by Jennifer Joy
The vicar continued speaking, and Elizabeth let out a rush of breath. William's lips twitched at the sides. He shared in her relief.
They rose from their smooth, wood bench and went outside where the sun had blessed them with an appearance. Mr. Collins, as was to be expected, lingered inside. It had been comical to watch him before the services had begun, tottering between Lady Catherine and his own family until Father insisted he sit beside him. Now, Mr. Collins rushed to his patroness' side only to be brushed off like an annoying piece of lint.
Mary, who had made her way to Mrs. Thorne, was deep in conversation with her and Aunt Philips, but she took pity on Mr. Collins and invited him to join them.
Kitty would wander away with Mr. Denny, delaying their departure for Longbourn in the carriage.
Mr. Bingley did not hesitate to draw near to Jane and Father. They stood to the side of the church, enjoying the blessings of nature along with each other's company.
And Lydia? She had been offended when Father refused to allow her to sneak Chloe inside the church. She had only quit pouting when Father suggested the dog remain in the carriage for them.
Elizabeth saw the coachman walk with a rope attached to the ribbon adorning Chloe's neck, handing it over to Lydia when she approached. No doubt, the carriage cushions suffered less damage thanks to his thoughtfulness.
"Miss Elizabeth," a cold voice snapped behind her. Elizabeth’s shoulders rose of their own accord, but she pressed them down before she turned to face Lady Catherine.
"Lady Catherine," she acknowledged.
Miss de Bourgh came up from behind her mother, wrapping her arm through hers. "There is a lovely grove of trees a short walk up the lane. Please, let us walk to the shade and you may introduce us."
Smart move, Miss de Bourgh. Either she wished for her mother not to cause a scene in public or she did not wish for witnesses to observe as she joined her mother in an assault against Elizabeth. The last one was unlikely, given the sickly aspect of Miss de Bourgh, but Elizabeth made sure to keep both ladies in her line of vision (and herself out of the reach of Lady Catherine’s cane) so as to avoid any surprises. She stood with her back to the road in case she should need to depart in a hurry.
Lady Catherine introduced Elizabeth to her daughter when Miss de Bourgh reminded her of it once again. And then she extracted her claws.
"You seem to be failing in memory, or perhaps your hearing prevented you from fully comprehending what we discussed when our paths last crossed. I insist you leave Darcy to honor the promise made to Anne."
"I have no more influence over Mr. Darcy's actions than you, your ladyship," Elizabeth snapped back.
Miss de Bourgh paled, and Elizabeth reprimanded herself. She must do what she could to maintain calm, though she dearly wished to provoke. Pushing her desires aside, she added, "Lady Catherine, I have no intention of coming between Mr. Darcy and a promise he has made. He would lose my respect were he to act dishonorably. Please believe me when I say I also hold Miss de Bourgh's interests in high regard."
"You? Regard the needs of my daughter? A stranger to you?" Lady Catherine scoffed.
Miss de Bourgh held her finger up to her lips, but Elizabeth would not be silenced when she meant to smooth ruffled feathers.
"Yes. I will not presume to speak for Mr. Darcy, but I may speak for myself with confidence. My future husband's family will become my family. I will protect their interests as certainly as I protect my father and sisters."
"Except for those with whom you do not get along," scoffed Lady Catherine.
That was too much. Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. "Do you really think it possible for one to always get along with her sisters? It is neither practical nor reasonable to believe families should agree about everything and never suffer differences. Yet, I love them anyway."
Lady Catherine huffed, her stiff posture and accusatory glare proclaiming her unmoved.
As Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine, her heart filled with sadness at the similarities between the lofty lady and her own mother. Both of them were set on seeing to the futures of their daughters — even pushing aside decorum and decency to see to their interests. Elizabeth could see with Miss de Bourgh's frown that her life was more often troubled by her mother's interference just as hers had been so many times by her own mother.
