The Netherfield Affair

by Penelope Swan

“A thief taker?” gasped Mrs Hurst, clutching a hand to her breast. “But Mr Darcy! Is it wise to mingle with men of that profession? I have heard such stories about them…”

  “Aye, a damned shifty lot,” mumbled Mr Hurst into his scrambled eggs. He paused, then nodded apologetically to the ladies at the table. “Beg your pardon for the language, ladies,” he said with his mouth full.

  “I agree with Louisa,” said Miss Bingley. “One hears such worrisome tales of thief takers turning out not much better than the very criminals they are after. Why, it is well known that Jonathan Wilde was himself a receiver of stolen goods and had various dealings with the criminal underworld, all whilst advertising his services as the ‘Thief Taker General of England and Ireland’.”

  “It is true that their methods may not bear much scrutiny,” said Darcy. “But the fact remains that there is no other recourse in the English justice system. Without such men, we would be unable to investigate the crimes and apprehend the perpetrators.”

  He stood up from the table and walked to the window, gazing out onto the bleak landscape. The rain had held off in the night, but the weather remained uncertain and heavy clouds chased each other across the grey sky. Elizabeth looked at the tall, handsome figure silhouetted against the window and repressed a shiver. From his hard countenance to the cold determination in his eyes, he presented a formidable picture. Mr Darcy was not a man to be crossed.

  He turned back into the room and their eyes met. Elizabeth was brought to mind of their adventure the night before and their intimate interlude in the attic above. She could not help the heat staining her cheeks. Hastily, she withdrew her gaze and turned her back to him, busying herself with the contents of her plate.

  Behind her, Darcy said, “I have called for the thief taker and it is done. He will be coming directly from London and should arrive sometime this afternoon.”

  The conversation at the breakfast table gradually returned to more inane topics. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were full of felicitations for Jane’s improved health, though Elizabeth felt that she could discern insincerity in all their tones and attitudes. But Jane was pleased with their attentions and that was enough for Elizabeth. Mr Bingley, of course, continued with his eager attentions to Jane. A girl could not have asked for a more ardent, solicitous companion and he did everything short of lifting a spoon to Jane’s lips! Darcy remained at the window, contemplating the view, and though Elizabeth felt his gaze burn on the back of her neck from time to time, she refused to turn around and acknowledge him.

  Once breakfast was over, Bingley and his sisters prevailed upon Jane to spend some time in the conservatory, which was one of the warmest rooms in the house. Jane readily accepted and was conducted there by the two sisters, supported on the arm of their happy brother.

  Elizabeth followed them more slowly, but as she was about to quit the room, she was struck by a new notion and made her way to the library instead. She scanned the shelves eagerly, not quite sure what she was looking for, yet excited by the idea which burgeoned in her mind.

  “Miss Bennet.”

  She jumped and turned around. She was dismayed to see Mr Darcy behind her. He must have seen her coming to the library and followed her. He came towards her and, as always, his tall presence seemed to dominate the room.

  “Mr Darcy.” She made him a small bow.

  “Do you search for a particular title? Perhaps I may be of assistance. I am tolerably familiar with Bingley’s library.”

  “I… er… I was searching for a volume on flowers, sir.”

  “On flowers?” He looked at her in surprise. “Do you have a keen interest in horticulture, Miss Bennet?”

  “Nay, sir, I was thinking more of the allusion of flowers.”

  He looked at her oddly for a moment, then said, “I cannot think of any title at present which would match your description, but should I discover such a book, I shall ensure that it is delivered to you.”

  “You are too kind, sir.” Elizabeth made him another small bow and would have quit the room, had his next words not stopped her in her tracks.

  “I would beg a moment’s audience with you, Miss Bennet.”

