The Netherfield Affair Read online

  Elizabeth took a step back. She was not unaffected by his looks and charm, though she was on her guard. “I have come to take Tilly back to the house,” she said.

  “No! I’m not goin’ back! Take me with you, Georgie!” said Tilly, flinging herself at the side of the horse. The animal gave a nervous whinny and shied away, causing Wicked George to curse roundly as he struggled to bring his mount under control again.

  “Enough of that, my girl!” he said to Tilly sharply. “You’re frightening the beast. What has got into you?”

  “They’ve found us out, Georgie!” cried Tilly. “They have discovered my hidin’ place an’ retrieved all the stolen things.”

  “What?” said the highwayman in shocked tones. “You do not have the valuables with you?”

  Tilly shook her head miserably. “No, but they are after me, Georgie! They’ll arrest me an’ then I’ll surely hang! You must take me with you!” Once again, she grabbed at the saddle, attempting to pull herself up after him.

  Before he could respond, they were surprised by a new noise in the woods. Elizabeth whirled around to see a halo of lights showing through the trees behind her. A group of figures could be seen coming along the trail that she had taken from the house, and in a moment she spied the face of Keech the thief taker at the front of the party. He was holding an oil lamp which cast a yellow glow upon the surroundings. Behind him came several of the Netherfield Park menservants, and finally Mr Darcy leading a black steed.

  “There she is!” cried Keech, pointing at them. Then the light of his lamp caught the highwayman astride his horse and Keech gave a sharp intake of breath. “And that’s Wicked George the Highwayman! Quick! After him!”

  There was a burst of chaos as the menservants charged, waving their arms and shouting. Wicked George cursed and spurred his horse into action. The nervous animal, frightened already by the sudden lights and loud yelling, reared suddenly, neighing and tossing its head. Tilly screamed as she was flung aside, whilst Wicked George fought to stay on his mount. Elizabeth stumbled backwards, barely avoiding being struck by the horse’s hooves. Then with a lash of the whip, the horse bolted, Wicked George bent over its back, still struggling for control.

  “No, Georgie! Wait for me!” screamed Tilly, jumping up and running after him.

  She chased after him into the woods, followed by Keech and the rest of the servants. Then came the thunder of another set of hooves and Elizabeth caught her breath as a powerful black stallion galloped past her. She barely recognised Darcy on its back—his eyes were narrowed, his countenance hard with ruthless resolve. He needed no whip to goad his horse into action—merely his superb horsemanship as he leaned forward on his steed and urged it on. The horse carried him into the woods, overtaking Keech and the straggling servants, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Elizabeth ran after them, her heart beating in her throat. It seemed that the night was full of confusion and, with no lamp of her own, she could barely see beyond the shadows. Instead, the sounds were all magnified—the harsh breathing of the men, the thundering of the horses’ hooves echoing in the distance, Tilly’s shrill cries begging Wicked George to come back…

  Then there came a terrible scream—whether man or animal, it was hard to tell—followed by a gunshot exploding out of the darkness.

  And then there was silence.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The morning dawned so bright and gay that it was hard to believe Hertfordshire had been held in the grips of an ominous storm for the past week. Sunlight sparkled on the raindrops still clinging to the foliage and the sky was a deep cerulean blue, patterned with white clouds.

  Elizabeth arose and dressed with a heavy heart. Though they were returning to Longbourn today and leaving the dramas of Netherfield behind at last, she found little to cheer her. All her thoughts were on the fate of Tilly the servant girl. Her blind wanderings in the woods last night had brought her to nothing but a footman, who had been dispatched to find her and escort her back to the house. To her anxious questions, he could give no answer save to say that Mr Darcy had found the fugitives and taken charge of the situation.

  Elizabeth’s heart had sunk when she heard this news. Would that it had been Bingley who had gone with Keech into the woods! She knew she could count on Jane’s favourite to show understanding—and even forgiveness. But Darcy? Could such a proud, superior man be prevailed upon to show leniency? She knew he did not have a temper which forgave easily—he had owned this himself—and she remembered his hard stance up in the attic yesterday. She feared for Tilly’s safety. She had waited in wretched anxiety all evening for news, but had heard nothing. If the party had returned to Netherfield, then they had kept to the servants’ quarters, and Darcy did not reappear in the drawing room all evening. At length she took herself to bed, hoping for more information in the morning.

