Hello my dears! Yep, I am back again for the third time in a week - that's how much progress has been made. Yay! These are the last two completed chapters, but hopefully my Muse keeps working and I will have a couple more for you in a few days (chapter 27 is already about 3/4 done).
You all know I love to get comments on my work - it's why I post here before publishing, for the immediate feedback. Most of you have been enormously complimentary and encouraging, and I cannot thank you enough for it. However, there is one person who apparently cannot exercise restraint and chooses to post comments in which they call the characters vulgar names. While normally I just roll my eyes and delete those comments (thankfully, they are posted as Guest, so I can do that), it's come to the point where I feel compelled to say that if you do not like what I write or the way I depict these characters, you can easily not waste your time by choosing not to read any further, thereby not wasting my time by having to delete comments that should never have been written.
Also, I may not reply to every comment, but I do read them all. Some of you with accounts I will reply to if I feel I should or if you guess something, or if you make recommendations I want to discus with you. Some of you, those who post as guests, I cannot reply to directly, but I can here in these notes, so I hope you will bear with me as I reply to a guest who identified themselves as The Reader.
First comment: I am sorry you do not care for Bingley and Charlotte as a pair, but I disagree with your assessment that he gains more than she does and that she will be mothering him. That is absolutely not the case. Charlotte is only about four years older than Bingley, which is not a significant age difference in a time when 17/18 year old girls were marrying men in their 30s or older. As I wrote in the conversation between Elizabeth and Hiddleston, Charlotte's maturity and steadiness will bring a balance to Bingley's liveliness, putting the brakes on his exuberance whenever necessary. I'd hardly call that mothering. Nor would Colonel Fitzwilliam be a father-figure to Mary Bennet. She's 18/19 years old to his 29/30, which, again, was not a significant difference of age in the Regency.
Second comment: Fitzwilliam recognizing that Mary's faith is bringing him closer to God is hardly weird when the culture of that time was very faith based. And I disagree that the pairing is forced. I may have referred to her change in appearance and constant visits to learn to play better, but that is hardly all that is going on, nor is that the only basis for Fitzwilliam's interest in her. It's been a few weeks since they met and I pointed out that a lot of socializing had been done in that time. There have been many conversations between the two that the readers simply do not witness.
Third comment: I never said putting Caroline in Bedlam would "help" the rest of the Bingleys with rumors. They all recognize that people will talk. However, she is clearly unstable. And I would not call Caroline's character exaggerated in this story anymore than I would in any other JAFF in which she is made the villain. Yes, I could have redeemed her, but I didn't want to. It has nothing to do with being "easier", it's merely that I chose to make her the villain of the story.
And now for more of Caroline's crazy...
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elizabeth rose early the next morning for a ride, one which she intended to take alone.
She encountered Charles at the top of the grand stair. "Good morning, brother," she said softly. "You are up early."
"As are you, Lizzy," he replied, as his brow drew together in an expression of concern. "Are you well?"
"Perfectly so," she replied dismissively. "But as I have told you, anyone choosing to serve His Majesty's Army must learn to be an early riser. I intend to take a nice long ride."
"Do you want for company?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, thank you, Charles. I really feel like being alone this morning, if you don't mind."
His countenance shifted, and in his eyes was a knowing look full of sympathy. "I understand. However, if you wish for solitude, you may want to avoid the stables. Darcy is an early riser as well, you know."
She did know it, Elizabeth mused. She and Darcy had ridden together many times over the last several days.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she said, "Perhaps a walk, then. I need some form of exercise to clear my head and restore my equanimity."
Charles moved to embrace her. "I do understand, dearest," he said softly. "Last night was trying for the both of us."
It had been difficult, even for her brother, to recover his usual light-hearted affability after Caroline's unexpected appearance. Georgiana had been solicited by the countess to entertain them with music, and Elizabeth had done her best to remain sociable. But much as she wished it were not so, her sister's angrily shouted words had stuck with her, and she had retired early citing the headache that had begun to make her temples throb.
Rather than return to her room to have her maid help her change from the riding habit she'd donned, Elizabeth elected to go out as she was attired. After saying farewell to Charles, she exited Netherfield through the front door and headed down the long drive.
It was a cool morning, and fog still hung low in the air. Dewdrops covered the grass and flower petals, and a few dripped down from the trees along the drive. It was not long before Elizabeth realized where her feet were taking her—Oakham Mount, a cliff on a hill with a fabulous view of the valley, had quickly become a favorite spot of hers to wander to on her rides after Jane had shown it to her. She had, in fact, intended to ride there, and that she had turned that way automatically lightened her spirits a little.