  She looked at him in surprise and was surprised too by how her pulse jumped upon hearing his request. Surely she did not fear the man? Or perhaps she did not fear him so much as his ability to discern the truth. This morning, when she awoke, she had revisited their argument in the attic and felt compelled to admit that perhaps Mr Darcy had some truth in his reprimand. She did delight in challenging the expectations of others—sometimes to the point of recklessness. While she had always enjoyed her independent wanderings, her motive for taking a solitary walk around Netherfield Park yesterday had certainly been inflamed by Caroline Bingley’s mockery at breakfast. It was not a very sensible action on her part, Elizabeth admitted. And it was disturbing that Mr Darcy should have seen through her character with such accuracy. No other man—not even her father—had ever understood her so well. She felt herself revealed before him and she did not like the feeling.

  As if reading her mind, Darcy said quietly, “You need not fear that there will be any repeat of my recriminations from the night before.” He gestured to her hand, which was now covered with a fresh cotton bandage. “I was merely keen to enquire after the status of your wound.”

  “Why, thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth, giving him another surprised look. “The wound is healing well. The bleeding stopped directly as I entered my room and, as you can see, the bandage keeps the injury protected.” She paused, then added hesitantly, “I must thank you again for your quick thinking in helping me staunch the bleeding. Unfortunately your cravat has been stained, but I have endeavoured to wash it and as soon as it is dry, I shall return it at the earliest convenience.”

  “Do not concern yourself with my cravat. It is an item of which I have no shortage and one which I habitually treat with callous indifference, so my valet informs me,” Darcy said with a dry smile.

  Elizabeth found herself unwittingly responding to that smile and was once again struck by how different he could look. She became aware again of their intimate situation—this was the third time that she had been alone with Mr Darcy—if there had been any suspicion of affection on either of their parts, there would have been more than enough here for a scandal! But how fortunate that she had no inclination of the sort towards Mr Darcy, and he could certainly have no romantic feelings for her. She had heard with her own ears his contempt for her looks.

  “I should return to my sister, Jane, now,” said Elizabeth, turning to go.

  “Just a minute, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, his voice changing. “There is one more thing in which I would beg your indulgence.”

  Elizabeth raised enquiring eyes to his.

  “When I came upon you in the rear courtyard yesterday, you appeared to be holding an item which you took great pains to instantly conceal from me.”

  Elizabeth stiffened.

  “May I ask why you felt the need for such concealment?”

  “I do not know of what you speak, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth.

  “I believe you do, Miss Bennet, and this wilful ignorance does not become you.” His voice was hard and his gaze unforgiving.

  Elizabeth found that she could not meet his eyes.

  “Am I right in saying that you were standing at the location where you had encountered the stranger during your nocturnal wanderings? And that the item you retrieved was something intended for or belonging to the intruder?”

  Elizabeth felt her heart jump in her chest and she took a step back from Mr Darcy. So he had seen her that first night! Briefly, she contemplated telling him of her suspicions about the posies, but that would mean revealing Tilly’s indiscretion. She had no idea of the effect such a confession would have on the maid’s prospects within the household. She did not imagine that Caroline Bingley would have a forgiving heart. Elizabeth felt an affection for Tilly and was grateful for the maid’s kindness during her stay at Netherfiel
d thus far—she did not want to repay such kindness with a betrayal of the maid’s confidence.

  She looked up into Darcy’s dark eyes and thought of the sentiments he had expressed the night before: “My good opinion once lost is lost forever.” He had owned himself to having a resentful temper and to not easily forgiving the follies and vices of others. She had no wish to foist Darcy’s resentful temper on the young servant girl.

  “You are mistaken, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth at last. “The item I retrieved had nothing to do with the stranger. It was merely a posy of violets which I myself had dropped the night before.”

  “I… see,” said Darcy. His dark eyes continued to look into hers and Elizabeth dropped her own uncomfortably.

  “Forgive my wrong assumption, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy. “But you understand the importance of sharing all knowledge which could be useful in apprehending the perpetrator of these crimes? It is my belief that the stranger you met that night is connected to these dastardly thefts.”

  “I understand you perfectly, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth, dropping a brief curtsy. “I beg you to excuse me now, but I must attend to Jane.”

