by D. L. Carter
“Can anyone else speak to the identity of this man?” pressed Mr. Jeffers.
There was a silence, then Mr. Prescott and Mr. Fitzwallace stepped forward.
“I have had some speech with this person since his arrival in Meryton,” said the vicar. “His understanding of doctrine is not excessive, but is sufficient to serve from the pulpit. He is no great scholar, but I am satisfied he was a parson. Duly ordained.”
“After meeting with him,” added Mr. Fitz Wallace, “and hearing that his appointment to the living at Hunsford was from the hand of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I wrote to the bishop who did confirm to me, in a letter that arrived only a day past, both his name and responsibilities. And the bishop commented, as has Mr. Prescott, that his understanding of doctrine was not excessive and gave a description of that man. It matches that of the man here lying dead.”
Mr. Jeffers entered these facts in his record.
“Then, are we satisfied that the dead person is identified?” asked the Mr. Jeffers, looking from face to face of the jury.
There was a general affirmative muttering.
“Then next we must determine the cause of death.” Mr. Jeffers looked to Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy. “Is Miss Elizabeth ready to speak of those events?”
“I shall collect her,” said Darcy and slipped away.
***
Inside the bookroom Elizabeth must have heard her name spoken, as she was standing, straight and pale, the shawl carefully draped to conceal the damage to her dress.
“You will do well, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, taking her hand briefly and bowing over it. “Now, come and trust me to guide you through this.”
She gave a sharp nod, followed him from the room, and barely flinched when she came under the vision of so very many judging eyes.
“If you would be so kind,” said Mr. Jeffers. “State your name for my records.”
“I am Elizabeth Rose Bennet, spinster of this parish,” she said in a clear, firm voice.
“Thank you. And can any of the jury confirm this?”
Mr. Prescott stepped forward. “I performed the christening these one and twenty years ago, last June. She has worshipped in Meryton church each Sunday that day to this. I know this girl to be Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Thank you. Now, Miss Bennet, if you will tell us what you know about this morning’s events.”
Still pale, but with a chin held proudly high, Elizabeth raised her declaration and read: “This morning after breakfast I was seated in the front parlor with my mother, and sisters, Jane, Catherine and Lydia, when the visitor to our house, Mr. William Collins, entered and solicited of my mother a private audience with me.” A flush of color appeared across her cheekbones, but she did not falter.
“Is this the Mr. Collins to whom you refer?” inquired the Mr. Jeffers pointing down.
Elizabeth forced herself to look down at a face not improved by death, then she nodded. “Yes.”
“Thank you. Continue.”
Elizabeth nodded and read her laboriously outlined record of as much detail as she could remember of the preposterous and ridiculous proposal of Mr. Collins. She noted that the Mr. Prescott and her father nodded from time to time as if the words and attitude of the foolish young man surprised them not at all. Eventually Elizabeth reached the point where she was followed upstairs.
“Why did you take him upstairs?” inquired one of the jury, with an intonation in his voice that implied her destination was improper.
“Sir,” snapped Elizabeth. “I was seeking to escape him! I was not taking him anywhere. I was seeking to speak to my mother who, you do know from your wife’s visits to our house, has her private sitting room on the upper floor.”
The man blushed, faced with her penetrating glare and firmly stated rebuttal.
“I was quite clear in my refusal,” continued Elizabeth. “Was my father in his usual place in the bookroom I should have sought his company on this floor and avoided the stairs entirely.”
Mr. Bennet hung his head.
“A proposal of marriage is not something that young ladies usually flee,” said the curate with some confidence.
“Forgive me, Mr. Fitz Wallace,” shot back Elizabeth, “You have had conversation with Mr. Collins. You knew what sort of man he was. Why should I chose to ally myself with that man?”
There was a round of faint chuckles and some nods from others who had endured conversation with the late Mr. Collins and shared Miss Elizabeth’s disdain.
“At what point did you push him?” asked Mr. Jeffers.
