The Netherfield Affair

by Penelope Swan

  There were gasps following her announcement, including one from Caroline Bingley. So that lady had genuinely not been involved, thought Elizabeth. Miss Bingley had certainly set Keech onto her, perhaps with the malicious desire to humiliate Elizabeth and give her discomfort, but she had not stooped so low as to plant evidence in Elizabeth’s room.

  Elizabeth raised her chin. “Mr Keech discovered the watch hidden in my bedchamber and he—”

  “Ah… and it has been in my possession temporarily for safe-keeping,” interrupted Keech hastily. He swept Darcy an elaborate bow. “I was just about to come and appraise you of the find, sir.”

  Darcy gave Keech a hard look. Then he glanced at Elizabeth, who kept her gaze non-commital.

  He held his hand out to thief taker. “You may return the watch to me now, Keech.”

  The thief taker quickly dug in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the watch on its gold chain. As he handed it over to Darcy, he said in a whining voice, “So you see, sir, I have performed part of my services. I have retrieved some of the stolen goods. My payment—”

  “You will be paid accordingly,” said Darcy, looking at the man with distaste. He turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, shall we put your theory to the test?”

  Elizabeth watched as he unlocked the door to the attic stairway, and then they all filed up the dusty stairs. In the bright light of day, the place held none of the eerie atmosphere of the other night, though Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat in a slight blush as she walked into Tilly’s storeroom and remembered standing there with Darcy, her hand in his. He, however, did not seem to share in her recollections and was only intent on the chest beneath the window.

  The begonias had wilted now as well, their orange and yellow petals limp and beginning to discolour at the edges. Darcy carefully swept them off the chest, then—using the garden scissors from the table—removed the spring mechanism booby trap underneath. Finally, he undid the latch and lifted the lid of the chest.

  Everyone peered in.

  “My brooch!” cried Caroline Bingley, bending down to snatch up the jewelled pin from the collection within the chest.

  Aside from the brooch, there were also several pieces of household silver, a porcelain figurine of fine china, a jewelled hair comb belonging to Mrs Hurst, an enamel snuff box belonging to Bingley, and an embroidered silk shawl, which Miss Bingley recognised as hers as well.

  “This is preposterous!” cried Bingley. “To think that all this time, I was being robbed in my own home!”

  “She must be punished,” declared Caroline Bingley angrily. “Where is Tilly?”

  “I have sent a girl to fetch her, ma’am,” said Nicholls the housekeeper.

  “Sir…” Elizabeth said hesitantly to Bingley. “Perhaps there may be extenuating circumstances. Will you not listen to the girl’s side of the story first?”

  Miss Bingley stared at her in amazement. “Pray, Miss Eliza Bennet, are you actually defending a servant?”

  Mrs Hurst sniffed in disgust. “Upon my word, I have never experienced such insolence.”

  Elizabeth flushed. She felt torn. She knew that it was highly improper for her to be speaking on a servant’s behalf—and especially when that servant belonged to the staff of another household—and yet her sense of human feeling could not allow her to stay silent.

  “I only ask that we consider her situation before making a judgement,” she said. “Are we not taught by our Lord to show compassion to all fellow men?”

  “Only if that compassion is well deserved,” said Darcy, his mouth in a hard line.

  Elizabeth looked at him angrily, her eyes flashing. “By your reckoning, sir, there are none that would be well deserved. You judge so harshly and with so much innate prejudice that newborn babes would be sinners in your eyes!”

  There were gasps all around, from every party present in the room, and Elizabeth realised that her tongue had run away with her. She could feel such a surge of rage in her chest, though, that she struggled to contain herself. She stared at Darcy hatefully. No other man stirred such powerful emotions within her and caused her to react so violently.

  Darcy regarded her for a moment and Elizabeth braced herself for his cutting retort. She had to admit that she had overstepped the bounds of courtesy in her remark to him, and that perhaps she deserved the censure she would get. But to her surprise, he did not flay her with harsh words.

  Instead he said quietly, “I judge as I find.” Then he turned away and looked out of the window.