  Without waiting to see if he would follow, she turned and hurried from the library.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The extended break in the rain lured the gentlemen outdoors after breakfast and the ladies were left to their own devices. Elizabeth wish that she had the excuse of withdrawing to Jane’s room for the rest of the morning—as she had previously—but Jane’s improved health meant that her sister was content to remain downstairs for a period longer. The ladies therefore remained together in the conservatory where they occupied themselves with browsing through the fashion plates that had arrived from London, reading books, writing letters, and working on some embroidery.

  Jane—being too fragile still to engage in much effort—was set up in a comfortable position by the fire and left with an assortment of books. But she was chiefly occupied with listening to Miss Bingley’s and Mrs Hurst’s complaints over various aspects of their current lifestyle. It seemed to Elizabeth that while Bingley had inherited all the sweetness of temper, his sisters had received nothing but a selfish petulance from the same parents. They complained incessantly of everything—from the servants to the food and everything in between.

  Elizabeth walked to the window and looked out upon the landscape. She sighed, wishing that she could join the gentlemen in their outdoor pursuits. The sky was still overcast and the setting looked anything but hospitable—nevertheless, she would have infinitely preferred the nip of the wind on her face and the slosh of mud beneath her boots to the stifling atmosphere here in the conservatory.

  A rustle of silk next to her alerted her to the presence of Miss Bingley, who had come to stand beside her. The other lady made a show of re-arranging the vase of flowers on the side table next to the window, then she turned and fixed a contemptuous eye on Elizabeth.

  “I believe you had a private audience with Mr Darcy this morning,” she said.

  Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. Did Caroline Bingley have spies amongst the servants? Certainly, her being with Mr Darcy in the library had not been a secret, but she had not thought that anyone had been monitoring their movements that closely.

  “I did. Mr Darcy was helping me find a book,” said Elizabeth.

  Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me recommend you, as a friend, not to gain unwarranted confidence from Mr Darcy’s attentions. It would not do to entertain hopes in that direction.” She gave a sneering smile. “Naturally when one considers your position in life, your poor connections, and your lack of fortune, one can understand your desperate need for an advantageous marriage. Indeed, I would have been surprised had you not flung yourself at Mr Darcy at every opportunity. But you would do well to remember that men of such consequence do not form serious designs upon ladies of inferior standing, such as yourself.”

  Elizabeth bristled at the insulting words, but restrained herself from uttering the sharp retort that sprang to her lips. Instead, she smiled and responded sweetly, “I assure you, Miss Bingley, that you are mistaken. That is no accurate reflection of my thoughts and intentions. I have no designs on Mr Darcy or any expectation of winning his regard. Perhaps you have me confused with ladies of your position in life? It would not do to assume that we all share your ambitions.”

  Caroline Bingley went bright red. Turning, she marched stiffly back to the sofa to join Jane and Mrs Hurst.

  Elizabeth smiled to herself, though the indignation at the other woman’s insults still burned in her breast. Insolent peahen! First the accusations against Kitty and Lydia of stealing her brooch and now this! Was there no end to her paltry attacks?

  She was saved from further conjecture on the unpleasant topic by the return of the gentlemen from their ride. The rain had begun afresh, they reported, and the storm showed no signs of releasing Hertfordshire from its grip yet. Elizabeth saw Caroline Bingley’s eyes dart from Darcy’s face to hers as the gentlemen entered the room and she strove to keep her own expression noncommittal. Then she grew impatient with herself. Why did she care what Caroline Bingley thought? Why was it so important to prove that she had no liking for Mr Darcy? She had certainly spoken the truth when she said that she had no expectation of his regard—nor any desire for it. It was simply an unusual sequence of events which had thrown them together in the past few days, but she was sure that with her departure from Netherfield Park, their paths would rarely cross again.

