by Jennifer Joy
“If you knew his history, you would understand his motives against you.”
Elizabeth knew she held the rapt attention of both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Tanner watched them too closely. The last thing she wanted was for the constable to uncover their compromise by attaching her to Mr. Darcy. She could not deny her physical attraction to Mr. Darcy, but the kind of love she sought demanded more. Trust. Honor. Respect.
“May we call at Longbourn this afternoon?” he asked.
“You may call, but unless some miracle happens, we will not be allowed to discuss anything of import.” She tried to keep a pleasant smile on her face and visible to Mr. Tanner.
“It would give me great pleasure to see for myself that my ball caused no harm to Miss Bennet. And it sounds as if you have a great deal to discuss, which would be impossible to share any other way,” said Mr. Bingley, looking at his pocket watch— no doubt counting the time until he would see Jane.
“Until this afternoon, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy with a bow.
Elizabeth wanted to turn around as they walked past her, but she forced herself to keep her vision straight ahead of her. She would stop at the post before returning home so as not to be seen leaving with the gentlemen.
“Mr. Tanner,” she acknowledged as she walked by.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he answered.
Good. He did not stop her to ask any questions. She walked as fast as she could to the post and inquired if she had any letters.
Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly, the postman had to repeat himself more than twice. After the third try, it grew too awkward to ask him to repeat himself yet again. Smiling and nodding as if she knew precisely what he had said, she was overjoyed when the door opened and she turned to see her sisters and Mrs. Yeats.
“There you are, Lizzy,” said Jane, her hand over her heart. She and Mrs. Yeats joined her while Mary, Kitty, and Lydia continued to the counter to post their letters and ask if anything had arrived for them.
“I apologize if I alarmed you, Jane. I wanted to call on Aunt Philips alone.”
Mrs. Yeats pursed her lips together, looking very much like she was preparing to give a scolding… which she did once they had gone down the street to the haberdashery, where the distraction of fripperies and fashion magazines occupied her sisters.
Pulling Elizabeth to a far corner, she said, “Miss Elizabeth, a young lady does not walk unattended. I understand matters of propriety are more… shall we say, relaxed… in the country, but need I remind you that there is a murderer about? It is not safe.” As if to prove her point, she looked cautiously around the shop, adjusting her bonnet as if its straw could protect her from an assailant.
“I apologize for the fright you suffered. I will take greater care.”
Mrs. Yeats squeezed Elizabeth’s arm and smiled at her with concerned eyes. “I know you would never give your family unnecessary cause to worry about you, and so I will mention this no more. Your father made it clear to me that I am to give my attention to your younger sisters, but it would distress me greatly should these breaches in propriety continue from you.”
“I thank you for your concern. As proof of my understanding, I will wait to return home so that we may all walk together.” She wanted to tell Jane about her meeting with Mr. Bingley. It would help the time pass until they called.
At least Mr. Collins was not with them. Odd that. “Where is Mr. Collins?” asked Elizabeth.
Mrs. Yeats straightened her posture and sniffed. “I suggested he make inquiries at the barracks while we went about our business. Miss Bennet had a letter to post. Miss Kitty wanted to re-trim a bonnet with some new ribbon, and Miss Mary wishes to prevent her from adorning it overmuch. She fights a losing battle, I fear, but it provided excuse enough. Miss Lydia, as you see, is surprisingly subdued. Then again, there are no gentlemen present which may account for her docility.”
Elizabeth applauded her insight.
“Think nothing of it. Most young ladies’ thoughts tend in a similar direction, I have found. As for Mr. Collins… it is not my position to say. However, a gentleman’s time is better spent amongst other gentlemen, do you not agree?”
Elizabeth could have hugged Mrs. Yeats. “Ingenious, madam. I can see how your inclusion into our family will be of great benefit.”
A corner of Mrs. Yeats mouth curved up, but other than that, her looks remained staunch— as was expected of a companion.
Lydia did not pay much attention to Elizabeth until she saw a lavender sash she absolutely had to have.
