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Prologue

Posted on 2013-02-17

The highwayman's pistol, trained on the heart of a small boy, gleamed in the moonlight. Two ladies wept piteously as they parted with their rings and necklaces, placing them in the cloth sack that was currently being passed amongst the passengers - six in all - and a gentleman stood by, cursing the decision not to travel armed.

"Quick-like, now," the man barked. "I haven't got all night!"

The last piece of gold was collected, and the sack was handed to the boy, who walked forward tremulously, holding it high above his head. With his left hand the highwayman snatched the sack out of the boy's trembling fingers and secured it in his saddlebag.

"Right, then. My thanks!" The highwayman spurred his horse and was gone into the night. He galloped into the trees, careful to weave a circuitous route back to the small hovel hidden deep in the forest. As the building came into view, his horse slowed to a trot, and he was about to dismount when a man's voice called out.

"State your business!"

"Hell and damnation, Gerry!" the man growled. "'Tis only me! Put that blasted thing away!"

Gerry lowered the rifle, looking both chagrined and angry. "Strange tales about, Tom. I have to be careful."

"I keep tellin' ye, there's no one knows about this shack but us."

"Ye've heard the whispers same as me," Gerry said, coming forward now to take the horse's reins and secure them to the post.

Tom shook his head. "None of 'em make a lick o' sense. If you were to ask me, them boys we met at the pub've had more ale than what's good for 'em."

"Then who got hold of Lucky Jim, eh?" Gerry insisted as they headed into the house. "No blood in the body…"

"He fell from a bloomin' rooftop, din't he? I reckon all the blood was on the cobblestones!"

"But how'd he get up there? Jim had no head for heights."

"Will you shut up?"

Silence fell as Gerry opened the sack and saw the collection of gold and jewels. "Blimey!" he whispered. "What a stash!"

Tom grinned as he lit the lamp. "Regular knobs I reckon they were. Stupid, too. Who'd travel with all that on 'em, eh?"

Gerry did not answer. His eyes were fixed on a point beyond Tom's shoulder, his smile of delight frozen and twisted into a grimace of terror.

"What?" Tom demanded. "What is it?"

Dropping the sack on the floor, Gerry stumbled backwards until he ran against the far wall of the cabin, his eyes still unwavering. Tom's hand immediately went to his pistol as he swung around to face the intruder.

A tall figure stood in the doorway. It was dressed all in black, a cape billowing about its body. One might mistake it for a man, but for the tall, pointed ears on either side of its head.

"Bloody hell!" Tom fired his pistol reflexively, but in his terror his aim went wild. The figure advanced on him menacingly, clamped one hand about his throat, and lifted him into the air as if he weighed nothing. "Please!" Tom bleated, the toes of his boots dragging uselessly on the floor. "Take whatever you want! Don't kill me!"

"Why would I do that?" the figure's voice growled softly. "I want you to live, so that you may warn all of your friends about me."

"Who are you?" Gerry gasped from his stance against the wall.

Piercing blue eyes swiveled to meet his gaze. "I am Batman."

He lowered Tom to the ground, and then delivered a blow to his jaw that felled him instantly. The fearsome figure glowered once more at Gerry, then turned and stalked out of the door, stopping only to swoop up the sack of valuables.

Trembling, Gerry scrambled across the room and grabbed his rifle before rushing to the door, gun cocked and ready to fire. He blinked and looked about, but the clearing about the hut was empty.

The stagecoach trundled along ever slowly towards its next stop, its inhabitants considerably subdued after their adventure. The little boy was crying into his mother's gown, and the gentleman, having worn out his apologies for not having been better able to protect them all, stared broodingly out of the coach's window. Abruptly the coach stopped, and a surprised oath sounded from the coachman.

"Not again!" squealed one of the ladies. "We have nothing left to give!" A moment later, the door of the coach swung open to reveal only the coachman, looking absolutely befuddled.

"Begging pardon," he said, "but…I…I don't rightly know what happened. One minute we was driving along, and the next…this just fell out of the sky and landed right next to me." He held up a familiar cloth sack.

"Praise God," whispered the boy's mother.

Chapter One

The news of a new neighbor had electrified the town of Meryton for a number of weeks. No other topic could hold the attention of the ladies, to be sure, as the tenant of Netherfield was reported to be handsome, rich, and agreeable. The ladies of the most respectable families in the neighborhood considered him as their best chance of happiness, and great were the hopes of one lady in particular.

Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn was indeed considered the most likely woman of all to be made happy. The mother of five good-looking girls, who had by far the largest portions in the neighborhood, though only a thousand pounds apiece, Mrs. Bennet was by turns congratulated on and envied for her prospects.

Many ladies held the eldest to be the most likely to engage Mr. Bingley's affections. She was easily the handsomest woman in the neighborhood, with a disposition as lovely as her face. She had a kind word for everybody, and a sweet smile to accompany it. A few less fortunate young ladies had tried once to be jealous of her beauty, but had soon given it up, for no one could say or think an ill thing of Jane Bennet.

If there were any who doubted Miss Bennet's preferment, they were gentlemen, and gave their opinions in favor of the second eldest. Miss Elizabeth's face and form were not so perfect as her sister's, but her manners and laugh were more captivating, and her eyes particularly bewitching.

Of the three younger Miss Bennets, the neighborhood agreed that they could only be benefited by the connection of one of the elder sisters. Miss Mary, though by no means ill-looking, was just plain enough to be called so, and no one held her capable of bewitching a man. Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia were far too young, despite having been out in society a year at least, to be considered as serious contenders for the position of Mrs. Bingley.

To add to all these advantages, the neighborhood knew that Mr. Bennet had been one of the first to wait upon Mr. Bingley at Netherfield.

This fortunate Mrs. Bennet must indeed have been in a happy state, if her husband had been nearly as communicative and supportive as her neighbors. He had resisted going at all, and only completed the morning visit, she was convinced, because she had reminded him of his daughters and his duty to them too strongly to be denied. Furthermore, Mr. Bennet had steadfastly refused to provide her with any description of Mr. Bingley's person, any insight into his tastes and pursuits, or even any acknowledgement of his preferring coffee to tea.

Not all that Mrs. Bennet or her daughters could say or ask would draw Mr. Bennet into a description of their new neighbor. The two eldest had resigned themselves to drawing their own conclusions at the assembly-ball, but their mother and sisters had not yet given up the fight. Mrs. Bennet was primarily concerned with what appeared to be a troubling flightiness, in coming to Netherfield only to quit it again almost immediately. What if Mr. Bingley should be always flitting off to town? He would have no time to properly fall in love with one of her girls!

Mrs. Long quieted her nerves a little by starting the idea of his only being gone to get a large party for the ball, and before long the report followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen to the ball. The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were relieved to hear, on the eve of the ball, that he had brought only six ladies and four gentlemen. When the party entered the assembly-room, it consisted of only five altogether: his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.

Mr. Bingley's good-humor and charm were instantly apparent as he became acquainted with the principal people in the room and led Sir William Lucas's eldest daughter into the first dance. His friend, Mr. Darcy, at first generally admired for his handsome features and reported great fortune, soon gained the room's ill opinion. It was discovered that he had come to the ball not meaning to dance, and evidently not meaning to become acquainted with anyone.

After having danced the requisite two dances with his host's daughter, Mr. Bingley immediately sought an introduction to the eldest Miss Bennet and engaged her for the two next. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, presently without a partner, watched the display with affectionate amusement. No man could look at her sister without admiration, and if she was not much mistaken, this particular gentleman was impressing her sister as well.

In the brief interlude before the second dance, Mr. Bingley stepped briefly away from his partner to address his friend.

"Come, Darcy! You had much better dance! I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner!"

"I certainly shall not," Mr. Darcy responded. "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner."

Bingley laughed a little and then, catching the eye of Miss Elizabeth, who sat just behind his friend, lowered his voice. Dismayed at having been caught listening to a private conversation, Elizabeth lowered her eyes. She dared not look up again until the music had resumed.

Jane's voice, however, interrupted her thoughts before the dance could begin. "Lizzy, Mr. Bingley has asked me to introduce you to his friend."

Startled, Elizabeth looked up to see that the gentlemen were now standing directly in front of her, and Jane was beside them, smiling serenely. Mystified, Elizabeth agreed to the introduction and was soon properly introduced to Mr. Darcy, who immediately asked for the honor of her hand in the next set.

Remembering the small fragment of conversation she had overheard, nothing could have astonished Elizabeth more, but the evening had but just begun, and she granted his request. He led her into the set just above Jane and her partner, and there they stood for two whole verses of the dance without exchanging a word.

When she could bear the silence no longer, Elizabeth broke it. "How do you find Netherfield, Mr. Darcy?"

"I arrived there only just this morning, but it seems a charming estate."

"Just this morning! Had you far to travel?"

"I came from London."

"Not such a great distance, then, but it was kind in you to oblige your friend in attending this ball."

He bowed slightly in acknowledgment of the compliment. She waited in vain for him to break their silence, but he did not appear inclined towards conversation. She looked down the dance and saw Mr. Bingley dancing with Miss King. She was amused to find that while he spoke quite amiably with his partner, his eyes continually strayed up the dance to Jane, who was smiling and conversing with her own partner.

"Are you a native of Meryton, Miss Elizabeth?" her partner asked, startling her out of her amusement.

"Not as such, sir. My home is at Longbourn, my father's estate. I have lived there all my life."

"You are fond of the place?"

"Excessively. But are not all people fond of their homes?"

"Have you never had trouble? It is generally considered a safe place?"

His question took her by surprise, but she was not averse to answering it. "Certainly. There are the occasional poultry thieves or pickpockets, but nothing unusual."

