Posted on Sunday, 23 December 2001, at 12:16 p.m.

Any participant in chat during the early hours of North American weekend mornings might have stumbled across a reference or two regarding a mysterious purloiner of unmentionables. This is in no way inspired by those comments.

And if you believe that, I think Tamsin has some Bailey's Cheesecake and boxed chocolates she would like to share. ;)

The benefits of a high walled kitchen garden can never be completely extolled. Ensuring the safety of the fresh consumables from marauding deer and other large night prowlers is just one advantage and seemingly the most obvious. The second most important function of the kitchen garden in any large household is its ability to conceal the airing and drying of laundered items from curious and impertinent eyes.

Of course, not all eyes regard the privacy of this fortress as sacrosanct. Nor do those same eyes respect the riches that are to be found within the walls as belonging to someone else.

Thus, as the fluttering sound of linens waving in the stiff breeze drew the curious from their dens, so did it draw Mrs. Hill from the kitchen doorway. She waddled across the flagged stone walkway to the clothesline and tested the first item within reach.

"Not dry yet," she mumbled, looking up into the sky with a worried eye. "Th'ell be rain afore long," she sighed, shuffling back to the house. The door closed with a click of the latch and the garden was quiet again but for the snapping of some undergarments as the wind wildly steered them about.

Shortly, a pair of feet tentatively entered the stronghold. This breach was not through the garden gate, nor through the kitchen door. No, the trespasser came over the wall. His nose wrinkled as the myriad scents from the pantry were carried across the open space on the wind. Very cautiously he stepped forward, one foot at a time, peering about him anxiously lest he be seen. A clanking of dishes from the other side of the open kitchen window gave him pause, ready for flight at the least sign of discovery. He was safe, however; safe to continue his mission.

Making his way along the clothesline, he inspected each garment hanging from the wooden pegs. Passing by the sheets and pillow slips, he gave a moment's attention to one of Mr. Bennet's shirts, inspecting it closely for suitability for his needs. After rejecting it, he moved on to some smaller items which would be easier to carry away undetected. Finally deciding on a soft and fragrant (having been freshly laundered and scented) pair of smalls he quickly and efficiently removed it from the line, cautiously retracing his route to effect his escape. Just as he had almost made the safety of the wall the sound of the kitchen door being flung open gave him a start. Then came the outraged cry of the housekeeper.

"You likkle thief! Drop tha' at once!" Brandishing a beater stick, Mrs. Hill ran after the intruder. Despite her longer legs she had no chance of catching him, however. The bandit slipped over the wall while she was forced to pursue by way of the gate. Once on the other side of the barrier she quickly spotted him and, hitching up her skirts, set off after him once more. "Drop 'em, I say!" she shouted between labouring breaths. So intent was she upon her target that she failed to notice the two horses with riders that were approaching from the driveway.

The two gentlemen on the horses did not miss seeing Mrs. Hill, however. Nor did the sight of a disembodied pair of lady's undergarments escape their notice as it seems to jump and leap ahead of her in a race across the lawn. Neither Bingley nor Darcy could find a word to say. They just looked at each other in astonishment while their horses continued on the familiar path to Longbourn's front door. While they were dismounting it appeared that the housekeeper had been successful in finally running the errant garment to ground for she appeared from around the corner of the house, muttering to herself about miserable squirrels while examining the damage which had been inflicted upon the pair of dainties. Unaware of the presence of the gentlemen she was holding the cotton unmentionables up for inspection.

"Oh, dear," she moaned through the rents in the fabric. "What will I tell Miss Lizzy?" Suddenly spotting Bingley and Darcy through the holes she gave a squeak and thrust the offending item behind her back. Fortunately Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth emerged from the house at that moment, removing any necessity of explanation on the part of the servant.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, the gentlemen valiantly ignored the oddities they had just witnessed and focussed their attentions upon their beloveds.

Mrs. Hill effected a quick and stealthy escape around the house, back to the garden.

The little thief, however, dissatisfied with the way things had turned out, returned to the garden later in the afternoon to find another potential nesting material for his winter bed.

The End. :)