Louisa had given her sister space and time, but now her patience had worn thin. She could not understand why it was destined that one of her two siblings must be so glum. “We shall be going out this morning,” she announced during breakfast. While Caroline was normally the dominate sibling, even she knew better than to refuse on the rare occasion where Louisa asserted herself.
After a few hours spent shopping at a variety of high end stores, the sisters found a quaint café that offered them rest and refreshments. Exhaustion and time had finally caused Caroline’s shell to crack and Louisa pounced on the opportunity hoping to finally discover what it was that had been causing her sister such distress. Sipping tea and sandwiches, the two became immersed in their conversation, forgetting they were in a public setting.
“I just cannot understand what he sees in her,” Caroline said setting her tea cup down with a touch too much force. “I was supposed to have the entire summer to convince him that we are perfect for each other.”
“Is it possible you are not perfect for each other? Yes, he is handsome, rich, and well connected, but do you share any common interests?” Louisa asked, desperately hoping her sister had finally put her childish fantasies behind her.
“Well, I would certainly make a better mistress of Pemberley than Elizabeth Bennet!”
At the table nearest the Bingley sisters sat Mrs. Jenkinson. Mrs. Jenkinson routinely spent one month each year away from Rosings Park to visit her “sister” in London. In truth, Mrs. Jenkinson was an only child, but after a few months spent in the company of Lady Catherine, she decided that she had an older sister whom she adored. Lady Catherine had been close to her own sister, and sympathizing with Mrs. Jenkinson, encouraged normal visits. While her affection for Anne had the ability to cause her guilt over this small deception, Mrs. Jenkinson reasoned that maintaining her sanity would go further to help Miss de Bourgh than her constant companionship could.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s eyes went wide at the mention of Pemberley. It would be impossible for anyone to spend more than a week with the de Bourgh’s and not know of their connection to the estate and to its owner. And the name Elizabeth Bennet — it too seemed familiar. After some thought she remembered her to be the pretty young friend of Mrs. Collins who had visited over Easter. Mrs. Jenkinson would not be described as a gossip, but she did feel it was her duty to inform her employer of something of this magnitude. The family had invited that girl into their home, treated her with the greatest of kindness, and now she wanted to rob Anne of her intended! Caroline Bingley may have been outraged by Miss Elizabeth’s audacity, but Mrs. Jenkinson was livid.
Half a day’s ride away, Elizabeth sat in her bedroom rereading her aunt’s letter. Her father had received word that her sister had been found and was now married. A few days later, Lizzy received the letter she held in her hand identifying Mr. Darcy as the one responsible for finding Mr. Wickham and forcing his union to Lydia. Her gratitude was enormous, and her opinion of the man could not be more different from what it had been during her visit to Hunsford last March. But she knew his feelings toward her must also be vastly changed now that her family’s disgrace was complete.
She had been so distraught by Lydia’s scandal she had given little else any thought. Now that the matter was resolved, she mourned for herself and her loss of possibilities. But between the excitement and exhaustion created by recent events and the bustle of readying Longbourn for Mr. and Mrs. Wickham’s visit, neither she, nor any of the Bennets, had yet ventured into town. She had not, therefore, spoken to Katherine. In fact, none of the Bennets knew that she was a key actor in a scandal so much large than their own it had completely eclipsed news of Lydia’s elopement.
Jane entered their bedroom. “A gentleman by the name of Colonel Fitzwilliam has come to call on you. Katherine Carter is with him.”
Lizzy slipped the letter she had been holding under her pillow. “Did they arrive separately?” She could see no connection between her two friends.
“No. They both arrived in the same coach… one the Bingleys keep at Netherfield,” Jane responded, doing her best to hide her discomfort.
Lizzy was now even more confused. Why would Katherine be spending time at Netherfield?
Lizzy discovered the answer to her questions soon enough. Through tears and hugs, Katherine told her of all she had endured. Lizzy felt ill that she had not known that her friend had been abducted, but Katherine assured her it was not her fault. “There was nothing you could have done, Lizzy. If you had tried to stop him, he would have either killed you or taken you as well. I watched him kill my grandfather, and he then confessed to two additional murders.” At mention of her grandfather’s death, tears began to flow anew.
Since finding Katherine, Richard had kept extra handkerchiefs on hand, one of which he now doled out.
“But had I known, maybe I could have found you,” Lizzy cried.
“You would never have been able to find me in London. It was only through the grace of God, Colonel Fitzwilliam rescued me.”
Lizzy questioned how her friend could face each day, and Katherine told her she could not. She said many days she was filled with anger and resentment. But then, on days like today, she refused to allow herself to be broken by events outside of her control. “I was once told that life is short and I can either use this precious time to be grateful for the beauty God had bestowed on mankind or be consumed with hatred for those who acted in the name of evil. If I allowed those who hurt me to fill my heart with anger even after I have escaped to safety, then they win. They have continued to rob me of the pleasures of life.” Richard cleared his throat, and Katherine remembered the purpose of their visit. “Lizzy, there is something you can do that would mean a great deal to me.”