He nodded his understanding and said no more.

When the two dances were over, he bowed over her hand and escorted her to her mother's side. Mrs. Bennet bequeathed her sweetest smiles on him as he bowed to her, introduced himself, and thanked Miss Elizabeth for the honor of her hand. He was then gone, and Mrs. Bennet turned to her daughter with breathless anticipation.

"Oh, Lizzy! Have you any idea who that man is?"

"If he is to be believed, his name is Mr. Darcy, and he hails from Derbyshire," Elizabeth answered in confusion. After all, the gentleman in question had just volunteered that very information.

"From Derbyshire! Pah! They say he owns half the county, dear! He is the master of Pemberley, which brings him a clear ten thousand a year! He is the nephew of the Earl of ---."

"Good heavens," murmured Elizabeth. "What illustrious company we are keeping."

"And you were his first choice, and Jane Mr. Bingley's second. Look!" Mrs. Bennet gasped, indicating the floor with her fan. "He is asking her again!"

Mr. Bingley was indeed leading Jane into the fourth set. Elizabeth smiled at her sister's flattered expression, and Mrs. Bennet pressed her hand to her heart. "Oh! I simply cannot wait to tell your father all about this night!"

Chapter Two

Posted on 2013-02-20

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield, and the visit was returned in due course. Miss Bingley had come to Netherfield to keep house for her brother, and Mrs. Hurst having married a man of more fashion than fortune, was quite happy to make her brother's home her own whenever it suited her.

They were very fine ladies, having been educated at one of the finest seminaries in town, and having formed habits of expense there that allowed them the pleasure of living just inside their incomes. They could be agreeable when they chose, and to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth they chose to be so. Miss Bennet found greater pleasure in their attentions than her younger sister, for Elizabeth could not so easily forget that they had talked to nobody at the assembly-ball.

The newcomers had not been a fortnight in the neighborhood when Sir William Lucas proposed an evening party. A sociable man by nature, his elevation to knighthood some ten years previous had given him a disgust for his business and moved him to take a house in the neighborhood. He was now at leisure to be as sociable as he liked, and delighted in gathering up all the principal families in the neighborhood for evening parties, card parties, soirees, and balls at Lucas Lodge.

Miss Bennet had not been long in the room before her attention was claimed by Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth joined her friend Charlotte, Sir William's eldest daughter, at a window and congratulated her on the success of her father's party.

"It shall be a success, certainly, now that Jane is here," Charlotte agreed with a smile. "Mr. Bingley has been rather distracted, and my father was beginning to worry that he was not enjoying himself."

"He does seem to like her very much."

"And does she return his regard?"

"She does not say much, but I think that if he continues so, she is in a fair way to being very much in love with him."

"Think you that Mr. Bingley is in love?"

Elizabeth laughed a little. "Come, Charlotte, I do not know the gentleman well enough to pronounce an opinion. It is clear that he likes her very much, but of more than that I cannot be certain."

"She should leave him in no doubt of her feelings, if she does like him. She should show more affection, even than she feels, if she is to secure him."

"Secure him! She has known him only a fortnight!"

"A fortnight is enough to know a man's general character. We can be certain that he is not ill-tempered or ungenerous, at least."

"But what of their common interests? What of their tastes and pursuits?"

"Oh, they have very little to do with wedded felicity, I am sure. In fact, I should imagine that the less they share in that respect, the better, or else they must needs always be together."

Elizabeth shook her head. "And you would wish not to see your husband? This is not sound; you would never act this way yourself."

"It is clear that Jane will not, so we must hope that Mr. Bingley will."

"Charlotte, has your father said aught to you of these strange occurrences on the road?" Elizabeth asked, determined to change the subject.

"He has not, but my mother is not so circumspect. It seems that every day brings a new tale of a robbery followed by the mysterious return of the valuables."

"And has he no idea of who is committing these crimes?"

"None, though the few men he has managed to interview appear very frightened. One seemed quite mad - he insisted that he and his accomplice were set upon by a giant bat."

Elizabeth was startled into laughter, and she looked around to see that no one could hear their conversation. Mr. Darcy stood near her, his eyes fixed on her, and as he appeared to be listening with no intention of speaking, Elizabeth determined that he should contribute.

"What say you, Mr. Darcy? Do you now fear that you will be attacked by a bat if you venture out after dark?"

"Certainly not," was the grave reply.

"But what could the man mean by inventing such a story? Could there be a hero in the dark, righting the wrongs of the highwaymen?"

"If there is such a man, he is clearly an outlaw. He should be reprimanded, not lauded. The law is not his plaything."

"Where the law is inadequate, might not a person be justified in taking action? He has done no harm, after all."

"As yet, he has not. If he is allowed to roam free, doing as he will, who knows what will occur to him next? He might decide that, after all, killing villains is much more expedient than merely stopping them."

"I suppose we must wait until he is caught to debate over his motives and means."

"Perhaps. But I thought you described Meryton as a safe place, Miss Elizabeth?" There was the faintest note of challenge in his voice. "It would appear that recent events have proved you wrong."

"Not at all. It is evident that if crime is to increase, some brave soul is determined to stop it."

"You would not fear meeting the Batman yourself, then?"

"On the contrary. I think I should rather enjoy it."

"Considering the circumstances under which he has been seen, Miss Elizabeth, you ought to be more prudent in your choice of entertainment."

"Dear me, Lizzy," Charlotte whispered as Mr. Darcy bowed and walked away. "How can you have the temerity to speak to the man like that? I expected at any moment that you would freeze into an icicle."

Elizabeth laughed, though she was not certain whether she really felt amused. Mr. Darcy unnerved her. He stood now near Sir William Lucas, watching the impromptu dance struck up by Lydia, Kitty, and some other young people with an expression of unmistakable contempt. Elizabeth sought out Jane, spotting her at last on the other side of the room conversing with Miss Bingley. As she crossed the room, she heard the end of Sir William's speech to Mr. Darcy.

"…no finer amusement for young people I am sure! I hope you will be persuaded to enjoy yourself, Mr. Darcy."

"I thank you, sir, but I rarely dance."

"Well, it would certainly be a compliment of the highest…"

"It is a compliment I never pay, if I can avoid it."

Sir William had no choice but to accept this answer. Elizabeth, as she joined Jane, was left to ponder the vagaries of Mr. Darcy's behavior. If he could converse adequately, if somewhat strangely, with her, why not with others?

The next morning brought a note from Netherfield for Miss Bennet. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and while Jane was reading she was continuously calling out, "Well, Jane? What does it say? What is it about? Tell us, my love!"

"It is from Miss Bingley, and she requests that I dine with her and Mrs. Hurst, as the gentlemen are to dine with the officers."

"With the officers!" Lydia exclaimed. "I wonder our aunt did not tell us of that!"

A regiment of militia was but lately quartered in Meryton, and Kitty and Lydia, through the kind offices of their Aunt Philips, were frequently receiving the most important information of the officers' plans and parties.

"It is very unlucky that Mr. Bingley should be dining out," Mrs. Bennet reflected. "However, it looks like rain. You must go on Nellie, that you may stay the night."

"I had much rather go in the carriage."

"The carriage! But the horses will be wanted in the farm today, will they not, Mr. Bennet?"

"They are wanted in the farm far more often than I can get them."

"If you have got them today," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose will be answered."

As Mr. Bennet did eventually acknowledge that the horses were engaged, Miss Bennet could no longer argue against her mother's plan. She set off on horseback, and had not been gone ten minutes before the rain began. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced in such a lucky occurrence, while her daughters thought of Jane with varying degrees of concern. A note from Netherfield arrived after dinner, informing everyone that Miss Bingley had indeed most cordially invited Jane to stay the night, and Mrs. Bennet felt all the pleasure of a well-laid plan.

In the middle of the night, however, there came a great pounding on the door, and the whole household roused by the noise, a servant from Netherfield appeared, with the message that Miss Bennet had fallen violently ill, and her mother's presence was immediately asked for.

Mrs. Bennet, as truly fond of her child as any mother could be, was nearly incapacitated by this dreadful news, and Elizabeth determining that she might be of more use than her mother, engaged to go in her stead. Mr. Bennet, though not liking to send his daughter out in the rain in the dead of night, agreed that it must be so. A footman was engaged to travel with her, and the horses hitched as quickly as possible.

The distance to Netherfield was but a trifle, only three miles, but it rained hard and the road was slick. They had gone but half the distance when the wheels of the coach slid rather than turned, and Elizabeth felt the coach begin to tip sideways. With a resounding crash the vehicle fell to its side, and Elizabeth, more frightened than hurt, was helped out of the door by the coachman.

With what dismay Elizabeth viewed her father's carriage may be imagined, especially as a few minutes' examination proved the axle to have been broken. The footman, having turned an ankle, proposed riding the horses, but as Elizabeth was no horsewoman even when provided with a sidesaddle, there was nothing for it but to walk on to Netherfield.

Elizabeth had often walked farther distances than this, but the weather was against her, and dark and wet as it was, she soon could not be certain she was headed in the right direction. The coachman, following behind her with the two horses, the footman astride one of them, cursed under his breath every time he stepped on a particularly slippery bit of mud, and Elizabeth's heart wrenched for Jane, so ill and frightened, waiting for a familiar face.

Hoofbeats sounded over the pounding of the raindrops, and Elizabeth looked up to discern a tall black-garbed figure bearing down upon them. Her heart in her throat, she prepared to scream, but his deep voice preempted her.

"What is the meaning of this? What do you do here on such a night?"

Elizabeth's heart pounded more frantically as she made out the tall, pointed ears on either side of the masked head.

"My sister is ill at Netherfield, and my carriage is overturned."