  Elizabeth was left staring at his back, her colour high and her breathing quickened.

  “Well… I shall certainly endeavour to be a fair master and not judge without reason,” said Bingley awkwardly. “Though I do depend on Darcy for his superior assessment in such matters. He has long experience of running an estate, and handling servants and tenants, and I am sure he would be far better versed than me in knowing how to manage this affair.”

  They were interrupted by a flurry of activity at the top of the attic staircase and then a young servant girl appeared, breathing hard, her face flushed.

  “Well?” said Nicholls. “Where’s Tilly?”

  “I’ve looked for ’er everywhere,” said the girl, panting. “But I can’t find ’er, ma’am, not even in ’er room. She’s gone!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The search for Tilly went on all day, but by late afternoon there was still no trace of her. Her room had been cleared of her meagre belongings and the only thing she had left behind was a small bouquet of sweet pea on her pillow. Elizabeth heard this and quietly went to consult her book, though somehow she had an inkling of the answer before she saw it on the page.

  Sweet pea – goodbye

  She tried to tell herself that it was none of her concern now. She was absolved of all blame and had only their departure tomorrow from Netherfield to look forward to. She busied herself helping Jane pack their trunks, ready for the carriage the next morning, and attempted not to think about the fate of the guilty servant girl. But try as she might, Elizabeth was unable to put Tilly completely out of her mind and, as the light began to fade outside, she found herself becoming increasingly anxious.

  “Dear Lizzy, please do stop pacing—you will wear a hole through the floorboards,” said Jane gently as she watched Elizabeth walk up and down her bedroom.

  “I’m sorry.” Elizabeth sat down at the foot of the bed.

  “What can be distressing you?” asked Jane. “The stolen items have been recovered and all is well.”

  “All is not well!” said Elizabeth. “What will they do when they find Tilly?”

  Jane shook her head. “Poor Tilly! But I am sure Mr Bingley will be understanding of her situation.”

  “Indeed, he may—but I have no hope for much compassion from his sister nor from his friend,” said Elizabeth bitterly. “And Mr Bingley is much too dependent on others for counsel! Why, he—”

  Here, she stopped as she saw Jane’s face and instantly regretted her unguarded tongue. She knew that she had hurt Jane’s feelings by criticising her sister’s favourite. While she had begun to suspect that the disadvantage of Bingley’s amiable temperament was its easy susceptibility to influence by others of stronger character, Elizabeth realised that she could not voice such thoughts aloud to Jane.

  “I am sure you are right and Mr Bingley will handle the situation with sensitivity,” she said in a grudging voice.

  Jane nodded. “Only think—Tilly must have been desperate to have carried out the acts she did. I did not think that she was a criminal kind of girl.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Nor I. And I know it is wrong to feel sympathy for a criminal but I cannot help feeling that Tilly was really guilty of nothing more than a rash affection and a misguided belief in aiding the cause of another.”

  “Why, whatever do you mean, Lizzy?” asked Jane.

  Elizabeth hesitated. She had not told Jane about her encounter with the stranger that night, just as she had not told her abo
ut meeting Darcy up in the attic. It seemed like she was keeping so many secrets from her sister these days! Elizabeth did not like to withhold the truth from Jane, but given that these were past occurrences that were unlikely to recur, it seemed futile to share them and distress her. But it meant also that she could not now explain to Jane how she herself had felt the powerful charm of the stranger and how easily she could see Tilly succumbing to his advances.

  “Nothing, Jane,” she said with a sigh. “It is just, as you say, that Tilly seems a very good sort of girl and unlikely to embark on a career of criminal intent.”

  “I’m sure Mr Bingley would agree,” said Jane confidently. “And I am sure he would show leniency in such a situation.”

  Elizabeth said nothing. Even if Mr Bingley were to be tolerant—and even if Darcy were not to interfere—she did not believe that Caroline Bingley would be. That lady had a closed and narrow heart with a thirst for vengeance. From her increasingly angry remarks during the course of the day, it was apparent that Miss Bingley was intent on prosecuting Tilly for her crimes, even if this meant having the servant girl face the gallows.

