by Glenna Mason
“Fitzwilliam, I have this diamond tiara. I considered wearing it to my reception, but decided it was inappropriate for an afternoon affair.”
“And you left it out of your safe.”
“Yes, and—“
“And it’s missing.”
“How did you know?”
“Know? I didn’t. But, according to clues available, there is apparently a jewel thief—or maybe more than one—on the loose in England.”
“How does that explain the disappearance of my tiara?”
“The thief may be one of our acquaintances or relatives.”
“Really!” Anne and Mason exclaimed simultaneously.
“Why did you call me?’
“I knew you had a similar situation, first with Caroline and then with Eleanor.”
“Caroline,” Darcy said, actually startled at the memory of her name. “She’s been uncommonly reticent ever since the calamity at Netherfield, almost as if she is waiting.”
Darcy hesitated, a little stunned. In all the excitement of the past five months, Caroline Bingley had receded totally from his thoughts. Now she surged forward. His foreboding heightened to warning levels. “I wonder for what circumstance she could be waiting. Such quietude is very unnatural in a person with Caroline’s ruthless personality.”
Noting his suspicion, Anne said, “Caroline wasn’t at Pemberley for New Year’s Eve.”
“No, but she must be seething to have been left out. Charles and Louisa were both included. She spent New Year’s Eve in the cold confines of London—totally alone I imagine,” Darcy said. “That bodes ill for someone.”
“No one stays in London in December,” Mason inserted.
“But how would that relate to my tiara?” Anne asked, confused.
“Oh, I’m thinking of her frame of mind. No telling where it might lead. The theft of the Baroness’s pearls is not certain. I’ve a post on the way to the Baron to clarify the situation. Besides . . . “
“Besides?”
“Besides, there is probably more than one thief in our midst.”
“Oh, I see. Caroline did go upstairs during the reception to refresh,” Anne said.
“Did Lydia Bennet?”
“Why, yes.”
“And Lydia was at the Pemberley ball,” Heyburn said.
“What did your lady’s maid have to say?”
“Josephine is beside herself. She’s afraid I think she took it. I know better.”
“I assume she did not stay in your room during the reception.”
“No. I told her she could relax in her room. It’s my own fault. I left the tiara in plain sight . . . a perfect temptation and a perfect size for a lady’s reticule.”
“And several other ladies went upstairs, Lydia and Caroline notwithstanding,” Mason reviewed.
“The Hurst family has an estate in the North Country. After the Netherfield ball, Caroline was so furious with Charles due to his interpretations of the events—influenced entirely by me I might add—that just about the time I left Netherfield to go to Pemberley, Caroline left to join Louisa in Northumberland.”
“And that interpretation?” Mason inquired.
“That Caroline ransacked her own room and struck herself and her maid, feigning a robbery.”
“Oh, really!” Anne said, appalled.
“The Hursts and Caroline came to Netherfield to be with Charles for Christmas,” Darcy said.
“And the next day they pack Caroline off to the understaffed London townhouse,” Anne guessed.
“While they join the despised Bennet family on their way to her favorite spot on earth: Pemberley,” Mason concluded. “No wonder she is quiet. She’s plotting her revenge on every single one of us.”
“And, just to be fair, Lydia and her Count were house hunting in the North when Caroline was in the region and when Lord Hamilton’s house party was raided.”
“The acquaintance and the relative: Caroline and Lydia,” Anne surmised.
“Exactly.”
“So?” Mason asked, confused.
“So I’m just thinking out loud,” Darcy admitted.
“Are you thinking out loud of the multiple jewels which disappeared at Lord Hamilton’s Northumberland estate?”
“Why, yes, that and the states of minds of certain people and the resulting motivations.”
“Darcy, I must gainsay this interpretation to one extent,” Mason said.
“And that is?”
“Just because Lydia and Count Pierre de Loirre and Caroline Bingley were in the vicinity does not mean Lord Hamilton would include them in a house party on his fine estate.”
