Accusing Elizabeth

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Accusing Elizabeth Page 5

by Jennifer Joy


  After a long silence where everyone waited for more explanation, it was Mr. Darcy who spoke. “Perhaps you could share more details. Are you accusing one of us in the room of stealing?”

  Lady Catherine arched an eyebrow, unappreciative of her staring contest being brought to an end. “It would appear so, when during this same day, Anne’s diamond earrings have gone missing.”

  "Shall I send to fetch the constable?" asked Mr. Collins, his body inclined toward the door in his eagerness to be of service.

  Lady Catherine's eyes flashed. "The blacksmith? No, I would sooner do the investigation myself and avoid having a commoner poking around my home, asking questions of the servants, and setting tongues wagging. No, Mr. Collins, that will not do. I have always had a clever mind for seeing truth and shall conduct my own investigation with the help of my nephews. Once I have proof, I will see that the guilty person feels the full weight of the injustice done against me."

  Elizabeth could not suspect Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam of theft, but she could not help but wonder why they were exempt from suspicion.

  Bowing ever deeper, Mr. Collins said, "Of course, you are right. It was a foolish question, and I vow to do all in my capabilities, small though they are, to see that the criminal is brought to justice—"

  Miss de Bourgh entered the room with Mrs. Jenkinson, effectively cutting Mr. Collins short. They looked wretched.

  Mr. Darcy spoke as soon as they sat in their usual perch. “Please be so kind as to illuminate us, cousin. Do you suspect that someone stole your earrings?”

  “My maid could not find my earrings in the jewelry box. I had told her that I did not intend to wear them this evening, but she understood me to mean that I would rather wear a different set. When she opened the jewelry case, she noticed that they were gone and immediately set to looking for them and alerting half the household in the process,” Miss de Bourgh said in a faint voice.

  To Elizabeth, she sounded more upset at her maid’s reaction than for her lost earrings. Perhaps she had mislaid them again? Though that would be odd since only that morning they had been replaced in the jewelry case. Why would she remove them only to mislay them again?

  "When was the last time the earrings were seen?" she asked, directing her question to Miss de Bourgh.

  "This morning when they were found in my sitting room. My maid put them away then." Her eyes flickered over to where she and Maria sat. Elizabeth was grateful she had left out their names. It was plain to see that Lady Catherine already suspected them.

  Said lady’s sharp voice cut in. “Your sitting room? Who was in the sitting room when they were found?”

  Maria shrunk back into her chair, her face white. Elizabeth lifted her chin and squared her shoulders when Miss de Bourgh looked toward them with a painful expression.

  “If it pleases your ladyship, I should like to answer that question,” Elizabeth said to spare Miss de Bourgh from having to reveal what she clearly did not want to. If the truth was to be found out, the truth needed to be spoken. Elizabeth was not about to let Miss de Bourgh’s hesitancy make her or Maria look guilty.

  “Miss de Bourgh’s maid searched for the earrings while Miss Lucas and I were present in the sitting room. Miss Lucas found them lying on top of a book at the foot of the window seat. The maid put them away in the jewelry case visible through the open door in Miss de Bourgh’s bedchamber. We all saw her put them there.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, pinching his chin in thought, said, "You do have large windows facing out over the lawn. Is it possible that someone could have entered there?"

  Elizabeth thanked the good colonel in her heart for drawing the stares away from her.

  Miss de Bourgh's eyes grew large. "It is possible, I suppose. So long as they were quiet enough not to disturb Mrs. Jenkinson or alert the servants. I do not think I would have heard, feeling out of sorts after the doctor’s treatment."

  It was too complicated. Besides, one look outside at the wall and the ground beneath Miss de Bourgh's window would reveal if someone had attempted to enter through her bedchamber window. "Is it possible that someone inside the house, a servant perhaps, snatched them when no one was looking?" asked Elizabeth.

  Mr. Darcy cast an angry glance at her, though everyone else looked pensive.

