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Chapter 1
We are not in it for the money. Well, I used to be, originally. But not anymore. By now I have made enough. You could say my partner and I have become addicted to the thrill of the game.
This does not mean we are dishonest crooks like, let us say, George Wickham. We should be very offended if anyone compared us to that scoundrel. He is a disgrace to the business. Not only does he sometimes harm more than only people's vanity, but he also seldom manages to keep the precious objets d'art intact and that is one of the prerequisites of the job. One cannot sell a damaged artefact and there cannot be any pride in taking away something damaged and useless.
Because my partner and I look down on Mr Wickham's pathetic skills, he bears us many a grudge and would rather see us killed, if only he could be certain of our identity. I know that he does not really know who we truly are. He may suspect who my partner is, but as yet he has no clue about me, which is rather a comfort.
You see, I am not a man, like my partner, but a woman. That must be why he has not yet discovered my identity. One generally does not expect women to engage in the noble art of art removal, as I prefer to call it. Theft sounds so incredibly crude and I would not call my partner and myself crude. We employ refined and clever methods and, I may add, we are among the best in the business, if not the absolute best. Most of our colleagues have either been caught or they have removed to sunnier places such as the Italian villas of the rich and famous, not, as they claim, for the weather, but because the authorities were breathing down their necks. There is but one authority I should want to breathe down my neck, but that is not relevant at the moment. We have not had any serious trouble with the authorities so far.
Nor do we do commissions, as some disreputable figures do. Really, there is no enjoyment in getting somebody another person's property. That is something for amateurs. True professionals, like my partner and I, work only for themselves. Frequently we do not have anything in mind in advance. We may be visiting somewhere and his eyes may start to gleam upon perceiving a certain beautiful object and he will bend towards my ear. "Would it not be nice to...?" That is usually all the encouragement I need. The remainder of our stay is then spent plotting and when one of us leaves, the object goes with him or her. We are a good team.
Perhaps I need to explain that we do not always leave together. We are partners, not spouses. There has never been more than a professional partnership between us. It is not my place to say whether that is to our satisfaction or regret. I rather think it would be the end of out co-operation if we were to become more concerned about each other's safety than about our own. We have a tacit understanding to save our own skins first before we think of the other. It has worked perfectly well so far.
How did we come to find ourselves in Meryton? Lately we had become slightly careless and we had drawn some suspicions to ourselves in London, where certain people were beginning to question the origins of my family's fortune, which seemed to have accrued at a mysterious rate. My late father was responsible for that and the sources of our wealth have never been mysterious to me, but I understand people's questions. People enjoy speculating and nobody actually knew what kind of trade my father had been in. They think it might well have been something less than respectable.
These silly authorities also believed that my brother had followed in my father's footsteps or that he would at least have some shady connections to whom he passed on valuable information with regard to objects of art. The fact that my brother and I were both guests at a mansion that was divested of some pretty vases must have got them thinking. They questioned my brother at length, but he is of course quite innocent.
How I ever got involved in the business is a very boring story and my partner's history is possibly even more boring. We were just bored with our society and because of the recent interest in my brother, my partner and I must return to being bored. We must lie low for a while or act separately to fool curious minds. That is why we came to Hertfordshire. There is nothing to do here and certainly nobody to rob, to put it in the vulgar terms they use here.
In the few days that we have been here we have not met anyone at all interesting. Correction, I have not, but my partner has. I look upon this acquaintance with concern, for I foresee that it will be the end of our partnership if the allurements of the fairer sex will become more attractive to him than the allurements of the objets d'art.
Does he not know what this would do to me? I personally still find it more thrilling to pursue a nice painting than a nice gentleman. One would object that paintings are easier to catch than gentlemen and that I am taking the easy way out, but is this really true? I should say that one does not have to consider paintings if one is intent on stealing -- forgive the vulgar terminology -- a gentleman, but that the opposite is the case: one cannot take off with a gentleman's painting just like that. There are very few gentlemen who would stand by and applaud and I speak from experience. So it would follow that it actually easier to capture a gentleman than a painting and therefore less of a challenge.
However, if my partner is as much on his way to lose his heart as I think he is, I shall have no other option than to mend my ways and make somebody a good wife. This prospect is quite understandably not very appealing to a free and wicked woman such as myself.
That was going through my mind all the time. I could not broach the subject with my partner lest I had completely misread the signs. For my part I could not see why he should choose a girl from a family that had absolutely no artefacts to excite his interest, apart from perhaps their family bible, but family bibles have never been something we risked our reputations for.
When he slipped one of Mrs Bennet's gaudy but expensive necklaces into my hand unobtrusively, though, I forgave him for his as yet unacknowledged interest in Miss Elizabeth.
Chapter 2
When Miss Bennet fell ill, she stayed with us at Netherfield, the house my brother had rented. I did not mind, for she was a sweet girl. Her sister, however, was not so sweet. A few days' acquaintance with her had shown her to be quite sharp. My partner, otherwise very art-oriented, acted uncommonly human-oriented whenever she was near, as if Miss Elizabeth was the next piece of art he was going to carry off. He looked at her with the same gleam in his eyes that he ordinarily reserved for something that was expensive or beautiful.
I felt it was my duty to warn him how dangerous it was to someone in his position to lose his heart. What would Miss Bennet think of him if she found out? A respectable girl could not admire him, could she? "What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr Darcy!" I said when the talk was of books, just to remind him of how he had procured some of its contents.
"It ought to be good," he replied. "It has been the work of many generations."
I wondered if anyone had ever told Darcy that he was a consummate liar. Many generations! Perhaps he resented my little sting, but at least that meant that my comment had not gone over his head. "And then you have added so much to it yourself," I said sweetly, earning myself a dirty look that almost made me laugh. "You are always buying books," I said to placate him, for I was not out to insult him, merely to amuse him.
He looked relieved at that. Surely he could not be ashamed of himself? Darcy! It was only because he wanted to impress a lady! Men were pathetic sometimes.
"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these," he said with a meaningful look at me.
I pricked up my ears. Would we be returning home with some of the contents of the Bennets' library? It was just like Darcy to layer his speech in such a manner. He was wicked and could charm the clothes off anyone if he so desired. However, after a while one grows immune or perhaps one becomes acquainted with too many of his faults and it does not work anymore. "Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place," I said. He knew full well what I meant and there was a smile around his lips. The rest, of course, did not understand a thing. Darcy was quite proficient at hiding his kleptomaniac tendencies.
*~*
We had Miss Elizabeth Bennet stay with us as well, to take care of her sister. Sometimes she got on my nerves, Miss Elizabeth, notably when my partner showed himself to be too interested in her charms. "Eliza Bennet is one of those ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own," I said, for some of her words had offended me a little. "And with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art." You had better not fall for it, Darcy, I meant to say, but to say this to a man who was interested in a woman was perhaps a gross waste of time.
"Undoubtedly," Darcy replied. I have mentioned before that he liked to layer his speech and I liked being the only person this was aimed at. "There is meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation."
This was clearly directed at me and it was an excellent example of his skill. He liked to include arts and references to our favourite pastime in his speech. I nodded sagely.
"Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable," he said furthermore, but this rather puzzled me, for he was pretty cunning himself. His cousin, of all people, was part of the authorities and yet Darcy had always managed to conceal our business from him, even though they were great friends.
At least, I assumed that Colonel Fitzwilliam knew nothing of Darcy's business transactions. It would have lessened my opinion of him further if he employed double standards -- one for his relatives and one for the rest of the world.
I should explain that I did not have a very high opinion of the Colonel. Someone who cheerfully maintains a good record of fighting for a good cause is never an idol to those of us who failed at abiding by the law. If only the good Colonel could slip up somewhere, he would become a good deal more palatable. It needed not be much; an illegitimate child here and a gambling debt there and he would forever be in my graces. But as it was, he was altogether too amiable, too charming, too successful and too just to be interesting.
*~*
Our two guests did not allow us any opportunities to visit Longbourn and scour it for worthy objects. I did not think there would be any anyway and I did not regret it as much as Darcy did, but his interest had always veered much more towards paper objects, whereas I had to admit to having a liking for bright and shiny things.
We had often discussed this difference in our preferences and Darcy had never accepted my explanation that I preferred bright and shiny objects because they were more dangerous to steal because of the light that reflected off them in the process. He had merely said that I was some kind of bird -- I forgot which one, but I have never been very interested in birds.
However, Darcy's preference for books had led to a reasonably sized library at Pemberley. Since not many people were admitted there, not many people would recognise their stolen books there, if indeed they actually took the trouble of climbing up the stairs to scour the highest shelves where the newest additions were usually stored away.