The Batman turned to glare at the men accompanying her. "What do you mean by letting a lady walk such a distance in this weather?"

The coachman's mouth opened and closed once, and then he replied, "I asked Miss Lizzy to ride, truly I did s-sir, but she wouldn't have none of it."

"Is that so?" The Batman directed his piercing gaze on her, and then rode closer.

"I do not like horses."

"I must assume that you also do not like your health. This is utter foolishness."

Very grateful then was Elizabeth for the darkness; she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. "That is none of your business."

Without another word, the Batman dismounted, advanced on her and, before she could protest, lifted her up and onto the saddle. Before she could give voice to her scream, he had mounted again and the horse was galloping off, leaving the shouts of the two men far behind. The horse and rider seemed indifferent to the perilous conditions, and Elizabeth, who knew enough about horsemanship not to struggle lest she fall and be trampled, stayed perfectly still.

Within minutes lights emerged out of the darkness, and the slop of mud beneath the horse's hooves changed to the crunch of gravel. Before they had reached the main drive, the Batman pulled his horse to a stop and immediately set Elizabeth back on the ground as easily as he had lifted her. Without a word, he turned and rode back into the night.

Trembling, Elizabeth walked up the drive to Netherfield, where, as one might imagine, her appearance caused quite a stir. The Bingley family was all awake, as Miss Bennet's illness had been so sudden and violent as to concern them all, and if the ladies of the house felt any disdain at Elizabeth's appearance, it was soon replaced by horror and wonder when they heard her story.

"Good heavens! Anything might have happened to you!" Miss Bingley exclaimed.

Mrs. Hurst declared herself quite faint. "Poor Jane will be beside herself."

"We must not tell her on any account," Elizabeth insisted. "She would only be frightened, and would probably take the blame for my having been out in the first place, when we all know that is ridiculous. It was all terribly bad luck, to be sure, but might have been worse. But how is Jane? Is she any better?"

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would not hear of Elizabeth seeing her sister until she had changed her clothes and been assigned her own room. Miss Bingley then took her to her sister's room, where Jane was indeed very ill. She had been chilly during dinner, Miss Bingley explained, but had insisted she was quite well until the evening, when she had pleaded a headache and begged to be excused. A maid had been assigned to her, and asked to stay with her to be sure all was well. Only two hours ago the maid had awakened them and told of Miss Bennet's calling for her mother and being quite hot.

"Oh, I dread to imagine what your parents must think," Miss Bingley said as Elizabeth took a chair by Jane's side. "You were soaked through as well! I am sorry now that I wrote Longbourn, but Jane seemed so desperately to want her mother."

"I beg you not to distress yourself," Elizabeth said. "You have been everything that is kind, and I can hardly hold you accountable for the weather, the roads, or the…mysterious gentleman."

After insisting that Elizabeth go to bed herself as soon as possible, and apologizing once more, Miss Bingley left the sisters alone.

"Perhaps you are right, dear Jane," Elizabeth murmured, placing a fresh cloth on her sister's head. "Perhaps they will make very good neighbors."

Chapter Three

Posted on 2013-02-24

The morning brought an improvement in Jane; she was not so hot or so restless as she had been, though she was exceedingly surprised to find Elizabeth asleep in the chair beside her bed.

"Lizzy, what on earth do you do here?"

Elizabeth started awake and met her sister's astonished eyes. "I came last night, my dear. You were so very unwell, and Miss Bingley desired our mother to come."

"Poor Mama!" Jane whispered. She put one hand to her head. "Is she here now?"

"No, she could not come last night, but I am very much mistaken if she does not appear soon."

"Have you had any proper sleep?" Jane searched her sister's face. "No, I can see you have not. I feel better, and will probably go back to sleep. You must go to your own room."

"I think I shall." Elizabeth rose and attempted to stretch her cramped limbs. She pressed her sister's hand and made her way out of the room, stopping in the hall to think and remember which room was hers.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy had appeared in the hallway, and was looking at her quizzically. "Forgive me, but…I was not aware…"

"My sister took ill last night. I came to help nurse her."

"Is all well now?"

Elizabeth, suddenly too weary for words, merely shook her head.

"I beg your pardon. You must be fatigued." With a bow, he continued down the hall and, she imagined, to the breakfast-parlor. Elizabeth entered the first door she encountered and was immensely relieved to recognize it as the one Miss Bingley had assigned her. Without deigning to remove her gown, she stumbled into the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Elizabeth awoke, she found a maid seated in a chair near her bedside. Momentarily confused, Elizabeth sat directly up and looked about the room. She did not at first recognize the place, but on the maid's mentioning how happy Miss Bingley would be to hear that she was well, remembered where she was.

The girl informed her that dinner had long since concluded, but that Miss Bingley had left orders that Miss Elizabeth was to have whatever food she wished brought up to her room whenever she should awaken. Grateful for such attention, Elizabeth agreed to allow Lucy to fetch a tray from the kitchen, and then stood to walk about the room.

She had not fallen ill from the morning's adventure, then. That at least was a relief. Miss Bingley had been all that was solicitous, but only a saint would not resent having two sisters ill under her roof at the same time. Elizabeth brushed her hair and exchanged her gown for a nightdress, determined not to leave her room except to visit Jane.

When Lucy returned with the tray, she brought with her the news that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were visiting Miss Bennet, and would be glad to see her as soon as she had eaten. Elizabeth ate as quickly as she could, and joined the ladies in her sister's room.

"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you find your chambers to your liking," Miss Bingley said as Elizabeth entered the room.

"They are quite beautiful, I thank you," Elizabeth replied, taking the chair nearest Jane's bed. "How are you feeling, dearest?"

"Much better, Lizzy, now that you are here."

"Have you seen Mama today?"

"Yes, she came after breakfast. She was dreadfully worried about you, too, but she went to see you and said you were sleeping soundly. She did not want to bother you."

"But the carriage...how..."

"We sent our own carriage this morning. I took the liberty of asking Mrs. Bennet to bring some clothes for you, Miss Elizabeth," Miss Bingley said. "The apothecary looked in on Jane this morning and insisted that she must not be moved. I hope you will consent to stay until Jane is recovered."

"Certainly, if you have no objection," Elizabeth replied. "I do not want to burden you, however."

"It is no burden," Miss Bingley smiled, and Elizabeth began to feel a bit uneasy that she had taken so early a dislike to her.

The four ladies enjoyed comfortable conversation until Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were obliged to return to the drawing room. Elizabeth was most kindly pressed to join them there, but she begged to be excused, insisting that she would be for bed as early as possible.

"I always said they would be charming neighbors," Jane said sleepily when they were gone.

"You were right, my dear. Perhaps I was wrong to judge so early." When Jane's eyes had closed, Elizabeth removed to her own room and retired to sleep as well.

She awoke quite suddenly in the night, and could not at first determine why. She lay quite still, listening for she knew not what, and then heard a firm, rapid step in the hallway. She half-expected the steps to pause outside her door, but they did not, instead continuing down the staircase.

Rising from her bed, Elizabeth went to the window, not knowing what she expected to see. A tall figure strode across the lawn. Elizabeth watched him as far as she was able, but he had soon disappeared around the corner of the house.

What on Earth had Mr. Darcy to do out-of-doors at this hour? The figure had undeniably been his, too tall for Mr. Bingley and too slender for Mr. Hurst. She watched the window for ten minutes more, but he did not reappear.

Brimming with curiosity, Elizabeth returned to her bed.

She had reached Meryton at last. He was not here yet, but he would be soon, and she would be ready for him. Briefly she spared a thought for Netherfield, and the people that resided there. A shudder shook her frame as she recalled the danger - the unspeakable danger - in which she placed those most dear to her. But she could do nothing else. She loved him; he was dear to her; he must be stopped.

She had noticed a small, uninhabited cottage just outside the town. She would remain there until she had finished her self-appointed task. He must never know that she was here. She must lay a trail of deception - oh! how she hated to deceive him! but there was nothing else to be done. She approached the post office on the dark, deserted street. Her black cloak rendered her nearly invisible in the darkness. Carefully she slid the envelope under the door, and then turned, fleeing silently down the street and into the night.

When the postmaster opened the door in the morning, he was astonished to find that, somehow, a bit of the previous day's post had fallen to the floor. He scooped it up and placed it in the pile of letters that was to be delivered to Netherfield.

Chapter Four

Posted on 2013-02-27

They had their orders. They would serve him well. Hungry, ambitious men they were, to the last man, but they would serve his purpose. Even now, he trusted they were making headway in their various assignments, and he would soon have strength enough to act.

Jane's health improved slowly, and though by the evening of the second day she was still not strong enough to sit up for long, she insisted on Elizabeth's joining their hosts in the drawing room. Elizabeth agreed, and after seeing that Jane was quite comfortable, ventured downstairs.

She found the party at loo, and though she was immediately invited to join them, she declined and announced her intention of not staying below long.

"I have no wish to interrupt your game. I must return to Jane soon, and so I will amuse myself with a book."

Mr. Hurst looked his astonishment. "Do you prefer reading to cards? That is very singular."

Miss Bingley smiled. "There is nothing so very surprising in that, Mr. Hurst. We are all fond of a good book from time to time."

"If you find nothing to your liking, Miss Elizabeth, I will immediately fetch others. I will bring you my whole library in fact, though that is perhaps not so grand a thing. I have not many books, but more than I ever look into."

"I thank you, Mr. Bingley, but these will suit me admirably."

"I am astonished," Miss Bingley continued, "that my father should have left so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many generations."

"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying books."

"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these,"

"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Pemberley."

"I wish it may."

"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that neighborhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a finer county in England than Derbyshire."