  Lady Catherine said, "Never in all my years have I had difficulties with my servants. They know their place well and lack the intellect to do so."

  Mr. Darcy said, "You do have a great amount of servants. Could it be that one of them harbors a grudge against you or is in desperate need of money? You must not exclude them simply because you do not feel them intelligent enough to carry out such a task."

  "It is true, Aunt. You have as many servants as there are inhabitants in the village of Hunsford. I will make inquiries," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “As will I,” said Mr. Darcy. His eyes narrowed at Elizabeth. Did he think she stole them? Would he use this as an opportunity to revenge himself against her for refusing his hand? If the accusations Mr. Wickham had against Mr. Darcy were only half true, he was capable of it.

  Lady Catherine kept looking between Maria and Elizabeth. She believed the servants too stupid to effect a crime against her own household, but she did not extend the same courtesy to the guests of her rector. The unfairness of her misjudgment struck Elizabeth as unjust, and she determined in her heart to find out where the diamonds had gone.

  She looked up to see Mr. Darcy still contemplating her, undoubtedly plotting his revenge. She would show him. She would seek the truth and find Miss de Bourgh’s earrings before he or Lady Catherine could imply anything more against her.

  Chapter 7

  The air grew heavy in the room as everyone looked about them suspiciously.

  Just when Elizabeth felt she could not stand their questioning glances any more, the butler entered to announce that dinner was ready. As if she could eat.

  Silently, they filed into the dining room. The draft running through the space sent chills down Elizabeth's arms as she took her seat between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Maria. At least she was in good company and far enough down the table not to have to suffer the immediate conversation of Mr. Darcy and his snobbish aunt. She wondered how Colonel Fitzwilliam had escaped the family characteristic of pride.

  Mr. Collins sat on the other end of the table. He was so pleased with the honor bestowed upon him by his generous patroness that he sat as tall as the peacock pie which would most likely make an appearance at a later course.

  Maria leaned in to whisper to her. "I hope they do not think that we did it. I never set foot inside Miss de Bourgh's room, but we were practicing on the pianoforte next door. Do you think we will be accused?" Her voice trembled, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought the girl might cry.

  "We are innocent of any crime. Do not forget that." Her determination to find out who the real thief was became stronger as she looked at the scared girl next to her.

  "I know that, but sometimes mistakes are made."

  Patting her hand and determining to end their whispered conversation before Lady Catherine demanded to know what they were talking about so secretively, she said, "Do not worry. I will find out who is behind this, and everything will be all right. You will see."

  During the evening, she often felt Mr. Darcy's scheming eyes upon her. Her opinion of him worsened as the evening progressed.

  Elizabeth tried to focus on the beautiful spread before her, but her appetite did not cooperate. It was a long dinner. Conversation was halted and every second passed as slowly as an hour before the meal concluded. Finally, Lady Catherine ordered that her carriage take her guests home.

  After a tiresome day, and an even worse evening, Darcy slept little. The only silver lining had been Miss Elizabeth. He tried to keep his attention elsewhere, but too often, his gaze wandered down the table more often than he could help. She wore her hair differently, and her dress shimmered in the candlelight.

  Like a dark raincloud set on spoiling
their dinner, his aunt had determined that one of Mr. Collins' guests was responsible for the stolen jewelry. Her mind was made up, and there was little he or anyone else could do or say to alter her opinion. All he could do was buy time until he found the culprit.

  Anne did her best to calm her mother, but she had quickly grown weak and had retired early. Richard supported Darcy's endeavor to prevent Aunt Catherine from making premature accusations or reacting before anything was fully known.

  It was ridiculous to accuse both ladies of a crime when the only proof against them was that they were in the adjacent room, playing Mrs. Jenkinson's pianoforte hours before it was found out that the earrings were missing. Only when he recommended that she give him and Richard a couple of days to look into affairs in order to keep down the gossip did she calm down.

