The Netherfield Affair

by Penelope Swan

  Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. “Are you saying that there is a serious belief in my culpability?”

  She felt fury rise and overtake her. This was Caroline Bingley’s doing! It was the height of insult to add her to the list of suspicious persons and cast her as the only guest to be treated the same way as the servants.

  “This is outrageous. It is the most insulting treatment I have ever received. It is abominable to suggest I might have anything to do with these thefts!”

  He made that curt bow again. “I simply act as I am directed. I can assure you, status and birth are no barriers to a life of crime. I have apprehended many a person who has succumbed to temptation and vice, no matter what their position in society.”

  “And what if I refuse to allow you into my room?”

  “You may certainly refuse me access, though I will need to note your reaction and report it accordingly. Let me caution you, Miss Bennet, your refusal to be open and honest in all things may be to your detriment.”

  “By all means, search my room if you wish.” said Elizabeth angrily. “I have nothing to hide.”

  Even as she said those words, she remembered Darcy’s cravat which was still in her possession. There should have been no reason for her to feel guilty—her reasons for possessing it were genuine and reasonable—and yet she could not help feeling a wave of dread. What would happen if Keech were to find it? What would people think if word got out that she had a gentleman’s cravat in her possession? Especially hard upon the heels of those rumours concerning her meeting with a strange gentleman in the night? All her worries about the threat of scandal came back to Elizabeth.

  She followed Keech to her bedchamber and watched apprehensively as he began a methodical search of the room. She tried not to think about his thick fingers going through her personal items. When he opened the chest of drawers where she kept her undergarments, she drew a sharp breath and her cheeks burned with humiliation. It was wicked that she should be subjected to this! It broke all the rules of propriety to have a strange man rifling through her unmentionables. She stood with her hands clenched at her sides as he fingered the items in the drawer, seeming to gain much enjoyment from the activity.

  Then she watched with alarm as he lifted several piles of clothing out of the drawers. She had tucked Darcy’s cravat at the far interior of the drawer, intending to return it to him as soon as she had an opportunity. Would Keech now find the masculine fabric? Bracing herself for questions, Elizabeth watched as the thief taker groped inside the back of the drawer.

  He paused and a gleam came into his eyes.

  Slowly, he withdrew his hands, pulling an item out of the drawer and holding it up for her to see. Elizabeth took a step forward, expecting to see Darcy’s cravat draped over the man’s hand, but instead what she saw made her catch her breath in horror.

  Lying in Keech’s open palm was a gold fob watch.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I believe this is the watch that was stolen from Mr Darcy, is it not?” said Keech silkily. “Would you care to explain why it is amongst your private garments?”

  Elizabeth felt as if something was sitting on her chest, preventing her from breathing. “I… I do not know, sir. It is beyond my comprehension how the watch could have arrived there.”

  He raised a mocking eyebrow. “Is it?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I beg you to believe me, sir. I had no inkling that the watch was sequestered in my drawer. I can only imagine that the thief decided to use my room as a place to hide the watch away from suspicion.”

  “That is a convenient explanation,” said Keech, stroking his chin. “Perhaps too convenient, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth swallowed and fingered the folds of her muslin gown nervously.

  Keech gave an oily smile. “Now, now, Miss Bennet… There is no need to distress yourself. In matters such as these, I am not a man without feeling. Indeed, I could be prevailed upon to come to an understanding.”

  “Sir?” Elizabeth looked at him in confusion.

  Keech gazed at the watch in his hands, stroking the glass face with his thumb. The dull gold of the watch case gleamed in the candlelight. “Such a fine piece, is it not? I believe it is an heirloom that has been in the Darcy family for generations. Something of such great value would require an equally great recompense.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Elizabeth in a whisper.

  “I am saying I believe we can come to an arrangement, Miss Bennet,” said Keech, moving closer to her.

  Elizabeth took a step backwards, putting more distance between them.