Most people did other things in the library than looking at books, oddly enough. In my -- albeit not very long -- career, I had looked in on many a strange occurrence from outside the library windows and I was acquainted with most of the follies of human nature by now. That is, those follies that Darcy allowed me to watch. In some instances he was shocked and he applied a blindfold.
He might be careless of the law when it comes to other people's possessions, but he was never careless of propriety and good morals, it must be said, although his tendency to look upon me as his friend's younger sister was rather annoying for someone who was in fact his friend's older sister. I asked him whether this male concern for the female sensibilities did not spring from the fact that they have more space to manoeuvre in with a woman who does not know what might happen to her if she is locked alone in a library with a man. By depriving women of the knowledge, they run far less of a risk of us saying, "ha, you cad! I know what you are after!" An innocent lady will be too dumbfounded to protest.
He said nobody would ever try to corner me in a library. Whether this was a compliment to my understanding or an insult to my beauty, I do not know. I chose not to ask, because it would not do justice to me either way.
*~*
Darcy had returned from dining with the officers with a very pretty silver chandelier. How he had carried this off was an absolute miracle to me, because gentlemen generally do not wear large coats indoors and his waistcoat was rather too tight. I mentally reviewed his wardrobe, but I could not see any space in his trousers or boots either. It would look even more odd to walk around with a chandelier sticking out of his trousers. For the next two days I questioned him about it, but he refused to answer me.
It was pretty infuriating that I could not ask Charles how Darcy had walked off with a chandelier, but I suppose Charles and Mr Hurst would not even have noticed had Darcy kept the chandelier in his hand all the time. They were not very observant people.
To infuriate me further, Darcy took the chandelier back two days later. He was not interested in the object in itself, but it had been merely the thrill of sticking it down his trousers, hat or boots unseen. Again, he would not reveal where he had stuck it.
"I would never tell you, Caroline," he said to me languidly one afternoon, doing his best impression ever of someone who was fashionably bored. It would have succeeded if I had not known he was rejoicing over this particular feat with the chandelier. "You would perhaps boast of having an acquaintance who could stuff chandeliers down his ____ unnoticed and that would give the whole scheme away."
"I am your partner," I objected.
"Even partners must have secrets, Caroline," he yawned. "What if my cousin should put the thumbscrews on you? In your agony you would not only reveal the identity of your accomplice but also his methods and that would never do. It is alright if you confide in me -- I am a man and I will never bend under pressure."
I severely disliked it when Darcy was proud of himself and I ignored him for all of an hour just to punish him.
Chapter 3
Wickham's arrival in town surprised us. I did not know him as well as Darcy did, but I had heard enough of him to feel annoyed. I knew there would be some messy jobs in the vicinity now, though the good thing was that Wickham would never remove anything we had set our sights on. He simply did not have a good taste and would in all likeliness drool all over the Lucases' upstairs parlour.
Darcy fretted about a Louis XI sofa he would never be able to remove, but which had nevertheless fixed itself in his mind as the only object worth having. I distrusted his absentminded look, because this signified that he was plotting something with regard to the sofa. Having considerable experience with Darcy borrowing dung carts, I knew I should not discount his inventiveness and his professional pride.
Men, especially those in our line of business, are always very eager to keep their opponents away from something they want for themselves. I could have told Darcy that Wickham would never look at the Louis XI sofa twice and that he certainly lacked the skills to remove it, but men are stubborn and Darcy made plans to get to it before Wickham could.
"Have you been doing your press-ups faithfully?" he asked me all of a sudden. He had insisted that I do those, so I could be of more help removing objects.
I knew then that he had something planned. "What is it?" I asked.
"Well, have you?" It was nearly impossible to get Darcy off his chosen track once he was on it. He would stubbornly insist to have his first question answered.
"I have, but I cannot lift a sofa," I said. Darcy looked surprised that I had read his mind. Really, he should know better than to underestimate my understanding. "Get that sofa out of your head, Darcy," I urged, not at all looking forward to dressing up as a milkmaid. Or to be within a mile from a dung cart, let alone on it. Hay carts were acceptable, but it was not the right season.
Darcy lazily walked over to where I was sitting and squeezed my upper arm. I, naturally, yelped and slapped him. Mr Hurst, choosing that precise moment to be awake and to enter the room, looked surprised, but kept his comments to himself. This was a good deal more annoying that hearing them, for now we did not know what exactly he was thinking. "Yes, Mr Hurst?" I said cattily. "Amuse us by telling us what you think."
"Is Mr Darcy bothering you, sister?" Before I could answer, he continued. "Go on, my dear fellow, go on."
"Really, Mr Hurst. If that is all the brotherly affection you can spare, there is no need to take the trouble at all. Not on my account," I said indignantly.
"It is all," Darcy cackled. "You ought to blame Mrs Hurst for that."
Since the men seemed to know something I did not, I felt displeased. "And you, sir," I said to Darcy. "Sound like an idiot if you cackle."
Darcy cackled again and I walked away. I complained to Louisa about the men's behaviour, but she did not sympathise with me. She said I should not play games with Mr Darcy, because he did not intend to marry me. Even if I did not want to marry him either, I felt a little offended. Was there something wrong with me other than that I liked to be adventurous by removing art?
~*~
"You mistook my intentions," Darcy told me later. "I do appreciate our partnership."
I suppose he was feeling guilty for siding with Mr Hurst, since we usually sided against Mr Hurst and I was slightly mollified by his apology. But only slightly, not enough to take the rough edges off my bluntness. "You have grown distracted of late," I replied. "Miss Elizabeth must be occupying your thoughts quite a lot."
"Indeed, but I am not in any danger, Caroline," he assured me. "Her connections!"
I wondered how he looked upon my connections or how he could think about Elizabeth Bennet without having any intentions. "I do not understand you. How can you think about her if you do not feel yourself to be in any danger of developing any intentions?"
"Do you never do that?" Darcy was surprised.
"I most certainly do not. Well," I admitted. "I may screen a gentleman for his potential, but I would never knowingly think about one that I had already written off." Because that would be a complete waste of time. I thought Darcy hated wasting time as well and I did not understand him.
"Are you sure?" Darcy asked in such a pestering voice that I suspected that he had a specific somebody in mind.
"Quite sure," I coloured, for I did not know whom he meant. Really, I did not, but I felt it wisest to change the topic anyhow. "Now how about the sofa and the dung cart?"
Again, he looked surprised, this time upon hearing me mention a dung cart. Did he think he was dealing with a fool? "Caroline," he said and tried his most charming smile on me. Again, he tried to get his first question answered. He was awfully predictable.
But I have grown accustomed to his smile and it has no power over me. I looked right back at him, very seriously. "Yes?"
"Tell me whom you think of?"
"Nobody."
"Quite enlightening," Darcy said enigmatically, making me want to throttle him until he confessed what he meant by that statement. However, I was a lady and I did nothing.
"No dung carts this time, partner," he said. "I have inspected the sofa and it is not heavy at all."
Damn Darcy and his reconnaissance missions. I could see he wanted me to carry the thing as well, but what was he planning to do with it once we got it outside? "Are you going to fold it up and put it in your trunk?" Would he want to take it to Pemberley?
"No, it is to be placed on Meryton's market square," Darcy spoke dreamily.
I stared at him in utter bewilderment. That girl was really getting to his head, for this was the most ridiculous scheme he had ever conceived of. I would be the last to say that there was any point to our actions, but this really beat everything. Meryton's market square! "And pray tell me how far is this from the place of removal?" I asked when it had all sunk in.
"Just under half a mile and it is a very light sofa." He seemed to think that I could carry sofas on my head.
As if the short distance would make it any more appealing! This would be the largest thing we had ever removed -- if we were going to, that was. I still had my reservations. "And then?" I inquired.
"And then I have a lovely surprise," Darcy grinned. "You might not agree." Which was the first sensible thing he had said all evening.
~*~
Sir Geoffrey Potts, to whom I had not been introduced, but to whom Darcy had paid a visit a few days back, was the happy owner of the Louis XI sofa, but he was also so deaf that he would never hear a thing, added to which he was heavily into sleepwalking and his servants would not think it strange if they heard any sounds during the night.
For a respectable gentleman, Darcy knew an awful lot of shady tricks, such as how to gain entrance into a house of which the doors were locked. He called it a useful skill and had taught it to me too.
Darcy and I sneaked into the house and he led me to the sofa. I could not resist lingering in front of a cabinet with small silver statues, but he pulled me away, saying tonight was not the right time. I tore my eyes away from the cabinet and lifted my end of the sofa. We carried it out of the house and Darcy paused to close the doors behind us.
The sofa was not heavy if you held it for about ten seconds -- which was probably all that fool Darcy had tried to lift it for on his reconnaissance mission; really, men have such a restricted view -- but I did feel my arms burn when we finally got to the square after much stopping. To my great surprise Darcy hid the sofa in a dark corner and told me to take a seat and said he would be right back. I assumed he needed a little privacy and I sat down patiently to wait. Just when I was beginning to wonder exactly how much he had been drinking, he reappeared with something that made me gasp and bring my hand to my mouth.