Elizabeth reached the lookout without encountering anyone and sat herself down on the wooden bench that some Meryton resident had long ago placed there. The surroundings and the view really were peaceful, and she was able to spend several minutes taking in the cool morning air and enjoying the pleasant stillness around her.
Some time had passed when she heard the sound of a carriage. On standing, she saw that it had stopped at the foot of the path that led up to the outlook. Thinking that whoever was in the vehicle would wish privacy as she had, she started toward the simple carriage intending to return home.
She was startled when one of the men sitting on the box climbed down and started toward her, sending a sudden shock of alarm coursing down her spine. Elizabeth moved to the side of the path hoping she had been mistaken.
You are being silly, Elizabeth, she told herself.
The man stepped into her way. "I beg your pardon, sir. I need to get by," she said firmly.
"What you need is to come with me, and do so quiet like," he replied.
The alarm raced through her whole body then, but she shoved it back to lift her chin and look at him defiantly. "I most certainly shall not—and if you come any closer, I will start screaming."
He smiled an ugly, gap-toothed smile as he slipped a pistol from an inside pocket of his coat. "There ain't nobody ta hear you, lass, and even so, you start screaming and I'll start shooting."
"What purpose would shooting me serve? You must hope to gain a ransom, which you will not collect if I am dead," Elizabeth shot back.
"Enough with this nonsense," snapped an all-too-familiar voice from inside the carriage. "Just grab her so we can be on our way!"
The man before her reached out and grabbed Elizabeth painfully by the arm, dragging her with him as he started back toward the carriage. After jerking it open, he threw her bodily into it without lowering the step, followed by planting his hand on her bottom to push her the rest of the way inside.
He gave the spot under his hand a squeeze before throwing her legs and over-long skirt in behind her. "Not bad," he said with a mocking laugh.
"Be careful!" snapped Caroline. "She landed on my feet, you fool!"
The man made a rude-sounding noise before slamming the carriage door shut. Elizabeth pushed herself to her knees and climbed into the rear-facing seat as the carriage rocked with his climbing back up to the driver's seat.
"Caroline, what in the world do you think you are doing?" she demanded.
"It's quite simple, Eliza," her sister said with a sneer as she withdrew a small pistol of her own from the reticule in her lap. The carriage lurched and they started moving. "When we reach our destination, you are going to write a letter instructing our brother to transfer the entirety of your dowry and Aunt Elinor's to me. When I have been notified by my banker that the funds have been transferred, you will be released."
With a scoff, Elizabeth crossed her arms. "You cannot seriously expect this foolish plan of yours to work," said she. "Charles will never agree to it, and even if he should give in to your demands, where do you think you can go that you will not be found and arrested for kidnapping?"
Caroline laughed, a sound that again sent a shiver of alarm down Elizabeth's spine. It was a dark sound, the laugh of a person who did not or could not fathom being caught.
"I hear Italy is nice," she replied. "There are many wealthy nobles there who are in want of wives."
"No man will want you when he hears what you've done, sister," said Elizabeth.
"Do not call me that!" Caroline screeched. "You are no sister of mine. Why could you not have stayed away—your coming back has ruined everything! All my dreams of marrying Darcy and becoming mistress of that fine house—to have at hand his ten thousand a year! All my careful planning and flirtations and scheming brought to nothing because of one stupid girl!"
"The only stupid one between us is you!" Elizabeth retorted. "You'll never get away with this. And how in the world did you convince those two men on the box to go along with this insanity?"
"Like all men, they desire money. I've promised them a little something for their time and effort."
Elizabeth laughed mirthlessly. "Men like to get more than money from a woman. Is that all you promised them?"
Too late did she note the flash of anger in Caroline's eyes; in the next moment, she was holding her cheek and trying desperately not to shed the tears that now stung her eyes after her sister struck her with the flat side of her Queen Anne.
"How dare you insinuate such a vulgar thing?!" Caroline seethed. "I would not take after you and stoop so low as to bed some low-born filth!"
"I have told you time and again," said Elizabeth as she lifted her hand to look at her palm; there was blood on it. "I have never done such a thing. Even had I liked one of my uncle's soldiers, neither he nor Aunt Elinor would have tolerated such unladylike behavior!"
"Aunt Elinor," Caroline spat. "How could she be so unkind as to leave all her money to you?"