  Keech smirked. “I can understand how a lady can be prone to certain temptations at times… Such pretty things, so ready for the taking—and so easy to achieve such a thrill!”

  “I will have you know, sir, that I am not one of those kinds of ladies of which you speak!” said Elizabeth angrily.

  He ignored her outburst and carried on. “And I have been known in the past to overlook such indiscretions… for a nominal fee.”

  Elizabeth took another step back as she realised his meaning.

  Blackmail.

  She recoiled at the thought of being at the mercy of such a vile man. But before she could think on how to answer him, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. She opened it to find a young maid standing outside.

  “If you please, miss—Mr Bingley requests the pleasure of your company in the library.”

  “Uh… thank you. Tell him I will be down directly,” Elizabeth said, grateful of the reprieve.

  She turned back to Keech to make her excuses, but the thief taker pre-empted her. He slid the watch into a pocket, patted it, then swept her a mocking bow.

  “Think on my offer, Miss Bennet. I will speak to you again in the morning. You can give me your answer then.”

  It took Elizabeth several moments to regain her composure after Keech left, and at length she was able to present herself in the library with tolerable equanimity.

  “Miss Bennet!” Bingley sprang up from one of the armchairs by the fire to greet her, his amiable face as usual wreathed in a cheerful grin.

  The armchair next to him was occupied by Darcy, who also rose, and Elizabeth felt the force of his dark eyes upon her face.

  “Miss Bennet?” Darcy looked at her sharply. “Is something wrong? Are you not well?”

  Bingley faltered to a stop and looked from her to Darcy and back again, in confusion. “Not well?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip in vexation. She had thought that she had composed herself sufficiently, but her mind was still churning from the interview with Keech and she knew that she probably looked pale, her eyes wide and troubled. Bingley might be easy to convince with a few gay rejoinders, but Darcy was no fool and he saw far more than Elizabeth was prepared to admit.

  She exerted an effort and managed to given Bingley a weak approximation of his smile in return. “No, no, I am well,” she said, all the while uncomfortably aware of the shrewd gaze of his friend.

  “Miss Bennet, Darcy tells me that you desire a book on flowers,” said Bingley.

  “Oh, yes… I… ah… I was looking for such a title,” said Elizabeth, struggling to gather her thoughts. “I had an interest in learning more about the symbolism behind certain blooms.”

  “I have just the thing for you,” said Bingley eagerly. He reached across and picked up a slim volume from the table beside the armchair. “I have just ordered this from France as I had heard that such studies were becoming all the rage. You are a keen follower of floriography yourself, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth took the book from his hands and glanced at the title. It was French: Dictionnaire du Langage des Fleurs by Joseph Hammer-Purgstall. “I… Only in passing,” she said.

  “It seems a fascinating hobby,” said Bingley. “I have half a mind to take up the study myself. Pray, tell me…” He looked at Elizabeth slightly bashfully. “If I may be so bold as to ask—what is your sister’s favourite bloom?”

 
; Elizabeth smiled at him. “Why, I believe it is the lilac, sir.”

  “Lilacs! I shall make a note of that,” said Bingley.

  “And yours, Miss Bennet?” asked Darcy.

  Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. She hesitated, then said, “I am fond of tulips. Especially those which boast a variegation of colours in the same flower.”

  Darcy’s face lightened in a smile. “My sister, Georgiana, also loves tulips. I have instructed the gardener at Pemberley to tend a bed of them especially for her pleasure.”

  “She is fortunate to have such a loving brother,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yes, Darcy spoils Georgiana prodigiously,” Bingley laughed. “He is always purchasing items for her and arranging things for her enjoyment. I fancy it is because he has no other to bestow his affections upon.”

  “I’m sure it is also because Miss Darcy inspires such affection,” said Elizabeth diplomatically.

  “Oh, to be sure,” said Bingley in a jolly tone. “Georgiana is the most delightful girl, but I have known her since she was in the nursery and she can be a minx when she puts her mind to it.” He glanced at his friend and chuckled. “Don’t glower at me so, Darcy—you know it to be true. Even your brotherly love cannot be so blind.”

