came immediately upon hearing that Mr. Witting was gone missing. Mr. Witting had once been his valet, but had left his service to enter mine. My cousin travels constantly, and Mr. Witting does not enjoy travel. However, it was not concern for a former servant that brought my cousin hither, nor was it that he engaged a private investigator."
Elizabeth nodded and bade him to continue.
"In fact, he has no intention of hiring a private investigator. Witting, apparently, never fully left my cousin's service. My cousin's role at the Home Office is two-fold. He dines with ambassadors and such, representing the nation with his fine manners and charm. That much is widely known. However, what is less known is that he is the one that many people send information to. It is not a secret exactly, but he does not advertise this particular part of his position."
"By information, you mean…intelligence?" asked Elizabeth.
"I suppose it could be called that, yes," said Mr. Darcy.
"So your valet was a spy and you didn't know it?" asked Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy shook his head. "No, not a spy. Simply a person who listened. He was my valet in truth, says my cousin, but he got paid a little extra to keep his ears open for anything the government might wish to know about. On his days off, he would go and drink with the locals wherever we were. He never drank as much as everyone else, and a little ale sometimes causes people to say things that they otherwise wouldn't. If this happened, he would write to my cousin what he heard."
"So your cousin thinks that Witting heard something or saw something that caused him to come to harm," said Elizabeth.
"And until we know what it is, he doesn't want to bring in outsiders. He has experience finding out things on his own, or with the help of friends and family he trusts to not sell the secrets they learn."
"Would your cousin be upset that you are telling me all of this?"
"I told him that I wished to include you. I trust you not to gossip, and you are a local. You are more inconspicuous than I am or my cousins are," explained Darcy, his ears turning slightly pink with embarrassment.
Elizabeth did not notice his high colour, for she was too busy focusing on her own. Mr. Darcy said he trusted her and wished to include her? Why her? "Why not Sir William?" was what she said aloud.
"If we told him, the entire county would believe that Mr. Witting was a spy by the end of the day," said Mr. Darcy. "He might be magistrate, but he is very talkative."
Elizabeth had to allow that this was so. "But how can I help you? And how shall I be able to contact you? Unless Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst are also participating."
"No, they are not. Mr. Bingley knows a little, but not everything," said Mr. Darcy. "That is the more difficult part. Staying in contact, I mean."
"Mr. Bingley calls rather often on Jane," said Elizabeth. "You could accompany him, or one of your cousins could. Then we could walk out, and let Mr. Bingley and Jane go ahead of us. We shall just have to ensure that it is not always just one of you, though."
Mr. Darcy agreed. He did not wish to raise expectations in Mrs. Bennet's mind or Elizabeth's that he did not intend to fulfil. He and his cousins would call with Bingley, alternating who called. Another problem then occurred to Darcy.
"Does your sister care for Mr. Bingley? Miss Bennet, I mean," he asked.
"Of course she does," said Elizabeth.
"It is just that I could not discern a change between her manner with him and with others. I thought…"
"You thought that she was pretending because he is rich," said Elizabeth with an arched eyebrow.
"I thought she was obeying her mother and trying to save her family," said Mr. Darcy.
"I cannot know everything that Jane feels. She does not speak much of her feelings and she shows even less. She is guarded. She has had her heart broken before and thus does not wish to open herself up to censure if this all comes to nothing, but from what I can judge, she feels very much for Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth. "I am telling you this in confidence, although perhaps you might share it if you feel it is necessary to reassure Mr. Bingley on this."
"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth," was all the response that Mr. Darcy gave and the only conversation they had until returning to Longbourn. Mr. Darcy took swift leave of the Bennets, returning to Netherfield to confer with his cousins.