The similarities between their families struck Elizabeth’s sense of irony, and she knew from that moment that Lady Catherine held no power over her. Thanks to her own mother, who had given her a lifetime of experience in managing contrary purposes and manipulative schemes, Elizabeth felt confident she would manage Lady Catherine well enough.
"You would soon grow weary of caring for a sickly relative," Lady Catherine flung out.
"I will not deny the difficulties of the responsibility. However, I can guarantee that relative, whomever she may be, would never feel neglected by me. She would never be lonely so long as she is willing to accept my company and, probably, that of my sisters." Elizabeth could not resist leaving Lady Catherine with that final, horrifying thought. Just imagine Lydia locked in a room with Lady Catherine!
Miss de Bourgh smiled at her. “Come, Mother, I am fatigued and must return to Netherfield Park. If all goes well, we have a busy day of travel on the morrow.”
Elizabeth turned and her vision settled on the very man who most invaded her thoughts. Not that she minded. He was rather handsome to ponder. Especially when he smiled at her as he did then.
Darcy had meant to disrupt the conversation between his aunt and Elizabeth, but Anne had signaled for him to be quiet. He had stood at a distance listening as the woman he would marry stood her ground before his aunt. Aunt, not having seen the evidence of Elizabeth's protective instincts toward those whom she held dear, looked at her disbelievingly. So intent was Aunt fixed on Elizabeth, she had not noticed him.
And now, Elizabeth smiled at him — a picture of joy and tranquility. How she managed to keep her cheer in the midst of turmoil was a quality he would always admire and seek to emulate. She did not hold on to bitterness or resentment as he did.
"Thank you," he said, not bothering to pretend he had not overheard her conversation.
"Miss de Bourgh is lovely. I will admit I had already judged her in my mind as weak and lacking character," she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I must stop doing that."
Darcy laughed. "If judging prematurely is your biggest fault, I will learn to live with it."
Her smile returned. He loved how the corners of her lips curled up, reaching her eyes and filling them with merriment. Like dancing stars.
"I am pleased to know that. With all the trouble I have caused you since our meeting …" she paused, twisting her fingers.
"I would still have wished to know you. To be your friend." And so much more, but now was not the time for declarations. What he could do was offer her the security of his affection when everything else in her world swirled in unstable chaos.
She met his gaze and her expression conveyed so much raw emotion, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until her worries disappeared.
"Our families seem intent on interfering. Even with Mother gone," her voice dropped to a whisper. "Your aunt is remarkably similar to her. And while I do not know Miss de Bourgh well, I suspect she is similar enough to Jane that we shall become close friends."
Darcy's chest tightened. Elizabeth already considered his family part of hers. Surely, she had made a favorable decision regarding him. She would never encourage him otherwise.
Reluctantly pulling his head out of the clouds, Darcy reminded himself to be patient. While he was confident he had found a home in her heart, as she forever had in his, there was still the matter of her mother and his aunt to consider. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wanted Elizabeth’s complete heart — free of distractions and disturbance.
He did not want to look away from her, but he needed to ensure no one was close enough to overhear what he had to tell her.
&
nbsp; "There is something you should know about my Aunt Catherine … the reason she insists on an imagined engagement despite all attempts to reason with her."
Elizabeth's eyebrows furled and her dark eyelashes lowered, instinctively knowing he bore more bad news. It made the telling infinitely more difficult. It was not supposed to work this way. He was supposed to alleviate her burdens, not add to them.
"What is it?" she asked, bravely bracing herself to bear his news.
"She is desperate to see Anne settled because she fears that, soon, my cousin will find herself alone and without a protector."
Elizabeth raised her hand to her mouth. "She is dying?”
“She is convinced she is dying. Whether it is true or not is another matter. I received word from her personal physician and he is under the impression she is only recently undergoing a change most women experience at a slightly younger age.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “Does she fan her flushed face when everyone else in the room is chilled?”