  Elizabeth pushed the alarming thought away and stood up again, making her way to the window. Jane’s room looked out onto the west side of the house and, as she gazed at the landscape, she saw that the sun was already sinking low in the sky, the last of its rays touching the tops of the trees in the distance.

  Elizabeth narrowed her gaze. The trees seemed to be part of a section of woodland and a sudden memory struck her—that of the gardener telling her about Tilly’s love of violets. He had said that she tended a special patch of them in the woods. Was it possible that the girl had gone there?

  In truth, Elizabeth had long wondered if that was the place Tilly had first met with the charming stranger. It would have been the ideal opportunity for such an encounter to occur. Tilly, with her frequent visits to that secluded spot, would have been likely to meet the handsome stranger and fall under his spell. When he learned of her service in the great house, he could have prevailed upon her to help steal certain valuables from the members of the household…

  On an impulse, Elizabeth turned and headed for the door.

  “Lizzy! Where are you going?” asked Jane in surprise. “It is almost time to dress for dinner!”

  “Oh, Jane, I will be gone but a moment,” said Elizabeth hurriedly. “Please do not worry. And should anyone ask about my whereabouts, simply say that I have stepped outdoors briefly for a breath of air.”

  “A walk? Now?” said Jane incredulously. “Lizzy, have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “Nay, Jane, I beg you do not plague me with questions now,” said Elizabeth. “Time is of the essence. I shall explain all later.”

  Letting herself out of Jane’s bedroom, she went to her own and put on her pelisse, then she hurried downstairs and quietly left the house through the front door. She was relieved not to meet any of the other members of the house during her exit—in fact, she met no one, save for a footman who stood by the door and acknowledged her presence only with a flicker of his eyelids.

  Once outside, Elizabeth made tracks for the side of the house and, using the memory of the view from Jane’s bedroom, she set out for the section of woodland she had seen. It was not long before she saw the tall shapes of trees looming up in the distance, their dark branches bending and swaying in the wind. She increased her steps, slipping and stumbling over the muddy ground, which was still sodden with the last few days’ rain.

  Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself as she approached the woods. She paused just outside the edge and peered in through the dense foliage. Then slowly, hesitantly, she began to walk in between the trees. She wished now that she had had the foresight to bring a lamp—though luckily it was still twilight, with enough light from the sky to show her the path, and the rising moon was adding its own white glow to the landscape.

  Elizabeth went slowly, with her arms outstretched in front of her, like a blind woman. The shadows loomed large around her and the air seemed to be full of murmuring. Something moved through the undergrowth next to her and she jumped as a twig snapped underfoot. Berating herself for being missish, Elizabeth took a deep breath and continued on. She had no idea where the patch of violets would be growing, but she had noticed a slightly worn trail along the ground—evidence of someone having been through this way often—and she hoped that this would lead her to the right area.

  Soon her hopes were rewarded for she came upon a small clearing in the woods. And along one side of the clearing, growing in a thick blanket over the ground, was a large patch of violets. Their dark green, heart-shaped leaves formed a delicate network interspersed with dainty blue and white flowers. And crouched amongst them, in the shadow of a tree trunk, was Tilly. She saw Elizabeth and sprang up, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Do not fear, Tilly,” said Elizabeth quickly, holding up her hands. “I am alone.”

  The maid came towards her. She was dressed in a dark cloak and gripped a small bundle in her arms, no doubt the sum of her meagre belongings. Her beautiful copper hair was wild and unkempt, her face streaked with tears.

  “I had to run away, miss,” said Tilly in trembling tones. “I knew they’d found out ’bout me. I knew they’d come after me an’ arrest me!”

  “But what are you doing here?” asked Elizabeth.

  “I’m waitin’ for Georgie,” said Tilly. “I know he comes here often. I was expectin’ him today actually, to come pick up them valuables. I know he’ll take me away from here.”

  “Georgie?”

  “That’s me man. His name be George, miss.”

