Confronted with evidence of this fact, Mr. Clarke admitted that he had been a lodger at Mrs. Younge’s in London, and that he had been rather surprised to meet her again as Mrs. Smith, a tenant in Meryton. But he could not see any reason that he should do anything to stop this, especially as Mr. and Mrs. Philips had been so grateful to let those rooms. For all he knew, the widow had remarried since he last encountered her, and then had been abandoned by her husband. The sorry tale that he conjectured had kept him from inquiring further, and as Mrs. Smith paid her rent on time, what did her name matter? How could he know that she had masqueraded as a nursery maid in Hunsford? He had some imagination but evidently not as much as Mrs. Smith, Younge or Ford or whatever her name was – nor as much as Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Smith had confessed in a letter to killing Mr. Collins, and Mrs. Darcy was inventing things, by telling people that he had confessed. Even if she were wealthy and were now mistress of a great estate, that did not give her the right to bear false witness against those less fortunate, laboring to earn their living in Meryton.
This story was brought to Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy by Mr. Philips after an interview with his erstwhile clerk.
“Why did Mrs. Smith confess that she killed Mr. Collins?” asked Mr. Philips.
“I do not believe that she did confess. All we have is her letter of confession, but recall that we are dealing with an expert forger. I believe he killed Mrs. Smith,” said Elizabeth. “I believe that he was the expert at imitating handwriting, not she.”
“Do you mean to say that Mrs. Annabelle Younge was innocent?” asked Mr. Darcy, doubt in his voice.
“No – no. I believe that they were conspirators, and that they worked together to procure the histories and the handwriting samples of wealthy targets. For example, she must have borrowed that sample of your aunt’s handwriting. And somehow Mr. Collins recognized her, and perhaps saw the two of them together – and so Mr. Clarke killed him – or perhaps Mrs. Younge and Mr. Clarke murdered Mr. Collins together. When everyone became suspicious about my cousin’s death; when it seemed so unlikely for it to have been accidental; when people were investigating and asking difficult questions, then Clarke must have decided he needed someone else to be blamed for what happened. And perhaps Mrs. Younge knew what he had done and was planning to expose him. Perhaps they had a falling-out. I believe that she may have come to Meryton to protect her investment in these letters – perhaps he no longer wished to share. So he borrowed my uncle Philips’s spare key, and used it to lock the door after poisoning her and leaving another forged letter.”
Mr. Philips and Mr. Darcy considered Elizabeth’s theories plausible. They were conveyed to Clarke, who said they were absurd and more evidence of Mrs. Darcy’s mad fantasy. He even denied throwing a rock at her; she had run and had tripped and fallen. As for where the money was, he did not have it, so he could not tell anyone where it was.
His rooms were searched. They found stationery and pens, but what did that prove? Anyone could have pens and paper.
The younger Mr. Jones confirmed having supplied belladonna to Mr. Clarke for his headaches, and confessed that it was possible that Clarke had procured more from the apothecaries’ shop.
“There will have to be a trial,” Mr. Philips said to his niece. He was extremely unhappy about all of this. He had hired Mr. Henry Clarke as a clerk, believing him when he claimed to have studied law, feeling magnanimous to be able to give a local youth a chance to return to Meryton to make his career. Certainly Clarke had had some familiarity with the subject, but now that Mr. Philips reflected, the young man’s knowledge had seemed far more theoretical than practical, as if he had only read about the matter and had never worked in an office, as he had averred.
“Have you investigated his references?” inquired Mr. Darcy. He pointed out that if those were discovered to be falsified, then that would be evidence that Clarke was a forger, if not a murderer. Even if he claimed that they had been penned by Mrs. Younge, he would be at the very least complicit in the use of forgeries.
To Mr. Philips’s chagrin, he had not researched Mr. Clarke’s references. “They were excellent,” he remarked, then added, “but of course, they would be.”
Mr. Philips delegated this project to Mr. Morris. Mr. Morris was greatly in ascendance these days, and he went to London personally to investigate. Mr. Morris reported that the references were false. The firm that Clarke claimed to have worked at in London had heard of him, but only as someone who had applied for a position, rather than as someone whom they had actually hired.