"Meet my friend," Darcy grinned. "Do not scream -- he is dead. He cannot hurt you."
"Did you kill him?" I backed off when he placed the skeleton next to me on the sofa.
That made him laugh. "You little ingenue. I removed him from the doctor's house." I did not want to sit next to a skeleton and I stood up, eyeing it in distaste.
"Help me move it to the middle of the square," Darcy said. Though I was disgusted, I believed Darcy about the skeleton being harmless, but I still took care not to touch it. We placed the sofa in the middle of the square, stretched the skeleton out on it, gave it a dirty gin bottle and then returned home, now and then collapsing into laughter.
Chapter 4
I had become aware of the fact that our line of business would rather prevent us from marrying a third and a fourth party. Mr Darcy had not yet seen this, I believed. To me, thinking meant that you were entertaining hopes, despite his words to the contrary. He professed not to be in any danger, but could a woman really know what goes through a man's head and if he is speaking the truth? However, at some point he was going to realise the truth and that was if he ever wanted to marry anybody, he would have to suffice with me.
To him that would be quite as shocking as it was to me. I examined my feelings. He was my friend, but I did not claim to feel anything like the things that were described in romance novels. It could be my own fault, true enough, or the fault of the romance writers, that their heroines were never annoyed with the hero, whereas I most certainly was. In spite of that, I had to admit that Darcy had several points counting in his favour. He treated me as an equal -- most of the time. He was handsome, rich, funny and all those other things and I daresay we could coexist in relative amiability.
Given the choice, I would take Mr Darcy over spinsterhood any time. As for him, I hoped he would think the same about me. I should definitely be condemned to spinsterhood if he continued to dream about the Elizabeth Bennet he could never have.
And he would certainly never be able to have her for long, if at all. My instincts told me that she disapproved of lawbreakers, regardless of the fact that Mr Darcy had broken but one law. One should not discount the influence of her sister Mary in this aspect. Of all her sisters, Elizabeth was the only one who had the abilities and character to be open to Mary's theorising and I did not think that Mary had been theorising and moralising alone, just like I never would have gone removing all by myself. Certain activities required an accomplice to be satisfactory. Mary, I knew for a fact, would never tolerate a brother-in-law who spent his spare time doing things he should not do and who only touched edifying books if they were valuable enough.
This made Darcy sound like an idle rogue, but it was not quite correct. He could -- if he wanted -- be an ordinary gentleman, but he had some wicked traits that were hard to suppress, especially when he did not know what else to do. I believed he would grow out of it once he reached a steady age, but he was not yet thirty and took this as a license to amuse himself. After thirty, he might settle down, but his past would be a burden to any woman with an inquisitive disposition. I could not see how his past could make any right-thinking woman happy, unless she was rather wicked herself, but we would know her in that case, because she would be in our line of business.
All my thinking had gone unnoticed by Darcy, who was triumphing about the skeleton on the sofa. I glanced at him and wondered if it was true that women grew up sooner than men. In that case, I should soon overtake him. Perhaps I already had, I wondered when he took my hand and when this did not seem to be an affectionate gesture at all. Childish was more like it, judging by his little skips.
"Do you not think it is funny?" he asked me. "Imagine people finding it!"
My amusement had waned a little after I had been thinking, but I could not help giggling when I imagined it. "They will be shocked."
"Exactly," Darcy said, enjoying himself tremendously, even so much as to kiss me on the cheek. However, that was not all he did.
I was pretty shocked and excited. I did not know which emotion was stronger, but at any rate, I could not let them show, because it seemed to mean very little to Darcy. He let go of me, ruffled my hair and said "ahh, Caroline."
Ahh, Caroline? How was I to interpret this? I did not know where to start.
"Forgive me," he apologised, sounding genuinely regretful. "My thoughts were elsewhere."
I should have been angry, because I could guess where his thoughts had been, or with whom. However, I was still too stunned to feel anything else, because I was also still under the influence of my earlier thoughts.
"But you are a good partner," he continued. "I should have expressed myself in another way. I hope I did not make you feel uncomfortable."
I could not lie and yet I could not say it had not been uncomfortable, so I only murmured something incoherent.
"It will not happen again. I promise," said Darcy, who had never struck me as being particularly remorseful, but who did seem to regret his conduct now. Usually he was proud of what he had done and he usually could be, but this time he really seemed to wish he had used his mind before acting.
"It is alright," I said weakly. Why should I complain? It had not been uncomfortable and Darcy was not a cad. He was my friend. And he would never do it again. I could believe that, for he never went back on his word. Was it because he so obviously regretted kissing me? And kissing me there? Had it been uncomfortable to him because it was me? I did not like that thought. "You did not like it?" I ventured.
He frowned. "That is not why I apologised. You must believe me. It has nothing to do with you. It is just that I am not pleased with such ungentlemanlike behaviour."
Alright, so it had not been me. That relieved me a little. "We had best forget about it then," I said softly. What else could I say?
"Could you?" Darcy asked eagerly.
"I think so." I wanted to do a friend a favour, but I seriously doubted it. It had been too strange a sensation to forget easily, even though I was nowhere near as breathless as the heroines in novels always seemed to be, but then, I was not in love with Darcy.
~*~
The next morning, we eagerly awaited news from Meryton, but it took a while before it reached Netherfield and it was different from what we had expected. We were informed that Sir Geoffrey Potts' sofa had been stolen -- I really objected to that word, but it seems to be the most commonly used description. It did not, if I may explain, fit to describe our business, since the objects we removed, did not disappear and therefore they were never stolen. I realised there was a very fine line between the two, requiring a qualified eye to discern it that not everybody might possess.
"And?" inquired Darcy. He was expecting an elaboration. Some shocked reaction to finding the sofa in the square, something about the skeleton perhaps, but not simply this.
The footman could not inform us any further and he was puzzled. Of course he did not know that he was telling Darcy something that Darcy already knew. "That was it, sir."
"It was not found?"
According to the footman, stolen implied not found, and he was even more puzzled. I interfered before Darcy could start asking about the market square. "That is very bad, to be sure. Was Sir Geoffrey terribly upset?" I wondered why I should ask, since such questions had never bothered me before, even though I had gathered that they plagued other people, but I supposed that that fact had registered with me and I was only copying other people.
"I suppose so, Miss Bingley," said the footman and I made some sympathetic noises. At least, I hoped they sounded sympathetic, but I could not be certain, for Louisa frowned at me. It might have sounded too much like a snort, I feared.
I had to wait for a chance to talk to Darcy about what might have happened to the sofa, because the rest of the party remained in our company the entire morning. It seemed to me that somebody had discovered the sofa before daybreak and carried it off, skeleton and all. And I could not be sure, but it sounded a suspicious lot like the work of Wickham.
Chapter 5
Sir Geoffrey Potts, prompted by the collective indignation of all of Meryton, had reported the theft of his sofa, just like Dr Hamilton had reported the theft of his skeleton, or rather: the skeleton he used in his practice. It was the talk of the town and of the servants at Netherfield. Nobody could understand what anybody should want with a skeleton -- I, for my part, could not even see what the doctor had wanted with it and thought he was a rather morbid figure -- and it was a great mystery to all, except to the few who believed or feared that the skeleton had come alive again and that it had broken into Sir Geoffrey's house to steal the sofa.
The militia, who had nothing else to do but to walk the shopping streets in the hopes of catching the eye of some attractive girl, were asked to investigate, but since all they ever did in any town they were stationed was to walk the streets, their powers of investigation and research were extremely weak. They felt themselves to be quite important as they walked from shop to shop to question people and they knew that many eyes were upon them.
However, their predilection for females below a certain age led them to ignore other people's stories and consequently many of them must have returned to their barracks with reports of how frightened the young girls of Meryton were and how this had to be remedied by the presence of more redcoats in the streets.
I knew all this because Colonel Forster had told Darcy. We laughed at it, but we had to keep our amusement to ourselves. And we still were no closer to discovering who had taken the sofa. Darcy was annoyed, because if he had known someone else was interested in it, he would have taken it himself.
"We are never going to find out," I told him. "Not if they keep asking the militia to assist! Only the stupidest of men join the army."
He gave me a thoughtful glance. "I forgot to tell you that we might have potential trouble on our hands."
"How?" I asked.
"Colonel Forster mentioned that another colonel might be coming to Meryton."
"What for?"
"A special inquiry."
"The sofa?"
"No, Wickham. Apparently he has been misbehaving."
"Which colonel?" I asked, nearly fearful. I knew only a few other colonels, but it would in all likeliness not be any of them. Coincidences did not happen.
