pride and prejudice and zombies:: dreadfull ever after

Part 32

CHAPTER 32

Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet had no more luck with their search than Kitty had. They found (and did away with) two small flocks of unmentionables roaming freely through the darkened streets. They did not find Mary.

"Perhaps she and Nezu's spy ran off together," Mr. Bennet joked grimly. "I'd rather it were that than...."

He lapsed into silence, and Elizabeth placed a hand on his slumping shoulder.

"Remember the Second Battle of Bridlington? When all those drowned fishermen began marching out of the sea?"

Mr. Bennet smiled at the memory. "And Mary started trawling them up in their own rotting nets. How proud I was of her that day."

"As you should have been. Mary is a skilled and resourceful warrior. What peril could London hold when she's defeated the worst Hell has to offer?"

Mr. Bennet nodded, though Elizabeth could tell it took some effort for him to keep his smile in place. She was glad her words could comfort him, even if only a bit, for they did absolutely nothing for her.

When they returned to the house, Kitty came darting out of the drawing room.

"Oh," she groaned when she saw them. "No Mary?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"And no Nezu?" Kitty asked.

"We didn't know we were supposed to be looking for him," Mr. Bennet said. "How is it you managed to lose the man?"

"I don't know," Kitty mumbled. "I mean ... he thought it best that we search separately."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about him," Mr. Bennet said, and Kitty brightened a bit, obviously anticipating the sort of reassurance Elizabeth had given their father not long before. "He is unworthy of your concern. Now, I'll wait up for Mary. You two turn in. Tomorrow you'll need to be at your best for the MacFarquhars ... not to mention the king."

"I'll wait with you," Kitty said, walking with her father toward the drawing room.

He stopped, spun her around, and pushed her toward the stairs with a firm, "Good night."

Then he was off.

"Kitty," Elizabeth said, but it was too late. Her sister was already bustling toward the staircase.

"Good night, Lizzy," she choked out without looking back.

Elizabeth knew it wasn't just Mary her sister was worried about. She recognized the signs, and she would've liked to talk to Kitty about the risks she ran affixing any affection whatsoever to a man such as Nezu. By the time she reached the bottom of the staircase, however, her sister's bedroom door was already slamming shut above.

It was for the best, perhaps. Their father was right: The next day would be pivotal. It wasn't the time to stir up more turmoil. It was time to rest. If one could.

As it turned out, she couldn't. Elizabeth lay awake for hours, unable to sleep or even meditate. It was impossible to clear her mind with Mary still missing. And how could she worry about what Sir Angus would think when her connection to her husband—the man all this manipulation and duplicity was meant to save—felt so fragile?

There had been no response to the letters she'd sent to Rosings. Even if there had been, Darcy would have been replying to lies. He had no notion what she and her family were undertaking on his behalf. What would he make of the fact that she wasn't by his side? Not knowing the truth, he might judge her ill. Yet knowing the truth (and hating, as he did, deceit of any kind), he might judge worse.