"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it."

"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."

"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than by imitation."

Miss Bingley now deemed the time right to change the subject, and inquired after Mr. Darcy's sister. "Is she much grown since I last saw her? Will she be as tall as I am?"

"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth's height, or rather taller."

"And that, Miss Elizabeth, is the highest compliment you can ever expect to be paid," Miss Bingley said. "To be compared in any way to Miss Darcy! She is quite simply the sweetest, dearest girl in the world. And so accomplished for her age! I always think that no one's performance on the pianoforte could ever delight me as much as hers."

"It is amazing to me that young ladies in this day and age are so very accomplished as they all are!" Mr. Bingely interjected.

"All young ladies accomplished! Charles, what can you mean?"

"Yes, all of them. Darcy, you must assist me in this. When did you ever hear of a young lady for the first time without being informed that she was very accomplished? When have you not heard of Miss Smith's delightful singing, Miss Johnson's beautiful painting, or Miss White's inimitable playing? We are forever being inundated with the talents of these accomplished ladies."

"I cannot deny that such praise is commonly given," Mr. Darcy said, "but I am not as certain as you are of its being as commonly deserved."

"Do you think then," Elizabeth asked, moving her chair a little closer to the table, "that these poor young ladies have been practicing a deceit upon the world?"

"No," the gentleman hesitated, "I would not accuse anyone of deceit. I do think, however, that the word 'accomplished' is used too often to describe only acceptable proficiency, rather than true excellence."

"In your opinion, then, a lady must have more than the usual span of accomplishments to be truly called accomplished."

"Oh, certainly!" cried Miss Bingley. "I am quite of your mind, Mr. Darcy. A woman must have mastered all the arts and languages, and perfected her mind and manners, before she may deserve the word."

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth. "I am happy indeed that I have never presumed to be accomplished. It sounds like a vast deal of effort to earn one little word. Pray, what does accomplishment grant to the very fortunate lady who earns the title?"

"What do you mean?" Miss Bingley asked. "Certainly it is every woman's wish to be as accomplished as she can."

"But why should she strive to do so? What benefits does she reap?"

The party stared at her, and she read in their eyes amusement, annoyance, and consternation. Miss Bingley looked as if she had stepped into a trap and did not know the way out; Mr. Bingley was quite openly laughing; Mr. Darcy scrutinized her with an unreadable gleam in his eyes.

"Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said after a moment of silence, "you might enlighten us on what you deem important accomplishments."

Elizabeth started. "I had never really thought much on the matter," she demurred.

"Think on it now."

She bristled a little at his commanding tone, and when she looked into his eyes saw a challenge there from which she would not back down.

"In my opinion, a truly accomplished woman will be truthful, faithful, and generous. She will seek the good in everyone, and soften as much of the bad as she can. She will strive to her utmost to relieve the sufferings of those less fortunate than she. She will be open to learning as much as she can about every subject that comes within her reach."

Miss Bingley, she could see, had flushed red and looked down at her cards. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were both staring at her as if she had suddenly launched into a speech in fluent Greek.

"This accomplished woman of whom you speak," Mr. Darcy began. "Have you ever met her like?"

"I certainly have," Elizabeth smiled softly. "I was speaking of my sister." Silence fell again and she rose to her feet. "If you will excuse me, I must check on dear Jane."

The silence in which she left them was only broken when Mr. Darcy spoke.

"A very unusual woman."

"Indeed. I have never heard any woman speak of her sister in that way."

"If her definition were to be taken up by all, the gentlemen of England would be fortunate indeed."

There was not much in the words or the tone of voice to cause alarm, but Miss Bingley looked up and searched Mr. Darcy's face. She had watched him often enough to be skilled at doing so undetected. She was, she believed, more fluent in his expressions than any being living.

She was certain that what she saw now had never appeared there before, and most certainly not for her.

Anger and jealousy rose in her breast before she resolutely bore them down. Elizabeth Bennet had done nothing to intentionally attract Mr. Darcy; even she could admit that. Though she had long hoped that her own patience and perseverance would yield their reward, she was far from sanguine in expecting any addresses from Mr. Darcy.

Besides, she reasoned with herself, approval and attraction meant nothing, nothing at all. It might all be only the workings of the moment. She fervently hoped so, at any rate.

Elizabeth could not sleep that night. Her mind was fixed on the image of Mr. Darcy striding about Netherfield's grounds in the middle of the night. What could he mean by it? He had not appeared fatigued today, which was even more astonishing.

Midnight approached, and no footsteps sounded in the hallway. Perhaps he would stay in tonight. Perhaps he had merely gone for a midnight walk because he was unable to sleep.

Oh, this was intolerable! Elizabeth left her bed hastily and found her dressing gown. She would go to the library and find a book; she would never be able to sleep at this rate! She picked up a candle and crept into the hallway, careful not to make a sound. She found the room easily enough and had just selected a novel when a step in the hallway froze her in her place. The candle in her hand began to tremble, and she placed it on a table immediately. The door to the library opened, and she beheld Mr. Bingley.

"Gracious God!" he exclaimed, and Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Forgive me," she gasped. "I could not sleep, and I came to look for a book."

"Oh, no, forgive me! You merely startled me. You are perfectly welcome to anything in the house, you know. Have you found something to your liking?"

"I have."

"Excellent, excellent. Well, do not let me keep you from your reading."

Elizabeth paused, but it soon became evident that he had no intention of leaving the library. Hastily she took her book and candle and hurried back to her room. She had settled herself in bed once more, the book upon her knees, when she recalled that Mr. Bingley had still been fully dressed.

Chapter Five

Posted on 2013-03-03

The following day brought another visit from Mrs. Bennet. That worthy lady was delighted to find that Elizabeth had really not fallen ill, and congratulated her on her lucky escape. Jane was feeling much better, and begged to be carried home, but as she was not in any serious danger, Mrs. Bennet could by no means wish for such a speedy removal. Jane would soon be well enough to join the party in the evenings, and certainly this would be the most advantageous time to remain. Mr. Bingley would see her at last, in undiminished beauty but with all the tender feelings that must attend an invalid. His admiration must be heightened by such a circumstance! No, Jane must certainly not leave.

Elizabeth, though embarrassed by her mother's arguments, could not disagree with the main purport of her speeches. Jane was not, in her opinion, well enough to return home. She was still occasionally weak and dizzy, and needed long hours of sleep to recover from the few hours she could sit up. Miss Bingley joined them in a few moments, and though Mrs. Bennet was wise enough not to detail all her reasons, she begged Miss Bingley to use her influence on her friend. Miss Bingley could not but agree with the others.

With the opinions of so many against her, Jane was forced to concede. Miss Bingley promised her the use of their carriage when she was well enough to move, but until it were universally decided that she was so, she would stay where she was. Mrs. Bennet thanked Miss Bingley profusely for this honor, and soon afterwards Miss Bingley left the room.

When they had coaxed Jane to return to bed, Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet removed to the drawing room. On finding the master of the house in the room, Mrs. Bennet immediately embarked once more on her thanks and apologies. "For Jane was indeed so very ill, and suffered a vast deal, but with the greatest patience in the world, for she had the sweetest temper! But indeed they must trespass a little longer on his kindness."

Miss Bingley repeated her assurances of care with cooler civility. Elizabeth noted the change, but could not blame her.

"I believe Jane's sweet nature is of such a kind that one never meets its equal!" Mrs. Bennet continued. "I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. And what a sweet room you have here, Mr. Bingley, with such a lovely prospect! I think you will never want to leave Netherfield now - at least, not in any great hurry."

"I am always in a hurry, I'm afraid, and if I resolved to quit Netherfield I should be off in five minutes. However, I have no notion of leaving at present."

"That is exactly what I should have thought," Elizabeth cried.

"Do you believe you understand me, then?"

"Oh, yes! I understand you perfectly."

"Dear me. I had hoped to be somewhat more mysterious. To be so easily seen through is a bit pitiful."

"I do not know. Intricate characters are not necessarily more estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy!" cried her mother. "I beg you to remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner you are suffered to do at home."

Mr. Bingley appeared not to hear her. "I did not know that you were a student of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."?

"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighborhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."?

"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."?

"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighborhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town."

?Every body was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.

?"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"?

"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."?

"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all."?

"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."

?"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighborhood, I believe there are few neighborhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."

Nobody could think of an answer to this, and Elizabeth distracted her mother's thoughts by inquiring after Miss Lucas. Mrs. Bennet produced a warm panegyric on the gentlemanlike manners of Sir William Lucas, all affability and friendliness to everyone, before reverting again to her favorite subject.

"We are all inordinately fond of Charlotte Lucas, you may imagine. She is a very sensible and agreeable girl. What a pity that she is not handsome! Of course, I do not think her so very plain, but she is our particular friend."

"She seems a very pleasant young woman," Mr. Bingley agreed.

"Oh yes, but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. To be sure, Jane…I do not like to boast, but one does not often see anybody better looking. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman in town so much in love with her that I was sure he would make her an offer before she went away. He did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"?

"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy only smiled, and nobody else spoke until Mrs. Bennet, in taking her leave, repeated her thanks once more. She was answered with unwearying civility, and soon afterwards went home in a happy glow of spirits, confident of having left her daughters in the best possible situation.

When Mrs. Bennet was gone and Elizabeth returned upstairs, Miss Bingley ached to discuss Mrs. Bennet's behavior. Such grandiose ideas, supported by such scanty evidence! Four and twenty families indeed! The smile, too - she had never seen such a smile on Mr. Darcy's face, and her heart burned with resentment.