"How did you even hear of it?" Elizabeth asked. "I know that neither Chares nor I told you. Louisa did not even know until our brother and I were forced to explain what you meant with your ramblings last night."
"Let's just say Mrs. Hiddleston likes to gossip," said Caroline with a smirk. "She and her son will eventually be grateful I have saved them from you; once you have nothing, he will not want to marry you—your fortune is the only reason he even speaks to you, as I'm sure you know."
Elizabeth shook her head. "On that you are entirely mistaken, Caroline. In fact, Mr. Hiddleston is no longer courting me but has found another young lady—whom I consider a dear friend—that suits him better."
Caroline laughed. "Ha! I knew Hiddles would come to his senses about you!"
"He and I are still very good friends, I will have you know," Elizabeth retorted. "We simply realized that our hearts lay in another direction. Mr. Hiddleston loves my friend—and in spite of the fact that she has no fortune at all."
A groan escaped her captor. "Good lord, what is that foolish boy about? First a hoyden and now a penniless country nobody? What did you do to the poor man, Eliza, poison his mind?"
"Oh, do not be ridiculous, Caroline," Elizabeth snapped, before crossing her arms again and turning her gaze resolutely out of the sideglass.
Several minutes were spent in tense silence, until Elizabeth noted they had entered a thick wood. She thought they must be on another road that led past Meryton, for the carriage had turned once or twice, and surely Caroline would want to avoid the market town and go straight to London. If only the carriage would stop, or she could get out somehow…
Surreptitiously, she glanced across the compartment to her sister. Caroline was still holding the Queen Anne trained on her, but she wasn't really paying her any attention. The plan that formed suddenly in her mind was dangerous—she might get caught up in her own skirt and petticoats, or the men on the box might catch her. But she had to try, for she could not imagine Caroline being satisfied with merely a letter consigning her fortune to her.
In a flurry of motion, Elizabeth suddenly stomped hard on Caroline's foot, then reached for the handle on the carriage door and threw it open; in an instant she launched herself out of the opening, tucking into a ball and rolling as she hit the ground as her father had told her to do when he taught her to ride a horse.
"If ever your horse throws you, Lizzy, tuck into a ball and roll to minimize your injuries," Papa had told her.
Even following her father's advice, it hurt when she struck the ground. The impact expelled the breath from her lungs, and she rolled over several sharp stones and sticks before slowing her momentum enough to get to her feet. Elizabeth had risen unsteadily as she heard Caroline scream for the driver to stop the carriage, and she grabbed two handfuls of her skirt as she heard her follow that command with the order to "Go after her!"
Elizabeth ran as fast as her feet and the too-long skirt would allow her. She ran blindly, ducking under low-hanging branches and hopping over large sticks and logs as she hurried through the trees. That she could hear both men coming up behind her spurred her on, increasing her desperation to get as far away as she possibly could.
She did not expect to suddenly be thrown into the air as she stepped out over an unseen drop-off, twisting her ankle as she landed roughly and rolled down an embankment. She came to a stop by crashing into a tree, and it was an effort not to cry out loudly with the pain.
Though darkness blurred the edge of her vision, Elizabeth looked around for a means of hiding herself. Crawling on her hands and knees, she discovered on rounding the massive oak that there was an opening underneath amidst its roots. A wild blackberry bush partially obscured the depression, which was just big enough for her to slip into. Elizabeth began to drag rotten leaves toward her to help hide her location but froze immediately on hearing her pursuers above her.
"Where the devil has she gone?" said one.
"Little rabbit can't have got far," said the other, whose voice sounded like the man who'd stopped her at Oakham Mount.
They are at the top of the dropoff, she thought, stifling the quivering of her limbs and breathing as quietly as she could against the pain she felt all over. God, please, please do not let them come down, for surely they will find me here!
"Should we go down after the chit?" said the first man.
The second snorted. "Forget it. No amount of chasing that girl is worth a mere two hundred ponds. Her Ladyship back there will have to pay a lot more than that if she be wantin' us to go hunting."
His companion laughed. "Too right, Mel! Come on, let's get back to the carriage. Might as well let her bluster on while we figure out where to ditch her."
"Aye—but not before we get paid!" said the one called Mel, and the two men laughed, the sound growing fainter as they retreated.
Elizabeth leaned back into the dirt with a sigh of relief, which was immediately followed by a wince of pain. Her head hurt after glancing off the tree under which she now took shelter. Her shoulders, ribs, and back ached from striking sticks and rocks as she rolled, and her ankle throbbed mercilessly.