“Oy, Lizzy!” she said, wrapping her arm around Elizabeth’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. “I have spent all of my pin money, and I simply must have that sash. Do you not think it will look elegant tied around the waist of my white gown? It has such a lovely shimmer to it.” She looked longingly at the lilac-colored satin.
“Do you not have one just like it at home?” countered Elizabeth.
Sticking out her lip, Lydia said, “But this one is shinier.”
Mrs. Yeats, drawn to Lydia’s whiny tone like a bee to honey, said, “Miss Lydia, am I to understand that you have wasted your pin money and seek to borrow another’s?”
Lydia jutted out her chin. “I would pay it back.”
Elizabeth stifled a chuckle. Lydia still owed her for the ribbons she had bought two days before.
Mrs. Yeats looked at Elizabeth. “Is this true? Has she paid back the coin you have loaned her?”
“One can always hope, Mrs. Yeats, but then again, love hopes all things, does it not?” Elizabeth answered with glee. Her heart rejoiced to see someone attempt to give Lydia some much needed guidance in practical affairs.
Looping her arm through Lydia’s, Mrs. Yeats led her away, saying, “A proper lady must be responsible for the contents of her own purse. She does not concern herself with spending the contents of another’s….” Her words trailed off as they walked away.
Thus given some quiet, Elizabeth sat in a corner and went over every detail Aunt Philips had shared with her. Nothing was insignificant and everything bore repeating. The remembrance of Mr. Tanner’s menacing glare at Mr. Darcy sent chills up Elizabeth’s spine. As did the memory of Mr. Darcy’s smile when he complimented her— not to mention his intense, coffee-brown eyes.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth told no one besides Jane that two unmarried gentlemen would call on them that afternoon. The chaos such an announcement would have provoked would have undermined any preparations they could make to receive them.
And so it was that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were announced— arousing the entire Bennet family from their boredom-induced comas caused by Mr. Collins’ monotonic reading of Fordyce’s sermons.
Father closed the book he would have preferred to read during the tedious performance and stood. “See them in, Hill.”
Mother rose to her feet at an appalling speed. “What?! No, Hill, give us a moment to prepare ourselves!” Mother scurried from one end of the room and back again. “Kitty, stuff your ribbons and trimmings under this cushion. You ought not leave your things out like this. Mary—”
Unable to think of anything for Mary— who was the only occupant of the room disturbed at the interruption of Mr. Collins’ reading of such uplifting words— Mother harrumphed, waved her hand in dismissal, and continued without pause to arrange her daughters, as well as the room.
“Lydia, pinch your cheeks. Lizzy, tighten Jane’s ribbon and… for the love of all that is good, Jane, your bosom looks more appealing when you thrust your shoulders back like so…” She demonstrated what she meant, causing Father to clap in appreciation.
Jane’s complexion turned an appalling shade of ruby red, and Elizabeth prayed Mother’s voice could not be heard through the walls.
The agitation in the room increased until Mrs. Yeats stood. “Mrs. Bennet, might I make a suggestion?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “Since your hopes so clearly rest on Miss Bennet to make an advanta
geous match with Mr. Bingley, perhaps we should allow them some time together. We do not know Mr. Darcy’s intentions, but he is well-situated and might suit Miss Elizabeth. If Mr. Bennet stays behind, they will have a chaperone and the opportunity for more intimate conversation.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest an attachment to Mr. Darcy, but closed it just as quickly. She had hoped for a chance to speak with him, and doing so in the presence of her mother and younger sisters would have proved impossible.
Mr. Collins did not seem willing to be so easily dismissed. He raised his hand to express as much.
Speaking before he could, Mrs. Yeats continued, “Surely, it would be of great advantage to you for an alliance to form with the nephew of the de Bourgh household. Imagine how you stand to benefit from such an intimate connection— should it come to pass.”
“What a wonderful idea! How clever you are, Mrs. Yeats. Hill, see the gentlemen in,” said Mother, lining Lydia, Kitty, and Mary next to her by the door Mrs. Yeats stood behind to give room for her charges. Mr. Collins followed them in a daze, clearly dreaming of forming a part of the grand family de Bourgh. Elizabeth thought it was just as likely that the great Lady Catherine would accept Mr. Collins’ hand in matrimony than for Mr. Darcy to propose to her. So long as he was not forced to make an offer, that was.