"Colonel Forster did not say I could tell you," Darcy replied.
"Of course he did not!" I protested. "The man is unaware of my existence and he is even more unaware of my interest in the case. That does not mean you cannot tell me!"
"I shall have to consider it," Darcy said gravely.
I hit him. "Darcy!"
"It might just be my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam."
"No!" I said in dismay. "Not him! But why might it be him? Did Colonel Forster not mention a name?"
"Yes, he did. He was talking about Colonel Fitzpatrick."
"There might really be a Colonel Fitzpatrick," I said hopefully. "Your cousin would find you out much too quickly." And I had other reasons.
"He never has so far."
"I know, but the sofa was obviously a two-man job."
"I could have carried that sofa all by myself," Darcy said importantly.
"Darcy! You could not! You needed me."
"Yes, indeed. Things are more amusing with you," he said, putting his arm around me to give my shoulders a squeeze.
I did not know why he kept doing that and I coloured when Louisa caught him doing so, but he did not notice. I do not think he even noticed what he was doing, either. He was probably thinking of her again, although he had not seen her for a while. The last time had been in Meryton. And the last time Mr Darcy had known what he was doing had been right before that.
"Do you think the people at Longbourn will also have heard of the sofa?" he asked.
I knew I had been right. "Yes, she will have heard, but she will not know it was you. In fact, her mother is probably advising her to stay indoors, like all the other mothers, because there is a thief around," I said sharply.
Darcy was appalled, like I had thought he would be. "Indoors?" he asked.
"Yes. To be safe from such a blackguard." How it pleased me to say that. I must really not be the nice person that I had thought I was.
"She will not go to Meryton anymore?"
"I cannot say," I said in exasperation. "But it seems unlikely, given what we heard!" Darcy stared at his knees dejectedly. "I thought you were in no danger at all," I said maliciously.
"Oh, I am not."
"You seem pretty sad about possibly not seeing someone you do not care about."
"I seem so, but I am not so. I think on the girl on occasions," he confessed. On most occasions, it seemed to me, but I refrained from commenting. "But I have a firm grip on myself," he said confidently. This was going so wrong, I felt. So entirely wrong. Perhaps we did need the Colonel after all, since he, as a known womaniser, would perhaps engage the attentions of her to free Darcy from his preoccupation. I thought about it. They would suit. Yes, they would do nicely for each other. I hoped he would come.
Chapter 6
Before we got to find out whether the Colonel was Fitzwilliam or Fitzpatrick, we had a ball at Netherfield. I was vexed. Having a dance at my own -- well, Charles' -- house implied that I had to be hostess and that I could not do as I pleased. Usually I loved playing hostess, but right now I was rather out of sorts.
We had had to invite the Bennets, naturally, and they came with all their girls. There were so many of them that soon every man in the room would find himself dancing with a Bennet. I looked upon them with what I hoped was a kind eye, although it was very difficult to keep from frowning when they made an immediate beeline for the nearest red coat after greeting me in a perfunctory manner. Only Jane showed good sense and she smiled apologetically. Even Darcy's object of obsession betrayed her age. I suppose the girl did not know any better yet.
Although Charles had had to invite that cad Wickham as well, we were all pleased to be told that Wickham was away on business and that he would not be attending. I sighed in relief, having locked away most of Netherfield's priceless ornaments beforehand. The few that remained would now be safe from Wickham's sticky fingers.
I did not know what Darcy meant by asking Miss Elizabeth to dance. I had successfully distracted him from that purpose for the first two dances, but as soon as he could possibly free himself without offending me, he practically dashed off in her direction.
Some people were being very bold indeed tonight. What happened to observing attractive men from the corners of the room? It must be a country fashion to approach the opposite sex so daringly and Mr Darcy was very much affected by it.
I was not. Having studied my guests unobtrusively I saw no male guests that were in need of being introduced to other parties, which is the advantageous job of the hostess. I judged that those present could do so very well all by themselves. Their hostess was not prepared to be extra civil for their sake. It is amazing how handsome and rich men always need just a tiny bit more attention and guidance at a ball than, let us say, that thickset man with the greasy hair that insisted on following me about to pay his compliments about the house.
I believe that is also how I struck up a friendship with Darcy. He was probably glowering in a corner of the room until I approached him to ask him if he required anything. Hostesses must be bold and daring, even if the countenances of some of their guests do not invite chatter. Darcy's did not either. I persevered and look what happened.
I watched them dance. They danced well, but I did not think they got along well. Darcy was, of course, pleased, but I did not think that Elizabeth was happy with him as a partner. He did not speak enough for her.
As soon as they separated, I approached Elizabeth. Jane had been asking me some questions about Wickham and I had gathered that Elizabeth was interested in him. I told her she should not believe all he said, but the girl was offended. If she was as obstinate as that, then it would be useless to inform her about Wickham's true character. I gave up.
I was quite busy attending to picking up as much gossip about the sofa as I could, but I only heard conflicting accounts. However, it was quite clear to me that Wickham's absence was related to the theft. He had probably taken it to London where he was selling it at this precise moment to finance his gambling debts. How despicable to be in it for money.
The Bennets' hideous cousin had now discovered that there might be a connection somewhere, as he pompously informed me. I could tell him that there were always connections anywhere, but I had no desire to speak to him, nor to inquire what he meant precisely.
"I heard that gentleman mention Lady Catherine De Bourgh, my noble patroness --" More followed, but I chose to ignore that, since it could not be important. Perhaps this was an excellent time to see if my guests were in want of introductions. I supposed not, since the night was halfway over. My eyes wandered over the crowd.
"-- cousin. I believe him to be her nephew!"
Shocking indeed, I agreed silently, to think that the daunting Lady Catherine had had parents at one time, and siblings. I smiled benevolently at the man, wishing he would take his unappealing body out of my sight. Gentlemen's clothes had not been made for people like Mr Collins. They would fit a huge potato better.
If he was so desirous of speaking to Mr Darcy, why should I not encourage him? It was not my job to shield Darcy from unwanted attention, was it? If it was, I had failed miserably with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, although that was unwanted attention from my point of view and not from his. I considered the idea. I could tell this person here in front of me that Darcy was indeed Lady Catherine's nephew. What would ensue? In all likeliness I was going to be left alone and Darcy would be bothered. Darcy had already his bit of fun in dancing with Elizabeth, so it would not be any more than fair that he should now suffer the attentions from her relatives and realise just what he was doing. Nobody would persist in thinking about Elizabeth after having been introduced to this, would they? I could not imagine it.
Thinking that it served my purpose, I nodded. It was a long time after Mr Collins had spoken, but his understanding was so slow that he would not have noticed, I trusted. Besides, I was acquainted with his noble patroness' nephew and he would not dare to make any judgements about my speed in replying. I would practically be holy.
If only other people realised this -- Saint Caroline. I was contemplating the thought when a dashing, but awfully young officer approached me for a dance. Mr Collins' reverence had flattered me slightly, apart from the repulsion, and I accepted. At least the coat and breeches fit the officer in the way they were intended to fit and he had polished his buttons. It was a whole sight more pleasing to behold than Mr Collins. I inquired and discovered that he would inherit a sizeable property upon his uncle's death. Would that be why he was a great favourite with the Bennet girls and other young ladies in the neighbourhood? The attention had certainly flattered him enough to give him the courage needed to approach me. And yet, there remained something to be wished for in the young officer.
I realised that I had already heard everything he said before. Nothing remotely original passed his lips. The witticisms had undoubtedly proved their worth with other young ladies, because he seemed surprised that I did not burst into flirtatious giggling when delivered some of his lines. But honestly, could anyone imagine laughing at such superficiality, especially someone who was used to conversing with Darcy on a -- truly, I am not saying this because the person in question is me, but it may be said objectively -- much higher level? Well, before Darcy's mind sunk to irretrievable depths. I may say that, for it would be unrealistic to assume that thinking about Elizabeth could improve his mind. Frankly, what on earth was it about her that could keep a person's thoughts occupied for such a lengthy period of time?
Chapter 7
We also had to suffer Miss Mary Bennet's singing that evening. Darcy remained inscrutable throughout the agonising spectacle, but he could not very well agree with Louisa and me. I suppose he felt he should be loyal to the sister of the person that was occupying his thoughts, or perhaps he felt it would be like betraying Elizabeth.
I did not feel as if I was betraying Charles in any way by believing Mary to be a mediocre performer, even though she was the sister of the woman Charles was thinking about all the time. Contrary to Darcy, Charles did not hide his thoughts from anyone. He was incapable of that. However, out of generosity to my brother, I considered Mary to be mediocre rather than just plain bad.
I was so glad when the evening was over and they were all gone.