Lizzy was asked to sketch an image of the man who had abducted Katherine. Once she had finished, Lizzy asked Kitty if she recognized the man. Kitty had spent more time than anyone with the militia and if anyone might know him, it was she.
“He looks like Joshua Smith,” she offered, “But his nose is a bit more narrow.”
Lizzy adjusted the nose, and Katherine visibly shook with fear when she took another look at the sketch.
“It seems you have, once again rendered an accurate portrait, Miss Elizabeth. I doubt the man’s true name is Joshua Smith or that he would reuse this alias. But we will hire minute men to search for him, and they will distribute prints of this picture.”
Lizzy and Kitty were shocked that the colonel would go to such lengths. “Golly, that will cost a fortune!” Kitty gasped.
“The two women he murdered both worked at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley has generously agreed to fund the search,” Colonel Fitzwilliam explained.
To everyone’s surprise, two days later, when the Wickhams arrived and were told the story, George was able to pinpoint exactly where the man could be found. “He never left London,” Wickham explained. “I ran into him, and we had a beer together. We laughed that we had both taken unauthorized leave from the militia. I recommended an affordable boarding house, and I believe you will find him there.”
The news was shared with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who reluctantly admitted that for once George Wickham had done something useful.
∞∞∞
Darcy had just sat down for his mid-day meal when Cedrick approached carrying a letter. “This just arrived, sir. The messenger said it was urgent.”
The writing was unmistakable. It was from Richard. Darcy swiftly broke the seal and scanned the missive. “Cedrick, arrange for a hired carriage. And send word to the constable to go to this address in one hour.” He handed one page of the letter back to his servant and rose from the table, leaving his meal untouched. Midway up the stairs he called, “And Cedrick, please see to it that the driver is given that address as well.”
Half an hour later Darcy stood on a street corner not far from a run-down boarding house waiting. No longer dressed in a crisp waistcoat and expensive jacket, he would be unrecognizable to any but the most
observant. On the opposite side of the street, a fight broke out, but Darcy resisted the urge to intervene. He had a more important purpose tonight and he would not allow himself to be distracted.
The carriage he had occupied earlier pulled up in front of him, and three strong men emerged. “Fitzwilliam Darcy?” one asked.
“Yes,” Darcy replied, “I saw him enter the brick building behind us not ten minutes ago.” Darcy pulled out the sketch Elizabeth had drawn and handed it to the man who had addressed him. “This is the man responsible for three murders.”
∞∞∞
Joshua Smith had decided to stay in London. This year, there had been too many close calls and it would be best to maintain a low profile. For those wishing to hide, no better city could be found than London. And he knew these streets well. Smith had picked up a snack from a vendor in the street, and after settling into a chair, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his handkerchief. He carefully opened it and the scent of fried fish filled the air. As he lifted the morsel to his mouth, his front door burst open. Shock was quickly replaced with fear. He tried to get up, to run, but they were too fast and there were too many. “You Heed’s men?” He stammered. “Please, don’t hurt me. I have the money.”
The men laughed and one threw a black bag over Smith’s head. “We ain’t hired by Heed and we ain’t constables neither.” Smith was lifted from his chair and with arms pinned behind his back he was pushed forward. Panic set in. Joshua could feel the sweat sting his eyes. Why had they covered his head? What were they going to do?
“The constable will be here in twenty minutes,” Darcy told the men. “Be sure whatever is left of him is delivered to the corner where you met me before then.” Darcy left the room and returned to his waiting coach. He climbed inside and tapped the roof. As the coach pulled away, he prayed he would never again have need to see this street.
∞∞∞
When news of the arrest reached Meryton, Lydia was so pleased and told anyone who would listen that her husband was a hero responsible for the apprehension of a murderer. After the Wickhams left Hertfordshire, Mrs. Bennet proudly continued to tout her son’s heroic feat.
No one seemed to mind that Wickham was given credit for the capture of the man calling himself Joshua Smith. They were just grateful Smith was safely dangling from a noose. Except for Elizabeth. Her concern and focus remained fixed on Katherine Carter. She never doubted her friend’s strength, but she did believe that the burden she was carrying was too much for one person to bear.
A few weeks later, Lizzy found the chance to have the conversation she had felt was needed. “Katherine?” Lizzy stepped off the path into the field in which Miss Carter stood. She had seen her friend wander down a path after church and had followed to ask how she was feeling.
Katherine was standing in a field with her head tilted to the sun, basking in the warmth that hit her face. Katherine opened her eyes and looked at Elizabeth. “Goodness Miss Elizabeth , you were so quiet I did not even hear you.” Lizzy’s smile put her at ease. “Did you enjoy the sermon?”
“Yes. Very much.” Lizzy could not help but notice that Thomas Penn, who sat a few pews in front of her, had been stealing glances at Katherine for several weeks now. The light atmosphere emboldened her to mention her observations. “Mr. Penn was in church, and I have noticed, he appears more than a little distracted these days.”
Katherine blushed. She had known the boy was growing sweet on her, but a wash of emotions kept her from considering even the idea of a beau. “He is a friend, and I have told him he will become nothing more.”