  Now Elizabeth waited impatiently for Jane to be ready so that they could descend for breakfast. She was desperate for news. A strange servant girl had brought up fresh water for washing, but the girl could only shake her head in reply to Elizabeth’s eager questions. All she did say in the end was that Keech the thief taker had left and returned to London, but when Elizabeth persisted in asking about Tilly, the girl had simply looked scared and scurried away. When at length they descended the stairs, such a sombre mood prevailed about the house that Elizabeth feared the worst. Bingley arose eagerly to greet them as they entered the breakfast parlour and Elizabeth lost no time in asking him what had occurred.

  “The scoundrel got away,” said Bingley, shaking his head. “Darcy gave chase, but the fellow was too slippery for him. He didn’t even get a good look at his face. Though I think were it not for the girl, Darcy could have caught him—but he stopped to assist the maid who had fallen.”

  “Was she hurt?” asked Elizabeth in alarm. “I heard a gunshot.”

  “I think not,” said Bingley. “The shot was merely a misfire.”

  “My dear Miss Eliza,” said Caroline Bingley with a sneer. “One could almost imagine that you were concerned for the maid! First you were defending her yesterday and now this… I must say, I find it most eccentric how you take such an interest in the lower orders.”

  “One should take an interest whenever there is a human life at stake,” said Elizabeth sharply.

  “Fear not, Miss Bennet,” said Bingley. “The girl returned to Netherfield Park uninjured.”

  “And… what will become of her?”

  Bingley looked a bit uncomfortable. “Well…”

  “She ought to be arrested!” said Miss Bingley. “I have just been impressing upon Charles here the error of letting her go unpunished. Indeed, she ought to be hanged for her crimes!”

  Jane made a sound of distress and Bingley quickly patted her hand.

  “Come now, Caroline,” he said. “Our possessions have been returned, the house restored to order. Surely there is no permanent harm done? It seems harsh to wish a hanging on the girl.” He shrugged. “In any case, it is Darcy’s business now. He has elected to deal with her and decide her fate, so I have put the whole matter into his hands.”

  This news brought such agitation to Elizabeth that she was quite unable to concentrate on her breakfast. Once again, she railed inwardly at Bingley’s tendency to defer everything to his friend. She desperately wanted to speak to Darcy, to ask him what he intended to do with Tilly, but though she waited for him eagerly, he did not appear during breakfast.

  Finally, with breakfast complete, they quitted the parlour and reconvened in the main foyer where they stood waiting for the Bennet sisters’ belongings to be loaded into the carriage. Elizabeth felt a surge of relief as she saw Darcy’s tall figure come down the main staircase.

  “Darcy! There you are,” said Bingley. “The Miss Bennets were just leaving.”

  Darcy joined them and had a brief, private conference with Bingley. Elizabeth strained her ears, but she was unable to hear what they said. Then Darcy came over and made his farewells to Jane,
wishing her continued improvement in her health. To Elizabeth, he simply bowed, though his dark eyes caught hers for a long moment. The Bingley sisters showered Jane with effusive wishes and extravagant promises to see her soon as the entire party moved outdoors and stood next to the carriage. Bingley fussed over Jane as he helped her in and tucked the blankets carefully around her feet. Elizabeth stood back, waiting for her turn to be handed in, but everything within her rebelled against the thought of simply leaving like this, with so much left unresolved. She turned and looked at Darcy, who was standing a bit apart from the group. His expression was not welcoming, but she took a deep breath and walked up to him.

  “Mr Darcy,” she said in a low voice. “I wish to speak to you in private, on a matter of some importance.”

