She raced across the meadow and reached the lane and turned left, away from the river, as she was more likely to find other people, and therefore safety this way, even though it meant running uphill. But it was at least a furlong till the nearest house, and even then, would reaching it do her any good? Knocking on a door was not sufficient security; someone had to open it and admit her. She could be struck down on a doorstep, her limp body then carried away. So she did not turn into a gravel drive that belonged to the Robinsons, but continued running up the lane.
Why were no people about? Were they all inside drinking tea? Mr. Clarke was gaining; she could tell he was gaining; she could hear his heavy breathing behind her. They were both running for their lives: she, to keep from being murdered; he, to keep from being hanged for his crimes.
She cried: “Help! Someone is attempting to kill me!” but she was almost out of breath, and even to her, her voice did not sound very loud.
And then she heard the sound of galloping hoofs.
Mr. Clarke heard the hoof beats as well; they both realized a horse was approaching. The clerk cursed her, but he did not come closer. He threw the stone he was carrying in her direction; Elizabeth jumped out of the way so that it only struck her in the foot. But Mr. Clarke did not stay to press his advantage; he continued running, away from the river and the coming horseman.
The horse arrived; its rider spoke. “Elizabeth? Elizabeth! I have been looking all over for you!”
Amazingly, marvelously, fortuitously, it was Mr. Darcy! With the sun setting and its rays in his eyes, he did not notice her distress: not her limp, nor her torn, bloody clothing, nor the expression on her face. And she was too breathless to speak and to explain herself.
He had news of his own. “Jane is in labor.”
Elizabeth burst into tears.
CHAPTER XLVI
Smiling, believing that his wife’s tears were of drops of joy for her sister, Mr. Darcy told her that Sir William Lucas had sent him in this direction. He then dismounted from his horse, and when he reached the ground he had a better view of Elizabeth’s face. “Good God! What is the matter?”
In a few breathless sentences Elizabeth communicated the essentials. Mr. Darcy then had two objectives: to get his wife to safety, and to make sure that Mr. Clarke was stopped before he could escape. He helped Elizabeth on to his horse, and escorted the animal back into Meryton at a brisk walk. During the twenty-minute journey, Elizabeth described more of what happened. There he delivered her to Mr. and Mrs. Philips, who were still drinking tea with Mr. Morris, and explained that Mr. Philips’s other clerk, Mr. Clarke, had attempted to kill their niece.
Mr. and Mrs. Philips might have had difficulty believing this but Elizabeth’s dress was torn; her arm and her leg were bloody; her face was scraped and her bonnet askew. Besides, Mr. Philips found it impolitic to doubt Mr. Darcy, one of Derbyshire’s richest men. Mrs. Philips was rather confused by some of the details – was not Mrs. Smith the murderess of Meryton? – but she set about tending her niece’s injuries.
Mr. Morris was not displeased to learn that his rival in the office was a violent criminal.
They all offered assistance. Mr. Philips was not a man who could move quickly physically, but mentally he was competent, and he knew which men to summon. In addition to Mr. Morris, he suggested the Lucas boys – the Gouldings – Mr. Robinson – and Jailer Perkins. He also thought of several actions to be taken immediately. They would search Mr. Clarke’s rooms – he would be a party to that – and they should also go to Mr. Clarke’s family and to his good friend Mr. Jones, because he might turn to one of these people for assistance in his desire to escape. Finally, Mr. Philips would send someone to Longbourn House, to apprise them of the situation. Mr. Clarke might appeal to Kitty Bennet, and endanger her.
“I expect that the Longbourn carriage will soon be on its way to Netherfield,” said Mr. Darcy. “Tell Mr. Bennet that he should stop here to collect Mrs. Darcy and take her with them. Go at once.”
Richard, the servant given these messages, departed.
“What about the post?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Clarke could hire a horse to take him away.”
“An excellent suggestion,” said Mr. Philips.
“We should warn everyone who has a horse,” added Mr. Morris. “Given what you have said, I do not think that Clarke would be concerned about acquiring an animal legally.”
The men allocated the tasks among themselves and Mr. Philips’s male servants, while the female servants agreed to barricade the doors and to keep Mr. Clarke from forcing his way inside and slaughtering them all. The men then departed, with a promise from Mr. Philips to Mrs. Philips that he would be extremely careful.
