A distinct knock reverberated through the door to Mrs. Nicholl's sitting room and Polly entered, her eyes lowered in a respectable curtsy. "Beg your pardon," she said softly. "Sir William Lucas has come to call."
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy shared an inquiring glance, both wondering what the magistrate could want at this hour. AS they could not him in the housekeeper's modest quarter, they relocated to a more traditional setting of the main parlour.
"Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia!" exclaimed Sir William when he caught sight of them, beaming with delight. Bows and curtsies were exchanged as they greeted each other. "I did not expect to find you at Netherfield."
"It is the home of our future brother-in-law," Lydia said with a wide smile.
"Have you been speaking of your sister's wedding? Are you very pleased?" asked Sir William fondly, his gaze full of affection and admiration as he looked from one sister to the other.
"We have not, sir," Lydia replied coolly. "We have been speaking of suspects." Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch in defiance, and Sir William's expression darkened further.
"Miss Lydia," he said sternly. "You could have been gravely injured when you went off the other day without my knowledge. I do not believe it wise for you to continue to try to investigate this matter." His jaw was set in determination, yet his voice trembled with a hint of worry. "Pray, leave it to me."
Lydia's eyes narrowed at the magistrate's words. She was determined to find out the truth behind the recent strange happens and she wasn't about to let Sir William's disapproval stop her. "But sir," she protested, "surely it is within my right to try to uncover the truth? It does affect my future brother, and it has distressed everyone greatly."
"Pray," interrupted Mr. Bingley, "let us hear what Sir William has to say. Perhaps he has answers that make such a confrontation unnecessary."
"Alas," said Sir William, "I do not have any notion as to the culprits for any of the happenings here abouts, although I did hear that many arrests were made in London. I hope that will settle the matter. No, I have called because I have located the owner of the locket you sent to me. It belongs to the previous tenant of Netherfield. She was overjoyed to have it restored to her."
"Well, that is very fine," said Mr. Bingley jovially. "Although I would have rather discovered it without the need for my barns to burn."
"Indeed, sir," Sir William agreed.
As Sir William's departure grew imminent, Lydia's focus remained firmly on her mission.
"Let us interrogate William and Polly now," she implored, hoping for some answers.
Mr. Bingley gave a curt nod towards Mrs. Nicholls who lingered in the room.
The servants were summoned forth and stood side by side before their masters, each exchanging glances of fear and apprehension. After an uncomfortable silence, Polly stepped forward, her gaze fixed upon Mr. Bingley. "You wished to ask us something, sir?"
Mr. Bingley nodded gravely and cleared his throat. "We understand from Mrs. Nicholls that you are cousins," he said, looking between the two of them with a sharp gaze. "And that your mothers' brothers work at the mill?"
William shifted his feet and looked down to the ground fleetingly before answering, "Yes sir, they do." His eyes darted towards Polly's face quickly before he continued, "They've been working there for many years now."
"Their name is different from either of yours, is it not?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"Aye," said William. "They were Frodshams before their marriage."
Lydia wanted to gasp at the name but somehow managed to hold her tongue. The gentlemen remained regarding them coolly.
"Do you know anything about the recent trouble at Netherfield? The barns burning, the kidnapping, or the intruder?" Mr. Bingley inquired, his voice strong and expectant.
The two cousins glanced at each other before shaking their heads in unison.
"No sir," said William slowly. "We do not know anything about them."
There was silence as the four of them looked between each other, searching for any hint of falsehood that might give away the truth, but both kept their expressions blank.
"Is one of your brother-in-laws called Henry Frodsham?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"Aye, sir," said Polly uncertainly.
"And I understand he has been much away of late?" he continued.
"Aye. He's real important now and has to be in London to work for his lordship."
"His lordship?" Lydia exclaimed. "Who is his Lordship?"
William glared at his cousin, willing her not to speak further, but she paid no attention. "Lord Colbert," was the answer.
Lydia gasped excitedly in response. "The member of Parliament?" she exclaimed.
Colonel Fitzwilliam added, looking intrigued. "Indeed?"
William and Polly nodded. The gentlemen's countenances shifted in unison, as though coming to a mutual realization of something ominous.
"Do you know what your brother-in-law does in London?" Mr. Bingley queried coolly, his face hardening into a mask of determination.
William cleared his throat before responding, "He consults for Lord Colbert on various matters of importance."
Colonel Fitzwilliam arched an eyebrow skeptically, "What kind of matters?"
Polly nervously shifted and spoke up, her words hurriedly tumbling out, "Investments mainly, I think…And he's been away quite a bit lately."
"Investments?" the colonel repeated dubiously. "A former mill manager works as an investments consultant for a member of parliament?"
The atmosphere grew thick with tension as the gentlemen exchanged knowing glances. Something didn't add up. Lydia watched anxiously as they turned back to William and Polly, both now seeming to cower under their scrutiny.
"Where did your brother-in-law acquire the skills necessary to be a consultant?" asked Mr. Darcy, his voice calm and measured despite the worry that was growing inside him.
"He is exceptionally intelligent," William testified on his relation's behalf. "Always had a way with figures."
After further enquiries, it became clear that neither cousin was privy to additional details or involved in any of the machinations.
Once they departed, the gentlemen turned to Lydia and Kitty. "We need to investigate this further," Mr. Darcy said, his eyes shining with a fierce determination. "Frodsham's connection to Lord James Colbert may hold the key to solving this case."