Darcy gasped, but before he could speak Elizabeth said, “I did not. I had my back to Mr. Collins and did not see what happened to him.”
“I can provide the information,” interrupted Darcy.
“How can you tell?” demanded the magistrate. “You were hunting with us!”
“Yes, but the staircase itself can instruct us.” Darcy lead the way halfway up the stairs, then stopped and ran his fingers along the banister. “I know from previous visits to the house that this banister is highly polished.” He touched the bright wood leaving fingerprints on the previously pristine surface. Several of the jurors closest to the stairs imitated him and nodded to their colleagues. “And the carpet is generally in good condition, no darns, no rends or rips. As you can see today, the carpet is smooth until we reach the fifth step from the top where it begins to sag. Miss Bennet, would you say you had reached the top step? The landing?”
“No, Mr. Darcy, I was still on the staircase, but near to the top. The second to the last step.”
There was a faint giggle from near the ceiling and Elizabeth rose on her toes, trying to see who was above. The press of men around her blocked her view. Several had climbed the lower steps the better to see what Darcy was describing.
“Gentlemen,” came Darcy’s distant voice. “See the carpet on the fifth step. The carpet rod that had been holding the carpet in place on each other step has pulled fully out of the wood on that stair. See how clean the splinters of wood? See the tear, here, where the carpet has torn free? This is a very recent injury.”
There were murmurs and Mr. Bennet pushed his way up the stairs so he could see the damage for himself.
“It was not like this when I left the house this morning,” he declared and Mr. Jeffers recorded that as well.
“See the smooth areas on the other steps,” continued Darcy. “Many feet have passed this way and the carpet, otherwise in good condition, has some wear in the center. The carpet, I would judge is perhaps five years old.”
The gathered men shifted and suddenly Mr. Darcy was at Elizabeth’s side again.
“Gentleman,” he called up as most of the jury members were now arranged on the staircase. “Consider how you are standing. Those of you who are facing up the stairs have your right hand on the banister. That is the logical way to walk up these stairs. Now consider the event. Miss Elizabeth was hurrying upstairs. She is an excellent walker and fleet of foot. She is pursued by a clumsy man, who we know and Mr. Bennet can testify, finds the stairs difficult with his shoe stuffed with fabric and his missing toes. He tries to run after her and trips and falls. The weight of his body falling and the movement of his body have obviously pulled the carpet, dislodging the rod and tearing it loose. Tearing the carpet where you see.” Darcy turned to Elizabeth and gave a half bow. “Please excuse me, Miss Elizabeth.” Darcy lifted the covering from her shoulder. “See these marks on her arm. Mr. Collins, put his smaller foot on the step hastily and began to slip. His weight pulled on the carpet, the carpet rod came free, the carpet shifted under his feet and he reached out, catching hold of Miss Elizabeth’s arm, making these bruises as he fell and his hand is dragged down her arm as he futility tried to save his own life at the risk of hers!”
“Oh, my dear,” murmured Mr. Bennet.
“Therefore did Mr. Collins fall to his death,” finished Mr. Darcy. “Accidentally!”
“Lizzy is very clever to kill him before she had to kiss
him,” came a shout from above.
Everyone froze as Mr. Bennet stepped forward and roared:” Lydia Bennet, be silent!”
“Oh, but papa, do you not agree?” Lydia stepped around the corner of the upper hall, leaned over the top bannister, and let out a shrill, high laugh. “He was a toad and much better company dead.”
“Lydia Bennet, to your room, girl and do not set a toe out until I give you leave!” Mr. Bennet charged through the jury and caught Lydia by the arm, dragging her away.
“But Papa, you didn’t like him either. You said so.”
There was a loud slam then Mr. Bennet returned at a run.
“My youngest daughter is a silly creature,” he said to the jury and Mr. Jeffers and he climbed carefully down the stairs. “You all know she says nothing that is not complete nonsense.”