  Darcy had much to think about, and many plans to make. Waking before his usual time the following morning, he went outside to clear his mind in the fresh air and to order his thoughts. He would need some sort of plan to effectively find out what had taken place. He needed information.

  He started toward the rose garden.

  The soft spring breeze carried snatches of conversation to his ears. It came from the opposite side of the garden. Darcy slowed his pace, not wanting to interrupt nor to eavesdrop. The voices sounded vexed. He delayed at the corner of the house, but only for a moment. If someone was having an argument outside where anyone could hear them, perhaps it would do more good for him to interrupt it.

  Stepping around the corner, he found himself looking at his cousins. Anne sat on a bench, her skin as white as the lace trim on her dress. Richard ran a hand through his already tousled hair and shoved the other one into his pocket. He paced in front of Anne until he froze in place when he saw Darcy.

  Proceeding cautiously, Darcy asked, "Is all well?"

  Richard said, "It is nothing to trouble yourself with, Darcy. It is only that our cousin and I do not see eye to eye on the development of recent events."

  Darcy looked between the two of them, still confused.

  Anne said, "You see, I would not have said anything. Only Hortense, when she saw that the velvet pouch I keep the earrings in was empty, made such a fuss as roused the entire house."

  Furrowing his brows, Darcy asked, "You would have said nothing? Why?"

  "Do you not see? How are we supposed to catch a thief, if indeed there is one, when he knows that we are on to him?"

  She made a good point, but he had to ask, "You doubt that your diamonds were stolen?"

  Shrugging her thin shoulders, she said, "We searched my room thoroughly, but something as tiny as a set of earrings could easily have dropped somewhere. And I have been known to take them out during the day when my head aches. There is the chance that I mislaid them again."

  Darcy doubted that. "With a household staff of nearly one hundred, it is not likely. And I do not think you so careless as to mislay your diamonds twice in one day."

  Richard nodded vigorously. "That is what I tell her."

  She gave Richard an annoyed look. "Let us not quarrel anymore, please. I have enough on my hands with Mother being so upset as it is."

  Richard grumbled, “If only I could have spoken to Aunt Catherine before all of this took place…”

  Darcy snapped, “You have not spoken to her yet? My God, Richard, what is taking you so long? After you begged me to stay another couple days… Now, we will have to stay as long as it takes just to keep her from calling the constable for Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas.”

  Speaking in a tone just as strong as his, Richard answered, “Thanks to you, Aunt Catherine has been in such a foul mood as to prevent me from doing so. The nature of my business with her is so delicate as to require that she be in a good humor.”

  Consumed with frustration, Darcy grumbled, “If that is what you seek, we shall have to remain here indefinitely.”

  Holding up her hand, Anne said, "Stop quarreling, I beg you. Richard, I think it wise not to disturb Mother any more than she already is. Your business with her will have to wait. Darcy, Mother will soon speak with you about it, so I had best warn you that she wants us to marry by the end of spring. She thinks that I must have done something to discourage you and has been lecturing me daily since your arrival to encourage you to pursue your suit."

  Darcy heaved a sigh. He did not want to marry Anne. He wanted to marry Miss Elizabeth. Her soft brown eyes appeared like a vision before him, then they flashed in anger as her refusal played in his mind. She chose not to marry him despite all that he could offer her— a choice Anne had never been offered by her mother… by him… by anyone. It occurred to him that in all of their adult years, he had not once asked Anne what she wanted. How selfish he had been!

  Taking a step forward, Darcy lowered his voice and asked, "Anne, what is it that you want?"

  She looked startled to be asked. She opened her mouth to speak, but her thoughts slowed her. Finally, she placed her hand over her mouth and something like a chuckle escaped.

  Darcy and Richard looked at each other. What was funny?

  "Do you know, that is what I want."

  Not understanding her meaning, Darcy shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Could it be that she did want to marry him? It would be an escape from her overbearing mother…. Oh, please, no. "What is that? Please, explain your meaning."