Lydia's heart raced as she watched the men begin to plan their next move. This was getting more exciting by the minute. She vowed to do whatever it took to help them figure out what was going on.
"Perhaps we should go to London sooner rather than later," suggested Colonel Fitzwilliam. "We can try to gather more information about Lord Colbert and his association with Henry Frodsham."
"You will go to London without us?" asked Lydia, a whine in her voice. "You know we cannot go for several more days."
Mr. Darcy's eyes softened as he regarded her. "I'm afraid it cannot be helped, Miss Lydia. This is a dangerous matter, and we must act swiftly."
Lydia nodded reluctantly, her mind already racing with plans and ideas on how to uncover more about Lord James Colbert and the mysterious Henry Frodsham.
Mr. Bingley cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room. "Gentlemen, I believe our priority should be to ensure the safety and well-being of our loved ones in London. We must tread carefully and not put them in harm's way."
"Quite right, Bingley," agreed Colonel Fitzwilliam, glancing at Darcy. "We mustn't let our emotions cloud our judgment. We need to approach this matter with caution and logic."
Mr. Mallory had become a frequent presence at the home of Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, paying her calls that seemed to extend longer and longer as each day passed. Though she couldn't deny his wit or charm, Elizabeth was certain he did not possess the kind of character she sought in a husband, and kept her heart firmly engaged with another despite his continued attentions.
It was on one such morning that Elizabeth found herself in the parlour, taking tea with her sister and Mr. Mallory.
"I must say," he declared. "This winter has been quite mild. I'm tempted to take out my carriage for a drive."
"In an open carriage?" Jane asked, disbelief etched on her face. "Sir, you might catch your death of cold!"
"Surely you jest, sir," said Elizabeth.
""I shall prove it to you both tomorrow when I arrive at the ball in an open carriage," he said, winking mischievously. "If I make it to the ball in one piece, will you grant me dances with each of you?"
Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Mallory's request, but inside, she felt uneasy. "I will give you one dance, Mr. Mallory," she said. "But only one."
His smiled faultered slightly, but he graciously accepted her terms. Jane also granted him a dance.
As the conversation continued, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice Mr. Mallory's eyes linger on her for longer than necessary. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and took a sip of her tea, hoping the warmth would soothe her nerves.
A knock sounded on the front door of the Gardiner residence, and a moment later the housekeeper entered, followed by Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush at the sight of Mr. Darcy. It was impossible not to feel the intensity of his gaze as it fixed upon her. His mere presence set her heart racing, and she wondered if he too felt such an undeniable pull towards her. His gaze flickered briefly over her before settling on Mr. Mallory, his lips set in a thin line.
"Good morning, ladies," Mr. Bingley said with a cheerful smile meant only for Jane, completely oblivious to the heavy atmosphere in the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam injected some lightness into the situation with pleasant small talk, while Mr. Bingley added enthusiasm to the conversation with his rambunctious laughter.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded along as the conversation went on, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Mr. Darcy. She was determined not to let her feelings show, so when an opportunity presented itself, she excused herself and quickly fled from the room before anyone could say or do anything to break the fragile peace. She took refuge in her aunt's small garden, letting the cool air fill her lungs and refresh her spirit.
When Jane followed her out into the garden, Elizabeth knew immediately that something was wrong. She hadn't expected anyone to follow her out there.
"What is it, Jane?" she asked.
"Mr. Mallory took his leave. He seemed...rather saddened at your sudden departure.
Elizabeth sighed heavily and lowered her gaze to the ground in shame. She could feel heat prickling up on her cheeks and neck as she realised what the others must have thought of her abrupt departure from their company.
"I am sorry," she murmured guiltily, still looking down at the ground.
Jane stepped closer and placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder comfortingly. "Mr. Darcy is inside, and he seemed quite concerned when you left," she said softly. "He asked if you were feeling well."
Elizabeth's head shot up at the mention of Mr. Darcy's name. "What did you say?" she asked.
"I told him you had merely stepped outside for some fresh air," Jane replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
Elizabeth felt a flutter in her chest. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Together, the sisters made their way back into the parlour, where Mr. Darcy sat with a dark and brooding expression on his face. It lightened instantly upon Elizabeth's entrance into the room.
"Miss Bennet, I hope you are feeling better now," Mr. Darcy said with genuine concern in his voice.
Elizabeth smiled softly. "Yes, I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Darcy."
"I am glad to say that everyone in the house is quite well," said Jane with a smile. "Including Mr. Witting. He is recovering very well."
Mr. Darcy's expression softened even more, and he let out a relieved sigh. "That is wonderful news indeed, Miss Bennet," he said, "I must visit him soon, if it is not a trouble."
"Of course," said Jane. "I will send up a servant to inquire if he is awake."
Jane did so, while the others continued to converse about the ball, which it seemed the gentlemen were also invited to. As they spoke, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel a sense of longing growing within her. She had always felt the pull of Mr. Darcy's presence, but now that she knew he cared about her, that pull was growing stronger every day.
Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, his eyes intently fixed on her. "Miss Bennet, might I request a dance at the ball tomorrow?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy," she said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. "I would be most honored to dance with you."
"Have you the first dance available?" He asked nervously.
"Indeed, I do," Elizabeth replied, glancing up to meet his eyes. "It would be my pleasure, sir."
Mr. Darcy's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then the first dance it shall be."
The rest of the morning passed in a haze for Elizabeth. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she found it hard to concentrate on anything that was going on around her. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Mr. Darcy, and she couldn't wait until the ball on the morrow.