~*~
The next day we all slept late and then discussed the preceding evening over breakfast. Darcy, having danced with his object, was naturally smug about it, although I had seen enough of the girl to believe that she would not be sitting equally smug-faced over her breakfast.
"Miss Bennet was quite fortunate in her dance partners, was she not?" I asked Charles, hinting at the fact that he had been practically the only one that Jane had danced with.
Charles was even more smug than Darcy when he nodded, but it was less worrisome to me, for it happened to Charles quite often and it would pass in time. Darcy was not with us mentally, no doubt engaged in recalling the sensation of Miss Elizabeth's hand in his or something as horrifyingly romance novel-like as that, and I wanted him out of these bad thoughts. "Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, must be really disappointed about her dance partners. I did not once see her stand up with a tolerable man," I said as innocently as I could.
"What vile remark did you make there, Caroline?" asked Darcy, who had apparently only caught my tone of voice.
"It was not vile!" I protested, slightly offended. I would have been really offended if I had not known that my tongue was sometimes not above being on the sharp side. "I never make vile remarks, as you well know, Darcy! I was only commenting on the fact that Elizabeth Bennet must not be happy with last night's dance partners."
"And why not?" asked Darcy, who realised that he was included in that group.
"They were not very tolerable."
"And why, may I ask, do you concern yourself with the quality of the gentlemen she may have danced with?" he asked and I could see that he did not quite see what I wanted.
"I was the hostess. It is my duty to make sure that the guests enjoy themselves. I failed if my particular friends did not have a good time," I made up quickly.
"Your particular friends," Darcy stated with narrowed eyes. "Indeed."
He did not believe me for a second, I noticed. I was hardly ever able to fool him. He knew me too well to think that I would ever consider anybody in Hertfordshire to become a particular friend of mine. "You would agree with me, Darcy, that out of all the people in the neighbourhood, Jane and Elizabeth are the only two worth considering as friends." I realised the trap I was walking into, but it was too late to go back. I was practically authorising him to think of Elizabeth.
"Yes, they are the only two worth considering," he agreed with a villainous smile and I stared at my tea in displeasure. Damn Darcy. "What do you say, Bingley?"
Charles gave him a rather dumb smile, that even seemed to worry Darcy, for Darcy frowned. I was glad that Darcy still had a few of his wits about him, though most of them seemed to have been dulled. "But they shall never be anything more than friends," I piped up. "Their connections must prevent any further intimacy."
The mentioning of their connections seemed to shake Darcy back into reality. With a sobered expression he nodded. "I quite agree."
Charles had been looking at Darcy for his friend's reaction and he mumbled something reluctantly that was supposed to mean agreement. For once I was glad that my brother always agreed with Darcy and that he could never pronounce a judgement on anything before Darcy had given him his opinion.
~*~
Later that day, Darcy and I went out for a walk. I had requested him to join me, since I had a few matters to discuss with him. "Tell me how often you think about Elizabeth?" I asked impertinently.
"It is none of your business, Caroline."
"Yes, it is. If she is on your mind all the time, how can we plan any removals? Your mind will never be free enough."
"I can think of two things at once," he replied.
"I do not think so. I have noticed that your mental activity seems to slacken. You have not suggested any scheme to me for days and such things used to be on your mind all the time."
Darcy was silent for a while. I hoped he was considering the thought, although one could never be sure of that, now that the thought of Elizabeth seemed to be so all-pervasive. Perhaps he was only thinking about her as he pretending to think about my words. "Do not think of her," I said. "Think of what I said."
"I am thinking of what you said," he answered thoughtfully. "But I must say that I am nowhere near as lost as you think I am. Do you think I am not aware of her family?"
"You never flinched when Mary Bennet played and sang," I pointed out to him. How could anyone not have flinched?
"It is bad manners to flinch," he said gravely. "But that does not mean I...approved...of her performance or of the conduct of several other members of the Bennet family."
This only partly relieved me. "I do not see how you can be aware of all that and still think of her."
"I have no plans to propose to her, if that is what worries you. I could never be married to such a woman. However, it does not mean that I may consider her to be a very good-looking girl."
"Certainly. But I am curious as to how you think about her if you do not fantasise about being married to her, or do you just continually see her face before you?" I was a little puzzled, I confessed.
"I do not think I am under any sort of obligation to answer to that," Darcy said calmly. "My thoughts are my own."
~*~
Darcy was a very aggravating man, I felt, and I was sufficiently displeased with him and also with Charles and Mr Hurst, because they were all idle and lazy that day. Louisa also vexed me, because of something I could not quite remember, but which had led to a disagreement between us. In short, it was better for me to visit other people, but I knew no one save the Bennets. This was all my own fault and I accepted it in resignation as I ordered the carriage to drive me to Longbourn.
The house was very much the way I had imagined it to be -- in a state of distress. I had not imagined these people to be able to live peacefully and quietly and so I was not surprised. Mrs Bennet would certainly not thrive in a quiet household. It was a pity that her family had been just a little too respectable to allow her to go to the stage. Her talents were rather wasted in such a small town and perhaps the unsophisticated people here did not even realise that Mrs Bennet would be a great hit in the cheap theatres. Not that I knew anything of cheap theatres, naturally, but in my imagination there were all sorts of Mrs Bennets acting in lewd farces in them.
It was Jane who received me, her mother being too distressed to come down. Jane was as always completely unruffled and she explained very calmly that Mr Collins had proposed to Elizabeth and that her sister had refused him. And she said all this without conveying the least disgust! I did not understand it and thought Jane must have very few feelings. I made a note to shield Charles from her -- no connections, no heart. Poor Charles.
"I would not be so calm," I could not help saying, a little too horrified to be polite.
"It does not help to become upset," was Jane's gentle reprimand.
Elizabeth joined us before I could fully digest the fact that I had actually been reprimanded by Jane. "Good day, Miss Bingley," she said civilly, but coldly enough to betray her surprise upon seeing me and her suspicion of my motives in coming here. "How nice of you to visit."
She must be thinking I had come to gloat over the proposal she had received, but how could I? I had not known. "I hope you enjoyed yourself last night," I said, not knowing what else to say.
"I did, thank you."
"Jane has just told me you had an unfortunate encounter with Mr Collins," I said as sympathetically as I could. It had struck me that it was unfortunate that she had refused the man, although I should have thought her a complete fool if she had accepted. It must not have been very pleasant to be the object of Mr Collins' affections. And how did Elizabeth manage to be the object of two men's affections anyhow?
"And do you think I did the right thing?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
She was testing me, I was sure. "I believe I would have done the same. But I had not discerned any special regard for you..."
"Oh, there was none," she assured me readily and with a smile. "I was merely suitable. Perhaps, Miss Bingley, you ought to be careful. He did not seem overly disappointed and he struck me as being incapable of abandoning his intention of returning to Kent an engaged man. You might catch his fancy now, as he seems quite likely to transfer his affections to another person."
I nearly gagged, but fortunately Jane had the good manners to chide her sister with a look. Nevertheless, Elizabeth looked as if she had scored a point.
Lest Jane might have any designs on Charles, I said, "I believe that must be a common characteristic among men. My brother is always transferring his affections from one girl to the next." I tried to sound careless. Jane did not betray anything, except a mild disappointment, which relieved me, but Elizabeth did not like me for saying that, I saw.
"Until Mr Darcy approves of his choice, no doubt," Elizabeth said a little sharply.
"You must have a high opinion of Mr Darcy."
"You do not?" Elizabeth had the nerve to question me.
I paused. She should have answered my question, not evaded it. "It depends on what you consider high."
"I thought you admired him a great deal."
"He has a great many admirable qualities," I conceded. I could not be disloyal to a friend. "Do you not think so?"
"I do not presume to know him well."
"But even at first sight you must recognise some of this qualities," I said. "You danced with him. I cannot believe you did not see anything to admire in him."
"Very little, I assure you," she said provocatively.
While she was insulting a friend of mine, I could not help but realise that this was exactly what Darcy needed: a woman he admired and who did not admire him in return. This certainly prevented anything undesirable from happening. I smiled as sincerely as I could. "It is true that some people appeal to us more than others do. We do not all have the same tastes."
"Which you must be happy to realise, I am sure," said Elizabeth.
I wondered if the insolent girl thought I had any feelings for Darcy. Her tone seemed to point in that direction. How was I going to get myself out of this? I must not show any pleasure upon hearing her indifference to Darcy. I had to steer her thoughts in another direction. "I do not know what you mean by that," I said. "But the world would be dull indeed if we could never disagree about our preferences. My sister and I frequently disagree about people."
"About Mr Hurst, I am sure."
Really, this girl was quite vexing. I had underestimated her. "Not only about Mr Hurst, but my sister and I also quite frequently disagree about..." I thought frantically. "...Mr Darcy's cousin, whom she likes very well, but who is really too charming for me."