“Certainly not.”
“I am sure he has better taste.”
“Probably,” Darcy agreed with a chortle.
“So where are we?” Anne asked.
“Nowhere,” the gentlemen answered.
“I am only juggling ideas, guessing at possibilities. The de Loirres and Caroline should not be deemed guilty of anything, because of my presumptuous prattling.”
“It’s fine, Darcy. One’s tiara can be replaced. One’s reputation cannot. Anne and I apprehend that. We will certainly never say a word to anyone about what we’ve discussed tonight. We’re all just throwing out thoughts.”
“And if Lydia or Caroline or some other guest liked the spur of the moment opportunity to acquire a tiara at my expense, he or she might have done so without having had anything to do with any other thefts,” Anne said.
“True. Thank you for letting me share my concerns with you. I have been having latent presentiments about Lydia and Caroline for months. Now that they are stated aloud, perchance I can let them fly away.”
“Mason,” Anne said, smiling, “we’ve been bearing with my cousin’s premonitions for years.”
“How nice to see into the future.”
“Yes, it might be, I suppose,” Anne admitted, hesitantly. “He is more often right than wrong.”
“Then we’ll put Lydia and Caroline on our beware list, my dear. It never hurts to be safe, rather than sorry.”
“Anne, I am very much afraid that your tiara is gone forever.”
“I know, Cousin.”
“I have to trundle back home now, Mr. and Mrs. Heyburn. Mrs. Darcy is waiting for me,” Darcy said with a smile.
“Thank you for a most enlightening visit,” Heyburn said. “I’ll just walk half way with you, if I may. I’m in the mood for a little fresh air and a shot of exercise.”
“Please.”
Heyburn asked Darcy, as they walked, “What do you truly presume about Lydia and Caroline, Darcy? I know you would not have mentioned them, if you weren’t seriously concerned.”
“And not in any case, except to Anne. We are very close.”
“I’m glad.”
“Lydia, while probably a thief, because she denies herself nothing, is harmless. Her thievery would be inadvertent. I imagine she noticed Anne’s tiara in plain view and gave herself a treat. She probably did the same with Eleanor’s pearls.”
“The Count is reputedly wealthy.”
“Lydia wouldn’t care. She has never been denied anything her whole life. Her attitude is learned and ingrained.”
“Her mother?”
“Yes.”
“And Caroline?”
“I’m fairly certain that Caroline is not a thief,” Darcy stated emphatically.
“So she got her idea for the Netherfield drama because London society, which she adheres to like flies to honey, was alive with tales of jewels going missing about that time,” Mason said.
“And as you may remember, Caroline arrived that night directly from London and its social whirl.”
“A frustrated Bingley, already on edge hosting his first ball, made her mad as soon as she entered the hall,” Mason said.
“He certainly did. He was furious she was there. She was furious that he was furious. A vicious circle. And so my best guess is that as soon as she got to her frumpy room at the back of the
hall, she plotted a scandal to pay him back. She presumed it might even make her the next talk of the ton,” Darcy said.
“Quick thinking on the young lady’s part. She must be the epitome of devious,” Mason said.
“Yes, quite instructive of her character, I’d say,” Darcy added. “She arrives a half hour before the party begins and proceeds to plan and enact a faux robbery and the attack on her maid and herself by the end of the third dance.”
“And even ripped her dress,” Mason quipped. “Most ladies would never dream of destroying a beautiful ball gown.” He laughed.
“Most ladies are not Caroline Bingley,” Darcy said with a scowl.
“No,” Mason answered and, noting Darcy’s chagrin, said, “I’m sorry. It isn’t a laughing matter. She knocked her maid out. That was brutal.”
“The whole scene bordered on mania.”
“Perpetrated by a madwoman.”
“I have this strong sense of foreboding in regards to Caroline.”
“Oh?”
“I fear her dislike of my wife.”
“She dislikes Mrs. Darcy?” Mason said, surprised.