Mrs. Philips’s maid washed and bandaged Elizabeth’s wounds – fortunately no bones were broken, but she did have scrapes and bruises. Elizabeth refused her aunt’s offer of smelling salts, but she did accept a glass of wine and several biscuits.
“I do not understand what happened, Lizzy,” said her aunt. “Why did Mr. Clarke try to kill you?”
“I am still trying to understand everything myself, Aunt,” said Elizabeth. “But I think that he is responsible for the murder of Mr. Collins.”
“Do you mean to say that Mrs. Smith was innocent? Why then did she kill herself? And why did she leave a note confessing?”
“I do not think Mrs. Smith was especially innocent,” said Elizabeth. “And I am not certain that she did kill herself, and I doubt very much that she wrote that note.”
“I do not understand,” repeated Mrs. Philips plaintively, but then a housemaid announced that the carriage from Longbourn was come. Elizabeth apologized, but said that she absolutely had to depart; Jane needed her. She kissed her bewildered aunt, and promised to call as soon as she could and explain all that she knew.
CHAPTER XLVII
Elizabeth, escorted by a guard consisting of her anxious aunt, the cook and the housemaid, limped to the Longbourn carriage and climbed within. Inside were her father and her sister Mary; her mother and her sister Kitty had already been fetched by the Netherfield carriage.
“You look terrible,” Mary remarked.
“Lizzy, what has happened?” asked her father, and he related how Mr. Philips’s servant Richard had arrived with an urgent message.
During the carriage ride to Netherfield Elizabeth explained as best she could – as she spoke, she realized she would be recounting her experience often – what had happened with Mr. Clarke, how Mr. Darcy had found her, and how he had escorted her to Meryton while he and other men searched for the murderer.
Mr. Bennet and Mary were likewise confused by what Elizabeth told them at first, but they were not as bewildered as Mrs. Philips had been. “I could not understand how a woman the size of Mrs. Smith could kill Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet. “But Mr. Clarke – that is far more plausible.”
“Mr. Morris intimated that Mr. Clarke was not to be trusted,” said Mary. “He told me that he warned my uncle Philips but could not convince him.”
Mr. Bennet was still perplexed. “If Mr. Clarke is the actual murderer, that better explains how the crime was committed. Still, I cannot understand why Mr. Clarke would murder my cousin. Was Mr. Clarke also seen by Mr. Collins in Hunsford?”
“Papa, I am still too distressed to reason clearly,” said his daughter. “If Darcy and the others are able to apprehend Mr. Clarke, perhaps we will learn everything.”
Mr. Bennet took his daughter’s hand. “I am grateful that your injuries are no worse, Lizzy.”
In half-an-hour the Longbourn carriage reached Netherfield; the footman helped them descend. Mr. Bennet leaned on his cane, and Elizabeth leaned on Mary.
They were greeted by Miss Bingley in the dimly lit vestibule. “There you are, Eliza; I assume Darcy found you!” and then surveying those who accompanied her, asked: “Where is Darcy?”
“He had some pressing business; I hope he will return soon,” said Elizabeth. “How is Jane?”
“Mr.
Jones and Mrs. Nicholls and even your mother agree that it will be many hours yet. Jane will be grateful that you are here, Eliza,” and then, in the candlelight, finally perceived her injuries. “What happened? You look as if you were kicked by a horse!”
Elizabeth said she would explain everything later; just now she wished to see her sister. So Miss Bingley directed Mr. Bennet to the library – “my brother will be glad for the company” – and then accompanied Elizabeth and Mary upstairs, with Elizabeth continuing to lean on Mary. Miss Bingley knocked, and then they entered Jane’s room, which was rather crowded, containing, as it did, Jane, Mrs. Bennet, Kitty Bennet, Mrs. Nicholls and the senior Mr. Jones. Mrs. Bennet was the first to speak. “Lizzy, there you are! Where have you been, Lizzy? Look Jane, here is Lizzy; that should make you feel better!”
“Lizzy, it is happening. It is really happening!” Jane exclaimed, and then cried aloud as she was gripped by pain.