"Which is why you like Mr Darcy, no doubt," she said, implying that Darcy had all the charms of a statue.
"Perhaps, if you like an excess of charm and you do, I think, if you like Mr Wickham, you would like Mr Darcy's cousin," I purred.
"An excess of charm usually implies that a man likes you."
That would not apply to Darcy and his lack of charm to Elizabeth. "I do not think so," I objected. "I think it is rather the lack of charm that betrays his warmer feelings." Besides, the Colonel did not like me.
"I must disagree," said Elizabeth, who could not quite accept the thought of a charm-less Darcy liking her. "Charm is an expression of his love."
Her opinion was as repulsive to me as mine was to her. "Oh no!" I cried. "On the contrary! A man feels nothing if he is being charming."
"He feels nothing if he is not being charming," she cried back.
Jane refrained from giving her opinion. It was as I had assumed -- she did not have as deep feelings as Elizabeth and I seemed to have. It was a pity, though, for now Elizabeth and I would never settle the question to our mutual satisfaction. We should each believe ourselves to be right if a third party did not upset this balance.
Chapter 8
Mrs Bennet, despite her feelings of distress and other nervous afflictions, joined us a while later. Elizabeth knew better than to involve her mother in the discussion and so it was cut short. Perhaps, I wondered, it was not a bad thing, for my opinions would be in danger of being overthrown if Mrs Bennet gave hers. I knew for a fact that Darcy thought about Elizabeth, but I did not know what he thought or if this was in any way affectionately. Perhaps the uncharming/love connection would not hold, since I could not imagine it being applicable in Mr and Mrs Bennet's case.
Yet I was not so unsophisticated as Elizabeth as to believe that every charming man loved me.
Mrs Bennet was also unsophisticated, I realised. She believed I had come to gauge Jane's feelings about a possible match between her and Charles. This was quite a difficult situation for me to handle, as I was not in favour of such a match at all. I wondered why the family harboured such high expectations of Charles' charms. They were not really acquainted with him, but why could they not imagine him to be charming everywhere and to everyone? He was not really singling Jane out.
Suddenly I was tired of the whole love and charms thing and I could not think any more coherent thoughts about the subject, when it was the only thing the Bennets wished to discuss. I made up a hasty excuse and went home. They thought I was haughty anyway, so what did it matter?
~*~
I found Darcy to be in a good mood when I returned to Netherfield. The old wicked heart had begun to beat again and he had conceived of a scheme. He called me into the library to confer.
"How could you plan anything when your cousin is due to arrive?" I whispered. This was assuming that the colonel in question would be Fitzwilliam and not Fitzpatrick.
Darcy winked. Oh, he was audacious now and nothing could stop him. "My cousin will not suspect me. Exactly because I knew he was coming. And I thought you were dying for some action?"
"I am," I assured him. "All this tedious talk of love and charming men is not for me. Give me some real action." He looked at me inquiringly, but I chose not to enlighten him about the charming men.
"Very well. It concerns a lovely volume from the Bennets' library, to be removed this coming night."
"Will it be missed?"
Darcy looked doubtful. "Not that I can imagine. We shall choose one that will not be missed."
I supposed this was a good sign, that he was planning on removing an item from Longbourn. No person in his right mind would ever remove something from a house if he had any plans to marry one of the owners of the thing. What if she saw the removed item in Pemberley's library? I trusted Darcy to have enough sense to have thought of that.
My heart beat faster in anticipation. "And we go together?" I hoped so, although it seemed quite an easy thing to do all alone.
"Ahh yes, I might need your assistance."
"I might need yours, you mean surely?" Sometimes it really aggravated me to always be the assistant. Perhaps I should devise a scheme of my own to prove to Darcy that I was quite capable of removing art single-handedly. He did not understand my irritation and this strengthened my resolve. I would go somewhere alone. "I do not need you, Darcy. I shall come up with my own plan, also to be carried out tonight," I said proudly.
"I shall not know you, if you get caught," he reminded me of our agreement.
"Do I ever imply that you will be caught, you infidel?" I retorted. "But a woman alone cannot escape that fate, can she? Ha."
"What will you do?"
"Do you really think I would tell you just so you can conceal yourself somewhere to see how I pull it off? I have no wish to be supervised."
"You have been acting very strangely lately," Darcy said in a puzzled voice. He could not explain my more independent behaviour. "You treat me as if I were a petulant child."
What could I say? My mouth opened, but then I closed it again. He would deny it. "Darcy! It is not my fault! Who," I asked. "Who kissed me?"
Darcy coloured and stiffly looked at the ground. "I thought we had agreed that that meant nothing."
"To you, perhaps!" I cried.
"It meant something to you?" He was amazed.
I coloured too. It was not that I attached any special meaning to it, but it had confused me all the same. "If I had suddenly kissed you, you would have been confused too! And offended! For you had obviously rather kissed someone else!"
"No," Darcy denied. "That is not true."
I was not convinced. "Deny it all you like. I know it is true." He did not want to admit it to himself and being a bloody proud person, he convinced himself that it had been me he had been after, because he could never be wrong. I could see it coming. I knew this man.
"I do like you, Caroline," he said.
"Do you," I said icily, bracing myself for what I knew was coming next. I said he was proud, but I should have added that he also had a good heart and that he disliked bad feelings between people. He wished to put things right between us. I could not believe I was so clearheaded!
He came closer and placed his hands on my shoulders. "I like you. You know that."
Yes, I knew that. There was no need to tell me by placing his hands on my shoulders, was there? I was fully aware of the fact that he liked me. And that he did not love me. Why was he deluding himself?
"Maybe we should get married some day," Darcy said softly.
What was I to say to that? I just stared back at him. "Married?" He was even more deluded than I had thought.
"I think I could love you," he said hesitantly.
Someone ought to tell the poor man that if the possibility of love existed between us, it would have come to light long ago. Or did he think he could love me like a sister? But one did not marry a sister.
Before he could kiss me again and suddenly realise he was kissing an illusion, whereupon he would pull away from me with hurt in his eyes or something like that -- I was exceptionally clearheaded -- I decided I had to speak up before I should be hurt myself. "Noooo..." I could not help but wonder what I was doing, turning down a man with ten thousand a year and all that, but it did not feel right. We would be tolerably happy too, I felt, but tolerably was not enough. I had been tolerably amused until I had become an art remover and then I had realised that I needed stronger adjectives. I could exist, but I could never live.
"No?" Darcy looked puzzled.
"I love you like a brother," I said kindly. "But that is not enough."
Darcy was silent for a while. I am sure he only hugged me to hide his face. "How could you choose spinsterhood over me?"
He knew me as well as I knew him and I sighed. "I am still quite a few years away from becoming a spinster..."
"Everybody says you love me..."
I pulled a face. Well, everybody was wrong! I am sure that I would have not thought this situation embarrassing if I had truly been in love. Why did we have to end up in this embarrassing situation? Could someone not enter the library and rescue me? I did not have the heart to refuse Darcy, even though I knew he was doing neither of us a favour by proposing to me. If only he had been in a mental state to see reason, but if I now told him he did not love me, he would not believe me.
I truly felt sorry for him. He was, of course, in love with Elizabeth Bennet, but he could never admit that to himself. I could not tell him to declare himself to her, because she would claw his eyes out and he did not deserve that. He was my friend.
Why did my best friend have to be a man? I really could not comfort him, especially not now, because it would be misconstrued. And yet, he needed it. I felt as hopeless as he undoubtedly did, tightening my hold on him unconsciously.
I made up my mind. "Darcy...if I am still unmarried in five years' time, I will marry you."
Chapter 9
When night fell and we all retired to go to bed, I put on my darkest gown, pulled my hair back tightly so branches would not get stuck in it and sneaked out of my room. I usually wore Charles' old coat when I went out on trips like these -- a lady's cloak floated around me far too much. I checked if Charles had not worn this coat. He had not -- there were no objects in its pockets, which ought to have been there if Charles had worn it. Somehow he could not wear anything without stuffing it with the oddest possible things: pebbles, buttons, coins, handkerchiefs, a farm girl's diary. Apparently he picked up everything he saw lying on the ground.
To prevent Darcy from following me, I took care to wriggle myself through a hole in the wall surrounding the estate that was so small that Darcy did not fit through. After making it to the other side of the wall, I paused to listen. It was as I thought. He had been following me and he now had to run around to find a place to climb over the wall to catch up with me.
I paused for a minute. Instead of continuing, I crawled back through the hole and walked the other way. This would suffice to shake Darcy off my trail. I walked around Netherfield Hall and took the path to Meryton, feeling excessively pleased with my cleverness.
