Page 18 of Fortuitous Encounters

“Easily done. We have a set of phrases we use to send secret messages in our letters. Our mother does not consider privacy a given.”

He grimaced, but since Lady Catherine did the same thing, he could not readily object. That, after all, was the reason he never had any correspondence delivered to Rosings by anyone but his personal courier into his own hands.

Jane gave him three phrases, all taken from children’s books they had thought very clever when they devised the scheme a decade earlier and suggested his man should identify himself as Gulliver.

“I should not like rumours to start, especially with Bingley’s sisters about. I realise there is little chance of Mrs Bennet holding her tongue, but I need room to manoeuvre, so I would like my involvement to remain secret as long as possible. Can you go about the ball and act reasonably unaffected?”

“I have been hiding my feelings almost as long as you have, sir.”

The observation seemed to Darcy like food for thought, but he was certainly more impressed with the lady than he had been.

“Good reasoning, Miss Bennet. If you are willing to trust me, I shall take care of Miss Elizabeth—and not at Longbourn. You should return to the ballroom in a quarter-hour.”

He bowed and left while Jane wondered exactly what the Derbyshire gentleman was about.

Was he chivalrous or showing off, or was there more involved? If she did not know better, she might believe he admired Elizabeth—not that anything would ever come of it.

The Lowly Clerk

Would it kill them to stop dawdling before the cock crows?

Elizabeth stood in the mouth of a narrow alleyway, wishing desperately for a warmer cloak because it was wretchedly cold in the last week of November, while a ballgown and dancing slippers were hardly ideal for nighttime walking. Not only were her toes frozen, but she was nearly certain she had at least a few cuts and bruises on her feet, and the slippers were ruined.

Ordinarily, she would have worn proper shoes and changed into slippers at the ball, but ordinary and Lydia were two concepts that did not peacefully coexist. Her youngest sister had ruined her own shoes and naturally borrowed Elizabeth’s far too late for her to do anything about it short of murder. She had refrained, mostly because it would make them even later and bloodstained to boot, but she found herself regretting the lack of action.

She seemed to be regretting a lot of things lately!

She stood in the alley waiting for her aunt and uncle Philips to leave for the ball. Her aunt wished to be the first to arrive, while her uncle preferred not to go at all. They eventually compromised on being neither the first nor the last. Unfortunately, that left Elizabeth cooling her heels in the alleyway waiting for them to leave.

Her feet were bad enough from walking the half mile to Meryton, and she was not about to subject them to another mile after dark in dancing slippers. She was not even certain she wanted to return to Longbourn ever, but for the moment she just wanted out of the cold. Once her uncle departed, she could sneak in the back door and wait in the law office without bothering their servants. If she got cold or hungry, she could light her own fire or ask for help, but for the moment, she just wanted to be invisible. If she had to walk the rest of the way home, she could always borrow her aunt’s cloak and boots.

She knew she must eventually return to Longbourn, leave for her uncle’s home in town, or both in rapid succession—but for the moment she just wanted somewhere warm and private to think. Even returning to town would require a trip to Longbourn to get money and a few items of clothing.

After standing and freezing for close to an hour, motion caught Elizabeth's eye, and she was only half-surprised by the result. Mr Philips had a new clerk, who was neither handsome nor repulsive, prosperous nor impoverished, a third or fourth son so technically a gentleman, though not pick of the litter. Mrs Bennet would never allow one of her daughters to attach themselves to such a man, conveniently forgetting that the young clerk was indistinguishable from her own brother-in-law or father at that age. She had higher ambitions, and while Elizabeth did not agree with her methods, there at least was something to it. One Bennet daughter marrying down would reduce the already dismal prospects of the rest, and they were not quite that desperate yet. For that matter, if Elizabeth wanted to marry a man in trade, she would pick one of her uncle Gardiner’s associates over a lowly clerk in Meryton. Most of them were older than she would prefer, and she did not really want to live in town, but they were at least prosperous, and her uncle could investigate them.

That said, the Goulding sisters did not appear so fastidious. While Mr Philips would normally use his trap to attend the ball, when the Goulding carriage pulled up in front of his office, and the aforementioned clerk entered with her uncle, the lay of the land was clear. The sisters would take what they could get, and Elizabeth most certainly would not criticise. In fact, she ruefully admitted, given the events of the evening, she might find herself fighting for a lowly clerk herself within the week.

When the coach left for the ball, Elizabeth stepped out from the alleyway, but before she walked even a few yards, a most peculiar greeting arrived.

“Miss Gulliver, may I beg a moment of your time?”

Astonished, she turned to her left. A rather handsome man of around forty stood dressed in an indeterminate style that could be anything from tradesman, to shopkeeper, to clerk, to upper servant. She had no idea what he was from his dress and deportment. He skulked in the shadows waiting for her, which she could not like in the least, but he had Jane’s codeword from a decade earlier, which she had no idea how to feel about.

“You have the advantage of me, but if you know Gulliver, you know that is only the opening gambit.”

The man bowed, but instead of introducing himself, quickly gave her half a dozen phrases from the made-up language she shared with Jane. That relieved her nervousness, perhaps from Mrs Bennet level to Lydia.

“You appear to be acquainted with my sister, sir, so you have the advantage of me.”

“Not sir,” he said nonchalantly, then bowed properly. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fletcher, Mr Darcy’s valet. I have been tasked with bringing you to safety, should you accept my assistance.”

“Mr Darcy!” she squeaked in complete shock.

Fletcher gave her an appeasing look while trying his best not to grin. He was not certain if the slight amusement he felt was at the expense of Miss Bennet, Mr Darcy, or both; but he took his enjoyment where he could get it.

“Ah, your sister’s caution was prescient, I see.”

“Her caution?”