  He looked at her in surprise, then offered his arm. “I shall be glad to escort you in a brief turn about the gardens, Miss Bennet.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth took his arm and let him lead her away from the others, down the path which meandered through the shrubbery, around the side of the house. She saw Caroline Bingley craning her neck to watch them walk away and knew that the lady would be full of displeasure at the thought of her solitary stroll with Mr Darcy. She would have little time before Miss Bingley found an excuse to join them.

  She turned to Darcy and said urgently, “I must beg you to allow me to speak on Tilly the maid’s behalf. I know you do not forgive easily, but I beg you to reconsider in this instance. The girl is not blameless, but I believe her crime to be one of misguided love, rather than intentional malice and greed. Her actions were based on the belief that she was aiding another in a noble cause. Will you not take this into account when you are deciding her fate? The punishment for such crimes can be severe and it would be too cruel—”

  “Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, stopping her words. “Do not distress yourself. I shall endeavour to treat the girl fairly.”

  “So… you will not send her to the docks?”

  Darcy regarded her gravely. “Do you think me such a monster?”

  “No…” Elizabeth coloured. “I…”

  “Then I ask that you trust my judgement in this matter and that I will act as I see fit.”

  “But—”

  “Miss Bennet, I ask that you trust me,” said Darcy quietly.

  Elizabeth started to protest, then stopped as she could see that he was not willing to speak any more on the subject. She would have to be content with his assurances thus far. She sighed. In spite of her anger and impatience towards the man, a part of her did want to trust Darcy. Implicitly.

  “Very well, sir. I thank you for listening to me on the subject.” She paused, then added, “There is one other mystery which is yet unsolved.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow.

  “The instance of the ghostly face at the window,” she said. “There is still no explanation for that.”

  “Ah, I believe I can set your mind at rest about that,” said Darcy, a small smile breaking the sternness of his handsome countenance. “Come with me.”

  He guided Elizabeth around the side of the house and into the rear courtyard, only pausing when they came within view of the broken attic window. Elizabeth gazed up at it. In the bright sunshine of morning, it seemed ridiculous to suppose that there could have been a supernatural being up there and she felt keenly the absurdity of her claims.

  “Are you going to tell me that it was naught but the product of my overactive imagination?” she said dryly to Darcy.

  “No, it was definitely a face that you saw at the window, Miss Bennet… but not a human one.”

  “Are you insisting that it was a ghost?” said Elizabeth, surprised.

  “No, not a ghost,” said Darcy. “A bird. Tyto alba. The common barn owl.”

  “An owl!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

  Darcy nodded. “Such birds are renowned for their large, snowy white faces and big black eyes—at a distance, they could be easily mistaken for a ghostly countenance. They also have a piercing high call—not unlike an unearthly scream—no doubt that was the sound you heard which had so frightened you.” He added, “My findings on the ground beneath the window only confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Your findings…” Elizabeth remembered him examining the wall and the ground beneath the window. “Those things you retrieved from the ground?”

  “They were owl pellets,” Darcy said. “And as the final corroboration, I sent a servant up to the attic this morning to look through the other rooms up there. In one of the disused bedrooms, he discovered a nest with three eggs. It appears that a pair of barn owls have claimed one of the empty bedrooms as their roost and the broken window provides them with easy access.”

  Elizabeth could not help herself. She broke into laughter. “To think… to think that I was brought to such a state… all because of a bird!” she gasped, holding her sides and struggling to control herself as her whole body shook.

  Darcy chuckled. It was a deep, pleasant sound, and once again Elizabeth was surprised at how much humour could transform him. She looked up and caught his dark eyes laughing down into hers and, for a moment, felt a closeness to this man unlike anything she had felt with anyone else. Then they heard a step behind them and Darcy looked away. The moment was broken.

  “Mr Darcy! Miss Bennet! What on earth…?” Caroline Bingley descended on them, her eyes sharp.

  Darcy inclined his head to her. “My pardon, Miss Bingley, for keeping everyone waiting. I was helping Miss Bennet clarify a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?” Miss Bingley looked at him enquiringly, but Darcy made no move to elaborate further, and after a moment she turned away with a look of chagrin.