She recalled, however, Elizabeth Bennet's speech from the day before, and Mr. Darcy's reception of it, all too clearly. Vain indeed had been all her efforts to secure him, if Miss Elizabeth's list of accomplishments were what a gentleman such as he really desired! She bit her tongue, therefore, and asked her brother about his plans for a shooting party on the morrow. If the gentlemen were surprised by her forbearance, they had the good manners to hide it.

The day had brought such fatigues and alarms that Elizabeth was surprised that she did not drop off at once. However, nightfall could only remind her of the strange occurrences of both of the nights she had spent under Netherfield's roof. She did not even undress for the evening, but sat in a chair by the fireplace, waiting and listening for anything to happen.

She was just beginning to doze off when a step sounded in the corridor. Rising hastily to her feet, she approached her door and listened. The person continued down the hall and descended the stairs. Cautiously, Elizabeth opened her door and peered into the apparently deserted corridor. She crept toward the stairs herself, thankful that she had had the sense to wear her soft slippers instead of sturdier shoes.

She approached the door of the library; surely the footsteps had been headed here! The glow of candlelight shimmered at the bottom of the door, but she could hear nothing within. She eased the door open to peer inside, but was astonished and disappointed to find the room empty.

The first night Mr. Darcy - or someone - had been headed across the lawn. Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before approaching the great oak doors. She was astonished to find them unlocked. She eased them open, cringing as the hinges groaned in protest, and slipped out into the night.

The air was warm for October, and the moon was out. She took a moment to get her bearings and then struck out in the direction she had seen Mr. Darcy walking, her heart pounding in her ears at every step. She reached the edge of the lawn and looked into the woods. She could see no one. Carefully she stepped in among the trees.

Keeping the house in view, Elizabeth began a careful circuit of the woods. What had Mr. Darcy been looking for here? Had he come out again? Whatever should she say to him if he found her here?

There was a crackle and a faint swish behind her, and Elizabeth whirled around. Astonished, she saw, not the Batman, but another figure entirely. He too wore a hooded cloak and a mask over the top of his face. In his hand he carried a long wooden staff.

"What do you do here?" he asked not unkindly.

"I hardly know," she whispered.

"The woods are not safe. You had best return."

"You - you are not the Batman."

"I? No, I am his friend. I am called Robin." He indicated Netherfield with his staff. "Go. All is well."

Elizabeth turned and hurried back through the trees and around to the front of the house. She gained her room and even her bed, but sleep eluded her. Her mind was a whirl of questions and suspicions. When the sun rose and changed the sky to pink, Elizabeth was still awake.

Author's Note: http://wfiles.brothersoft.com/b/batman-arkham-city-robin_78869-1400x1050.jpg This is the costume I imagine Robin wearing, though with obvious Regency changes - and no R on the chest. I am not one for elfin shoes and underwear worn over tights.

Chapter Six

Posted on 2013-03-06

In the morning Elizabeth decided that she had been indoors long enough. The encounters with the Batman and Robin had shaken her nerves and awakened her imagination, and now she was beginning to suspect mysteries and conspiracies at Netherfield! A walk was certainly in order.

After breakfast she must sit with Jane, but when Jane was comfortably settled with a book and insisted that she did not need Elizabeth to sit with her all day, Elizabeth ventured downstairs. She found the Hursts alone in the drawing room and announced her intention of taking a walk. Mrs. Hurst offered to accompany her and show her the shrubbery, and Elizabeth was well pleased to have a companion.

The two ladies walked in silence for a few moments. Elizabeth ventured to inquire after Mrs. Hurst's opinion of Netherfield.

"It is a pretty little place," was the reply. "Charles means to purchase an estate soon. I do not know if he has absolutely settled on Netherfield, but he could perhaps choose worse. He has asked Mr. Darcy to help him decide."

"Mr. Bingley does not doubt his own judgment so much, I hope."

"No, Charles knows his own mind perfectly well, but he has a deference for Mr. Darcy's opinion. They have been close friends for a number of years. Some ungenerous people have called Charles Mr. Darcy's protégé, but Mr. Darcy respects Charles just as much as Charles respects him."

As they turned a corner in the shrubbery, they came upon Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy. "Here you both are!" Mrs. Hurst exclaimed. "Miss Elizabeth and I could not imagine where you had got to."

"We are returning to the house for tea," Miss Bingley said. "Do you wish to turn back?"

Mrs. Hurst assented, but Elizabeth had not walked nearly as far or as quickly as she had wished.

"No, I thank you," she answered with a laugh, "but you must not be ruled by me. I will continue on a little way and return for dinner."

She skipped away from the path and left Mr. Darcy with the two ladies. Briefly she considered the woods, and thought of continuing her exploration now, in the broad daylight. After all, neither of the masked gentlemen had ever been seen in daylight, and she might with impunity discover the allure of the woods. Her heart failed her, unfortunately, for though the masked pair had not been seen in daylight, that did not mean they were not there.

Jane was now well enough to sit downstairs in the evening. Elizabeth ran up to her after dinner, made sure she was guarded well against the cold, and attended her into the drawing room. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst greeted her with alacrity, and exclaimed over the improvement in her looks. Amongst the three of them, the ladies placed Jane in the most comfortable chair and instructed her to tell them immediately if she felt too hot, too cold, or too weary.

When the gentlemen joined them, Jane was the first object with all of them. Mr. Darcy offered his polite congratulations, Mr. Hurst bowed his happiness, but Mr. Bingley was all delight and attention. He requested that her chair be moved to the other side of the fire, ordered another blanket to be brought for her comfort, insisted on a plate of the finest fruits available, and then sat by her and talked to no one else.

Elizabeth smiled at this single-mindedness, and took up a book. Mrs. Hurst sat by her brother and joined in his conversation with Miss Bennet. Miss Bingley, left to her own devices, looked around, hoping for some conversation, but her brother-in-law had fallen asleep and Mr. Darcy had chosen his own book. She sat for a few moments considering her brother and Miss Bennet, and then drew near to Miss Elizabeth.

"I am very gratified indeed to see Jane so well recovered," she said.

Elizabeth, though surprised at being so addressed, closed her book and gave her attention to her hostess. "Jane is not of a sickly constitution in general; there has been little for me to do."

"We are all glad that she could join us this evening."

"Jane and I are grateful for the attention we have been shown."

"Miss Elizabeth," Miss Bingley began, but found she could not go on. "Will you take a turn about the room with me?"

Elizabeth assented, and they rose together. Miss Bingley, after a moment of thought, gathered the courage to begin again.

"I confess that I have been thinking a great deal about your definition of an accomplished woman," Miss Bingley said in a low tone. "It startled me, I admit. I was raised to believe that music and drawing were the pinnacle of female achievement."

"Truly? But then, I did not have your advantages," Elizabeth replied. "We country girls are often left to scrape together what accomplishments we can, and oftentimes those preferred by the fashionable world are beyond our reach."

"I meant no insult."

"I did not believe you did, but we move in very different worlds. Those of the fashionable world do not often venture to the country, and we true country mice do not often brave the city streets."

"It would perhaps be better for both worlds if we mixed more often."

"Perhaps."

"Will you play a duet with me? I understand that you play well."

"If you have been speaking with either Jane or Miss Lucas, they exaggerate my talents. However, provided the second part is not too difficult, I will be happy to oblige you."

Miss Bingley led her to the pianoforte, and together they selected a piece. They played it softly through a few times, and then were prepared to play to the company in general. Miss Bingley felt a thrill of triumph when she noticed that Mr. Darcy had drawn near the instrument, but it was quickly doused when she noticed that his eyes were upon her partner.

"Do you come in this manner to intimidate us, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked. "I warn you that we are not so weak-spirited as that."

"I do not believe that you seriously think I mean to frighten you, and so I will leave such a boast unanswered," the gentleman replied.

"But if you did not come to frighten us, what could be your purpose?"

"When two such handsome ladies play so delightfully, surely there can be only one purpose."

Miss Bingley flushed, at the same time delighted and mortified. She knew the compliment was all for Miss Elizabeth. That young lady, however, merely laughed. "A pretty answer, upon my word! How shall we reward him, Miss Bingley?"

"I understand that you sing, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said. "Perhaps you will favor us with a song while Miss Bingley plays?"

"What do you say, Miss Bingley? Though I would far rather have you join me in song."

Miss Bingley considered, and with a sudden flash of mischief, she said, "I know several reels. Perhaps we may reward Mr. Darcy with a dance, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth laughed again. "There, Mr. Darcy! What do you say to this reward?"

"I say, ladies," Mr. Bingley interjected, "if you can get Darcy to agree to any such thing, I will count you both as sorceresses."

"I have seen Mr. Darcy dance before, but I understand he only enjoys the exercise if he is particularly acquainted with his partner," Elizabeth teased. "As I cannot play reels, and as I cannot claim a particular acquaintance with him, he will probably continue unmolested."

Before Mr. Darcy could reply, the butler entered the drawing room and announced the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, which led to general surprise and confusion. The gentlemen were on their feet to greet this newcomer, and Darcy shook hands with him heartily.

"What do you do here, Fitzwilliam?" he asked when introductions had been made and apologies given.

"Army business, of course. I was chosen to make sure everything is right and tight with this militia regiment. They seem a worthy enough bunch, and will do her Majesty a great deal of credit."

Elizabeth and Jane had all but forgotten the quartering of the militia regiment in Meryton, and were amused to think how fully the subject had probably dominated the conversation at Longbourn. Their poor father!

Soon after the colonel's arrival, the ladies moved to retire for the night, and Mr. Darcy was denied his reward after all.

Chapter Seven

Posted on 2013-03-10

The next morning, the Miss Bennets wrote to Longbourn with the intention of coming home that day. Jane felt herself so fully recovered, and Elizabeth was enough convinced of her health, that they could see no excuse for any delay. Their mother was not satisfied, and at first balked at having her daughters return so early.