Elizabeth saw her friend grow tense and regretted bringing up such a topic so soon after Katherine’s horrible experiences. “I am so sorry…”
“No,” Katherine cut her off, “You need not be sorry. It is I who must live with my guilt and shame.”
Lizzy was dumbstruck. Without conscious thought, she took Katherine’s hands in her own. “You have nothing to be guilty or ashamed of.” Before she could say more, Katherine burst into tears and Lizzy held her. The two girls spent the next several hours talking and crying together and many months later, it would be those moments that Katherine Carter would credit for beginning her on the road to recovery.
Chapter 32
After her return to Meryton, Katherine could not walk down the street which housed her grandfather’s shop without fear. The memory was still too fresh. She believed that someday she would be able to conquer the tragedy that had befallen her, but witnessing her grandfather’s murder would haunt her forever. Miss White had spoken of the Thomases, and they had agreed to allow Katherine to stay in the servants’ quarters. The Thomases were not as well-off as they had once been, so many of the rooms in that wing of the house had gone unoccupied for some time. Katherine had not decided yet what she planned to do next with her life, but she was certain she would be giving up the business her grandfather had started. She would think about her future someday, but for now, she found pleasure in helping Angela in the kitchen and taking long walks in the woods.
Today was Angela White’s day off, and she was going to visit Netherfield. Mrs. White’s friendship with Mrs. Butler and her overall fondness for the place made this her customary stop on days off. Katherine had heard the rumors Mr. Bingley had returned last Thursday, and she asked to join her friend in order to thank him for all of his assistance. When they reached the servant’s entrance, both women were greeted by a very excited and busy Mrs. Butler.
“Thank God, you are both here!” she said pulling the women into the kitchen and grabbing some aprons that hung off hooks on the wall. “Two weeks ago, the master returned without warning, and this time he brought that friend of his with him. I need help.”
Katherine’s eyes grew wide, and Angela looked incredulous. “This is very different from what I heard. The gossip in town says he sent notice and arrived Thursday. If they had been here all along, someone would have seen it. News in this town is like air. It cannot be contained.” Both women put on the aprons, and Mrs. Butler pointed over to the wash basin.
“It can and it was. Mr. Bingley spent a fortnight here at Easter, and no one knew of it except me. I do not abide by gossip, unless it is needed, and if he just stays indoors the whole time, there is no reason anyone would find out. I started the rumor he sent word and would be here to shoot come Wednesday or Thursday.” Katherine was drying her hands when Mrs. Butler thrust a bundle of twigs into her hand and pointed to the bowl of cream she had just poured.
“You started the rumor? Did you not just say you would never abide by such a thing?” Katherine asked. She then walked over and began whipping the cream
“I said I would not abide unless it were necessary. Those two young men had been hemming and hawing for days about paying a visit to Longbourn. They needed a gentle push. I finally decided to give them a deadline.” She grabbed a hold of Angela and pointed at the knives, “I thought he would feel it was rude not to call on neighbors after such a long absence. I never suspected he would wait so long after I told him the villagers were talking. He knows they all believe he arrived on Thursday, yet he has waited three whole days and has still not called.” Mrs. Butler shifted through a drawer, “Where is that recipe card?”
“Three days have not yet passed. The day is still young. They may pay their visit yet,” Katherine offered as she discarded the twigs and went to the hearth. She added two logs to the oven.
“What is so frightening about the Bennets?” Mrs. White asked, dicing vegetables. “Has he heard the speculation about his attachment to Miss Bennet, and he fears adding fuel to the fire?” Katherine smirked at her friend’s silly pun.
“Speculation is rarely true, but in this case, I think he is completely besotted.” Mrs. Butler closed the drawer in frustration. “Do either of you know how to make bread?”
Katherine stood up and caught Angela’s eye. Angela pointed to a sealed barrel but managed the movement so swiftly, the rhythm of her cutting remained unchanged. “Is
the friend Mr. Bingley brought with him Mr. Darcy?” Katherine asked opening the barrel and locating the bag of flour. Lizzy had confessed her sorted history with the man, and Katherine had guessed her feelings toward him had grown into something more than admiration. She had prayed nightly that his regard had remained intact.
“It’s the same fella that was here last summer. The one Miss Bingley was chasing after.”
Mrs. White and Katherine looked to each other. Mrs. Butler would never have said such a thing about her mistress intentionally. The acknowledgment of Miss Bingley’s pursuit did succeed in identifying Mr. Darcy as the friend in question, but it also signified Mrs. Butler was under a great deal of stress.
Mrs. White went to the cabinet and took out two bowls. “Is everything alright?”
Mrs. Butler collapsed into a chair. “The Bingleys let half the staff go, and as soon as the colonel left, Mr. Bingley arrives and brings a friend with him. I have heard them talking, and I think he means to return full time. I don’t know how to cook! The colonel would go into town for his meals, but Mr. Bingley and his guest seem reluctant to leave the house. I can hardly keep up with the housekeeping. If they plan to stay, how can I be expected to add cooking? I have served every cold dish known to man. I’m at a loss!”
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