"I will surely be black and blue by midday," she muttered quietly.
She waited almost breathlessly for time to pass, quickly losing count of the minutes. All around her she heard nothing but the sounds of the forest animals waking and beginning to start their own day.
Could she risk venturing out? she wondered. Had the men really gone back to Caroline at the carriage, or had they merely stepped back and were lying in wait for her at the top of the drop-off?
I cannot take the risk of being caught, Elizabeth told herself. Not yet.
Leaning back again, she tried not to focus on how sore she was and began to pray that her brother and the other gentlemen would come looking for her. She had not been gone long, but surely they would have expected her back by now?
"Charles, come find me, please," she whispered.
-...-
"And you are certain she has not returned?"
Darcy could barely contain his fear that something terrible had happened upon returning from his ride and learning from Bingley that Elizabeth had not returned from her walk.
Bingley shook his head. "I am certain, Darcy," he said. "I've asked the butler and the housekeeper and have even questioned her maid. No one has seen her."
He drew a shuddering breath. "I'm worried. Caroline was so very angry last night. Do you think she—?"
"Oh, Charles, surely Caroline would not attempt to harm Lizzy physically," said Mrs. Hurst, though it was clear that even she was not entirely certain of her words. Darcy glanced over to where she sat beside her husband, worry evident in her eyes and the way she clung to his arm.
Fitzwilliam clapped his hands together. "I'll go and rally the troops," he said. "And by that, I mean I'll ride into Meryton and speak to Colonel Forster."
Darcy slowly nodded his approval. A company of shire militia had recently arrived in Meryton to camp for the winter, and a request from a fellow military officer surely would not go unanswered.
"Where would Miss Elizabeth go?" asked Lady Disley then. "Search in all directions, to be sure, but start in the places she is likely to be found."
"Well," Bingley began, rubbing the back of his neck, "Meryton is two miles from the estate, and both Lucas Lodge and Longbourn are a mile further. Though she has made friends with a few other young ladies in the neighbourhood, those are the two families with which we are closest."
"Anywhere else?" Hiddleston asked.
For a moment there was silence, then Georgiana—who had looked stricken on learning that her dearest friend was missing—suddenly brightened and cried, "Oakham Mount! It is a popular place from which to view the valley, and we have gone there at least two times on horseback. Elizabeth said it looked like a very peaceful place in which to think, and Charlotte agreed with her, saying she had often gone there to be alone with the quiet to settle her thoughts."
"Bingley and I will ride to Oakham Mount," said Darcy decisively. "Hiddleston, you ride to Lucas Lodge, and Hurst, I want you to go to Longbourn. Let us cover all the possibilities."
The others did not question his directions, and in moments they were heading out to the stables. Louisa and Georgiana had followed, and the former said, "Please find my sister, Mr. Darcy. She and I have just begun to truly know each other, and I still have so much to make up for."
Darcy nodded. "We will find her, Mrs. Hurst," he said.
"That we will, Louisa," Bingley agreed. "Do not you worry—we shall soon bring Lizzy home."
The five gentlemen mounted their horses almost in unison and departed in different directions without another word. Darcy and Bingley urged their mounts to a gallop in the direction of the lookout, neither saying a word until they reached it.
"Blast!" Bingley cried as he walked toward the bench near the edge of the cliff. "She's not here."
"No, but come back and have a look at this," Darcy said. When Bingley was back at his side, he pointed to the ground at his feet. "Tell me, what do you see?"
"Looks like carriage tracks," Bingley replied. "But Darcy, that could be anyone! This is a public road."
"Under the circumstances, I think we should follow them," Darcy said. "My instinct tells me that these tracks at a place Elizabeth favored on the very morning she has gone missing are not a coincidence. Not at this hour of the day."
Bingley sighed and ran a hand through his red curls. "Perhaps you are right," said he. "Let us go then."
They were on horseback again in a moment and following the tracks at a steady pace. By the time they reached the wooded section of the road, Darcy could tell that Bingley was despairing.
"Oh, where is she?!" he cried, desperation and worry in his voice.
Darcy was careful to conceal his own fear as he tried to reassure his friend that they would find Elizabeth. They had to, for he needed to tell her the truth—he was falling hopelessly in love with her. He'd spoken to Bingley and received his resounding approval but had yet to find an opportune moment to speak to Elizabeth herself to express his ardent affection for her. He simply could not accept that he might have wasted too much time fretting over finding the "perfect" moment.