“Not Elizabeth in particular. Caroline hardly knows her. She might dislike any Mrs. Darcy.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Before I met and married Elizabeth, Caroline Bingley was obsessed with me—and even more so with Pemberley. I believe she may still be. In one as deranged as Caroline, that might put Elizabeth in danger.”
“I see that it might. She is certainly unstable.”
“I’ve seen proof of it only in my mind’s eye, so I’m not sure.”
“Anne says you are very prescient.”
“Yes, I am. It is not as you indicated, a gift that anyone would want, by the way.”
“So?’
“So we all have to be vigilant, but, at the same time bear in mind, that my apprehensions may be the imaginings of a man who’s in love.”
“Yes. I agree. We’ll help you observe.” Mason held out his hand. Darcy shook it.
“I’m pleased you married Anne, Heyburn. You rescued her from a dreary life. She is finally alive.”
“I can’t wait to meet my mother-in-law,” Mason joshed.
“Yes, you can.” Darcy kidded back. “Speaking of scary ladies, there is one supreme example,” he added.
Tipping his hat, Darcy said, “To scary ladies everywhere.”
They parted for their homes, shoulders shaking in glee.
Darcy arrived home regenerated. “What a couple!”
*****
A week later a letter arrived from the Baron. It read:
Dear Darcy:
Sorry to miss your wedding. Eleanor and I are still in the country. Neither of us is interested in the Season this year.
As to your inquiry, Eleanor remembered that she never put the pearls on. She didn’t wear them to the house, because they get entangled with the catches on her wrap. She meant to put them on after our arrival, but forgot and left them upstairs in her reticule. And, yes, Darcy, they were gone, not from her neck, but from her purse. Sorry for the unfortunate news. My best to your lovely bride.
Geoffrey, Baron of Whitlock
“Lydia, no doubt,” Darcy said to himself. “Geoffrey was just trying to assuage my guilt, when he hinted Eleanor was forgetful. I hope not too many heard him.”
Just then a knock sounded on his study door. “Enter.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam peeked around the frame. Darcy rose. “The honeymooner! Are you back to work?” Darcy asked, noticing that his cousin was in his full regimentals.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were going to resign.”
“Not yet. Kitty likes men in uniform. However, after our honeymoon at our new estate, Asbrey Park, she’s definitely relenting.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, a few more visits to the country and the Regent can replace me with Wickham.” They both grinned.
“Speaking of George, He sent me a beautiful coral statue for our wedding,” Darcy said.
“We got one too, a mermaid.”
“Ours was Neptune.”
“The influence of his assignment near the coast,” Richard said, laughing.
“He seems to be adjusting well to his new status as gentleman soldier,” Darcy said.
“I’ve received sterling reports. Apparently Wickham has given up gambling and carousing.”
“But not the occasional drink I presume.”
“Well, no. Would you?”
“Of course not. Speaking of which, it is now four o’clock and I have this whiskey—imported of course.”
“Scotland?”
“No.”
“Ireland?”
“No.”
“Where then?”
“Kentucky—Bourbon whiskey. Brand new stock.”
“I’m excited. Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
A drink and a half later, the colonel said, “Smooth.”
Darcy concurred, “Oh, so smooth.”
The other half of the drink consumed, the colonel said, “I’d better go, while I can still climb on my horse.”
“98 proof.”
“Tell that to Gypsy Dancer, when I try to mount her.”
“Before you go, please peruse the Baron’s letter,” Darcy requested, handing it to Richard.
Richard read it over, not once but twice. “Lydia,” he said.
“Exactly what I surmised.”
“Mother gave Kitty some family rubies and a string of pearls after our wedding.”
“Warn her.”
“I’d better. She knows Lydia better than anyone of course.”
“Still—“
“Yes.”
May
London
Jane came rushing through her front door. “We’re back,” she shouted. Bingley came close behind with an armload of gifts.