Arriving at the first houses of Meryton, I hid in the shadows to survey my surroundings. There were a few men about, going home after having been to the pub. I waited until they had passed and then tried to get into where the officers were lodged. No woman could live near Meryton and not know where the officers were staying. If she was not continually reminded of that by hosts of young women standing in front of the house, she would be reminded of it by the officers themselves, who rather liked hosts of young women standing in front of their house and who were continually hinting at young women just where they should assemble. I quite disliked officers.
Apparently they had been to the pub as well, because they had forgotten to lock the door. It was easy to get in. I explored the sitting and dining rooms, but they were not interesting. Upstairs, I was greeted by the sight of boots everywhere and the sound of muffled snoring here and there. The boots gave me an idea, though. I had seen a can of paint downstairs.
I was not afraid, which was odd, for here I was in a house in which several officers were sleeping who might not appreciate my visit at all. But I counted on their staying asleep. They would be exhausted from a day's work trying to charm all the ladies of Meryton. And why should they leave their room before morning if they heard no sounds?
I got the can of paint, which by the light of a candle looked to be a hideous sort of light green. Most excellent. I painted all the boots that had been placed outside the bedroom doors, making sure to paint them very neatly.
~*~
There was a bit of light green paint on my fingers, I discovered when I got home. It would not wash off, which was annoying, but fortunately I could wear gloves tomorrow and perhaps nobody would notice.
Darcy interrupted me as I was washing my hands for the tenth time. "That was a mean move," he whispered, referring to my strategic escape.
My eyes gleamed. "Not mean at all! It worked." And I was proud of that.
"Where did you go?" he asked suspiciously.
"Not telling."
"Caroline!"
"I am serious."
"Tell me."
"No," I insisted. I did not want to tell him. "What did you do?"
He showed me a book.
"Interesting," I commented, guessing it was a romance novel. "Exactly your taste, I am sure. The quality of Pemberley's library will be much enhanced. One of the girls must have left it outside, I suppose. How easy for you."
"This is a classic. And I went inside."
I took the book and opened it on the first page. This book is the property of Miss Elizabeth Bennet if you want to read it you should ask her and pay her a shilling unless you are called Lydia then you must pay her five shillings because you are careless with books was written in a child's hand. I understood why Darcy had taken this particular book. Did he have any idea of how transparent he actually was? I smiled sweetly and handed it back. "Did you sneak up to her room to place a shilling under her pillow, Darcy?"
"No," Darcy snatched the book out of my hands. Perhaps he had thought about it. "Why should I? About our engagement..."
"Our engagement?" I did not know we were engaged. I had said I might be engaged in five years' time. That was not the same. He was again transparent, the way he jumped from the topic of Elizabeth to the topic of engagements. Was he going to see the light, finally?
"Yes. I was not sure if we were already engaged or if that will only happen in five years."
"In five years," I nodded.
"Oh. You do not want me now?" Nothing could be inferred from his tone.
"I do not want to talk about engagements at the moment, Darcy," I said. "But be sure that you will not succeed in getting away from me if I am really desperate, meaning that if you still manage to feel as though you are not my property, I am probably not desperate enough." I do not know why he kept talking to me about this issue.
He nodded thoughtfully. "I see."
"I am not sure that you do. Did you ever steal pieces of my handwriting?"
"What do you mean?"
"You are besotted with one woman and you keep wanting to marry another."
"I am not besotted."
"Do not deny it on my account! You have my permission to be besotted. I wish you would admit it," I said honestly. "I am getting just a tiny bit fed up with your denseness." And I was very tired from my walk. I wished he would leave me so I could go to sleep. "Go to your room and think about it," I told him. "I will stick to what I said about five years, but I will not be a substitute. Good night, Darcy." And I pushed him out of my room.
Chapter 10
In the morning I washed my hands again and succeeded in getting nearly all paint off them. I put on a few extra rings to hide the most persistent spots.
Darcy and I looked rather tired over breakfast and we both snapped at Charles, who was not tired at all because he was going to visit Jane Bennet. He invited Darcy to come, but Darcy declined. I wondered why. Perhaps he had not told me all. Perhaps something had happened during the night that forbade him to go to Longbourn.
After instructing the servants, I occupied myself by ruining a pillow by covering it with untidy stitches in an even more untidy pattern. I could not force myself to stick to the prescribed pattern, nor take the failed stitches out. What did it matter anyway? It was only something to keep me busy. I was no longer a schoolgirl whose marriage prospects would be based on the quality of her embroidery.
< A r <> l i N E, I stitched under my attempt. Then I laid it aside to walk through the gardens, having become bored.
I had a refreshing walk during which I tried to solve the Darcy problem, but I concluded that it could not be solved without his assistance and he was not with me. I returned to the library and picked up the pillow again from where I had hidden it under another pillow.
Someone had been touching it.
Not only had this someone touched it, but he or she had also made new stitches.
< A r <> l i N E
naughty little devil!
I was stunned and dropped the pillow. Then I picked it up again and looked at the new line again. These stitches were far superior to what I had done above it. In fact, I should have to try my hardest to produce such neat stitches, even on a good day, because I lacked the patience and the dexterity.
Only then did the meaning of the line register. naughty little devil! "Darcy!" I screamed.
Darcy appeared instantly, which proved to me that he was the culprit. He had obviously been lying in wait somewhere. I was sitting on the pillow. "I am sure you are in stitches!" I said sarcastically. "Ha. Ha. Ha."
He looked puzzled. "Why should I be?"
"Why did you call me a naughty little devil?"
His expression changed. "Were you eavesdropping? And you did not hear correctly! It was not me who said that, it was --"
I pulled the pillow out from under my posterior and held it up for him to see.
"Caroline, naughty little devil," Darcy read out loud. Instead of explaining to me why he began to laugh so hysterically, he turned around and walked away. I threw the pillow at his back in frustration, but I missed. Things were not going well, I mused as I lay on the couch in a very unladylike manner, but as I had already done some unrefined embroidering, I did not care much about my manners. With my eyes closed I tried to remember which had been the last normal day of my life.
"Perhaps you ought to try painting instead of embroidering," a familiar voice said next to me very suddenly. My eyes flew open. I had not heard him approach. "Something tells me you might be more successful at that."
I was facing two knees in light-coloured trousers and slowly my eyes travelled upwards, although I did not really need to do that to know who he was. I did not need to see the red coat above the light-coloured trousers, nor did I need to look into his eyes. That was why my eyes rested on his mouth. Not because it was excellently formed -- indeed, if it had been my intention to study the excellency of his physique I should have paused numerous times between his knees and his mouth -- but because by looking into his eyes I should be forced to acknowledge his words. And after last night to hear someone wearing a red coat speak about painting and my being good at it was something that was definitely suspicious. It could only mean one thing.
He knew.
I studied the muscles of his jaw and tried to figure out how angry he was. They were not relaxed and his lips were pursed. I ventured to glance up as high as the tip of his nose and I was relieved. He had not thought it necessary to grow a moustache. Now that I had been kissed, I was inclined to be more focussed on lips and their surroundings than I had before.
He did not speak and I wondered if he was thinking of a punishment until I distinctly saw him smile appreciatively for a brief moment. It was no more than a twitch. "Nice stockings, Miss Bingley." I had for a while forgotten exactly how I was lying on that couch until he said that.
I sat up straight immediately when he said that and forgot that I had not planned on looking him in the eye. As blue, amused and charming as ever, they were. I coloured. If I had not thrown the pillow at Darcy, I would have thrown it again at Colonel Fitzwilliam. "You naughty devil!" I exclaimed. "It is improper to look at a lady's stockings!"
"My dear Miss Bingley, it is also quite improper to look at all those gentleman's body parts you so carefully observed...but did you hear me complain?"
He had caught me there! Could I colour even more? It certainly felt that way. "You embroidered my pillow!" I said accusingly. Never mind the defence, on with the accusations.
"You ruin my belongings, I ruin yours," he countered. "May I kiss your hand? We have not greeted each other yet."
I was stupid. Why did I hold out my hand? My body was not responding to me, however, and he had already got hold of my hand when I tried to pull it back. He did not kiss it, though, but carefully examined it -- for paint stains, I assumed.
And curse him! He found one.
Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped to his knees to better study my hand. "Light green paint," he whistled.
My heart was beating very loudly. "Just kiss my hand and...go," I said impatiently.
"I do not know why I immediately thought of you, my dear Miss Bingley, but the whole prank spoke of an insubordinate mind and I happened to know that two such minds were in the vicinity. Darcy, however, has nothing against officers. Whereas you..." Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed.
I had said before that Mrs Bennet should have gone to the stage. Not only that, but she should have taken the Colonel with her. With his acting skills and his looks he would be a big hit with every chambermaid in town. I rolled my eyes. "Admit it, Colonel. They are pathetic."