How did she know? “That was one of the symptoms her physician mentioned.”
“She wakes at night covered in sweat?”
“Yes,” he answered in wonder.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sighed. “She will live. However, I would not put it past her to use this against you to get what she wants. What has been done to restore Lady Catherine’s confidence that her daughter will not be abandoned?" She looked at him expectantly.
Her certainty filled Darcy with a different sort of pride — the sort of pride which would see he never disappointed her.
“Do not look at me like that, William. I know you well enough to trust you already have several options as beneficial and practical as is possible for Miss de Bourgh.”
Only Elizabeth Bennet would look frustrated at him for carrying out his responsibilities to the best of his abilities. He ought not goad her, but he could not resist the opportunity presented to him. “I have seen to it,” he said, grinning despite his efforts not to.
She crossed her arms, trying to look vexed when she clearly was not.
“Smiles suit Miss Elizabeth, do they not, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mrs. Thorne, interrupting their pleasant conversation.
He mumbled an appropriate response, hoping the vicar’s wife would take his hint and leave.
“Please excuse me for interrupting, but I wanted to let Miss Elizabeth know I will take Mr. Collins off her hands this afternoon. Mrs. Hill sent a loaf of her delicious gingerbread, and who better to share it with than a fellow clergyman? Please be so kind as to thank Mrs. Hill for her gift.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Mrs. Hill is as thoughtful as you have been kind to us. Thank you, Mrs. Thorne.” In a lower tone, she added, “Father will be delighted to have a brief reprieve.”
Mrs. Thorne chuckled. “I imagine so, Miss Elizabeth. Let us show ourselves merry in the day of our Lord, for tomorrow will bring its own troubles.” With that, she left their company for Mr. Collins.
“She is right about the morrow. Has nothing else been discovered?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not as yet. We have scoured the countryside for any piece of evidence which might prevent Lady Lucas from confessing before all of Meryton. If only we knew who the real culprit was, there would be no need for her to ruin her family.”
“You do not believe her guilty?”
“No.”
Elizabeth clutched her hand over her heart. “I am glad to hear it. Lady Lucas acted on foolish impulse, but she is not a murderess. The injury Mother suffered was not caused from a simple fall. Someone hit her with the intent to kill.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
Resolve set fire to Darcy’s veins. “We will learn the truth. I will see to it.”
Chapter 28
Darcy did not take promises lightly. While the rest of his party returned to Netherfield Park to languish in their leisure for the remainder of their Sunday, he found his way to Tanner's inn where Lord Harvisham requested they meet to discuss evidence before the hearing on the morrow.
"Ah, Darcy, there you are." Richard interrupted his pacing before the fireplace to meet him at the door.
"I hope I did not keep you waiting long," Darcy apologized.
Tanner came out from behind the bar, bringing an inkwell, quills, and a sheet of vellum with him. He sneered at Richard as he passed them to the table where Lord Harvisham sat. "Richard has taken a special interest in this case of late. I wonder why that is?"
Richard turned to face Tanner. "What of it? Anyone may know my regard for Miss Lucas. I am not ashamed of it."
"She, like any other female, clouds your judgment. Why else would a reasonably sane man such as yourself trudge around in the mud in the vain search for an inkwell which may not even prove to be the actual murder weapon?" Tanner fired back.
Darcy, who had spent a solid couple of hours doing the exact same thing as Richard, placed himself between the two at the table. "You speak as if you have not been doing the same. Now, we have no time to waste. The hearing is hours away and we have yet to catch the murderer — something we must do or let two good families be torn to shreds in undeserved guilt and blame."
The hair on Darcy’s arms stood on end at the thought of Lady Lucas standing before her neighbors to receive their judgment. Elizabeth would lose her best friend. She had lost enough already. Richard would be unable to propose to the woman to whom he would give his affection and devote the rest of his life — an injustice completely undeserved by two such individuals so perfectly suited to each other as Richard and Miss Lucas.