  “My sister can be headstrong at times, but she will learn to curb her high spirits and temper her personality as she grows older,” said Darcy.

  “Oh, but surely you would not wish for her spirit to be quashed,” said Elizabeth. “It would rob her of the natural vivacity of her personality.”

  “I know that in your household, the power of personality is prized over proper conduct,” said Darcy coldly. “But where my sister is concerned, I would hope to impress upon her the importance of behaving like a lady with proper decorum.”

  “Surely proper decorum and admirable spirit are not mutually exclusive,” said Elizabeth hotly. “One can be a lady and still be able to express an opinion, show independence of character—”

  “Such as yourself?” said Darcy.

  “I… no… well, I…” Elizabeth stammered, well aware that her conduct in the last few days—venturing outdoors in the night alone, meeting him in the attic dressed only in her night shift—was anything but ladylike. She could feel her cheeks flaming and castigated Mr Darcy mentally for putting her in such a position.

  “Ah, I am sure Darcy is simply teasing you,” said Bingley with a laugh, despite the lack of support from his friend’s stony countenance. “I am sure that should Georgiana have an example such as yourself, Miss Bennet, she would be able to achieve a happy balance of decorum and personality.”

  “I… you flatter me, sir,” Elizabeth said stiffly, deliberately not looking at Darcy. She held up the book that Bingley had given her. “Thank you for this. If you’ll excuse me, it has been a long day and I will retire now.”

  Both men bowed to her. Elizabeth quit the library and returned upstairs, still fuming over Mr Darcy’s words. She had been right about him. Those few fleeting moments of charm and agreeableness were a false advertisement. He was as much the arrogant, odious man she had always supposed him to be!

  She looked in briefly on Jane, but finding her sister happily settled in bed, she took herself back to her own bedchamber. Quickly undressing, she moved eagerly towards her bed, then she paused in surprise as she noticed something on her pillow. It was a flower, she realised. A large peony bloom, the soft coral petals brilliant against the white pillows. Elizabeth picked it up and looked at it, frowning. Who had left it here and why? Her mind flew immediately to Tilly. The maid was the only other person with easy access to her bedchamber. But why should she leave this here on the pillow and what could it mean?

  Elizabeth thought of the book Bingley had given her. She had a feeling that the answers she was seeking could be found in that slim volume, but further study would have to wait until the morning. Her very bones seemed to be weary with fatigue. Placing both the flower and the book on the bedside table, she crawled into bed and, within a few moments, drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jane was so much back to her old self the next morning that—given her improvement in health—Elizabeth lost no time in writing to their mother to ask for the carriage so that they might return to Longbourn. She was ready to quit Netherfield Park and the sooner the better. She had spent an uneasy night, tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares, and had woken with Keech’s threats echoing in her ears. Elizabeth agonised over her dilemma. The repercussions of the discovery in her room yesterday were unthinkable—and yet the thought of giving in to the blackmail was even more repugnant. She longed to share her troubles with Jane, but she did not want to worry her sister, and so she felt the strain of bearing the burden alone.

  Her tumultuous thoughts must have affected her demeanour for when Jane saw her, she exclaimed anxiously over how pale Elizabeth was. And when the two sisters went downstairs to break their fast, more than one member of the assembled party remarked on Elizabeth’s wan complexion, though the Bingley sisters, it seemed, did it with more malicious pleasure than concern.

  “I hope you may not be suffering from the same illness as your sister,” said Bingley solicitously as he handed Elizabeth a cup of hot chocolate. “Should you feel the need, please do not hesitate to avail yourself of a longer stay at Netherfield.”

  Elizabeth caught Caroline Bingley’s look of extreme alarm. No doubt the other lady was horrified at the thought of the Bennet sisters having to remain in the household even longer. For once, she and Miss Bingley were united, thought Elizabeth wryly. Nothing could induce her to stay at Netherfield any longer than necessary, short of contracting the plague!