“Of course,” said Sir William. “I have noticed that many times. I tell my Maria she may speak to Lydia, but she is not to imitate her unguarded behavior.”
Mr. Bennet flushed, biting his lip, then gave a sharp nod. The jury nodded, well aware that young girls were quite silly creatures and Miss Lydia the silliest of the lot.
“She is a little young to be out,” added Darcy. “Children have not yet gained the wisdom to guard their speech.”
“You are correct,” said Mr. Bennet and raised his voice. “But Elizabeth is sensible and well behaved. You have all known her for years. A sweet and clever girl, but not given to temper or outrageous behavior!”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Darcy. “And if she is holding onto the banister with her right hand, and the bruising is on her left arm. See the bruising. This is not the grip of a fight. See the hand-sized bruise on her upper arm. There, a man has held her in a grip. Here, where the bruise stretches. That is where a hand has clutched and clutched again, to prevent a fall. See, it goes from her shoulder down to the elbow and the elbow already swells. With Mr. Collins several steps below I declare that Mr. Collins fell to his death, as an accident caused by his own foolish haste, and he attempted to save his life at the risk of Miss Elizabeth’s.”
Mr. Jeffers considered his words. Mr. Bennet came to Lizzy’s side and lifted the shawl back over her shoulder and hugged her gently. It was at that point that Lizzy remembered that her cap sleeve was torn and the resultant blush was bright and left her light-headed. She swayed, then leaned on her father when he caught her to hold her up.
“Dearest girl, I could have lost you.”
“Be strong a moment longer, Miss Elizabeth,” urged Darcy, taking her other hand briefly and giving it a squeeze before releasing it.
“The jury will examine Mr. Collins,” declared Mr. Jeffers. “Gentlemen, your task is to confirm that the injuries gained are consistent with all Miss Elizabeth Bennet has declared in her statement.”
Mr. Honeywell was the first to the body. He held the head gently in one hand the neck in the other and moved the head from side to side to the accompaniment of faint crunches. Many men present winced and rubbed their own necks.
“The neck is broken. I have seen this many times with falls from horses, trees, and yes, sadly, once many years ago with a fall down stairs.” Mr. Honeywell ran his hands rapidly down the rest of Mr. Collins’s body then rose and stood beside the Mr. Jeffers. “There are no other injuries. The only other significant finding is the misshapen toes.”
Eventually all had examined the body. Not all found it necessary to touch Mr. Collins, but stood staring down at the off-center head and disordered limbs.
“Gentlemen, what is your determination?”
“I agree with Mr. Honeywell,” said Sir William. “A fall leading to a broken neck. No doubt he should have invested in better fitting shoes and walked with more care.”
There were general nods. Mr. Jeffers dipped his pen into the inkwell and began inscribing the final form of his Attestation.
“Is there anything else to be noted?” he inquired of the jury. “Are you all in agreement with the determination?”
“Yes, sir,” was the chorus.
“And is there any action you would recommend to prevent similar accidents?”
“I do not see that Mrs. Bennet can be faulted for her housekeeping,” said one gentleman. “In my house a few years ago, there was a similar accident when the carpet rod came loose of its moorings. Fortunately that time only resulted in a broken arm and collarbone. I must say that afterward the steps, and the carpet, looked much the same as the ones here. I agree that a foot put wrong at the wrong time will result in a fall. An accident. An act of providence that cannot be predicted or prevented. The maintenance of this house is otherwise admirable and Mr. Bennet a good landlord as any. No one can predict the time such wear will result in an accident.”
“Very well. Unless there is an alternative theory? Anyone? No? Very well. My verdict, the verdict of this inquest, is death by misadventure. An accidental fall downstairs with no further action required. My thanks to the jury. You are dismissed. Miss Bennet? If I might have that deposition for my files? Thank you, my dear, very clear script. I do appreciate a well-written deposition. My apologies for the imposition, Mr. Bennet. We shall all take our leave now and you and your family might begin grieving for your departed cousin.”
