Page 87 of Cousin Conundrum

“In the kitchen,” Hurst called.

The two entered along with one of Netherfield Park’s footmen. “We cannot find anyone in the house, sirs,” he reported, looking between Darcy and Hurst as if uncertain to whom he should report.

Fletcher came up out of the larder, folding his knife closed. “We cannot know if Mr. Collins was meant to overhear or not. They could have gone in any direction.”

“If I may,” Sir William said. “Much of the Longs’ staff was in the common room at the inn. Mrs. Archer gave them each a shilling and told them to take the day off. By their reports, the carriage she ordered to take the London road was empty.”

“And the phaeton that went east?” Darcy asked, frustration welling. He longed to charge after them before they could pull too far ahead, but in which direction?

“I saw the Longs’ phaeton go east,” Sir William said. “But I recall only two occupants. One of the maids and a footman.”

“So they sought to mislead Mr. Collins.” Hurst frowned as he spoke. “We should ask around the village. Find out if they went north or west.”

Fletcher shook his head. “We cannot rule out east and south. They could be the maid and footmen, and the men driving the carriage. They are cunning and excellent at disguises.”

That hadn’t occurred to Darcy. Acting as their own decoys, and letting Mr. Collins overhear the plan…devious indeed. “We must send at least some men down each road away from this village,” he concluded aloud.

“Darcy is right,” Bingley added staunchly.

“I hate to divide our forces—” Fletcher held up a hand when Darcy made to speak, “—but I agree. We can assume they have attempted to play us for fools, but in what way it is impossible to guess.”

Darcy turned back to Sir William. “We need horses, and every man Meryton can muster.”

“Agreed,” Fletcher said firmly. “They are very dangerous and must be apprehended.”

“What of me?” a voice whined from the direction of the larder.

Darcy turned to see Mr. Collins shove both long arms through the squat door. One black sleeve to each side, he pulled himself through, like a spider crawling from a tube. Everyone stepped back as he unfolded to his full height in the kitchen, his face hidden by a bundle of marjoram and some thyme.

“Do you wish to join the hunt?” Fletcher asked, sounding uncertain.

“I am far too unwell. Far too unwell indeed.” He held out his arms, his sleeves riding up to reveal red lines left by his bonds. “I must bathe my wrists and ankles. And my head.”

Darcy stared at the man. Could he be serious? The woman he’d nearly proposed to held him at gunpoint and left him trussed in a larder, and he wanted to bathe his head?

Sir William stepped forward. “My wife and daughter will see to you, Mr. Collins. You take yourself off to Lucas Lodge.”

Collins nodded, somehow managing to appear both grateful and put upon.

Darcy pivoted. They had no time for Collins. The Archers were getting away.

***

Wondering when Miss Bingley would rejoin them, for she couldn’t possibly have that many orders to give to the remaining staff, Elizabeth turned from checking the clock. Kitty still stood in the wardrobe, out of silliness, stubbornness, or because she comprehended that Elizabeth only made the suggestion in an attempt for them all to think on something other than the gentlemen confronting the Archers, Elizabeth didn’t know. Regardless, Jane and Mrs. Hurst no longer seemed distracted. Maybe it was time for someone else to take a turn. That might renew the game. But who? Mrs. Hurst certainly would not, and Elizabeth—

“Louisa?” Miss Bingley’s voice came down the hallway, shrill. “Are you and the Miss Bennets still in there?”

Mrs. Hurst stood, going to the door as she said, “We are. We were waiting for—” She broke off with a startled squeak as she stepped into the hallway.

“Back inside,” the voice of Miss Archer barked, bringing Elizabeth to her feet. “Now.”

Mrs. Hurst scuttled backward, followed by Miss Bingley, white-faced.

Miss Archer, Miss Mabel, and Miss Catherine followed. All three held pistols at the ready and wore matching grim expressions. On the settee, Jane gasped.

Miss Catherine’s gaze swung across the room. “Where is Kitty?”

“She followed the gentlemen,” Elizabeth blurted before anyone else could speak.