Frank Perkins, the son of the jailer, had not been involved. However, Jim Page, the youth who liked to fish, and who had denied seeing anyone other than Mrs. Darcy take a box out of the horse chestnut tree on the day that Elizabeth had left a message saying that she would not pay, came forward and admitted that he had taken the box out of the tree himself, as soon as Mrs. Darcy had left the meadow. Mr. Clarke – whom the youth knew because his mother’s shop was across the street from Mr. Philips’s office – had paid him to do that. Jim insisted that he had not lied when he claimed that he had not seen anyone but Mrs. Darcy at the tree that day, because how could he see himself? He had given the box to Mr. Clarke later. And right after he had seen her in his mother’s shop, he had gone to warn Mr. Clarke that Mrs. Darcy had been asking lots of questions. He had been the visitor who had delayed Mr. Clarke’s appearance at tea at the Philips’s house that day. Jim Page was very sorry for his misdeeds, and returned to her the baby caps – now rather soiled – that Elizabeth had thrown at Mr. Clarke while at the river.
“I suppose I alarmed Clarke even more by asking about the spare key,” mused Elizabeth, when she heard this.
“Yes, that is when he must have decided to bolt,” said Mr. Darcy.
Moreover, while in London, Mr. Morris fetched Mrs. Wickham, who had been visiting her uncle and aunt in Gracechurch Street. Lydia, now staying at Longbourn, was able to supply much more history based on her conversations with her husband and Mrs. Younge. Lydia, always willing to talk if she had an audience, was even more determined to do so now that Mrs. Younge was dead. Lydia had liked Mrs. Younge, and Lydia did not believe that Mrs. Younge had taken her own life. Did she have any evidence? Yes, in a letter that Mrs. Younge had written to her, saying that she had had enough of Meryton. Lydia’s aunt Philips was pleasant, but she wished to leave the dull country and return to the excitement of the city and her own house on Edward Street.
Lydia said that Mrs. Younge supplied Mr. Clarke with clients, usually via the lodgers who came through her house. He had first begun by composing letters of reference for those seeking positions, and thus received pounds here and there for his creations. But this was not enough for his ambition. In order to truly become rich, he needed to take large sums of money from those who had it.
He had assisted Mrs. Younge in procuring her position as a companion and chaperone to Miss Georgiana Darcy, by supplying her with references. If that scheme had succeeded he would have had access to his share of Miss Darcy’s thirty thousand pounds. The plot had failed and so eventually Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Younge turned to this conspiracy of blackmail, which had the disadvantage of being illegal, but the advantage of having many potential victims. They based their extortion on histories and vulnerabilities, and when no dark secrets were to be discovered, they invented them.
“There will still need to be a trial,” Mr. Philips said, “but this information will make it much more difficult for Clarke to wriggle free. Thanks to Mr. Morris’s efforts, Clarke has been proven to use forgery; he told you that he was the murderer of Mr. Collins – and given their relative sizes, he is a much more likely killer than Mrs. Smith. Finally, Lydia’s story helps us put everything together.”
“Lydia is not exactly a perfect witness,” said Elizabeth, who was biding her time before attempting a serious conversation with that sister, “and from what I understand, much of what she has told you is hearsay.”
“True, but as Mrs. Smith is dead,
Lydia’s statement may be allowed. Your sister’s information is also leading us into directions which will enable the discovery of additional and better evidence,” said Mr. Philips. He held up a letter from Newcastle. “She has even persuaded her husband to testify.”
“Wickham is also not an exemplary witness,” Mr. Darcy remarked.
“If men were perfect, then there would be no need for trials, and far less need for attorneys,” remarked Mr. Philips. He said that he could understand that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were not anticipating this trial with any pleasure, but he hoped that it would at least give them an interesting memory.
