Miss Bingley cast Elizabeth a quick, triumphant look.
Elizabeth continued to ponder the oddness of the London party as they started along the street, Charlotte and Mr. Bingley leading, the former pointing out their destination on the far side of the village.
Did Miss Bingley see Elizabeth as a rival for Mr. Darcy’s attention? How could she? On their first encounter, he’d deliberately insulted Elizabeth. On this, their second, he’d just reacted with great suspicion to the revelation that she had an uncle in shipping. Surely, Miss Bingley need not worry.
“I do not know how you can endure living in such a small community,” Miss Bingley said, looking about.
Ahead, Charlotte gestured. “And that is the inn, where we have a public house as well as a very fine pair of private dining rooms.”
“Indeed? I must dine there one evening.” Raising his voice, Mr. Bingley added, “Co—Ah, that is, Darcy, we must dine at the inn some evening.”
“Oh, Charles, really,” Miss Bingley said on a sigh.
“Perhaps,” Mr. Darcy allowed.
“And that is where the mail coach stops twice daily,” Charlotte continued, apparently prepared to ignore Elizabeth’s walking companions.
“Very nice,” Mr. Bingley said. “Lovely village. Pleasant, wide street, this.”
If Elizabeth had to be a third, she wished she walked with the two ahead of her, rather than with Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley.
“What was that?” Miss Bingley asked. She halted, bringing Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to a stop as well.
Ahead, Charlotte and Mr. Bingley continued on, conversing amiably. With a final look of envy for their happy chatter, Elizabeth turned to find Miss Bingley peering into the same alleyway that held Mr. Darcy’s attention earlier. The one that ran between the inn and the next building, a row of small shop fronts.
“What was what?” Elizabeth asked.
“I heard…” Miss Bingley trailed off, shaking her head. “I thought I heard some sort of mewling, or crying.”
“I definitely saw something move there earlier.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was crisp, the edge of superciliousness gone.
A small whine sounded, animal or human, Elizabeth could not guess. She, too, stared into the alleyway, shadowed in the slant of afternoon light. “I cannot see a thing.” The little cry sounded again.
“I will investigate.” Leaving them, Mr. Darcy strode forward.
Something moved in the shadows far down the alleyway. Something large.
As Mr. Darcy crossed from the sun-bathed street into the alley’s darkness, a man Elizabeth hadn’t noted stood from the steps of the inn. He strode past her and Miss Bingley, following Mr. Darcy. His hand slipped from beneath his coat. Metal glinted.
“I think that man has a knife,” Elizabeth hissed to Miss Bingley.
Miss Bingley turned wide eyes on her. “Surely not.”
“And why is he following Mr. Darcy into that alleyway?” Should she cry out a warning?
In front of Mr. Darcy, the presence Elizabeth had caught only hints of earlier moved forward to reveal a large man with a second knife. Miss Bingley gasped, clutching at Elizabeth, her hard grip startling Elizabeth into remaining silent.
“Come to save some stray urchin, Mr. Darcy?” the big man asked, then pinched his mouth to issue forth a few small, helpless sounding cries. He chuckled. “Always gets noble types like you.”
“They will abduct him,” Miss Bingley squeaked, her grip painful. “We must stop them.”
A quick glance showed Mr. Bingley and Charlotte already quite far up the street and no one else near. “You call for aid out here. I will fetch more from the inn.” Yanking free of Miss Bingley, Elizabeth turned to race up the inn’s steps.
She burst through the front door, Miss Bingley’s scream for help chasing her in, and careened into the public room. Every eye turned to her. “Help,” Elizabeth cried, pointing back the way she’d come. “Mr. Darcy. He is being attacked in the alleyway.”
Mouths gaped open. Eyes flew wide.
“Help,” Elizabeth reiterated as loudly as she could. She whirled, racing away. Behind her, wood squealed against wood as chairs scraped back.