“There, Jane, there; it will be all right,” said Mrs. Bennet.
It was only when Jane’s contraction was finished that Kitty noticed Elizabeth’s torn clothing, bandages and scrapes. Elizabeth, not wishing to alarm anyone, explained that she had had a little accident earlier in the day but that she was tolerably well. Mr. Jones turned his attention briefly to Mrs. Darcy and inspected her injuries (Mrs. Bennet, worried about her eldest daughter and her first grandchild, did not). The apothecary proclaimed that Mrs. Darcy was in no danger – “not now” thought Elizabeth – but that she would be well served by an infusion of willow bark, to dull the pain. Elizabeth was grateful for the suggestion; with the worst of her terror gone, her bruises had begun to ache. Mrs. Nicholls said she would prepare willow bark for Mrs. Darcy, and tea for everyone else – it would be a long night – and Mary said she would join her father and Mr. Bingley in the library.
“Tell me about your accident, Lizzy,” said Jane, after several more contractions and after the arrival of the tea and the willow bark infusion. Elizabeth protested that she did not want to distract Jane; Jane said that she desired to be distracted.
“Your injuries appear to have been caused by falling against some stone,” remarked Mr. Jones.
“Did you fall, Lizzy? I have told you not to go climbing and wandering about. There is no need for it, especially as you have a perfectly good carriage,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Here, Jane, drink some tea.”
“Tell us what happened,” Kitty urged.
So Elizabeth related what had happened to her. Her information was so riveting that Jane was fascinated, and begged for her to continue. Kitty was horrified to learn this information about Mr. Clarke, with whom she had danced several times. The senior Mr. Jones was alarmed – Mr. Clarke was a particular friend of his son’s – but Elizabeth could reassure him by telling him that Mr. Darcy and her uncle Philips had sent someone to his house.
Mrs. Bennet was especially voluble. To think that Lizzy had been in danger! She apologized to her daughter for making light of her injuries. And Mr. Clarke, who had seemed so agreeable! To think that she had considered him a possible son-in-law! So he had murdered Mr. Collins, not that tenant of her sister’s with so many names. Where was the murderer now, anyway, and were they safe? If he wished to kill Lizzy, would he not follow her to Netherfield? They were all in danger, in terrible danger!
Elizabeth could assure her mother that Mr. Clarke was being sought in all the most likely places. They were also guarding the various stables, as Mr. Morris believed that Mr. Clarke could attempt to steal a horse in order to flee. Upon hearing of this possibility, Miss Bingley left the room to give orders to secure the Netherfield stables.
And then Jane gave another cry, and Elizabeth paused in her narrative, while Mrs. Bennet, assisted by Mr. Jones, tended to her eldest daughter.
Elizabeth asked Kitty how she was faring on hearing this news.
Kitty was perturbed, but not unduly. “It is shocking to think that someone who flirted with me could be so vicious, but my heart is not broken. I was never in love with Mr. Clarke. I thought I did not care for him because I did not want to stay in Meryton, but I see now it was because I did not trust him.”
Elizabeth wished that she had been so sensible with respect to Mr. Wickham. She also commended Kitty for not claiming more attention in the matter, unlike their mother.
Two hours passed, during which time Mr. Bingley called anxiously from the outside of the door, and learned that his wife was faring well. The housemaids prepared several bedrooms in case anyone wished to sleep, but instead of retiring in rooms and on furniture designed for sleeping, everyone dozed off in chairs or stretched out on various sofas. Perhaps they felt that they were showing sympathy for Jane, by being as uncomfortable as they could, but why they would be of more use to her if they were just as fatigued as she was instead of well-rested was a question that could not be answered. Mr. Bennet, in fact, seemed to be the only one who asked it, and even he was not ready to close his eyes, not till he knew that his eldest daughter was safe.
Two hours after midnight, Miss Bingley reappeared. “Eliza, Darcy has returned. Mr. Clarke has been discovered. He was hidden in your stables, Mr. Jones, apparently waiting either for you or for your son to return, as no horses were inside. The housekeeper reported that your son was out on another call.”
