Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth found that Jane was somewhat better in the morning. She was well enough to answer Elizabeth’s questions about the attack. “Oh Jane, I am so thankful you are going to be well. We were all so worried."

“I am very sorry to have caused such concern. Perhaps I should have taken the carriage after all.” Elizabeth smiled at her sister’s attempt at humor. It was out of character for Jane, which her sister took as an indication that she was not yet herself. “Please offer Miss Bingley my appreciation for her hospitality.”

“I rather think that your gratitude might be better offered to your Mr. Bingley.”

“Please, Lizzy. He’s not my Mr. Bingley.”

“With his constant inquiries after your health and his attention to all things that might offer you comfort, I think he might well be. While he offers me every appropriate civility, it is you who seems to be continually on his mind.”

“Oh, Lizzy.”

“Are you feeling up to answering a few questions?”

“I can try.”

“Do you remember anything about what happened to you?” Elizabeth took her sister’s hand.

“Very little.”

“Did you see who attacked you?”

“I saw nothing. I was riding from home and something hit me from the woods. It all occurred so fast.”

After assuring her sister that her recovery was more important that her recollection. The two spent three quarters of an hour discussing the events of the prior few days. Then Jane pleaded fatigue and Elizabeth gently guided her back to sleep. After using her gift to regulate Jane’s recovery, Elizabeth decided that she would rather take a stroll around the Park than join the superior sisters at the breakfast table.

On her stroll, she encountered a large hound who proved to be exceptionally friendly. She did feel somewhat chagrined when Mr. Darcy, upon landing from his patrol, caught her once again behaving in a completely improper manner. She found him staring at her with a disagreeable, disdainful smirk.

“Mr. Darcy,” she offered a curtsy.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he bowed. “May I ask after your sister’s health?”

“She was well enough this morning that I was able to ask after her recollections of the attack. Unfortunately, she saw nothing that may help our investigation.”

“I am glad to hear she is recovering.”

“Have you been patrolling? Did you find anything?”

“I was, and I did not.”

“I am uncertain whether you are disappointed or not.”

“I am uncertain myself.” He stood staring at Elizabeth until she began to stir in anxiety. “Have you breakfasted yet?”

“I have not.”

“May I accompany you to the table?” He offered his arm and she took it, though she was not fully pleased to be in his company. It brought back to her how her feelings about the tall man were … unsettled.

His original insult and subsequent haughty behavior had fixed her opinion of him as a most disagreeable man. What she found difficult to accept was that his actions during the investigation; his diligence, perseverance, and bravery, intimated that there was more to him than his initial unfortunate impression. Elizabeth was not pleased with the likelihood she would be forced to revise her opinion of him. But shared danger tended to foster good will even among the most reluctant comrades.

They entered the breakfast room to find the rest of the party already at table. Elizabeth noted that neither of Mr. Bingley’s sisters seemed delighted to find her in company with Mr. Darcy. After her host’s initial inquiries into Jane’s health, the conversation at the table ground to a somewhat uncomfortable standstill.

Finally Elizabeth attempted to kindle some sort of discourse. “Do I understand that you will be attending a meeting with your fellow magistrates and the militia officers?”

“Indeed. The Colonel has invited us for a luncheon and discussion at the Red Lion at one o’clock. His letter said his hope was that we could determine possible protocols for securing the neighborhood until the assassins are found. I wonder if there will be an effort at standing up any sort of official patrol or constabulary.”

“Surely he’s not proposing some sort of police force,” expostulated Mr. Hurst with more vigor than Elizabeth had seen him display on any subject but cards. “There’s no place for rummy French notions like that in this man’s England!”

“Nothing like that, I assure you,” Mr. Bingley placated. “But I do think there might be some benefit to considering more coordination between the militia and the magistrates to prevent such tragedies.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Do you know the number of gifted in the area that might be of use in such patrolling?

“Not all gifts lend themselves to such plebeian tasks,” Miss Bingley interjected. “Many are better suited to more refined pursuits.”