But there was no trial, for two days later, Mr. Clarke was found dead in his cell. On the previous day, he had received a visit from his friend, young Mr. Jones. Mr. Clarke had asked Mr. Jones to detail the evidence against him, which was bleak and strong (the conversation being overheard by the jailer). Mr. Clarke also said that he preferred to take poison in order to avoid the shame and pain of being hung. The young apothecary denied giving Mr. Clarke any additional belladonna, but said that if Mr. Clarke had had only a few leaves or a portion of the even deadlier root with him, he could have easily taken his own life.
CHAPTER XLIX
Many in Meryton experienced relief when they learned of the suicide of Mr. Clarke. His death meant that there could be no trial, and several had not wished to have their histories exposed.
The members of the Clarke family were sorry about his death, but as his guilt as a forger and a murderer seemed certain beyond a reasonable doubt, it was considerate of Henry to take his life rather than to wait for a public execution. Mr. Darcy was glad that Elizabeth was spared having to testify. Mr. Philips was grateful that his negligence in not making a more thorough review of Henry Clarke’s references would not be revealed to all of Meryton, which would surely do his practice no good.
Some of the locals were less satisfied. Mrs. Philips, echoing her husband, said she was pleased, but a note of regret remained in her voice because the trial might have been interesting. Others were more openly sorry about the loss of the spectacle.
A few had reactions that were decidedly mixed. Mr. Bingley was glad that he would not have to testify and exhibit his weakness to the world. On the other hand, Clarke’s death meant that the retrieval of his money was less likely, and Bingley’s hope to purchase Rushburn seemed impossible. Bingley alternated between utter happiness as he spent time with Jane and their new daughter and angry frustration as he received a letter from the estate agent, asking if he were still interested in the purchase that he could no longer afford.
The hunt for the missing money continued. Mr. Clarke’s premises and Mrs. Smith’s rooms were searched repeatedly. Mr. Gardiner arranged to examine Mrs. Smith’s (Younge’s) lodgings in Edward Street, but the exercise yielded nothing of particular value.
Young Mr. Jones seemed the most downcast. He stayed in the shop, mixing potions and dealing with customers, for his father said he was too dejected and too distracted to visit patients. In addition to the loss of and betrayal by his great friend, some wondered if he had given belladonna to Mr. Clarke when visiting him in prison the day before he died. Young Mr. Jones was so despondent, that some claimed that it was impossible; he would have never abetted the death of Mr. Clarke – while others said that his ashen face and shaking hands were signs of a guilty conscience.
Mr. Henry Clarke was buried on the north side of the church.
Elizabeth decided to have a serious discussion with Lydia. She first approached her father about it, and asked him if he had spoken to Lydia about her behavior, as Mrs. Wickham had obviously known something about, and could have been involved in, the recent events.
“I have not,” Mr. Bennet admitted. “Mr. Philips requested that we do everything possible not to upset Lydia, as her cooperation was necessary for the trial. Of course, now there will be no trial, but since the death of Mr. Clarke I have not been able to create an opportunity. She is always either with her mother or at her aunt Philips’s. I confess I could have made more of an effort, but she is an energetic young woman, and I am too old to hobble after her.”
“Do you have any objection to my speaking with her?”
None at all. He was their father, but they were both married women, and in consequence, adults.
So with the cooperation of her sisters, Elizabeth arranged the conversation at Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet had come with her three younger daughters to visit Jane and the baby. Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughter were admiring little Jenny when Elizabeth called to Lydia and said she wished to speak with her in private.
Lydia consented and accompanied Elizabeth to a room where she had arranged for cake and tea. “Lord! Our niece is adorable, is she not? It almost makes me wish that I had a child of my own. But Wickham thinks it is too soon, that a baby would interfere with our amusement. Still, I was the first married; I should have been the first mother.”
“I am not certain that that is the best reason for becoming a mother,” said Elizabeth.
“Then what is? When will you have a child?”
“That is between me and Darcy,” said Elizabeth, feeling her cheeks redden.
“Lizzy, you are blushing! We are sisters, and we are both married women; we can certainly talk about such things! And having a child need not interfere with your amusement at all; if you like, you can hire a dozen nursery maids.” Lydia reached over and inspected Elizabeth’s sleeve. “I must say, Lizzy, you have some very fine clothing.”