  “The carriage is ready,” she said pointedly to Elizabeth.

  “Thank you, sir, for putting my mind at rest,” said Elizabeth, dropping a quick curtsy to Darcy.

  Then, ignoring Caroline Bingley’s look of frustrated curiosity, Elizabeth returned to the front of the house, where Bingley was still fussing over her sister. This time, she allowed herself to be handed into the carriage without further delay, and in a moment the door was shut and the coachman was gathering the reins.

  Mr Darcy had returned to the front of the house and stood silently watching, whilst Miss Bingley chattered next to him, trying in vain to engage him in conversation. Mrs Hurst waved her handkerchief and, next to her, Mr Hurst looked bored—obviously keen to return to whatever edible attractions awaited him in the house. Only Bingley remained close to the carriage—almost leaning into the open window—as he continued to hold Jane’s hand.

  “I hope we shall meet again soon. Very soon,” he said earnestly, looking at Jane in such a way as to cause her to blush prettily. “I have told your younger sisters that I will give a ball as soon as you are well and I shall send the invitations around soon.”

  “Thank you, sir—we shall look forward to it,” said Jane shyly.

  Bingley looked as though he might have said more, but the horses were getting restless and he was obliged at last to release Jane’s hand.

  “Until the ball, then!” he said. Waving a warm farewell, he advanced to the middle of the drive and watched them depart. Behind him, his friend stood still and silent, and though Elizabeth dared not look too obviously out of the window, she fancied she could feel that dark gaze following their progress out of the grounds of Netherfield Park.

  “Oh, Lizzy—it was very good of you to come and be with me. I took great comfort in having you there. But I hope the stay at Netherfield was not too dull for you,” Jane said.

  “Dull?” Elizabeth tried not to laugh. “No, Jane, it was not dull in the least.”

  “And have your feelings towards Mr Darcy improved upon prolonged acquaintance?” asked Jane. “I own, I was greatly impressed by his kindness towards Tilly.”

  “Kindness towards Tilly? What on earth do you mean, Jane?” spluttered Elizabeth. “To my mind, he has shown her little sympathy thus far.”

  “Oh no, Lizzy—you are
mistaken! For Mr Bingley just told me that Mr Darcy has arranged to have Tilly sent to his estate in Derbyshire. Is that not kindness itself? When others would have cast her out without thought or references, he is giving her a secure home and a job.”

  Elizabeth gaped at Jane.

  “You are teasing me, Jane,” she said at last.

  “No, indeed I am not!” said Jane. “You may ask Mr Darcy yourself when you see him at the ball, if you do not believe me. Or Mr Bingley will vouch for his actions.”

  “I just… I cannot believe it…” murmured Elizabeth. She shook her head impatiently. “But I quizzed him about Tilly just now and he would not tell me a thing! In fact, he let me assume the worst and would not explain his actions to me. Why would he not take the opportunity to present himself to me in a better light? It was extremely vexing that all he would do was ask me to trust him.”

  “Perhaps he felt that such honesty from him had to be earned by your showing trust in him first,” said Jane gently. “Mr Darcy does not strike me as the sort of man who feels the need to explain himself to others.”

  “No, for it is beneath his pride to do so,” said Elizabeth.

  “Nay, Lizzy, there may be another explanation for his taciturn attitude. He may simply be a reserved man, not used to sharing his private thoughts and intentions with those who are not close to him.” Jane paused, then added, “I know you laugh at me often for always thinking the best of others, but truly, you may be surprised by how differently things can appear when you judge less harshly. How you choose to see others is how they will appear to you. If you choose to think meanly of them, then you will likely think only of the negative explanations for their actions. If you choose to think well of them, you may discover a side that you had not previously considered.”

  Elizabeth sighed and gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “You are right, Jane, and I shall try harder to emulate your good nature in my dealings with others. As for Mr Darcy, I will confess that there is much about the man which perplexes me. He seems such a case of contradictions—it is difficult to understand him. But I will own that perhaps I have let prejudice direct my thoughts too strongly. I shall endeavour to temper my attitude towards him.”