Elizabeth undertook to write a reply, and represented the evils of staying too long so strongly that Mrs. Bennet could no longer object. They might be considered as staying needlessly long and offend the Bingleys; Mr. Bingley had now another gentleman as a guest and must not feel crowded; and on her own, Mrs. Bennet recalled that absence could make the heart grow fonder. Mr. Bingley might find that he missed Jane acutely when she was gone.

Against staying longer Elizabeth was absolutely resolved. She had found the company much more congenial than she could have imagined, but the strange occurrences in that house made it no favorite with her, and she was eager to be gone. She was aware, also, of Mr. Darcy's having paid her some rather particular attentions, and of Miss Bingley's jealousy. That lady, of course, tried valiantly to hide her discomfort, but Elizabeth would not cause Miss Bingley another moment's unhappiness in her own home.

There were moments, however, in which Elizabeth doubted her own sagacity. He was at times very attentive, and he certainly looked at her a great deal, but she could not always be certain of the meaning of that look. Sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind. The sisters had communicated their intention of leaving that day, and his reception of such news must give her a hint of his feelings.

If there were one expression foremost on Mr. Darcy's face when he heard the tidings of their being to go so soon, it was relief. Such an expression surprised and confused Elizabeth exceedingly, and she turned away to observe the much more evident and pleasing feelings of Bingley. That gentleman, indeed, tried at first to persuade them to stay, and when Jane proved firm, promised himself the pleasure of calling on them in a few days' time to make sure that she had not relapsed.

When the sisters returned to Longbourn, they found they had much news to hear. First of all, they had to hear all the particulars of what had happened in the regiment during their absence, and of all the floggings and flirtations that had abounded. Secondly, they had to hear of Lt. Wickham, who had joined the militia under the persuasion of his friend Lt. Denny. He was praised as being very handsome and very agreeable, and Lydia and Kitty were quite in love with him already. Thirdly, they were regaled with all the particulars about Colonel Fitzwilliam that they could ever have wished to know, of his being the second son of an earl, of Mr. Darcy's mother having been the earl's sister, and of his being neither so handsome nor so rich as his cousin.

He had come.

Well, she had known he would.

In the small shack in which she had secreted herself, she observed her small array of weapons. The dagger went into her boot. The pistol was placed in the small sleeve near the waist of her dress. She picked up the nails and pressed them, one by one, through the fingers of her gloves and drew the gloves on so that the nails shone like claws at the ends of her hands. Finally, she picked up the whip and twisted it into a coil, securing it on the belt at her side.

She flitted through the darkness, arriving at last outside the tavern. Deftly, she swung the whip toward the top of the building, where it looped about the weathervane, and then scampered up the side of the building to perch on the roof.

The officers began to filter out of the tavern; the one she awaited was last. Tying the whip to the chimney, she lowered herself by it until just behind him.

"The churchyard, in five minutes," she hissed. "Come alone." The man wheeled to face her, gasped in surprise, and then she was up on the roof again and out of sight. When Lt. Wickham arrived in the churchyard, he held his pistol at the ready.

"I am here, and I am alone," he called.

"Put it away," her voice called. "I have no wish to harm you. I only want to talk."

Warily, Wickham replaced his pistol and held his hands out to the sides. The tall, light figure dropped out of the tree nearest him and slung her whip across her shoulder. "Who are you?" he asked weakly. "What do you want?"

"My name is of no concern to you," she growled. "You may call me the Catwoman. And I want you to stop."

"Stop? I have not moved!"

"No, I mean that I want you to stop. I know your master. I know the plan. I know everything. You will stop, or I will stop you."

Wickham blanched. "I cannot stop. If you know my master, you know what he will do if we fail. You know what he is capable of. You know that I will…"

"You seem to be speaking, but I hear only the bleating of a cowardly sheep," the Catwoman hissed. "I know, I know, I know…of course I know, dunderhead! But you do not know what I will do if you do not stop!"

Wickham's color returned, and he stood up a little taller. "You can do no worse than what he has threatened."

Teeth gleamed white in a very feline smile, and for a moment Wickham truly believed her to be as much cat as woman. "Oh, can't I, now?" she purred, walking toward him. He stood perfectly still, unsure of her intentions. One sharply clawed glove rested on his shoulder and slid across his back to the other as she stalked around him. "He has threatened only death. That is nothing to what I shall do. When I am finished with you, death will seem merciful, George Wickham."

He started and stared into the eyes revealed by the black mask. "Do I know you?"

"You might have once. You do not anymore." She considered him for a moment, and then in a movement quick as a flash, reached out with one clawed hand and swiped him across the face. Wickham howled in pain and reached for his pistol, but it was not in its holster.

She drew her whip and swung back into the branches of the tree. "Remember what I have said, George Wickham." The pistol dropped to the grass, and she was gone.

Wickham approached the barracks and looked about. All was silent and still. He slipped around and walked toward the ancient tree that stood just behind the building. Checking one last time for passers-by, Wickham breathed deeply and tugged on a branch. Rather than breaking, the branch bent forward on a nearly invisible hinge, and the front of the trunk swung inward silently.

Wickham stepped through this unusual opening and closed it firmly behind him. He descended the earthen staircase and emerged into a large cavern, lit with bright torches. At the far end of the room stood a golden throne flanked on either side by magnificent black panthers, secured to posts by chains. Their coats gleamed in the torchlight, and their tails lashed back and forth as they considered the man currently making his way toward the throne.

Intimidating as all this undoubtedly was, nothing exceeded the man who sat upon the throne. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in black shirt, trousers, and boots, with a black mask across his eyes. Wickham felt a surge of fear and loathing, but took care to control his features.

"What do you do here?" demanded the man. "You are meant to be in the barracks. You will be missed, and that will place our plan in danger."

"Sir…"

"Sire!" growled the man. "How many times must I tell you? I am your sovereign, or will be very soon."

"S-sire," Wickham amended, stumbling a bit over the treasonous title. "I believe the plan is already in danger. I have received a warning."

"Of what nature?" the man asked, rising from his seat and stroking the head of one of the panthers.

"I was approached by a - by a person. She…"

"She?" the man laughed. "You are in such a state over a woman?"

"Sir…"

"Sire!" roared the man. "You are addressing the King of Cats!"

Wickham dropped to one knee, his head bent low. "A thousand apologies, Sire," he said.

"Another lapse such as that, and you will answer to Samer and Satya." At the sound of their names, the panthers purred loudly and twitched their tails.

"Of course, my liege."

"You may continue."

"This woman…she calls herself the Catwoman. She claims to know all about your plans, and ordered me to cease my…my recruiting. She left me with this." Wickham indicated his face, and the King of Cats grinned.

"Impressive. I thought we had been undetectable. Well, Wickham, you have done well in telling me. I will keep an eye out for this clawed kitten and see what may come of it. She might be converted, and therefore useful. You have a new mission, Wickham. Denny can take over recruiting for now. You will find the Catwoman and bring her here."

"I? But I…"

"You would dare argue with me?"

"Certainly not, my liege, but…"

"Go."

Helplessly Wickham stood for a moment, gazing at this King of Cats, and then turned and marched to the staircase. He would have one of the newer recruits help him in this, and when he had thought everything over, decided he would like nothing better than to capture the minx and deliver her to his Majesty.

The King of Cats is a Batman villain who first appeared in the comics in 1952. Also, there is apparently a British folktale about the King o' the Cats, but that's about actual cats.

Chapter Eight

Posted on 2013-03-13

On the morning after their return from Longbourn, Elizabeth and Jane were urgently pressed by their two youngest sisters to attend them into Meryton, that they might make the acquaintance of some of the officers. With dismay did Elizabeth understand that while she had been gone, Catherine and Lydia had walked daily into Meryton to visit their Aunt Philips. This pastime had had its charms in the past, but was now more irresistible due to their uncle's growing acquaintance with the officers of the militia.

Valiantly Elizabeth stood her ground against going, until she realized that she might be able to have some little influence over her sisters and somewhat curb their irrepressible spirits. Only then did she collect her bonnet and pelisse and prepare to walk out.

As they neared the little market town, Elizabeth could not deny that its appearance was gayer and more interesting with the pairs and groups of redcoats strolling about. Conversations seemed livelier, smiles looked brighter, and everything announced that the good people of Meryton were well pleased with their new neighbors.

The Miss Bennets walked down the main thoroughfare, the two youngest making no effort to pretend that they had come in quest of bonnets or gloves. Their eyes roamed up and down the street in search of their quarry, and not a moment's rest did they have until Lydia's eyes lit up.

"There!" she cried, pointing across the way. Two officers were walking together, and Lydia immediately led the way across the street. Elizabeth and Jane followed quickly, though they tried to appear as if they wished to visit the milliner's. The ladies' path intersected the officers', and Lydia and Catherine gave a very creditable performance of surprise.

The two young men were Mr. Denny and Mr. Chamberlayne. Lydia made the introductions with an assured air that mortified Elizabeth to no end. That a girl so young should be so forward! She could see no criticism in the eyes of the young men, but could not take comfort. They must be devoid of something themselves not to be struck by such wanton behavior.

"But where is Wickham?" Lydia asked, looking about. "Lizzy and Jane quite counted on meeting him today!" Her sisters blushed, but Lydia paid no mind.

"He will be devastated to have disappointed you," Denny said gallantly, "but he is indisposed this morning."

"How unlucky!" Lydia exclaimed. "But will he be well tomorrow? My Aunt Philips is going to have a party, and I am determined to win all of his money from him."

"I will tell him of your determination, which I'm sure will help him recover more quickly."