  “Thank you for your concern,” she said to Bingley. She forced a laugh. “I am sure it is due to nothing more than a poor night’s sleep.”

  “A poor night’s sleep!” said Bingley, puckering his brow. “Do you not find the bed comfortable, Miss Bennet? Is the room not to your liking? Indeed, we can transfer you to another directly.”

  “Oh no,” Elizabeth assured him. “It is most comfortable, thank you. I… uh… I was merely restless due to some concerns on my mind.”

  She saw Jane flash her a quizzical look, no doubt wondering why Elizabeth had not shared these confidences with her. She also noticed Darcy glance her way, his dark eyes thoughtful.

  Elizabeth forced another laugh. “Pray, do not concern yourselves with me. Perhaps I am simply feeling the strain of being away from home for too long. In point of fact, I have written to my mother this morning to ask for the carriage. I believe that Jane is well enough now for us to transport her back home.” She smiled. “I’m sure a night back in the familiarity of my own bed would set my mind at rest.”

  However, the reply from Longbourn, which arrived as they were finishing breakfast, filled Elizabeth with dismay. Her mother had written that the carriage could not be spared and suggested that they stay at Netherfield Park a few days more. Suspecting that her mother’s matchmaking motives played a bigger role in the refusal than the availability of the carriage, Elizabeth was less than amused. She applied to Bingley for the use of his carriage to take them home. Though he was full of protests and insisted on their continued welcome at Netherfield Park, he was eventually prevailed upon to agree to their departure and the carriage was arranged for the next morning.

  After breakfast, as the weather had cleared slightly, Bingley suggested that a gentle stroll outdoors might be beneficial to the convalescing invalid and Elizabeth, grateful for the chance of some fresh air, eagerly agreed. She helped Jane dress in a warm pelisse and the entire party set out slowly from the house.

  They were just rounding the west corner of the manor and stopping to admire the blooms in the rose garden when they saw the sombre figure of the thief taker approaching them from the stables. He greeted the gentlemen, bowed to the ladies, and explained that he had been making a search of the stables.

  “Have you found anything yet, man?” asked Bingley.

 
; “Not yet. But I am confident I will have an answer for you soon.” Keech’s eyes slid to Elizabeth’s and she looked hastily away. He turned back to Bingley. “Do you know where I might find the gardener, sir?”

  “I believe he may be in the ornamental orchard. We are just heading that way ourselves. You can walk with us,” said Bingley, and he led the way with Jane on his arm.

  The rest followed, though Elizabeth noticed that Caroline Bingley drifted back and engaged the thief taker in a furtive conference. Twice, their eyes wandered in her direction and she had no doubt that she was the subject of their conversation. Her temper rose again as she remembered the insult she had suffered yesterday during Keech’s invasion of her room. She could not believe that Bingley—or even Darcy—would have suggested or sanctioned such a humiliating incursion. It had to have been Caroline Bingley, intent perhaps on gaining some malicious pleasure at Elizabeth’s discomfort.

  Then Elizabeth was struck by another thought. What if the intent had been more than mere teasing? What if the intent had been real malice?

  What if Caroline Bingley had planted Darcy’s watch in her room for Keech to find?

  Certainly, her intimate friendship with Darcy would have enabled Miss Bingley to be close to him without suspicion. And as mistress of this house, she would have had easy access to his belongings, not least through directing her servants’ movements. Elizabeth frowned. Could Caroline Bingley truly have stolen the watch with the intent of framing her? She knew that the lady harboured no affection towards her—she was resentful of Darcy’s attentions towards Elizabeth and angry after yesterday’s altercation in the conservatory. Yet it seemed so far-fetched a plan, even for one as vengeful as Miss Bingley. Though it did fit nicely with the circumstances, and it was certainly Miss Bingley who had set Keech on her trail like a hound after a scent…