Mr. Bingley walked into the room and soon found himself surrounded by Bennet females. He stepped back and into Mr. Darcy, who held his ground with his usual scowl.
Father stepped forward to receive their guests. “How good of you gentlemen to pay us a call. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Yeats were about to accompany my youngest daughters out of doors to enjoy some fresh air.”
“Mrs. Yeats?” asked Mr. Bingley.
Father’s chest puffed out. “She is the companion to my daughters.”
Elizabeth saw the question in Mr. Bingley’s eyes. “All of them?” Of course, his manners prevented him from voicing it aloud. He stepped aside, smiling and bobbing his head as each Bennet passed.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes were riveted on some invisible object across the wall, giving him a look of haughty concentration which only the bravest— or most ignorant— of individuals would dare interrupt. She wondered how long he had studied that pose before perfecting it.
“Mr. Darcy, we are honored you should visit our humble home,” said Mr. Collins as he passed by. Ignorant it was…
Elizabeth bit her lips to keep from laughing when Mr. Darcy glared daggers at her senseless cousin. His wrath was wasted on the clergyman, who bowed as he backed out of the room at the insistence of Mother and Mrs. Yeats, who had their arms piled high with shawls and wraps for the girls.
The door closed behind them, and Mr. Bennet motioned for the gentlemen to sit. Mr. Bingley chose a spot on the settee next to Jane, leaving Mr. Darcy to join Elizabeth and Father on the opposite side of the fireplace. It was perfect.
“How sensible of you to take on a companion for your daughters, Mr. Bennet. My young sister has benefited greatly from the company of her most recent companion,” said Mr. Darcy politely.
“Most recent? I am unaware of how these things work, Mr. Darcy. Am I supposed to replace the companion every so often or risk my girls perishing from boredom and the companion from an attack of nerves?” He peeked over his spectacles and pinched his lips together to keep from giving himself away.
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy’s reaction. She knew her father to be teasing, but would he?
Mr. Darcy answered seriously. “Good companions are difficult to come by. We had a horrible experience with the one before her current companion. She was a traitorous woman with no care for my sister.”
“How dreadful for you. I am sorry you were troubled by someone who was entrusted with the proper guidance of your beloved sister. However, I am pleased to say that our Mrs. Yeats seems up to the task with my daughters.”
“I commend you for it, sir.”
That was the second time Mr. Darcy complimented Father. What other surprises would proceed from his mouth?
Father could hold his high humor back no longer. With a chuckle, he said, “Better late than never, I say.”
Mr. Darcy did not laugh. Elizabeth had not thought he would. Negligence was no laughing matter to a man such as himself.
“Mr. Bennet, I must thank you for welcoming me into your home. I am in a precarious situation and am performing my own investigation to set matters straight. Mr. Tanner said he received some information from you. Might I inquire about the nature of this information?”
Massaging his chin and frowning deeply, Father said, “How unfortunate Mr. Tanner is privy to that information. At Mr. Collins’ insistence, I sent a note to Mr. Stallard and Colonel Forster with what little in the way of observations I could offer. My hope was that they might help you in some way.”
“You believe me innocent?”
“Would I have allowed you into my home if I did not? No, Mr. Darcy, if I were a betting man, I would put my money on a hot-blooded officer holding a grudge against Mr. Wickham. I am no detective, but I would inquire after those who claim to be his friends. Often it is the people we are closest to who inflict the most harm.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “I went into Meryton to make inquiries. Mr. Denny was unexpectedly helpful. Mr. Tanner breathed threats, but he has no proof against me.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Mr. Darcy, it would be a mistake to underestimate him.”
Mr. Bingley and Jane, who had enjoyed a brief tête-à-tête, turned their heads to listen.