The injustice that two families Darcy respected could be so adversely affected by what could, at worst, be termed a dreadful accident, left a bitter taste in his mouth— one he would have to live with the rest of his days unless he found a way to prevent it.
Tanner grunted, having nothing better to say. Gracious, he was becoming a surlier brute than he had previously been before making peace with Darcy. Still, he had done more than his fair share of trudging through the mud, searching for an item which might have been used against Mrs. Bennet. Darcy would be patient with him.
Lord Harvisham pressed his chin against his chest, rubbing his whiskers. “I agree. The consequences of Lady Lucas’ admission to her family, as well as to the Bennets, are not worth the risk unless we find her guilty of the crime. While Lady Lucas admittedly acted against Mrs. Bennet, the nature of the injuries inflicted on the deceased does not prove Lady Lucas to be the murderess. Someone had to have come behind her to strike Mrs. Bennet's forehead with considerable force. Otherwise we would have found blood on the furniture. While I am unconvinced of the importance of the missing inkwell, it is our only promising clue."
"If only we could find it," said Tanner, lacing his hands behind his head and squeezing the back of his neck. "It could be anywhere, as could our killer. How do we even know the one responsible is still nearby?"
"In listening to endless accounts of Mrs. Bennet's character, what has impressed me the most is the villagers’ dogged determination to endure her for the sake of her family. Mrs. Bennet was the sort of woman to provoke animosity in others, ignorant of having done so. Could it be that after years of festering malice, a person claiming to be her friend took action when the opportunity to end the life of a thorn in their side presented itself?" said Lord Harvisham.
"Do you suggest the killer is a woman?" Darcy asked. The wound, profound as it was, gave more credibility to a man having done it.
"A woman in a passion is capable of greater strength than you suppose. We must not make assumptions lest we miss a vital piece of information. At this point, I will consider anything a possibility."
"What do you think of Mr. Burk?" asked Darcy.
"What is your theory?" Lord Harvisham dipped the quill in the ink, poising it above the paper.
"He departed for a short time from the back room according to the men who helped him unload the cart, and he is in the best position to hide evidence."
Tanner added, "Or fabricate it t
o send us all over Hertfordshire in search of an inkwell someone probably pinched."
Lord Harvisham looked up from his notes. "It is possible, and of everyone I listened to, the most probable. But what was his motive? He had difficulties extracting money from Mrs. Bennet, or her husband, but even Mr. Burk admitted they always paid. What benefit does he gain in killing a paying customer?”
It did not make sense, but not much about Mrs. Bennet had made sense to Darcy. There was no sense to be found in her murder either.
The quill scratched across the paper as Lord Harvisham continued to write. “I suggest we open the hearing with Mr. Burk’s testimony, the murder having taken place in his shop. We will hope he reveals something noteworthy."
"What of the other ladies in the shop at the time? If we are searching for a motive, they had it," suggested Richard.
Tanner smacked his hand against the table, the thud against the wood sounding as hollow as the testimony from those foolish ladies. "They had reasons to dislike, even hate, Mrs. Bennet, but unless they are extremely loyal to each other and have formed another secret pact where they are willing to lie and obstruct justice for each other — which I doubt given Lady Lucas' confession — they all agreed they were in Mrs. Burk's parlor together … excepting Lady Lucas and Lady Catherine, of course, who departed early."
Aunt Catherine was another one in need of protection. To have her secret revealed in public would devastate her. "I convinced her maid to tell me where she went after departing from the Burks’. Apparently, she asked to be led out of the back door of the shop when she saw how crowded the walkways were in front of the shop. She suffered from a rush of heat to the face, which she did not wish observed, and she stood in the alley behind the Burks until it passed," said Darcy, praying no further explanation would be required.
“That is all?” asked Tanner.
Richard threw his arms up in the air. "Why would she not admit it? Was she merely wanting to be difficult?”