Darcy sat at the desk in a corner of the armory. He was reading through letters and requests from people of the city. Usually just minor concerns, like theft or sickness. But then he saw a request from Jane's father- Elizabeth's uncle- Gardiner.
Mr. Gardiner had called for assistance to their home. There were odd things happening. No one could make anything of it. So, Garnider had asked for someone to come and help.
When Darcy saw the request he nearly leapt from his armor. It was a perfect chance to see her again.
He quickly delegated all the other items of concern- it was probably a record for him- and left the armory for their house. He leapt down the stairs and almost ran there. He slid up in front of their house and knocked on the door.
The house was rather odd. All the windows were blocked and covered. A window curtain shifted a little. Darcy noticed a man across the street who seemed very interested in the house. The door creaked open a sliver and Darcy felt examined.
The door completely slid open and there stood a fellow who seemed exhausted. One eyebrow was perpetually lifted as if he couldn't bother with any more exasperation.
"Captain Darcy," the man said tiredly. "I didn't realize you would take this on personally."
"Why wouldn't I?" Darcy questioned in confusion. But the man gestured into the home and shut the door. The home was very dim as each window was shuttered and curtained. Gardiner led him through the house and into a back room where the ladies sat.
Darcy didn't recognize one lady, but recognized Jane, repressed a smile towards Elizabeth and bowed to the room in general. The older lady stood up and bid him sit in one of the chairs.
"Captain Darcy," she said, "I'm Mrs. Gardiner. We're glad you've come."
"I thought you might have sent a guard," Elizabeth said with an easy, but forced smile. Darcy felt his eyebrows come together seeing the nervousness hiding in her features. What was going on? He thought as he sat down.
"What seems to be happening?" Darcy asked. Both the Gardiners looked over at the ladies.
"Well, there have been things that have gone missing," Jane said softly, "and other things have been appearing. In our bedroom."
"Only things like a dress going missing," Elizabeth said nonchalantly, "and then a nicer dress appearing."
"Letters are constantly showing up," Jane said. "Her hair brush disappeared and we had to get another."
"They're harmless, and I probably misplaced it," Elizabeth shrugged off. But Jane bit her lip in concern.
"One day, we were walking in the market with Charles," Jane continued after giving Elizabeth a side eye. "Elizabeth mentioned she prefered daisies to roses and when we came back, our room was filled with daisies."
That was excessively odd. Jane bit her lip and glanced uncomfortably in her own home. Elizabeth had a smile as if to reassure herself and her cousin, who held her hand. Mr. Gardiner put his hand over his wife's and looked back at Darcy with that one exasperated, lifted brow.
"Is it only the one room?" Darcy asked. Mr. Gardiner nodded while Mrs. Gardiner shook her head.
"We have food appear in the kitchen, like the daisies did," she explained. Mr. Gardiner just put a hand over his eyes.
Darcy could understand the feeling behind that look: failure with no understanding of what's going on.
"What have you done so far?" Darcy asked.
"We've taken to keeping all the doors and windows closed. We've moved the girls into the other children's room. And we've been trying to not go anywhere alone, but Elizabeth is much more sneaky than the rest of us," Mrs. Garnider said.
"She can vanish into thin air sometimes," Mr. Garnider growled. Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a smile, as if she heard this frequently. Mr. Gardiner cracked a smile in her direction. Darcy looked between the two of them before thinking.
That damn bishop was behind it, but how could he prove it? And worse, what could he do even if he could prove it? How did one get his superior on trial?
"Captain?" Gardiner said, eyeing him with a glimmer of amusement. Darcy met the man's dark eyes.
"Could I spend a night or two in the room in question?" Darcy asked. Gardiners gaze darkened a bit.
"If you feel the need, then I feel the need to move all my family down here so we will all be together," Gardiner said.
"That's a wise decision," Darcy said in thoughtful agreement, "you ought to start that tonight. If it doesn't bother you, I'll stay in the room in question." Gardiner leveled him an even gaze, before cracking a grin at him.
Oxoxoxoxox
Darcy was leaning in a chair in the darkened room. He rocked on the back two legs with his hands intertwined on his stomach. He could barely keep his eyes open tonight.
Probably because he had been struggling with the Bishop and his second hand man, Wickham. Strangely, Darcy knew Wickham from childhood. He was the son of his mothers hand maid. The hand maid and his mother came down from the north and Wickham was born the winter before Darcy was. Wickham was his sparring partner for the three years between Darcy's father leaving for the crusades and his mother going back north.