Mr. Jones exclaimed with relief; Miss Bingley asked Elizabeth if she wished to go to Mr. Darcy, but Jane cried out. The baby was really on its way, and Elizabeth did not feel as if she could leave her sister’s side for an instant. Miss Bingley obligingly delivered this information to those waiting in the library and then returned for the great event.
Dawn was breaking as Jane’s little girl was put into her arms.
CHAPTER XLVIII
Elizabeth yielded her place in Jane’s room to Mr. Bingley, who was grateful that his wife was safe, still unnerved by the anxiety he had experienced on her account, and in awe as he met his baby daughter. “Hello, Jenny,” said the new father tenderly. Mr. Bingley’s use of that name prompted a sigh from Miss Caroline Bingley, but only from habit; in truth she was ecstatic.
Elizabeth excused herself.
She went to the library where she found her husband and her father playing chess, neither looking his best, with rumpled hair, unshaven chins and wrinkled clothes. Mary snored on a sofa, her spectacles askew, a thick book open on her lap.
Elizabeth suggested to her father that he should go upstairs to see his new granddaughter. Leaning on his cane, Mr. Bennet rose and limped out of the library.
Mrs. Nicholls and the rest of the kitchen staff had prepared breakfast. The number sitting down to the table in the breakfast-parlor was large: Mr. Jones senior, Mary and Kitty Bennet, Mr. Bennet, Miss Bingley, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Only Mrs. Bennet and the master and the mistress of Netherfield were absent; Mrs. Nicholls carried a tray to them herself, so that she could admire the Bingley baby.
“I have much to tell you,” Mr. Darcy said, when Elizabeth and he were finally alone.
“I am certain that you do,” Elizabeth said, and added that she admired his patience in not bringing up the subject before this.
Darcy explained that he and the other men had set about searching the area, alerting the jailer who summoned additional men, and then going to houses and especially stables, as Mr. Morris had suggested. Clarke had been found hiding in the Joneses’ stables. Clarke was no match for Darcy and for the two men who accompanied him, so they had easily subdued him and had taken him to the local prison. It was not large, but it was secure, and Jailer Perkins was eager to earn his salary. When he heard that Mr. Clarke had attempted to murder Mrs. Darcy and had told her that he had murdered Mr. Collins, the jailer assured everyone that Clarke would not escape so that he could be brought to trial. However; Perkins was confused on one point: he thought that Mrs. Smith had killed Mr. Collins. Why were so many people confessing to that capital crime? How many enemies had that clergyman had?
“Why did Clarke say that he killed Mr. Collins?” Mr. Darcy asked. “
Are you certain that you heard correctly?”
“Yes, I am certain,” said Elizabeth. “And I believe Clarke said that he killed Mr. Collins because he has, indeed, killed Mr. Collins. Clarke even attempted to demonstrate to me, with a large stone, exactly how he did it.”
Over that day and those that followed, some facts came to light, accompanied by many theories – the theories were necessary because Mr. Clarke was generally refusing to speak, and when he did say anything, no one was confident that he was telling the truth. But some of the young men in Meryton had known Henry Clarke, a younger son in the Clarke family, while they were youths together. While a boy, Henry had complained that his prospects from Clarke’s library, the family business, were not promising, as the majority interest would be inherited by his eldest brother, Mr. Thomas Clarke. The acquaintances from his youth also said that Henry had spent much time copying handwriting and learned to imitate it perfectly.
But Clarke maintained that he was not the only one who had imitated the hands of others – several of them had made a game of it – and even if he were capable of forgery, that did not prove that he was a forger. He had heard, for example, that Mr. Darcy was an excellent shot when he hunted. Did that mean he was guilty of shooting people? Jailer Perkins ought to arrest Mr. Darcy!
They learned, too, that when he reached sixteen, Henry Clarke had left Meryton for London in order to seek his fortune, but his opportunities to make money honestly were few. He had no desire to join the navy, as the one occasion he had been on a ship he had suffered from debilitating seasickness, while the experienced sailors around him laughed and told him that the waves at the time were nothing. Most routes to prosperity required both more capital and patience than the young man possessed. This information was supplied by Mr. Thomas Clarke, who had received letters from Mr. Henry Clarke at the time. The older brother also confirmed that his brother had taken a room in a large building owned by a Mrs. Younge.
The Meryton Murders Page 26