“I thought I told you to remain in the coach,” Darcy said.
“I thought I could be of more use here,” Elizabeth replied. “And a disagreeable bird has just extinguished the other lamp, so I would as soon be with you while Ben repairs it.”
“Very well. Allow me to present Miss Jones.” His tone was as dry as the leaves.
Miss Jones had not lost consciousness, but had quieted during her swoon. She was quite young — a slip of a thing, barely more than a girl, perhaps sixteen — with delicate features and large blue eyes. Her thin muslin dress had seen better days, but looked to have at one time been fine. It was trimmed with beadwork and pink ribbon. A matching ribbon tied back her long, thick hair.
“Whatever is she doing wandering about the woods alone at night?” Elizabeth asked.
Darcy tried to help Miss Jones stand upright, but the girl continued to lean on him rather more than Elizabeth thought necessary. Darcy himself appeared displeased by the prolonged contact. “She is injured and hysterical. I have been unable to obtain any particulars beyond her name.”
Elizabeth started to address Miss Jones but was cut off before she could utter a syllable.
“Oh, what a relief to have another woman present! Not that you, sir, have been anything but a gentleman, but it is so much more in a woman’s nature to attend injuries. And I am injured, ma’am — my ankle — how it pains me!” Miss Jones attempted to stand but her leg buckled, requiring Darcy to continue supporting her. “Is there anyone else in your party? A surgeon, perhaps?”
“Only the two of us, I am afraid,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, do not say only the two of you — how fortunate I am that you should be traveling this road just when I am in need of assistance. Will you — might I ask you to examine my ankle, ma’am — Mrs. — Mrs. — ?”
“Darcy.”
“Mrs. Darcy? I would not impose on your kindness, but I am in such extraordinary pain! Perhaps Mr. Darcy could help settle me on the ground, and then, being a gentleman, gaze off into those trees behind me while you look at my ankle?”
“For both modesty’s and comfort’s sake, would you not rather be examined in the carriage?” Darcy asked.
“Oh, I am sure I cannot walk another step! It would not surprise me at all if the ankle were broken. In fact, it is certainly broken — indeed, I cannot stand here a minute more.”
“All the more reason to—”
“No, I must sit down.” She began to lower herself. “If you will just help me — yes, just so — there — I shall be fine right here. I am sure I shall be much better able to reach the carriage after relieving my ankle of weight for a few minutes while Mrs. Darcy examines it.”
When she was settled, the coachman held the lantern while Elizabeth knelt to examine Miss Jones’s ankle. Both Jeffrey and Darcy averted their gazes as Elizabeth lifted the soiled hem of the woman’s dress. Pea-sized white beads threatened to slip off several frayed threads. Miss Jones’s shoes were worn; bits of damp earth from the road clung to them.
As Elizabeth reached for the injured foot, Jeffrey dutifully scanned the trees behind Miss Jones to preserve her delicacy. Darcy aimed his gaze toward the carriage, of which they could see little. The vehicle was still dark, and beyond the reach of their own light. The horses, from the sound of them, remained excited, though the raven either watched them in silence or had at last flown away, for its ominous kaugh had ceased.
Elizabeth palpated the ankle. Miss Jones cried out, momentarily drawing Darcy’s attention before he remembered himself and joined Jeffrey in admiring the trees.
“I wonder how Ben is getting on with that lamp,” Jeffrey said.
Miss Jones’s ankle did not look broken — indeed, it was not even bruised or swollen. Miss Jones, however, exclaimed at each gentle prod as if Elizabeth were branding her. The girl had a low tolerance for pain.
“How did you injure yourself?” Elizabeth asked.
“I tripped over a tree root.”
“Was no one with you? You must live very close, then.”
“Not at all. I do not even live in this part of the country — I am visiting my cousins. They live on a nearby farm — at least, it was nearby — I was out walking, and lost my way. I was wandering for hours, and the darker it became, the more I feared I would never find my way back to them. In my panic I did not see the tree root.”
Darcy could not help but turn his attention on her. “Your cousins allowed you to walk about unescorted in strange country?”
“They were visiting a friend. I had a slight headache and stayed behind. But then it improved, so I decided to meet them coming home. I thought I knew the way. Oh! — That hurts!”
Elizabeth released her foot. “You must have merely turned the ankle, for I detect no break or sprain. Let us get you to the carriage and transport you to your cousins. What are their names?”
“Their names?” She winced. “Jones. Jones — just like mine.”
Miss Jones found she could stand unsupported, but still moaned and complained. Elizabeth was sympathetic to her discomfort, but wished the girl were not quite so vocal about it. To hear her grievances, one would think her entire leg had been amputated.
Darcy drew Elizabeth aside. “We have no notion of where to find these relations of hers, and Miss Jones herself will be of no help. We will take her with us to the inn at Highbury. Surely someone there knows the cousins.”
Elizabeth had begun to believe they would never reach the inn. She peered towards the carriage. Darkness yet shrouded it; she could barely discern the vehicle and could not make out their servants at all. “Ben must yet be repairing the lantern, but I see no sign of our groom, either.”
Darcy frowned. “Perhaps he is assisting Ben behind the carriage.” He called the men’s names, but received no response. The silence was more disturbing than the raven’s cry. Only the horses’ snorts penetrated the stillness.
He glanced meaningfully at her reticule. “Have you—”
“Yes. Do you want it?”
He shook his head. “Keep it at hand and stay here with Jeffrey and Miss Jones.” From the folds of his greatcoat he produced the small pistol he carried with him when they traveled, and walked towards the carriage.
He left the light with Jeffrey and the women, making it more difficult for Elizabeth to see his figure. Her nerves were taut as she and the coachman watched her husband retreat into the darkness surrounding the vehicle. Miss Jones’s continual complaints did not help.
“Oh! Where is he going? Can we not leave this place at once? I have heard there are highwaymen about—”
“Highwaymen!” Elizabeth said. “Why did you not say so before now?”
“Heavens, I did not want to speak of such people!”
With now even greater anxiety, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the carriage. She could just distinguish Darcy moving round its side. “Then kindly hold your tongue so as not to draw them to us.”
Behind her, Miss Jones mercifully lapsed into silence. The horses, however, were restless, and created quite enough noise themselves as they hoofed the ground and shook their harnesses. Elizabeth held her breath, unable to release it until she saw her husband safe again.
In a moment, Darcy came back into sight, running towards them. He bore grim news. Their servants lay unconscious.
Their chest was gone.
Elizabeth whirled round. So was Miss Jones.
IN WHICH IS RELATED A SUCCESSION OF CURIOUS
INCIDENTS ORIGINATING A FORTNIGHT PREVIOUS IN
THE VILLAGE OF HIGHBURY