Elizabeth felt both the sting of the barb directed at her, as her father’s sheriff, and amusement at the consideration of whether Miss Bingley realized she had slighted Mr. Darcy and her brother with the same animadversion. “I must admit I am uncertain of the total number. There are upwards of a hundred gifted individuals in the area, and that does not include the militia or any other visitors. But as Miss Bingley so rightly points out, not all gifts are appropriate for protective duties. Of those the number may not be large.”

Another awkward silence descended on the table. Elizabeth noted that once again Mr. Darcy was gazing at her in a most disconcerting fashion. She wondered what she had said to earn his disapprobation this time.

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“Will you be joining us at the meeting?” Mr. Bingley asked, looking between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. “I feel it would be beneficial for you to be in attendance, as you are the principal investigators of the attacks. Any information you could provide on your efforts to date would be most illuminating.”

“We will make every effort to be there,” Mr. Darcy replied, committing both of them.

“How singular,” Miss Bingley said. “Will it not be … discomfiting … to be the only lady at such a gathering, Miss Eliza? I would be most perturbed if I were to ever find myself alone in a chamber full of men.”

“There are female landholders, Miss Bingley. My Aunt, Lady Catherine de Burgh, is one such.” Mr. Darcy reminded her. “I am unaware of any in this neighborhood, but magisterial duties are not reserved to gentlemen alone.”

“Not to mention the fact that I have known many of the gentlemen at the meeting all my life, most especially including my father, whom I believe your brother mentioned would be present.” Elizabeth smiled. “I am certain my courage will rise to the occasion.”

“Speaking of your father, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy turned to address her directly. “We should begin out sojourn to Longbourn if we wish his assistance this morning.”

“Give me a moment for one last check on Jane and I will be ready.”

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy traveled to her home by air. The gentleman had suggested they ride, but Elizabeth reminded him that she had not brought her habit. They agreed that a carriage would be too troublesome should they need to investigate another out of the way location and that walking, while perfectly pleasant on a normal day, was neither quick enough nor safe enough under the circumstances. Both kept a close lookout for trouble as they flew past Meryton and over fields and forests. Elizabeth was somewhat let down that the short flight proved uneventful.

Upon their arrival at Longbourn, Elizabeth was surrounded by feminine family members asking after Jane’s health and the progress of the investigation.

“Jane is well and our search is ongoing. I can tell you nothing more than that at this time. But we hope that Father may be able to provide some new information from which we may find other avenues of inquiry.” Elizabeth laid her hand on Mr. Darcy’s sleeve and gently pulled him towards her father’s sanctum.

Once inside she embraced her father. “Lizzy, it is good to see you so well. Tell me of Jane’s recovery.”

“We spoke just this morning. She is out of danger. She is tired still, but progressing better than I had anticipated.” She stepped back and saw much of the tension drain from his countenance. She noticed the exhaustion in his features, but his eyes danced with excitement. She thought her father, once assured of his daughters’ health, was relishing some part of the adventure in which he found himself embroiled.

“So why have you come to see me then? Not that I am not pleased to see either or both of you. Especially when offering such relief to a worried father.” He offered his hand and then a seat to Mr. Darcy.

Instead of sitting Mr. Darcy removed a wrapped package from his satchel. “We have found a few pieces of potential evidence at the scenes of the attacks.” He carefully laid out the broken pipe, the bones, and the half dozen paper cartridges onto her father’s desk. “Miss Elizabeth suggested that you might be able to sense something used from these. Any information you can give us may prove helpful.”

“In particular we are looking for clues to the identity and location of the assailants,” Elizabeth added.

“So you are having great success in your endeavors so far?”

“We cleaned out two nests of highwaymen yesterday, and recovered an abducted girl,” Mr. Bennet drew in a sharp breath at Elizabeth’s statements. “But we have yet to find the people who attacked Jane.” She knew that it was somewhat cruel to remind him so directly of what was at stake, but Elizabeth knew that her father had a tendency towards both sloth and sarcasm. They could afford neither at the moment.

“Yes…well…” He blinked several times rapidly. “Let me see what I can see.”

