Page 91 of The Briar Bargain
“Mr. Darcy!” Miss Bingley called after him.
One of the footmen was on his way down to the kitchen, and Darcy asked him to send the housekeeper to see him on a matter of some urgency. Perhaps because she was used to speaking with him now, she arrived promptly, a young maid on her heels.
"Mrs. Nicholls," he said quietly. "I am hoping you might help clarify a small matter regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She did not appear for dinner. Is she unwell?”
Mrs. Nicholls's brow furrowed slightly. "Miss Elizabeth, sir? I have not heard anything of the matter.” She turned to the maid. “Have you, Maggie?”
The girl shook her head.
“Might you send the girl up to her chamber?”
“Indeed. Maggie, please see whether Miss Elizabeth requires anything.” As the girl hurried off, the housekeeper’s brow furrowed. “I hesitate to say, Mr. Darcy, but . . .”
“Please speak freely,” he told her.
“Miss Bingley was quite particular about having a fire laid in one of the guest rooms that is not currently in use. After everything that has happened today, the maid dared not ask any questions. She simply followed instructions and then informed me. I meant to inspect it once dinner service was underway as I could not understand why she wanted it.”
They looked at one another for a moment, and then Darcy felt his temper begin to boil. He knew precisely where they would find Miss Elizabeth. “Show me the room,” he said.
He and Mrs. Nicholls followed in the maid’s footsteps, but as they reached the landing, Darcy sniffed. There was something in the air, something sharp and acrid.
"Is that smoke?" he asked Mrs. Nicholls.
She sniffed and began to walk faster.
But Darcy was already running towards the smell.
He turned the corner. A smoky haze hung near the ceiling of the hall, visible even in the dim light of the wall sconces. Wisps of grey smoke filtered from beneath one door, curling lazily up into the candlelight. He darted to the door.
He grasped the door handle and turned it sharply. Locked.
"Miss Elizabeth!" he called, rattling the knob with increasing force before turning to Mrs. Nicholls with barely controlled panic. "I need the key. Now."
Maggie appeared next to Mrs. Nicholls. “Miss Elizabeth is not in her room, Mrs. Nicholls,” she said.
Mrs.Nicholls fumbled her ring of keys with hands that had begun to shake. "It should be here," she muttered, sorting through the various pieces of metal with growing desperation.
She tried one key, then another. Neither fit. "Here!" Mrs. Nicholls exclaimed, finally locating what appeared to be the correct key. But as she moved to insert it into the lock, Darcy snatched the key from her trembling hands and thrust it into the keyhole, turning it with force. The mechanism yielded with a sharp click, and he immediately pushed the door open.
A wall of smoke billowed out so thick it nearly knocked him backwards. The acrid air burned his throat and eyes instantly, making him cough. There was no light, no flames beyond the fireplace, but the chamber was filled with noxious fumes that would be deadly to anyone trapped within.
"Dear God," Mrs. Nicholls gasped, pressing her apron to her face and staggering backwards.
Darcy pushed the women a few steps down the hall to get them out of the worst of the smoke. "Alert Mr. Bingley," he commanded, untying his cravat and tying it over his nose and mouth. "Bring water."
"Mr. Darcy,” she said, horrified, “you cannot mean to—"
"Go. Now."
Without waiting for further protest, Darcy dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into the smoke-filled chamber.
The smoke was so dense that it seemed to absorb not only light but sound as well, creating an otherworldly atmosphere of muffled confusion. Darcy felt his way forward along the floor, where the air was marginally clearer, his eyes streaming and his chest burning with each breath.
"Elizabeth!" he shouted and coughed. "Elizabeth, where are you?"
For one frightening moment, he wondered if he was too late, if she had already succumbed to the smoke, if he would find her insensate or worse, not find her at all until it was too late.
But then he saw that the smoke was being pulled out of a window in the same way it had been drawn out of the door when he opened it. He felt his way until his hands encountered what felt like a table pushed against the wall beneath.