Mr. Bennet nodded while Mrs. Hill escorted the jury out. The vicar stepped out of the flow of people as he now had business with the family. Mr. Fitz Wallace shot the departed Mr. Collins an unreadable look before walking away. Bingley walked slowly toward the door, looking toward the upper flooring in hope of seeing his angel. Jane did not emerge.
Finally the hall was almost clear, Darcy bowed to Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth, I must state my admiration for the courage you have displayed. I must leave now, but I hope you will accept my prayers for your future health and happiness.”
“Thank you for your assistance.” Elizabeth gave a small curtsy, hampered only by her father’s arm about her shoulders. “I could not have done half so well without your advice.”
Darcy inclined his head to her and to Mr. Bennet before taking his friend in hand and departing.
Elizabeth sank onto the hall bench, hugging herself as the tears finally began to fall. She could not
understand her sadness at the sudden conviction that she would never see Mr. Darcy again.
Chapter Five
The men from the hunt, who had gone home rather than to Longbourn, carried the first part of the gossip. Something - eyebrows were raised and eyes flickered from side to side - something had happened at Longbourn necessitating the summoning home of the master of the house, as well as Squire Pennington, Mr. Jeffers and Mr. Honeywell.
What, the neighborhood inquired of each other, what could possibly require that combination of local authority?
Eagerly they awaited the next part of the story and they were not disappointed.
***
Not a single member of the jury was required to pay for his own drinks in the pub that night. The state of Miss Elizabeth’s dress was described and exclaimed over in kitchens and dining rooms across the county.
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy returned to Netherfield in silence, avoided Bingley’s sisters and brother-in-law in order to retreat to the study for a moment of private discussion.
Bingley poured out two healthy portions of brandy.
“Dear heaven, what a dreadful day!” declared Bingley.
“You are entirely correct!”
Darcy accepted the glass then walked away to stare blankly out of the window. By some coincidence it was the one facing toward Longbourn. At this distance nothing could be seen, but it could be felt. Oh, yes, it could be felt.
“I must say, Darcy, I am astonished at you.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“I have never in the course of my life heard so many words from you.”
“Strange, is it not,” said Darcy. “Indeed. Only think what my tutors would have said at such eloquence during my verbal exams. Instead of being hesitant and uncertai
n of my words they seemed to flow from me.”
But, he added in the privacy of his own thoughts, perhaps, I have not until this time had adequate inspiration and need.
“It is a shame you are not heir to your uncle, the earl. I can see you rising to give your speeches before the House of Lords,” continued Bingley, and smiled when Darcy winced.
“Then I shall be forever grateful for my two cousins whose existence spares me from that burden. That responsibility is quite beyond my ambition. I cannot imagine anything worse…” And then Darcy’s countenance grew shadowed. “Except what has befallen the Bennet family.”
“Yes. Poor Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Collins was a fool indeed to think he deserved her.”
“That Collins was an idiot,” observed Bingley, “but what an embarrassing way to die!”
“No family is without their embarrassing relatives,” said Darcy, softly.
“True,” said Bingley with a quirk of his lip. “There is a reason you have not been introduced to my Aunts, old fellow. I want to remain your friend.”
“I have an Aunt of my own whose manners and conversation does not bear close examination,” said Darcy to the window.
“I met the redoubtable Lady Catherine a few years ago in London, do you not recall? And she snubbed me quite comprehensively. You have my sympathy, Darcy, but I would put meeting both our aunts into the scale against what our poor Miss Elizabeth has suffered and give all my pity to Miss Elizabeth. That Collins, what an idiot!” Bingley shuddered. “When can we pay our condolence visit? Of course, condolences seem to lack something when one is aware that none will truly grieve for his passing. What can one say to eulogize a fat, embarrassing fool who was avoided when alive, and so much trouble with the manner of his dying?”