Page 71 of A Most Beloved Sister
“Honestly, Miss Lizzy,” he said, rising to his feet, “there’s nothing more youcando except pray.”
He clapped a hand on her shoulder, then went out the door, leaving her to resume her solitary position at the window
∞∞∞
As the early morning mist lifted, revealing the undulating hills of Hertfordshire bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn, Darcy and Bingley made their way to Netherfield Park. Their journey from London had been interrupted only a few miles from Netherfield by light rain, and they were forced to stop at an inn. Eager to return to Netherfield as quickly as possible, they had risen with the sun and were only a half mile or so from their destination.
The steady clip-clop of their horses’ hooves against the country road provided a rhythmic accompaniment to their thoughts. Bingley, ever the optimist, was visibly elated to be returning to his angel’s side. The special license that Darcy’s uncle had helped him procure was kept safely on his person, tucked away inside the inner front pocket on the left side of his jacket, resting on top of his heart.
He spoke animatedly about the plans he had for his arrival, his voice carrying on the crisp morning air. “I must say, Darcy, I have missed the tranquility of the country. London has its charms, of course, but there is something about the open fields and the quiet that is most refreshing. And just think—in only a few days, God willing, I shall be a married man!”
He let out a whoop of delight before bursting into boisterous laughter, causing Darcy to allow a slight smile to tug at his lips. He leaned forward on his horse. “Well, then, I guess you had better get to it, then! Last one to arrive pays a forfeit, eh?”
Without waiting for a response, Darcy gave a swift kick to his horse’s ribs, urging him forward. Ignoring Bingley’s startled shout behind him, he leaned forward and urged his mount to pick up speed, the urgency of his sudden departure creating acloud of dust on the path behind him. The landscape blurred as Darcy focused solely on the road ahead, driven by a sudden yearning to be back under the same roof as Elizabeth Bennet.
“You cheated!” cried Bingley as they came around the final turn that would take them off the main road and onto the drive towards Netherfield.
Darcy merely smirked and brought his horse into a canter, allowing Bingley to come up beside him. As Netherfield came into view, its elegant facade emerging from the morning mist, the younger man’s excitement was palpable. “Ah, there it is! It feels as though it has been an age since we left. I wonder if much has changed in our absence.”
“A week is but a brief span in the life of the countryside, Bingley,” Darcy responded dryly. “I suspect you will find Netherfield just as we left it, though the people may have missed our presence.”
As they approached the grand entrance, however, it was clear that something was amiss. Dozens of men—soldiers, tenants, servants, and even a few gentlemen—were congregated on the front lawn, broken into small groups of three and four people.
As Bingley and Darcy approached, someone shouted, “The master’s returned!”
Murmurs spread throughout the crowd, and one by one, the people turned their heads towards the two horsemen.
“What the blazes is going on?” Bingley asked, bewilderment etched across his face.
“Nothing good,” replied Darcy, his lips pressed together in a grim line.
They urged their horses through the crowd, choosing to bypass the path to the stables and instead immediately make their way to the front entrance, where they were greeted by Mrs. Nicholls and Mr. Grantham.
Darcy stepped forward to demand an explanation, then paused and turned to his friend, motioning for him to lead the inquiry. Bingley, however, was gaping around at the hubbub and appeared to take no notice of his friend’s cue. Sighing, Darcy asked, “Grantham, what on earth is happening?”
The butler exchanged glances with Mrs. Nicholls, who said, “Mr. Hurst went for a ride yesterday afternoon. No one realized he hadn’t returned until it was time for dinner. The stable boy assumed he’d stayed at a pub or an inn for the night, since he’d ridden out so late, but no one has seen him.”
Bingley gasped. “Louisa?”
“Mr. Jones has given her a draught of valerian root to help her rest.”
Four pairs of eyes turned towards the front door, where Elizabeth Bennet was exiting Netherfield. Next to her limped Jamie, and a white-hot flash of jealousy shot through Darcy’s chest at the servant’s proximity to his mistress.
“Miss Elizabeth has been organizing the search parties since the discovery was made,” Grantham informed the newly arrived gentlemen.
“You?” Darcy blurted out.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at him. “Yes, me. I was the only one here in any position to do so. I daresay a woman can organize as well as any man could.”
“That’s not—”
“I think what Mr. Darcy means is that he is impressed that you were able to do it so quickly, especially with your duties of tending to your sister,” Jamie hastily interjected. “I doubt he meant anything toward your sex.”
“Precisely!” Darcy swiftly added. “Additionally, I cannot imagine that you have had much experience organizing a search of this magnitude all on your own. It is quite remarkable, Miss Elizabeth.”
All of Darcy’s ill feelings towards the servant disappeared when Elizabeth’s stance relaxed. “Well, in that case, thank you, Mr. Darcy. I must admit, it has been quite overwhelming. Your timely return is quite fortuitous; I am not entirely certain what to do next.”
Bingley looked at Darcy. “You’re magistrate in Derbyshire, aren’t you? I imagine you’ve had to do this sort of thing before?”