  Elizabeth was grateful when Jane expressed a desire to return to her room and she hurried to escort her sister back upstairs. The morning’s activities had exhausted Jane, who soon fell into a deep sleep. Elizabeth decided to stay in her sister’s room and use the excuse of keeping her sister company to prevent her from having to return downstairs. It would soon be time to dress for dinner, but in the interim she had a few hours at her disposal. Deciding to use her time reading, she went to her own bedchamber to retrieve her volume of Goethe. As she entered, she was surprised to find Tilly in the room. The maid turned and started guiltily when she saw Elizabeth.

  She bobbed a curtsy and said, “I beg your pardon, miss. I’ve been tidying your room.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her. “Do not mind me, Tilly. I am simply retrieving a book and will soon be gone. I will leave you to your duties.”

  She headed directly for the small table beside the bed whereupon she had laid the volume that Mr Darcy had recommended to her. Picking it up, she turned to find that the maid was still standing in the same position, her eyes full of misery and guilt.

  Thinking that she knew the reason for the maid’s distress, Elizabeth said to her gently, “Your secret is safe with me, Tilly. Mr Darcy did enquire after the posy I found, but I have told him that it was my own. Have no fear that your indiscretions will come to light.”

  “Oh, Miss! You… You’re too good!” cried Tilly, her eyes filling with tears.

  Covering her mouth with one hand, she turned and ran out of the room. Elizabeth stared after her in puzzlement. Had the girl taken leave of her senses? What could account for her strange behaviour? Finally, Elizabeth gave up pondering the subject and quit the room herself. She was about to return to Jane’s chamber when she became aware of a commotion in the main foyer downstairs. Curiosity propelled her down the staircase until she joined the party in the front hall.

  A strange man stood on the threshold. His black cape showed droplets of rain and his tricorn hat was pulled low over his brow, obscuring part of his face. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of dark eyes and a large nose, with harsh lines etched on either side of the mouth. His clothes were good but sombre, and in one hand he held an unusual-looking cane with a carved wooden head that resembled a hound.

  He cast his eye across the assembled party, then took a step forwards and addressed himself to Mr Darcy. Removing his hat, he offered a bow and said, in a deep, gravelly voice:

  “John Keech the thief taker—at your servic
e.”

  There was a flurry of excitement in the household following the arrival of the thief taker from London. After dinner, he was taken immediately into Bingley’s study and there he remained closeted with the gentlemen for an hour, whilst the ladies speculated wildly in the drawing room and the servants bustled about, no doubt mirroring the speculation with their own gossip. Elizabeth had felt obliged to join the Bingley sisters in the drawing room rather than return upstairs to Jane, and so she was privy to the colourful discussion being undertaken. At length the gentlemen returned with Keech, who bowed to the ladies, his eyes roving over them in a cold fashion which made Elizabeth’s skin crawl.

  It was decided that he would conduct a thorough search of the house and, in particular, an examination of every servant’s room. He had great hopes of finding the stolen goods hidden away in some dark corner, especially Darcy’s fob watch—which in all likelihood, having only been stolen last night, the thief would not have had time to dispose of safely yet. The announcement of his intentions produced much distress and fear amongst the servants and Elizabeth felt a wave of pity for them. It could not have been pleasant for anyone to endure a stranger going through their personal belongings.

  She retired to Jane’s room and was content to spend the rest of the evening there whilst the search was underway. However, she was surprised by a sharp knock on the door not half an hour later, and when she opened it, she was even more surprised to see Keech himself standing outside.

  “Yes?” said Elizabeth, stepping out into the hallway and shutting Jane’s bedroom door behind her.

  He swept her a curt bow. “I have come to inform you that your room has been added to the list of those to be searched.”

  “I beg your pardon?” said Elizabeth, astonished. “I thought it was simply the servants’ quarters that were under surveillance. Surely, as guests of this house, my sister and I are exempt from suspicion?”

  “The sick lady’s room is not to be touched,” said Keech. “However, for yourself, Miss Bennet, I have it on good authority that you have been displaying erratic behaviour in the past two days. As such, I regret to say, you cannot be exempt from suspicion.”