but…
The news that Mary had been abducted by parties unknown left Elizabeth winded, not least because Fitz had chosen to make his news public in the Rubens Room after dinner, just before Charlie, Angus and Owen had returned. Though Elizabeth had been aware of her disappearance for some time, Fitz hadn’t taken his wife to one side beforehand and told her privately of this abduction. Instead, he told her in the presence of Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst-and Louisa’s daughter, Letitia/Posy, perhaps the most vapid and cheerless girl of Elizabeth’s acquaintance. So she had no alternative other than to suppress her anger until a more appropriate moment to unleash it on Fitz’s chilly, unfeeling head. Under the shield of Caroline’s exclamations, Louisa’s faintness and Posy’s squeaks, she sat with a red spot burning in each cheek, but so composedly that no one could have assumed she did not already know. Pride, Elizabeth! You too have pride.
Her husband went on to explain the measures he proposed taking, much the same as he later outlined to Charlie, Angus and Owen: the notice, the reward, Susie’s pen-and-ink sketch, the style. He told them of Captain Thunder’s part in the business, and the insoluble mystery of her disappearance while she was under Ned Skinner’s care. He made no intimation that the Captain was responsible for this second disappearance, though he did not mention the Captain’s death at Ned’s hands. Only that it could not have been the Captain who kidnapped her.
“Shall you tell Susie of the sketch, or shall I?” she asked.
“I shall. I know what I want,” said Fitz.
“When do you ever not know what you want? I must go to Bingley Hall first thing tomorrow to tell Jane.”
“Oh, do let me keep you company!” cried Caroline. “Twenty-five miles there, and twenty five miles back again. You will need a truly sympathetic hand to hold.”
And Elizabeth literally saw red: a scarlet veil descended in front of her eyes. “I thank you, madam,” she said with a bite, “but I would rather hold the Devil’s hand than yours. It is more honestly malign.”
A collective gasp went up. Caroline sprang to her feet, Louisa flopped sideways in her chair, and Posy pitched forward onto the floor. Elizabeth sat with a sneer on her face, enjoying every moment of it. The
“Pray excuse me, I am very tired,” said Caroline, with a venomous glare at Elizabeth, who returned it with a purple flash Miss Bingley’s brown orbs could not equal.
“I will come too, dear,” said Louisa, “if you help me with poor little Letitia. What a demonstration of ill breeding!”
“Yes, get yourselves away!” Elizabeth said fiercely.
“About the only thing I can be thankful for, Elizabeth,” Fitz said at her bedroom door, “is that Charlie, Angus and Mr. Griffiths were not present to hear you insult Miss Bingley with such vulgar coarseness.”
“Oh, a pox on Caroline Bingley!” Elizabeth opened her door and marched inside, her arm in position to slam it in Fitz’s face.
But he wrenched it from her and followed her, face as white as hers was red. “I will not hear you speak to one of my guests so-so contemptuously!”
“I will speak to that woman in any terms I please! She is a liar and a mischief-maker, and they are
“This is the outside of enough, madam! You are my wife, and in the eyes of God sworn to obey me! I
“Do you know what you can do with your orders, Fitz? You can put them where the monkey puts his nuts!”
“Elizabeth! Madam! Are you as stark a lunatic as your younger sister? How dare you speak to me so disgustingly!”
“What a sanctimonious prig you are. At least I will say this for Caroline Bingley,” said Elizabeth in pensive tones, “what one sees is what one gets. No false faзade. Just a dripping sponge soaked in vitriol. Whereas you, Fitzwilliam, are the most duplicitous, the most underhanded of men. How dare you break the news to me that Mary has been abducted in front of two harpies like Caroline and Louisa? Have you no feelings? No compassion? No grasp of what is due to a wife as well as a sister? What was to stop you taking me to one side and telling me privately? What excuse can you tender for such cold-hearted stupidity? I could not even
He stepped into the breach. “Of course your criticisms of me are not a new phenomenon, I am aware of that. You first took delight in apostrophising me as-er-conceited, arrogant, proud and ungentlemanly twenty-one years ago. I congratulate you upon finding a new set of epithets. They leave me unwrung. As to why I did not apprise you privately of Mary’s missing state, blame yourself. I dislike women’s vapours and tears. Our marriage does not stand upon a rock, madam, it moves around on shifting sands. Sands that you have created. You do not obey me, though it is a part of your marriage vows. You lack a proper disposition, and your language is the height of impropriety. What’s more, your conduct is growing rapidly worse. I can no longer be sure that you will comport yourself with any more decency than your sister Lydia.”
“Whereas I suppose you find nothing to fault in your telling me that you wished you had never married me?” she asked, eyes blazing.
His brows rose. “I spoke the truth.”
“Then I think we should end this farce of a marriage, sir.”
“Death will do that, madam, nothing else.” He walked to the door. “Do not antagonise me further, Elizabeth. I will engage to soothe Caroline’s feelings by telling her that you are not yourself. A slight dementia brought on by worry for your sisters. She is aware of the weakness that runs through your family, so my tactful explanation will suffice.”
“I have not asked you to make a hypocrite of yourself by being sweet and reasonable to Caroline Bingley! In fact, I ask you not to bother! You are branding the Bennets!” she cried as he opened the door. “Lydia, Mary, now me!”
The door shut behind him with an audible snap. Legs giving way, Elizabeth staggered to the nearest chair and sat with her head between her knees, fighting dizziness. Oh, Fitz, Fitz! Where have we gone wrong? Who is your mistress? Who, who?
Her heartbeat began to slow, her head to clear. Elizabeth got herself out of her dove-grey silk gown, the jewels, the underwear, and into her gauzy nightgown. Why do I bother with such fripperies when Fitz never comes near my bed? Because they are comfortable is why. The flannel of my youth chafed and itched.
Somewhere outside a fox shrieked, an owl screamed. Oh, Mary, where are you? Who would have braved the wrath of Ned Skinner? And what is Fitz keeping from me? How has Lydia settled into her house, Hemmings?
After eating a bread roll crisp from the oven and drinking a cup of hot chocolate, Elizabeth set out the next morning for Bingley Hall and her sister Jane. Who had suffered yet another miscarriage-a mercy. Since Charles had written that he would be away at least another twelve months, perhaps Jane would recover her health before the whole business started again. What had Mary said? That she wished Charles would plug it with a cork. How mortified Fitz would be at such plain speaking from a maiden lady!
Bingley Hall lay in five thousand acres outside the village of Wildboarclough, well south of Macclesfield. It had been a happy purchase for one seeking to advance his social station from plutocrat to aristocrat, and had fallen to Charles for a good price thanks to Fitzwilliam Darcy, who stood as guarantor not for his wealth (that was proven) but for his respectability, his propriety. Charles Bingley would not use the wrong fork or put the port decanter on the table! The land was well tenanted and Charles an excellent landlord, but the chief glory of the estate was its mansion, a large white building of central pile and two wings. Its beautiful and imposing Palladian faзade dated it to the seventeenth century.
The boys were off somewhere-the youngest was now eight-which meant they knew their mother needed peace and quiet. The only girl, Priscilla, had come after William, Percival, Robert, James and Marcus, so there was no hope