This prior connection and the Bishop's endorsement had gone straight to Wickham head. The man had begun giving orders as though he were Captain. And since the Bishop had brought his own division of men, those men were more inclined to follow Wickham.
It was a nightmare.
But what wasn't a nightmare was that he was in Elizabeth's house. And he heard Jane and Mr. Gardiner tease her about him. She didn't say much towards that, but she laughed and returned the tease of Jane about Charles.
She didn't reject the idea of him. He felt… Happy. But, he shouldn't want her to want him. He should let her go off and marry someone of her own class. It would be easier for everything.
Suddenly, he heard a scratching on the wall. His eyes jerked open and he had the presence of mind to not slam the chair back on all four legs.
He settled down silently to watch the window and door. The scratching sounded like a mouse, yet he saw a human slide through the window. It crouched, slid off the cloak and tied it to the window to let it dangle in the breeze.
A ridiculously long curtain cloak.
The person slid to the pool of shadows near the window.
"Captain Darcy? I want to talk about what's happening," Elizabeth's voice whispered from the shadows.
His heart thumped terribly and wonderfully at the same time. It took an iron will not to smile at the sound of her voice.
"I think it's the bishop," she whispered when he was quiet for a little too long.
"I think so too," he muttered, the deepness of his voice filling the room. He heard her sigh quietly in relief.
"What do we do? If it is the bishop, what can we do?" She whispered. She waited for his response, and it took him some time to do. God, he didn't want to admit this.
"I don't know," he said quietly.
They both fell to thinking. She was invisible, and he assumed so was he. They were both in the shadows. He was at least all in black. How did she do it? He squinted over at her.
Again, they heard noises. Less the scratching of a mouse and more the movement of a person.
He saw a bit of movement from the shadow containing Elizabeth. Then, for a second he saw her. She jumped up in a nightgown, grabbed hold of the top of the wardrobe and slithered up on top of it without a sound. An impressive feat, but the look on her face was fear.
He couldn't think much about that right now.
A lanky man pulled himself in through the and into the shadows near the window like Elizabeth had.
Darcy stayed quiet and pulled a mask up over his nose. He was a…recognizable person.
The man moved quietly through the room. He looked through drawers, trunks and opened the wardrobe. He pulled his bag around for easier access to pull letters out and stuff in a yellow dress that Darcy recognized. The man closed the wardrobe door and turned around. He jolted quietly when he saw Darcy sitting in a chair.
"Who are you?" the… boy asked, his voice strangely youthful. Must have been an adolescent.
"The ladies guardian," Darcy replied simply, leaning forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees. "Who are you?"
"I just do jobs I get paid to do," the boy said placatingly.
"Who paid you?" Darcy pressed, trying not to spook him.
"Some yellow haired Dane," the boy commented. Darcy knew one yellow hair Dane: Wickham
"What are you here for?" Darcy asked
"Dropping things off for his lady love," the boy shrugged.
"The ladies here called me in because they're being stalked and hunted," Darcy explained, bringing his eyebrows together and tilting his head.
"Sorry, I thought it might have been a father thing. I don't ask questions. I get paid, I do the job," the boy said, in a falsely bored manner. As if he were nervous and trying to cover it up.
"Stop coming here, and tell your acquaintances to not come here either," Darcy said.
"How much you pay me?" The boy asked without a hesitation.
"I have a ten piece here and I also won't throw you out the window," Darcy said.
The boy took the coins and bit one of them. The boy nodded and moved to climb out the window.
"Are you sure she's not out meeting that yellow haired Dane?" The boy asked, shaking Elizabeth's curtain cloak as it dangled out the window.
"Yes," Darcy shot a little harsher than he meant to. But just the thought of Elizabeth with that yellow haired snitch made him angry.
The boy just gazed at him with a disbelieving stare and crawled down the curtain. Darcy needed to get a hold of himself.
As soon as the curtain stopped moving Elizabeth's form seemed to melt from the wardrobe and she landed like a cat.
"I still think it's the Bishop," she said a little disappointedly.
"I know the yellow haired Dane," Darcy said, "his name is Wickham and he is the bishop's unofficial right hand man."
Elizabeth smirked a little bitterly at that.
"Well, I'm glad you still believe me," she said. "But there's still not much I can do, is there?"
"Sneak," Darcy said a little sadly, "like you have been. Cloaks and disguises as you sneak. Where did you learn this?"
"Count D'anjou was an ill-tempered man," she said, her voice betraying her ire.
Darcy's eyebrows came together. How ill-tempered was ill-tempered? He wouldn't even call his father ill-tempered.
"But!" She said butting into his thoughts, "it's useful now that I'm back to sneaking."