Page 111 of Ashes and Understanding
Mr. Bennet eyed him sharply. “And none of them will be able to be bought?”
The colonel’s response was immediate. “No, sir. Not these men—I would trust them with my life.”
“You had better be correct,” Mr. Bennet muttered, “because I will be trusting them with my family’s lives.”
A tense silence fell again. Elizabeth looked from one face to the next, noting the exhaustion etched into their expressions. Even the prospect of reinforcements did not seem to ease the weight in the room.
“Guards are not a permanent solution,” Mr. Bennet finally said. “They cannot surround Longbourn forever.”
“There may be other options,” Darcy offered. “We could arrange to have Benjamin removed from the area. Smuggled to a safe location—perhaps even the palace? If it is safe enough for His Majesty—”
“No!” Elizabeth said at once, her voice sharp enough to make Benjamin stir in her arms. “He is not a parcel to be hidden away. He needs a home. He needs warmth and care and people who love him, not a tower and a set of guards.”
“And even the palace would not be secure enough from Le Corbeau,” Fitzwilliam added grimly. “Someone would slip. There would be whispers, spies. And harboring him openly would provoke Napoleon. Fleeing French loyalists are one thing. Housing a Bourbon in the seat of English power is another.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “What do you think we should, then, Lizzy?”
She looked down at Benjamin in her arms, his tiny fist curled against her chest, his breath warm against her collarbone. She kissed the top of his head as he nestled into her.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that we need to end this. We cannot guard every door, every window, every servant’s tongue forever.”
They all stared at her.
She met each of their gazes in turn—her father’s stern, Fitzwilliam’s calculating, and finally Darcy’s, which held an emotion so raw she could barely stand to meet it.
“I think,” she said again, stronger this time, “we need to draw him out. And I believe the only way to do that… is to make me the target instead.”
Chapter 25
The room erupted.
“No,” Darcy said sharply, rising to his feet. “Absolutely not.”
“I forbid it,” Mr. Bennet barked, nearly at the same moment.
Colonel Fitzwilliam swore under his breath, and had the circumstances not been so dire, Elizabeth would have laughed. Instead, she raised a hand, and the room quieted.
“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “Based on what Colonel Fitzwilliam has told us about Le Corbeau, I am already a target. I have stopped him from completing his mission twice now. I daresay I could recognize him by his eyes or his scent. And since a woman was able to beat him off, I imagine his pride is now wounded, too. And surely he cannot be so fearsome if my little parasol was the means of his undoing.”
Her attempt to lighten the mood failed. Her father was scowling and Darcy looked stricken. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who spoke next. “She has a point,” he said slowly, eyes narrowed. “He will want to silence her.”
“What do you have in mind, Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet asked.
She drew in a breath. “The Netherfield ball is the day after tomorrow. I will begin spreading word today that I recognized him based on his features—something I could use to identify him again. Maybe we say that the attack helped me remember that I had seen him fleeing after discovering Mr. Smithson or something. I shall make it known I intend to give my account to Sir William, but only after the ball. I will claim that my mother refuses to let anything interrupt our preparations.”
“She would, too,” Mr. Bennet muttered, a wry expression passing over his face. “The house could burn to the ground, and she would still insist Lydia’s hem must be even.”
Elizabeth pressed on. “Meanwhile, you can use the militia to inspect the soldiers. If he was struck on the head, he may be bruised or favoring one side. That should narrow your search—or at least increase his desperation.”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “That might work. It would certainly light a fire under him.”
“How can you even be considering this?” Darcy blurted out, looking at Mr. Bennet.
“Because I see no other way forward,” the older man said, his shoulders sagging. “If you have any alternatives that would be more successful, I beg you to share them now.”
Shaking his head in resignation, Darcy slumped forward and put his head in his hands.
“And,” Elizabeth continued, her voice steady, “you will say, for Benjamin’s safety, that he is to be brought to Netherfield for the ball. There will be a nursemaid, of course, carrying a bundle.”