“You are dressed well yourself,” said Elizabeth, for Lydia wore a very pretty muslin. “Was this a present from my aunt Gardiner?”
“No, Lizzy, it is not; I paid for it myself. You know that Papa gives me an allowance.”
Elizabeth did know that their father gave Lydia an allowance, but she also knew how much and she was familiar with Lydia’s spending habits. She did not see how Lydia could have afforded the gown. “How do you know so much about Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Younge?”
“If you are planning to preach at me, you can stop right now. You cannot make me talk more than I already have.”
“I believe that I can,” said Elizabeth. “I will give you one pound if you hear me out and answer my questions as well as you can.”
Lydia first frowned, and then she relaxed and laughed. “Very well! But make it two pounds and you are not allowed to preach or to scold.”
Elizabeth agreed to the terms, then began. “Several weeks ago, I wrote you a long letter. What did you do with my letter? Did you give it away?”
“No,” said Lydia.
This was not the answer that Elizabeth expected. “Then how did Mr. Clarke acquire a sample of my handwriting?”
“I did not give away your letter, Lizzy – I sold it! For a hundred pounds!” Lydia laughed. “I wish I had a mirror to show you the look on your face – I have never seen you appear so astonished. Now the expression is gone – you are full of disapproval. That is how I bought this gown, by selling a letter of yours. I only wish my scribbles were worth so much!”
Elizabeth struggled to keep the anger out of her voice. “And did you know what it was to be used for?”
Lydia shrugged. “It was a hundred pounds, Lizzy!”
“Did you give away – or rather sell – correspondence of Bingley’s?”
“I think Wickham did that while we were here.”
Again Elizabeth struggled to keep her countenance, for she had other questions to ask. “What about Miss King?”
“Wickham had several letters from her when they were planning an engagement. He sold them.”
“So she was also victim of extortion,” concluded Elizabeth. “Lydia, how many lives have you harmed? Miss King and Mr. Collins are dead!”
“You promised you would not scold,” said Lydia, “and you did not like Miss King or Mr. Collins yourself, Lizzy. Besides, I did not kill them and I did not extort any money. I only sold one letter, written by you. As you sent it to me, it was my property. I had the right to
do with it as I liked.”
“Legally, perhaps, but not morally,” said Elizabeth. “What about your friend, Mrs. Younge?”
“I am sorry about her, and so is Wickham; that is why I am helping you.”
For a price, thought Elizabeth. “Did you know what would happen with those letters? How they would be used? How they have affected people, and are still affecting people? Including Bingley and Jane?”
Lydia waved at the rich furnishings in the room: the satin covered pillows, the deeply hued fabrics, the elegant screen in the corner. “It is not as if Jane is especially unhappy. She has all she needs and more. And what did Bingley do to deserve all his money? He inherited it.”
“It was legally his, Lydia.”
“Legally, perhaps, but not morally,” retorted Lydia, echoing Elizabeth’s own words. “Bingley did not earn his money, and if he does not have the sense to keep it, why is that my problem? As for you, Lizzy, what have you done to earn your fortune? You just married a rich man. Perhaps if he were disagreeable, one could say that you had earned it, but everyone says that Darcy treats you as if you were a queen.”
Elizabeth was taken aback at such sophisticated reasoning – especially at hearing it from her youngest sister.
Lydia continued. “And what did Darcy do to earn his fortune? Nothing! He inherited it, just because his father was rich. Why should some inherit money and others not? Have you ever thought it was fair that Mr. Collins should inherit Longbourn? Just because he was male and we have no brothers?”
Elizabeth had heard her mother’s complaints about the entailment of Longbourn on Mr. Collins all her life. Repetition, perhaps, had made her empathize, and so she rather agreed with Lydia’s position on the entailment – but did her sister’s notions have any merit with respect to the inheritances of Bingley and Darcy? And then she realized how Lydia had developed such peculiar ideas: from listening to Wickham, who had always resented the fact that Darcy’s father was rich while his own had been poor.
The Meryton Murders Page 27