Darcy peered over his shoulder at the front of the house. Hurrying towards them was Miss Lydia Bennet who was being dragged into the house between Captain Carter and Mr. Denny. She resembled a drowned rat with strings of hair plastered against her chafed, red skin. Fortunately, one of the men shared his coat, covering her soaked gown.
“We didn’t realize she chased after us until we were down the road.” Mr. Denny held up his arms in surrender. “We didn’t do nothing, we promise.”
Captain Carter added, “Now that Miss Lydia is returned, how may we be of service?”
“Your assistance has already been invaluable.” Darcy nodded, grateful the waif was found for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, but regretted her presence as soon as she opened her mouth.
“Let me go! I want to go with Mr. Wickham,” she cried. “He rushed right by us. Surely, he failed to see me, or he would not have left me behind. Let me go, I’ll tell you. I want to go with my dear Mr. Wickham.”
From behind him, the two eldest Bennet sisters each grabbed one of their sibling’s arms, forcing her to join their mother.
“Come with us now,” Darcy directed. The officers followed him down the stairs, where they were met with a cacophony of screams and whimpers as bodies pressed together.
The kitchen was bursting at the seams. Miss Elizabeth had seated Mrs. Hammond at the long work table running almost the length of the room. The elderly widow attempted to appeaseMrs. Bennet on her right and Lady Lucas on her left. Footmen darted up the stairs to the ballroom to bring additional chairs and all the blankets. By the time the ladies were seated, there were still many standing pressed together, looking to Darcy for their comfort.
Over the noise, Darcy heard his cousin say, “To make more room for the females, any men who prefer to join me in the wine cellar are welcome. Bingley, I doubt if you mind if we uncorked a few bottles.”
“Be my guest,” Bingley replied.
Mr. Hurst led all the males, including the remaining footmen and Darcy’s valet, into the cellar. Darcy noted that the two most recent arrivals waited to see what Colonel Forster would do before they joined him below. Even Bingley chose to go to the cellar.
Miss Bingley, her nose haughtily lifted in the air, said, “Louisa and I will take the stillroom. Should Miss Bennet agree to join us,shewould be welcomed.” She implied no one else would be invited into their company. Unsurprisingly, no one requested to join them.
Jane Bennet refused to give up her grasp on her youngest sister. For the first time, Darcy saw a hint of steel in her expression.
“Mrs. Nicholls, might I have a moment with you and Cook?” Darcy knew the importance of not alienating the head of the kitchen by giving orders in her domain. Joining them in the corridor, he asked, “Are there any other stone or brick structures on Netherfield’s property? What of the tenants? Will they come to the main house when they realize they are in danger? Or is it more dangerous to leave any shelter they are already in? And Cook, what do you suggest for caring for the needs of the guests and servants?”
Before Mrs. Nicholls could reply, Cook rested her beefy hands on her hips and said, “We still have enough of Miss Bingley’s dainties left over from supper to keep everyone ’til morning. If the hen house doesn’t blow to the next shire and the milk cows stay in the barn, and with the grain and meat on hand, we can last for several days. I will get bread rising. As long as I have a hot oven, it can be done.” She looked in the direction of the ballroom. “Sir, I’d rather be in my kitchen than the rickety great house upstairs. These stones are thicker than I am. I doubt no amount of wind will move either of us.”
Not knowing what to say, he acknowledged her with a nod.
Mrs. Nicholls added, “The carriage house is also made of brick. Since I do not see any of the stable hands or the tenants in the kitchen, I suppose they have already sought refuge inside the building. Like the dower house, the carriage house is fully supplied as well.”
”Good. Then we shall not worry about tenants now.” Darcy quickly studied the room. “Am I correct in thinking that the chimney from the oven goes straight up?”
Cook replied, “That it does, sir. There are no rooms directly above us.”
”Very good.” He considered how much he should say before adding, “There is a real possibility that we will be here for a long while. Since the winds were fierce enough to shake the whole building, the damage could be considerable on the upper floors, so the course of wisdom is to remain clustered together below. We shall need a retiring area. For as much as Miss Bingley has commandeered the stillroom, I believe that to be the perfect location for personal use.”
Cook shook her fist in front of her. “Since those Bingley sisters have yet to go inside, I’ll have no problem keeping those women out of there if you want me to. All I need to do is stand in front of the door.”
He suspected that Miss Bingley had been a dragon to deal with in planning the ball. The look of evil intent on Cook’s face showed how much she yearned for the assignment.
“Let us hope the wind dies down before there is any permanent damage so we can let them have their way…for now.”
With a sharp nod, Cook returned to her post by the oven.
Mrs. Nicholls said, “Sir, Netherfield’s servants shall attempt to keep everyone as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Right now, the ladies, including the maids, are still fearful, keeping them fairly quiet. As time passes and they forget the terror of having the floor shaking underneath them, I suspect they will become more demanding. We shall do all we can to provide aid.”
Darcy nodded. “Then, please send a footman or two to the wine cellar every hour to make sure the men have all they need.”
“Very well. I shall see to…”
Something heavy crashed to the floor in the main house, sending panic through the ladies in the kitchen. Within a few seconds, more items fell. Ushering the housekeeper back to the depths of the room, Darcy surveyed the scene. Had he wanted to join the men in the wine cellar, the pleading eyes of the ladies kept him in place.
“I want to sit by the fire,” Lydia Bennet insisted as she pulled away from Miss Bennet’s grip.
“Yes, you should, darling Lydia.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice easily carried over the storm. “We would not have you catching your death from a cold.