"La, Jane!" Catherine suddenly exclaimed. "Here comes Mr. Bingley! It's a lucky thing you wore your blue gown."

"For heaven's sake, be quiet, Kitty," Elizabeth whispered fiercely.

Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Col. Fitzwilliam were approaching them on horseback. Mr. Bingley eagerly dismounted and greeted the ladies, exclaiming over how well Miss Bennet looked. Mr. Darcy and his cousin followed him at a more sedate pace. Denny and Chamberlayne walked on.

"And where are you ladies going today?" Bingley asked.

"We are for our Aunt Philips's," Lydia responded.

"Allow us to escort you," Bingley said gallantly, offering an arm to both Jane and Lydia. Lydia laughed at being so singled out, and eagerly took it. Kitty, not to be outdone, immediately grasped Colonel Fitzwilliam's arm and pulled him after Bingley and her sisters. Elizabeth, her face hot with mortification, found herself standing alone with Mr. Darcy, afraid to look at him.

"Will you allow me to escort you, ma'am?" he asked, and her eyes flew to his in surprise. She agreed and took his offered arm; they followed her sisters at a more sedate pace.

"I hope your cousin has found all to his liking," Elizabeth ventured to remark when he continued silent.

"Yes, I believe he is well satisfied," Darcy answered. "This regiment is well-known and well-respected, and I confess I was a little surprised that the headquarters deemed this visit necessary."

"Such are the whims of the powerful," Elizabeth said. "I have sometimes observed that powerful people enjoy directing others for the sheer pleasure of the direction."

Mr. Darcy smiled, though the expression did not quite reach his eyes. "I know that my sister has sometimes felt I had little other reason for directing her."

"Is your sister much younger than you are?"

"She is more than ten years my junior."

"And is she under your sole care?"

"Not quite. Fitzwilliam shares her guardianship with me, but he is seldom at Pemberley with us."

"You must have seemed quite a tyrant to her at times."

"I suppose I did, but as she grows older, I am forced to allow her more freedom. It is a necessity that rankles, I assure you."

They had now reached Mrs. Philips's house, and that lady had thrown up the window-sash to insist that the gentlemen come in for a spot of tea. Elizabeth could see that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam would rather have refused, but Mr. Bingley's cheerful good nature sealed their fates, and in they went.

At once Lydia related the sad news of Mr. Wickham's being ill. She and her aunt lamented the circumstance for some time, and Mrs. Philips soon afterwards begged Mr. Bingley and his party to honor her little party the next night. The invitation was accepted and Elizabeth, though she ought to be glad for Jane's sake, was sorry for it, and hoped that Mr. Darcy at least might be suddenly indisposed as well, and unable to attend.

The young ladies of Longbourn did not anticipate their aunt's party with quite as much excitement as they had the day before. Kitty and Lydia could not match Elizabeth's consternation, but still they felt that the exchange of Mr. Darcy for Mr. Wickham was a very unfortunate one. Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam were amiable enough, but the former was regarded as belonging to Jane and the latter was not handsome or young enough to catch their fancy despite his red coat.

The ladies arrived at their aunt's house in very good time; they had only to wait ten minutes for the officers to join them, and only ten minutes more for the Netherfield party to arrive. Despite the absence of Col. Fitzwilliam, who sent his apologies and thanks, Mrs. Philips had never had so full a parlor before, and expressed her delight over the crush as often as she could.

Jane and Elizabeth readily welcomed Miss Bingley, who had accompanied her brother though the Hursts had decided to stay at home. Miss Bingley greeted them both and exclaimed over Jane's improved looks. The three fair ladies were not left long to themselves; Bingley soon approached and, after bowing most cordially to Elizabeth, devoted himself entirely to Jane. Darcy approached as well, though with less speed and assurance than his friend.

Though both Darcy and Elizabeth were careful to include Miss Bingley in the conversation, that lady began soon to feel very much in the way. Darcy's interest in Elizabeth Bennet she could no longer deny, and though jealousy stung her, she could level no just accusations at her rival, whom she had, in spite of herself, grown to like. With a very good grace did she allow herself to be lured away to the whist tables, sparing Darcy the necessity of sitting down himself. He found himself instead at the lottery table, with Elizabeth on one side and Lydia on the other.

During the course of the game Elizabeth was struck by the idea that Mr. Darcy appeared engrossed by Lydia's conversation, though he said nothing. Lydia was holding forth on what a shame Wickham's absence was, "for to be sure he was so handsome and agreeable, and had promised to dance with her if they could persuade the others. And now that he was not there, who could there be to dance with?"

This last question brought the desired reply: Lt. Denny applied for the honor and was happily accepted. They ran off to coax a country dance from Mary, and Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth.

"Is your family much acquainted with Mr. Wickham?" he asked.

"Not at all," she replied. "My sisters met him but two days ago." Mr. Darcy appeared relieved, but said no more. Elizabeth longed to question him but his expression, though not forbidding, was not open, and her courage failed her.

"Do you often walk into Meryton?" was the next question. Elizabeth answered in the affirmative, and was drawn into a discussion of country walks. When she had described her favorite haunts, she felt comfortable enough to ask after his preferences.

"I am of the same mind as Bingley," he replied. "Town and country both have their advantages, and I am comfortable in either."

"I understand your estate is in Derbyshire? That is considered very fine country, I know."

"No one can rate Pemberley or Derbyshire as I do," Darcy said warmly. "To my mind Pemberley has no equal. Bingley has been dissatisfied with my praise of Netherfield as too cool, but I am a very partial judge."

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe none of us is impartial on such a point. Gentlemen at least have the privilege of never removing from their homes if they do not wish it."

"I am persuaded though that it is possible to love a second home almost as much as the first. You will always love Longbourn, but you might grow to love your husband's estate as well."

There was just such a hopeful look in his eyes as gave Elizabeth pause, and before she could formulate an answer the chords of a country dance were struck. Lydia and Denny had gained their point, and another officer solicited Elizabeth's hand. She left Darcy with reluctance, but smiled at him as she was led away. His answering expression caused her cheeks to warm, and she was hard-pressed to give her partner the attention he was due.

The Bennet ladies were the last to leave their aunt's house. Their father's carriage was at the door and they were ushered into it amid much chatter and laughter. For her own reasons, each lady was extremely satisfied with the evening. Kitty and Lydia had danced with their favorite officers, Mary had heard her playing complimented to Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth and Jane had many pleasant memories on which to reflect.

Their road to Longbourn was neither long nor well-traveled, so the sudden cessation of the carriage came as a surprise. However, the ladies felt no concern until their coachman gave a muffled shout. Nervously the girls looked at each other, and breathed sighs of relief when the carriage began once more to move.

Their relief was short-lived, for the carriage made an abrupt turn and the horses began to gallop. Lydia was the first to give a shriek.

"We are being abducted!" she cried. Kitty began to weep. Mary looked quite bewildered, and Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other in terror. What were they to do? Fleetingly Elizabeth thought of her encounter with the Batman and wished she could be certain of his help this time.

There was another yelp, and the carriage stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The crack of a whip resounded in the night air, and Lydia shrieked again, her hands at her mouth. Elizabeth's heart leapt, and she reached for the door.

"Lizzy, no!" Jane cried, but the door was wrenched open before Elizabeth could touch it.

An extraordinary figure stood before the astounded girls. Clothed in black from head to toe, the person, though obviously a woman, wore black trousers, hastily stitched together with large white stitches, and a black gentleman's shirt similarly altered. A mask covered her eyes, and her hands were covered with long black gloves.

"Can any of you drive?" she asked, her voice a low growl.

Tremulously Jane raised her hand. She was the only one of them approaching a horsewoman.

"Only you? Is that all?" The woman's blue eyes swept over the other girls with disdain. "Pathetic."

Elizabeth bridled. "Who are you to judge us so harshly?"

"I am the Catwoman, and as superior to you as it is possible to be," the woman said carelessly. "You women make everything so easy, don't you? A man steals your carriage and attempts to abscond with you, and what do you do? You sit here and scream and weep and gape like simpletons."

Kitty ceased her tears and glared at the newcomer, but did not have the courage to answer her.

"A word of advice," the Catwoman said, unraveling her whip from about her body. "Do not trust men. Do not expect them to rescue you. They will always disappoint you. Trust only yourself."

Elizabeth leaned forward. "How have you come to be this way?"

The cold eyes met hers and the red lips curved in a cruel mockery of a smile.

"I died."

Turning on her heel, the Catwoman ran toward the trees that lined the road, cracked her whip at the branches, and swung out of sight. Still trembling slightly, Jane exited the coach and moaned at the sight of the man who had stolen their coach, lying perfectly still in the road.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

Elizabeth noted the rise and fall of his chest and reassured her sister, who then climbed into the seat and took the reins. Her younger sisters sat in perfect silence during the drive home, and when they arrived she asked them to join her in her room as soon as possible.

Jane informed Mrs. Hill that the coachman had taken a bad fall and required assistance; two footmen were sent to collect him, and Jane rushed up to the room that she shared with her sister.

Chapter Nine

Posted on 2013-03-17

When they were all gathered, Elizabeth related her encounters with the Batman and Robin. The girls were all speechless.

"Has the world gone mad?" Kitty asked faintly. "Why are all these people dressing in costume?"

"We have never seen or heard of these people before," Mary worried.

"Charlotte told me of escalating attacks on the roads, and whispers of a Batman," Elizabeth pondered, pacing about the room. "Now we have a bird and a cat on the prowl as well."

"Are they working together or separately?" Kitty asked.