“She is right,” Father said. “I only know this because Mrs. Bennet’s sister is the greatest gossip this side of the Thames. You see, Mr. Tanner is the firstborn son of a gentleman who had the misfortune of falling in love with a barmaid. The family objected, of course, as highborn families will do. And since life has a way of effecting its injustices against the most defenseless, his father married into a fortune and refused to acknowledge the boy as his own. He and his mother were cast out and shunned.”
“The gentleman did nothing in the way of supporting the woman and child?” Mr. Darcy asked, the disgust evident in his tone.
“No doubt he intended to… if he was honorable, which he surely must have been,” said Jane in the unknown gentleman’s defense.
Father clucked his tongue. “You are too kind, Janey. It could very well be that he intended to, but as happens in most of these cases, the passing of time lightens the error and the sin goes forgotten. It is not a subject Mr. Tanner discusses openly. In fact, it was Mrs. Philips who dug up the dirt on his past and took pride in revealing her discovery all over Meryton.” With a chuckle, he added, “What a relief it was to Mr. Tanner when the parson’s daughter ran off with a traveling merchant, and he ceased to be the center of attention.”
Elizabeth said, so as to keep the conversation on course, “His resentment against the upper classes is well-known in Meryton.”
Resentment. That was a sentiment Mr. Darcy would understand. Elizabeth wondered how well he liked being the one to suffer the ill effects of that poisonous emotion.
In case Mr. Darcy had not caught on to her line of reasoning, she added, “It is likely he resents you for the sole reason that you have benefited from everything of which he was denied.”
“He is a fool if he thinks harming me will satisfy his need for revenge. It is never as simple as that.” He spoke as if he knew from painful experience.
Elizabeth watched the muscles at his jaw clench. With the clear view of his profile, she saw in his rumpled brow, the smoothness of his cheek, and a slight curl at the corner of his lips, a boyish charm which had escaped her notice until then. With a blink, the vulnerable innocence was gone— replaced by a man accustomed to hiding his innermost thoughts and feelings.
Sitting taller and guarding his expression, he asked, “If I may ask, Mr. Bennet, what did you write to Mr. Stallard and Colonel Forster?”
“I told them that, while I could not vouch for your whereabouts at the precise hour o
f midnight, Miss Bingley likely could. She passed by me as the clock struck the hour, and I heard her ask Mrs. Hurst if she had seen you. She was like a hound on the trail of a fox, and I daresay she could account for your presence at the ball.”
Elizabeth groaned. Unless Miss Bingley had lied, Mr. Tanner knew about Mr. Darcy’s unexplained reentry into the house from out of doors. He could assume Mr. Darcy had left the ball, shot Mr. Wickham dead, and returned to the ball… unless Elizabeth told the truth.
She looked at Mr. Darcy. He was handsome, there was no denying it. When she had first seen him enter the Meryton Assembly, the sight of him had set her heart aflutter. She could still feel her skin burn where he had held her in the library. Were he to never speak a word to her, Elizabeth felt certain they could live years in a peaceful, if not happy, marriage. But it was not enough.
There had to be another way. She only had to keep her wits about her and find a solution. She had to find the real murderer. If she failed, she would give Mr. Darcy her future and admit the compromise.
She would make sure she did not fail.
Chapter 11
“Did you notice anything else which might assist us in our investigation?” Darcy asked. Bingley sat straighter, no doubt deducing that Darcy had included him in his search for the truth. Darcy would not disappoint him by correcting his assumption.
As for his thoughts, they were occupied solely by Miss Elizabeth. She sat pondering already; her eyes keen, her forehead furrowed, and her chin determined. It was an honor to have her on his side, and he believed her every bit as capable as he believed himself of solving the mystery.
“No, I cannot say I recall anything else worthy of note— excepting, of course, Lizzy’s unfortunate imprisonment in the library. Thank goodness you inquired after her, or I do not doubt but that she would still be in the Netherfield library!”
Darcy immediately grew defensive. He had not acknowledged Mr. Bennet’s previous attempts at humor, and he could not bring himself to do so at this opportunity either. Negligence— especially to a daughter he claimed to favor— was no laughing matter.