  “Is this the man I met that night?” asked Elizabeth. “Tell me, Tilly, have you been stealing things from the house for him?”

  Tilly nodded, shamefaced. “Aye, I’ve been helpin’ him, miss.”

  “And you hide the stolen things in the attic storeroom,” said Elizabeth. “We found your chest.”

  Tilly gasped. “You found all them things?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  The maid’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Georgie’ll be so angry with me. It’s been the work of weeks to steal all those things an’ hide them. I was preparin’ to give them all to him. The night you met him, he was comin’ to collect them—but then you saw him an’ we’d to change our plans. An’ then ’twasn’t safe the next day for him to come back.”

  “Yes, that was why you left the blue violets for him, wasn’t it?” asked Elizabeth. “They were a warning to tell him to stay away.”

  Tilly looked at her with round eyes. “How did you know that, miss?”

  “I deduced that you were using the flowers as a form of message,” said Elizabeth. “I found a book which gave the hidden meanings of different flowers.”

  Tilly nodded. “Me last mistress loved flowers an’ made a great study of them. She’d many friends from France who told her ’bout this new game of hidden meanin’s for flowers. An’ she showed me. She was a real nice lady, miss, and so good to me and me family. I was her lady’s maid, you see—that’s how I learnt how to do hair and such. She was always sharin’ the latest fashions with me. But then she died an’ her son didn’t keep me on. I’d to look for new work—an’ I found the position here. It was only as a kitchen maid, but at least ’twas work. An’ Cook lets me use the still room whenever I like, so I can make me remedies and cordials and things…”

  “But Tilly, you do know that what you did with stealing the things was wrong,” said Elizabeth gently.

  “I know, miss!” said Tilly, her eyes filling with tears. “I felt real bad, especially hidin’ the watch in your room. I knew that you’d take the blame! But I had to, miss! I had to! I had to do it for Georgie!”

  “Is this Georgie… Wicked George the Highwayman?”

  “Aye, it is he… though he’s not wicked,” said Tilly defiantly. “He’s told me it’s not his fault that he’s been forced into a life of thuggery an’ stealin’. He was cheated, you see, of h
is rightful livin’ an’ he needs help. He just needs a bit o’ money to set things right. When he regains his rightful position in society, then he’ll marry me an’ make me a lady!”

  Elizabeth looked at the maid pityingly. “Tilly…”

  “I know what you’ll say, miss,” said Tilly fiercely. “But you’re wrong! I know Georgie! He loves me an’ I know he’ll come an’ take me away from here.”

  “But Tilly, what about your family?” said Elizabeth. “What about your sick mother and younger brothers and sisters?”

  “I’m no good to them now,” said Tilly sadly. “I’m a criminal now an’ they’d only get in trouble for harbourin’ me if I went home.”

  Elizabeth put a gentle hand on her arm. “Tilly, I think the master of Netherfield may be persuaded to be lenient in your situation. I will speak to him on your behalf. Will you not consider returning to the house with me?”

  Tilly shook her head vehemently. “I can’t, miss! I can’t! I need to go with Georgie.”

  “But Tilly, you must see that a life with him has no future! He’s a highwayman! Surely you do not really believe that this can end well? You will not become a lady—if you go with him, you will likely hang instead!”

  Tilly looked down and said in a small voice, “I have no choice, miss… I love him.”

  Elizabeth released her hold on the maid’s arm. “Oh, Tilly…”

  Tilly pulled her cloak defensively around her. “Don’t you feel sorry for me, miss! He’ll come, me Georgie. I know he’ll come for me.”

  As if on cue, there came the sound of hooves on the ground. The next moment, a horse and rider came into view, trotting into the clearing. Elizabeth recognised instantly the stranger she had encountered that night. He was as handsome as ever, in his scarlet coat and black cape, with his windswept hair and laughing blue eyes. Those eyes widened now with surprise as he perceived her standing next to the maid.

  “Why, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance again, ma’am,” he said, taking off his hat in a flamboyant gesture. “Wicked George, at your service.”