"Batman and Robin certainly are, for Robin told me as much himself," Elizabeth replied. "As for Catwoman…"

"Of course not!" Lydia exclaimed. "Did you hear how she talked of men? I'm sure she'd rather claw out their eyes than work with them."

"Then what can be her objective? Why have these crimes started?" Jane asked.

"I can think of only one thing," said Elizabeth. "The escalation of crime began only days before Batman and Robin appeared. Before then, no one had ever heard of them."

Mary blinked. "There have been no new arrivals except…"

"It all makes sense," Elizabeth insisted over Jane's protests. "Mr. Bingley and his party arrived mere days after all of this began."

"No, Lizzy," Jane shook her head. "I cannot believe it. We heard of Batman before they came."

"Oh, come, Jane!" Lydia cried. "They must have been hiding out somewhere. Don't you remember that Mr. Bingley left and came back with them? Perhaps they were waiting elsewhere until Netherfield was ready!"

"I wonder which is which?" Kitty asked.

"Mr. Darcy must be Batman," decided Elizabeth. "He is the only one who is tall enough."

"Oh, Lizzy!" sighed Kitty. "Do you realize that means Mr. Darcy rescued you from the rain and took you to Netherfield? How unutterably romantic!"

Elizabeth flushed and avoided answering. "Mr. Bingley must be Robin."

"But who is Catwoman? I cannot picture Caroline or Louisa doing or saying such things."

"Well, I could not picture either Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley dressing in capes and playing at hide-and-seek, so that is no defense," Elizabeth responded rather tartly.

"She is not tall enough for Caroline, and besides, both she and Louisa have dark eyes." Jane's matter-of-fact tone settled the matter.

"Well, then, who is she?" Lydia huffed.

"And what exactly is going on?" Elizabeth asked.

The girls were awake well into the night, but by the end of it had not been able to think of any answers.

Chapter Ten

With their suspicions fully aroused, the Bennet girls found their fortitude sorely tested when Mr. Bingley and his sisters called the next day to invite the family to a ball at Netherfield. For once, Mrs. Bennet talked unchecked and uninterrupted, for every young woman was valiantly trying not to blush or laugh. Most particularly, Jane found herself wishing that she had seen Mr. Bingley dressed as Robin. She did not think he would have looked ridiculous; she thought he might be rather dashing.

When the Bingleys were gone, Mrs. Bennet had much to say and speculate about the importance of the Bingleys coming to Longbourn on purpose to invite them to the ball when certainly everyone else would only receive cards. Her daughters could only partially attend her, and her enthusiasm for Mr. Bingley soon degenerated into complaints against her ungrateful daughters. She had only a few moments in which to expound on this subject, for Mrs. Philips soon joined them, fairly shaking with excitement to share her news.

"My dear sister!" she exclaimed, taking her seat and nervously fidgeting with the ribbons of her bonnet. "I have such news I hardly know how to tell…to be sure it is so strange, but then many strange things have been happening…and this surely beats all!"

Mrs. Bennet was surprised out of her distemper and pressed her sister earnestly for the news.

"Colonel Forster was just now with my husband and told us such news!" Mrs. Philips fluttered. "It seems that this Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is staying at Netherfield, has been here to inspect the troops, to see that all was in order…"

"We know all this, Aunt!" Lydia interrupted. "The Colonel told Lizzy and Jane himself!"

"That is all you know," Mrs. Philips said tartly. "He is only the beginning. He has come to make sure that all is in order because the King and Queen and the Prince Regent are making a tour of all the militia regiments, and are due here in a fortnight!"

Mrs. Philips could not have asked for a better reception of her news. Her sister and nieces stared at her as if she had announced that she was joining the army herself.

Mrs. Bennet was the first to recover her voice. "The Prince here! This is beyond everything! I do not know what I shall do…I shall go distracted!"

"It is very unlikely that we will meet their Highnesses in any social setting, Mama," Jane reassured her.

"Very true," Mrs. Bennet agreed. "But, however, I am not sure…they will probably visit Colonel Fitzwilliam at least, and so will meet Mr. Bingley. Perhaps he will…"

"Mama, you must calm yourself," Elizabeth interrupted. "Even if the Prince does meet Mr. Bingley by necessity, Mr. Bingley will by no means feel comfortable introducing anyone to him."

"No, I suppose not. You're right, of course, Lizzy. It would be such a coup, however. But I suppose I must not think of it."

"At any rate, they will be here in a fortnight, and we will all be able to watch the review, and if we cannot meet their Highnesses, we can at least see them," Mrs. Philips said, taking up ownership of the conversation once more.

The young ladies soon afterwards left the house, as they needed to procure shoe-roses for the Netherfield Ball. They left their mother and aunt cheerfully anticipating the fine sight of a review.

As soon as they were on the road to Meryton, Lydia exclaimed, "This surpasses everything! Surely our caped heroes knew this would happen!"

Jane looked unconvinced. "How could they? Colonel Fitzwilliam only arrived two days ago; surely the others could have no idea."

"Well, there is only one thing for it," Lydia persisted. "The two of you must find out for certain."

"What do you mean?"

"At the Ball, you or Lizzy must find out."

"Me?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why me?"

"If Mr. Darcy is the Batman, you will have the best chance of wheedling an explanation from him." At Elizabeth's confused expression, Lydia laughed. "Come, Lizzy! We've all seen how the man looks at you!"

Elizabeth blushed. "What of Jane? It is Mr. Bingley's house, after all."

"True, but we cannot count on her alone. We must prepare for everything. And if they will tell you nothing, I will look for a few things."

"How will you know where to start?" Kitty asked.

"The library, of course," Mary answered. Elizabeth recalled her second night at Netherfield and agreed.

"Excellent," Lydia smiled. "It is all settled. The two of you will fish for information, and barring that I will search the library."

"Nonsense, Lydia," Jane sighed. "You cannot possibly get away without being missed."

"Mary must provide a distraction." Lydia turned a smile on her older sister. "Sing your worst, Mary, and draw everyone's attention."

Mary flushed red. "I could not possibly…"

"You sing well enough usually, but on Tuesday you must pierce everyone's ears. No one must notice me slipping away."

"What a conspirator you are, Lydia," Elizabeth said with grudging admiration.

That young lady shrugged and smiled. "I have plenty of practice. I am the youngest, after all."

They entered the town and the two youngest scampered off to the shops. Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary followed at a more sedate pace, considering their parts in Tuesday's drama. Mary, who was starting to foresee a great deal of amusement in her part, was smiling and inwardly searching her repertoire for the piece that would offer her the most opportunity for screeching. The two eldest were wondering how they could wheedle information out of their respective gentlemen, and Jane at least was blushing at the thought of what she might have to do or say to get such information.

George Wickham stood in the torch-lit throne room, facing the King of Cats, shaking with disgust, fear, and fury. The King stared at him steadily, his fingers drumming a slow rhythmic tattoo on the arm of his throne. The silence stretched until Wickham could bear it no longer, and he exclaimed,

"I have done all I could, your - your Majesty, but we have been unable to find the chit!"

"Extraordinary," the King murmured, "that a, er, gentleman of your cunning should be outfoxed by a mere girl."

"She is no ordinary girl," Wickham insisted, the color rushing to his cheeks. "She is more cat than woman. We catch glimpses of her and then she melts into the night as if she were part of the night air itself."

"Tell me more about her," the King said.

"She will tell you herself," growled a female voice.

The King's astonished eyes lifted past Wickham's shoulder and took in the black-clad figure of the Catwoman, who had appeared as if by magic from the shadows behind the lieutenant.

"Go on," the King said after a mere moment of silent astonishment.

"I will tell you only that I know of your plans, and that I am committed to seeing an end to them."

"It was unwise of you, then, to enter my realm alone," the King smiled. "Samer and Satya have had no sport in several days." The panthers growled and twitched their tails.

"If his Majesty wishes his darlings to see another day, he would do well to keep them where they are," Catwoman snapped. She stretched out an arm and deliberately straightened her clawed gloves and caressed the whip at her side.

The King smiled. "You have spirit, my dear. From what I have heard, you would be a valuable asset. Is there any chance that I can convince you to join us?"

"Absolutely none."

"You speak too hastily. If you know my plan, you must understand somewhat of my reason."

"Reason? There is no reason in such blatant treachery as you are concocting!"

"Treachery? Treachery against whom?" bellowed the King. "Against the ineffective king and queen? Against the spendthrift and foolish prince? Against the power-mad and corrupt Parliament? Against the prejudice and nepotism of the House of Lords? Certainly these people have all committed base treachery of their own, treachery against the citizens of this country!"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Catwoman shrugged, "but underhanded schemes such as this make you no better than them. You would do better to run for political office. Become the next Prime Minister if you wish."

The King bared his teeth in a feral smile.

"I stand vindicated," Catwoman sighed, sounding almost wistful. "You are too mad with power to consider less than the throne itself."

"I have been second all my life and had to work my fingers to the bone to achieve what little I have ever had."

"That is what you wish young men like poor Mr. Wickham to believe," the Catwoman smiled. "I know better."

"Enough!" the King roared. "Attack!"

The panthers sprang forward, but Catwoman had already turned and fled for the staircase. She spun on the stair and cracked her whip at the two cats, cutting neat red lines across their noses. Yelping in pain, the panthers halted in their pursuit for the few precious seconds she needed to make good her escape.

The King of Cats watched her departure in silence, and did not even flinch at the cries of his pets. His eyes, bright in contrast with his mask, had watched her every movement with piercing curiosity.

"You see, now, Your Majesty," Wickham said, interrupting the King's thoughts. "She is impossible to hold."

"Indeed. Indeed."

"Might I - that is, may I be dismissed, Your Majesty?"

"Go."

Wickham left nearly as quickly as the Catwoman herself.