Page 89 of Cousin Conundrum

Miss Mabel leveled a hard look on Elizabeth. “Do you not realize your intention of attacking my sister is written all over your face?” She gestured with her gun. “Go to the wardrobe and see if there is anything inside we can use to tie you and your friends up, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jane whispered.

“Why?” Miss Catherine laughed, the sound devoid of humor.

Miss Mabel gestured again. Hiding her relief, Elizabeth approached the wardrobe.

“Because our countrymen turned on us, sending us fleeing to your dreary, revoltingly proper little island, and we need enough money to begin again somewhere far, far away, in the luxury we once enjoyed.”

Elizabeth yanked open the side of the cupboard without the eye hole. She didn’t dare meet Kitty’s gaze, lest Miss Mabel somehow know, but still took in Kitty’s white face in the darkness.

“Surely, you have enough for that,” Miss Bingley said, her voice returned to her usual tartness. “The Peacock has robbed a great many people.”

“So you have pieced that together, have you?” Miss Catherine said.

“You would be surprised how little we get selling worthless secrets to a country that hates us, and jewelry the fences know is stolen.”

Stretching out an arm, Elizabeth raked everything on the top shelf out onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Miss Mabel snapped.

“Looking for something you can use to tie us up. There is not much here.” Elizabeth grabbed the scant few garments, some old cloaks, and tossed them to the floor as well. She turned to survey the lot, swinging the door nearly closed. She feared shutting it firmly would be too suspicious.

They all stared at the collection of threadbare cloaks, old gloves, and hatboxes.

“Get the ties from the curtains,” Miss Archer said. “And be quick. We have been here too long already. If you are not all tied up and moving soon, I will start shooting. The fewer of you we take, the quicker we will be.” Her gaze slid to Mrs. Hurst as she spoke.

Taking that as Miss Archer’s decision on who was worth the least, Elizabeth hurried over to the window to collect the curtain ties. She would tie up the others as quickly as she could, but if Miss Archer did start shooting, Elizabeth would admit that there was no reason for them to think that Mr. Darcy would pay a ransom for her. If only one of them could survive this, Elizabeth vowed it would be Jane.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Darcy strode wearily into Meryton’s public house, which they’d commandeered as their meeting place as the day wore on and the search expanded. With credible efficiency, and though it obviously galled him not to be ahorse, Fletcher coordinated the ever-enlarging search effort. He also sent word to London via Meryton’s fastest messenger, and paid the tavern keeper generously to keep everyone involved in the hunt for the Archers well fed and supplied with ale. Yet, as the sun dropped low and shadows grew long, not a single Archer was sighted, let alone apprehended.

Darcy, who’d taken a group of men down the east road, had overtaken the phaeton easily enough, as the servants hadn’t been told to hurry. Both were members of the Longs’ staff, with no inkling of why Mrs. Archer asked them to take the vehicle out. Darcy led his men onward after sending the phaeton back with orders to report to Fletcher, but no one with whom they spoke had sighted even a single traveler who might be an Archer, let alone a group of six women.

Finally, Darcy conceded the day and brought the men, a mix of staff from Netherfield Park and eager villagers, back. Now, as he crossed the tap room to Fletcher, he spotted Bingley already returned, as well as Sir William and most of the other men.

Sighting him, Bingley looked up from his tankard eagerly, but Darcy shook his head. Bingley pulled a grimace and rose. He joined Darcy as he reached Fletcher’s table.

Sitting, Darcy asked, “The carriage?”

“It, too, proved a decoy.” Fletcher leaned back, shifting his shoulders with a grimace. “No one has sighted them. Only Hurst has yet to—” He broke off, looking past Darcy.

Darcy swiveled to take in a defeated looking Hurst crossing the tap room.

“I take it from your expressions you have had as little luck as I?” Hurst asked, dropping into the chair opposite the one Bingley took.

“Neither hide nor hair,” Fletcher replied.

“You already sent word to London?”

“I did.”

Hurst grimaced. “No way to keep Pad—” He broke off with a grimace. “That is, no way word of our losing them again will not get around, then.”

Fletcher spread his fingers wide on the table with a shrug. “Word will not need to get around. I deemed it our duty to inform him.”

Hurst nodded glumly.