  A scoff escaped her lips. "I want to be given a choice. Everyone around me feels they have the right to order me around and make plans for my future without so much as a consideration as to what I want. I would like for others to ask me what it is that I want."

  Richard broke in. "What do you want?"

  She looked at him steadily before shifting her gaze to Darcy. "I do not want to marry you. I will not allow myself to be a tool for Mother to use so that she might continue in her extravagant ways. What is more, I do not love you, and I know I never shall."

  Darcy could have kissed her hand then and there, his relief was so great.

  "Very well. Thank you for the warning. I will do my best to deal with Aunt Catherine, knowing that your feelings are similar to my own. And, Anne,… I am sorry."

  She rose from the bench with a smile that reached her eyes. "I must return to the house before I catch a chill. I am still fatigued from yesterday."

  Richard extended his arm. "Let me assist you. I have some letters I need to see to, so I should return as well. Are you coming, Darcy?"

  "I will see you as far as the door, but I feel the need for a long walk. I have much to ponder."

  Giving little thought as to where his feet took him after passing the front door, Darcy continued past the large oak tree in the middle of the lawn in front of the house.

  In his mind, he created a list of everyone who had the ability to steal Anne's earrings. Any of the household staff who knew where she kept her jewels had to be added. He would talk to her maid again. Maybe she had thought of something new since he had spoken with her the day before.

  He had been looking at the ground as he walked, kicking the occasional pebble on the path. When he looked up, he saw her. She was walking alone.

  She looked as if she might turn around to escape meeting him, but then thought better of it.

  Darcy looked about and realized the mistake he had made. He had let himself wander without any thought as to his whereabouts and had unwittingly walked to her favorite path. Had he been paying attention, he would have chosen to go elsewhere, but his feet had realized a conspiracy with his heart. The damage was done, and he decided to do his best to act the part of a proper gentleman— though there was hardly anything proper in encountering a lady with no chaperone.

  He bowed, nervous she might hear the pounding of his heart when he opened his mouth to speak. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. You are out early."

  "As are you, I might add," she said with a shallow curtsy.

  "Are you on your way back to the parsonage?" he asked. He patted his empty pocket. Now that he had the opportunity to talk with her alone,
he wished he had brought the letter he had written. It sat in a drawer in his desk, waiting for her to read it. Blast! He had carelessly left his best defense behind when the ideal situation to give her the letter presented itself. He would put it in his pocket where it would stay until he next saw her.

  "Yes. It is time for me to return. The other residents should be awake and breakfasting by now." She took a step forward, then paused before taking another.

  "Miss Bennet, please allow me to be honest with you. It seems that the harder I try to avoid you, the more frequently we cross paths. It is not intentionally done, I assure you." Not entirely intentional, only partly.

  She looked at him for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she nodded and continued down the path. He followed. She did not tell him not to.

  "Mr. Darcy, I meant what I said the other day, but my heightened emotions led me to speak with too much feeling. It was never my intention to hurt you." She added hurriedly, "Though it does not change my reply." The roses in her cheeks brightened her eyes considerably.

  "You made yourself perfectly clear. You need not repeat anything said that day. It is forgotten." Not that he could forget, but he did hold on to the hope that she might forget her poor opinion of him, as well as the revulsion she had expressed that fateful day.

  They walked in silence for some minutes. Darcy tried to think of something clever or interesting to say. He wished he had the ease of speech Richard was gifted with, but he had always experienced difficulty with casual conversation— especially so with Miss Elizabeth.

  Chapter 8

  When the silence grew unbearable, he said, "My sister is at Pemberley at the moment." There was no genius in the words, but he hoped that they might lead to a pleasant conversation. He had a sister. She had several sisters. It was something they had in common.

  "Oh. How nice for her," she said, looking at him with an odd expression. Then, relaxing her shoulders, she added, "Please, tell me about her. I know that you think poorly of my sisters, but I do miss them so. What age is she?"

 

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