"I do not know," he said thoughtfully. "They do not go around painting people's boots a hideous colour."
I glanced down, but his boots were black. He had not been there? Or had he cleaned them?
"It is not a crime," he continued. "Nothing like theft, certainly, although one could make a point that it was unlawful entrance, but I will keep an eye on you, Miss Bingley. You had better behave while I am in town..." He stood up, bowed and left the room.
He could accomplish more with one glance than Darcy could with a kiss and a hug, although I preferred to think that I was breathless from fear, shock and embarrassment.
Chapter 12
Because Darcy was quite frequently in his cousin's company, I sought out Darcy as much as I could, even more often than before, just so I could have the latest information on what Colonel Fitzwilliam thought of me. I assumed, perhaps wrongly, that Colonel Fitzwilliam would speak about me to Darcy, perhaps not consciously, but he would at least have to drop my name in passing once in a while, just like I did not seem to be able to stop myself from mentioning to Louisa that it was quite rude of him not to have stopped to talk to us in Meryton. Unfortunately Louisa had no thoughts at all about that subject. Her head must be quite empty, for I could not imagine what else was occupying her, certainly not Mr Hurst.
Darcy's mind was not empty, but it was quite difficult to discern any thoughts in it that were not directly or indirectly connected to Elizabeth Bennet. It might just as well have been empty, for the use it was to me. Nevertheless, I kept trying to bring up the subject of Colonel Fitzwilliam as innocently and deviously as I could, usually by way of Meryton. But, whereas Meryton was a euphemism for the Colonel in my dictionary, it meant something quite different to Darcy, I found out. He immediately thought of Meryton as being on the road to Longbourn and as being the place where girls from Longbourn might do their shopping.
And this man wanted to marry me. I gave him a dubious look after another mention of Meryton had sent him off into a reverie. For all his declarations, I doubted very much that he was thinking about me. One would think that with the object of one's affection so nearby, one would not stare into space if one thought about her. It seemed to me that that would be rather insensitive. I would certainly never do it. The object of my affection would also be the object of my attention. I was sure of it.
"Darcy," I broke the silence.
There was a major start on his end. "Yes?" He tried not to sound too distracted. He had good enough manners to pull that off, but I knew him.
"May I take the time to suggest a few things. One, that you admit that you are in love. Two, that you stop thinking you want to marry me when you cannot even keep your eyes on me for more than three seconds. Three, that you spend more time with your cousin. I think it is neglectful that you should have a member of your family nearby and hardly speak to him."
Darcy frowned. He evidently tried to gauge what I was about. However, I believed I had been sufficiently devious to cloud my real intentions. "One, two, three, four," he said, counting slowly and in a precise voice, staring at me all the while. "Wrong, Caroline. In fact, my eyes have been on your for even more than four seconds now."
"That is not the point. Search your mind and find who has been in your thoughts for most of the time. It is not me!"
"And I am not in yours," he countered in one of his rare moments of absolute sanity.
"That is why I believe we should not marry."
"Yet you know how utterly impossible it would be for you to marry another person, what with your business." He tried to convey a meaningful glance. "And that other person's business."
"And that does not apply to you?" I asked. It should apply to us both.
"Er...well. Let us say I have received information that might change matters slightly where I am concerned."
"Tell!" I nearly shouted.
"No."
"Darcyyyy!"
He grinned and I knew I would get my information. He was dying to tell. "The other day on my errand -- you know which one -- I ran into somebody."
"Who?" I sat on the edge of my seat. Whom had he seen when he had burgled the Bennets' library?
"Elizabeth."
"You did not!"
"I did."
"You miserable pig!" I scolded him. "She probably opened the door for you and gave you that book. Yet you acted as if it had been a hideous feat!"
"Not at all. I opened the door and found her there with a book. She asked me what I came for and I told her I had come to steal a book."
"I do not believe you," I said. It sounded ridiculous.
"Would I make it up?" Darcy asked. "She said she would give me one, lest I should steal one of her favourites."
"Why did she remain so calm and forgiving?"
"Calm? I do not know if she was forgiving. She sat me down for a moralising lecture and gave me her most moralising book to copy by hand. If I do not hand in chapter one by this evening, she will expose me." He looked as though he had been praised, rather than chastised.
"It still makes no sense to me," I decided. Darcy seemed pleased with the lecture, but moralising attention was better than no attention at all. However, he did not seem to realise that the girl was dangerous. What had he got himself into? Elizabeth now held enormous power over him and there was no telling in which way she might use it. She had the power to expose him, the fool! "Why on earth would you tell her you had come to steal a book?"
"I just blurted it out," Darcy said with a disarmingly naive look. "It was not wise, you think?"
I moaned. "Wise! Oh, save me. This is the most stupid thing you have ever done!"
"Why? She talked to me."
I hid my face in my hands and screamed. "Has your brain turned to cheese?"
It probably had, considering that uncomprehending look he gave me. "Cheese?"
"You...practically...exposed...yourself," I said emphatically. "Do not tell me you also revealed that you were responsible for the skeleton." I feared the worst.
"She laughed at it," Darcy said proudly.
I screamed some more. Really, I could not stand being in the same room with him any longer. "Darcy. Our partnership is over," I told him, walking towards the door. "I shall not work together with an imbecile. You can find that word in the dictionary. Furthermore, I do not want to marry an imbecile, however lonely the alternative. I had my doubts, but now I am absolutely certain. Your figure, your money and Pemberley do not tempt me! I need a real man," I called back to him over my shoulder. "Not one with only the appearance of it!"
"It is rather cruel to use the heavy artillery on a non-military man," Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked. He had to be approaching the library at precisely that moment.
I was too worked up to be daunted. "You can have some too if you like! And please do not come near me, because I am in a hitting mood!"
"Please," he said invitingly. "Attack a trained soldier. He does not feel it." He spread his arms wide so I could not miss him.
"Argh!" I screamed. "Let me pass. I need to get away from your cheese-brained cousin!"
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded appreciatively. "I always knew you were a perceptive little thing." This comment earned him Darcy's indignation as well, albeit for a different reason -- me for the little thing and him for the cheese-brain. He came out of the library to glare at his cousin, who was now besieged by two indignant people. I, for my part, wanted to get away from both of them, but after having dreamed about the man all day, I could not very well go and leave the Colonel, whom I believed to be the only one who was truly enjoying the situation.
"Who is cheese-brained here?" Darcy cried. "At least my head is not made up of cream cheese!"
I believed that comment proved very well that he had not a single substantial thought left in his head. I turned my attention back to the Colonel and his interested sparkle. For all that I had been melting away simply by thinking of him, there was not a single muscle that weakened at the sight of him. I reflected that this was strange and that I had perhaps exaggerated my feelings when I had been thinking about him. I could look upon him with composure and reflect that he was indeed the one who deserved the more respect of the two, as he was also composed. In fact, we were both composed and Darcy was all cheese.
"She does not want to marry me," said Darcy.
"I should have advised you against it," the Colonel said gravely. "Miss Bingley seems to be a good twenty years older than you."
"Indeed," I said in a dignified manner. "All this childish behaviour really abhors me. I told Darcy I need a real man," I said to the Colonel.
"Real men are rare," he replied, shaking his head. "Although we soldiers like to think they are only to be found in the army, I have an inkling that you do not agree, Miss Bingley. We seem to have different definitions of what makes a real man."
I nodded reflectively. "Perhaps we should compare notes, because I have not refined my definition yet, due to a lack of suitable models. Perhaps I should benefit from your insights." Colonel Fitzwilliam quite agreed, for he offered me his arm.
Darcy pursed his lips. "I shall not visit you in prison, Caroline."
I knew what he meant. He thought I was walking right into a trap, but the Colonel was not as mean as Elizabeth. He would not threaten to expose me.
"If it is any consolation, I shall visit you in prison," the Colonel said when we were sufficiently far away.
I gasped and looked up at him. I had not thought he would go so far as to actually send me there. "B-B-But --"
"That does not seem to cheer you up," he remarked in surprise.
"I do not want to go to prison."
"I am sure you do not. It is not a nice place," he said sternly.
"If I am sent there, I shall bear it with fortitude..." I was beginning to despair. Was this the man I had been dreaming about? He was not nice at all. "I knew what I was getting into." Why deny it when he so obviously knew?
"Are you sorry?"
"No."
He looked even more stern. "Will you continue?"
"How could I, if you are going to send me to prison?" I asked in confusion.
"My dear, you might continue your wicked practices in prison, as that is a miniature society where you might be equally bored. My question is, did you feel compelled or were you bored?"
"Bored," I replied without hesitation.
"Indeed. Other ladies spend hours embroidering, but with your embroidery skills I can understand that you would prefer to do something else," he said gravely. "I would recruit you if you cut your hair," he said after a few moments.