Caroline, barely covering her sneer with her fan, stepped from the music room, greeting, “Welcome home.”
“Come to the front parlor, Caroline. We’ve a souvenir for you,” Jane said.
“Yes,” Bingley seconded, “somewhere.”
“Here, darling, let me help you,” Jane said, grabbing two bundles about to fall from his arms.
Once in the parlor, Bingley did let the packages fall to the floor at his feet in a disorganized fashion. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I—“
“Don’t worry, Charles. Did you have a good time?”
“Did we ever! Viscount Miles is a stupendous guide. He’s been to the Alps before.”
“Charles, I’m going to ride Bella down to the Darcys to tell Elizabeth we’re back. I won’t be long.”
“Fine. I’ll try to sort the presents while you’re gone.”
Knowing this was a hopeless endeavor, Jane said, “Or come with me, if you prefer.”
A broad smile brightened Charles’ face. “Yes, I shall.”
The two linked arms and headed for the stables, leaving Caroline standing alone amid the boxes. Storming from the room, Caroline slammed the door. Within minutes loud, cacophonous chords filled the entire townhouse. Caroline’s fury was out of control.
Meanwhile at Darcy House, the Bingleys and the Darcys enjoyed hugs and handshakes, before retiring to the study for an exciting recounting of the tour to the Swiss Alps.
“Lizzy, guess what?”
“Ah, you skied downhill?”
“No, actually I never even learned to stand up very well on skis.”
“Then my guess is you sledded downhill.”
“Yes, but that’s not my surprise. Charles and I are moving to Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth sprang from her seat, joy effusing her face. “My next guess,” she joked, pulling Jane from the arm chair and squeezing her hard. Darcy and Bingley naturally stood and happily smiled.
They all sat back down. “Tell us.”
“Mary and the Viscount convinced us. They live in Derbyshire. You two Darcys live in Derbyshire, as doe
s Georgiana. Richard and Kitty will live in Derbyshire. We want to be where our family is.”
“I am so pleased,” Elizabeth said, beaming.
“As am I,” Darcy added.
“And Mama lives in Hertfordshire.”
“She does, and Netherfield is in Hertfordshire.”
“Exactly.”
“And Lydia lives in Northumberland,” Jane reminded them.
“And Aunt Catherine lives in Kent,” Darcy said, laughing.
“As does our cousin, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth smirked.
“And Papa will always be in Derbyshire, sitting in Pemberley’s library. So . . . “
“So Derbyshire, here you come.”
“Elizabeth and I were just waiting for your return to go home. Come with us. We’ll begin the hunt.”
“I’ve always loved the hunt,” Bingley quipped. “We will scale down the townhouse and the Netherfield staff and join you at Pemberley in—“
“Two weeks,” Jane insisted. “I want to find an estate and move this summer.”
“And Caroline?” Darcy queried, suddenly not as excited about this turn of events.
“She can take her pick for the summer: London or Hertfordshire. Caroline doesn’t need a staff of twenty.”
“She won’t move to Derbyshire, will she?” Darcy asked, cautiously.
Bingley glanced at Jane, who inadvertently flinched at the suggestion. “No. We’ll keep enough staff for her comfort in London on an ongoing basis. I’ll let Netherfield go when the lease is up in October. If she prefers to stay there until then, she may.”
“Good.”
“Caroline generally lives with Louisa and Gilbert in the summer and winter months and with me in spring and autumn. Since we will not be in the same house with her this summer, I am going to give Louisa and Gilbert a little gift. Caroline will spend this summer with me. But of course she will only be with me until the next two weeks are up. Great for everyone, including Caroline. She doesn’t like any of us very much. She only likes her society friends. Maybe they’ll invite her to the country for July and August.”
“Not likely,” Darcy said under his breath, but with a noticeable sigh of relief. He wanted distance between his love and Caroline Bingley.
June
Derbyshire
Darcy and Bingley walked to the top of the peak. “See how spectacular the estate looks from this perspective, Bingley.”