Mr. Bennet sat silently in his chair for several seconds, centering himself and calling on his gift. He reached out and touched a paper cartridge. His eyes glowed as he picked up the ragged wad and held it between his two palms. After a moment the glow diminished and he set the paper down. “Nothing. Too new and no extended personal contact. Nothing to leave an impression.”

He repeated the actions with each of the six cartridge remnants Darcy had collected. The results were identical. Next he reached for the bones. As soon as his fingertips grazed them, he flinched. “No bones please. They are very unpleasant to touch.”

Lastly he gazed upon the broken remnants of the clay pipe. He leaned his head near and examined the artifacts without touching them. “This seems familiar, though I cannot place it. You see that this is not the sort of pipe most commonly smoked in this part of the country. Here you are more likely to find carved wood or corn cob. This sort of clay bowl is more common in Ireland or the western counties. I’m certain I have seen someone or other smoking such a pipe, but cannot recall who. Let’s see what this beauty has to show us.”

When he grasped the broken bowl his eyes once again glowed, and the glow persisted for several minutes. Finally Mr. Bennet opened his eyes and addressed Elizabeth. “It’s Old Dash.”

“Who?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“Old Dash is a freeholder at Triple Creek Farm, about three miles north-northwest of Meryton, somewhere off the Old North Road. I haven’t been there in years. But I would occasionally see Old Dash, or his son, whose name escapes me at the moment, in town or at the market fairs. He always treasured this pipe. Seldom saw him without it.”

“I think I remember him. Bald as an egg and big ears that always held up his hat?” Elizabeth strained to recall.

“The perspective a young girl brings to the world,” Mr. Bennet smiled indulgently. “I couldn’t distinguish anything more recent than last year sometime, but this was Old Dash’s pipe.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said. “Will you be attending the meeting at the Red Lion this afternoon?”

“I was intending to. Do you know of any reason I should not? Do you need me to lead you to Triple Creek?”

“No, Father. I’m sure I can find it if you show me on the map.” Elizabeth pointed to the county map her father had framed on his wall. Quickly he showed them the location of the freehold. As the map was less than twenty years old, it was marked clearly.

“We should be off then,” Mr. Darcy stated. “We will let you know what we find at the meeting.”

“Take care.” Her father took her hand for several seconds, then reluctantly released her.

Once again they flew to their destination. Elizabeth was familiar with the landmarks, even from the air, and was able to navigate with ease. The found a concealed landing spot near the lane leading to the farm. They moved as stealthily as they could, all senses stretched towards the sprawling farmhouse and barns in the distance.

“I find no sign of human presence, though there is extensive evidence of the recent use of gifts.” Elizabeth pointed towards the numerous trees and walls with scorch marks and electrical burns. There was also signs of extensive firearms training and several uprooted trees.

“We should stay alert nonetheless,” Mr. Darcy cautioned. They took several minutes stalking the abode, only to find it empty of human life. Elizabeth was not able to hide her disappointment. “Whoever they are, we know that people with the same or similar gifts that were used in the attacks were here for an extended time. Perhaps, if we search, we might find some indication of where they have gone.”

“It is nearing one o’clock. If we stay to search we may miss the meeting.” Elizabeth pointed out.

“I feel this is more important. The meeting will likely last for some time. If we learn something useful we will be able to attend the end of the gathering and share it then.”

“Agreed. Do you want the outside or inside?”

“Lady’s choice.” Elizabeth chose to investigate the outbuildings and surrounding yards. She wanted to fix the scents of the scoundrels in her mind so that she could follow them should she ever encounter them in the future. As she searched she discerned there were at least six or seven distinct traces. She was certain one was a woman, but could tell little else. Two were older and more widespread. She assumed it was Old Dash and his son. The others were male and distinctive; one smelled strongly of tobacco and spirits, another of gunpowder and leather, a third of pomade and perfume, but she could get no details on the last scent.

She next found something that saddened her, the recent shallow grave of Old Dash. Before she could return to the house with her news, Mr. Darcy sprinted through the door, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. “What is it?”

“They are going to attack the meeting. Bingley and your father, all of them, are in grave danger.”