The Phantom of Pemberley

by Regina Jeffers

  Lydia flushed with the notice.“I came into the house and asked Mrs. Jennings to provide us refreshments,” she admitted.

  “Did you touch the service, ma’am?” the magistrate continued.

  Lydia started to respond, but then she paused with a frown. “If you mean, did I pour the drinks, the answer is no, Sir Phillip.” She saw the viscount’s head snap up in surprise. “It is true,Your Lordship,” she avowed. “I have thought long and hard on your accusations regarding my opportunities for poisoning the lady’s drink, but I was not the first person in this room that day.”

  Adam Lawrence demanded, “Then who was, pray tell? It was you, Mrs. Wickham, who ordered the drinks’ preparation from Darcy’s staff, and you were partaking of the hot liquid when the rest of us entered the room.”

  Lydia bristled with the renewal of his accusatory tone, but she did not retreat from his charges. “Mrs. Williams was sitting by the hearth when I arrived in the room,” Lydia asserted.

  “That is impossible,” Worth remarked. “Mrs. Williams entered with the rest of us.”

  “Yes, and entered the storeroom off the kitchen with the rest of us so that we could rid ourselves of our snow-soaked outerwear,” Stafford clarified.

  Anne sat forward, feeling a twinge of discomfort with her thoughts. “Yet, Mrs. Williams was the first in and the first out that afternoon. Mrs. Darcy left at the same time, but she stopped to give orders to her staff to tend to our wet clothes. Miss Darcy, Mildred, and I sought a withdrawing room before we came in here that day.”

  “You are correct, Miss de Bourgh,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Mrs. Williams and I did walk this way together, but I tarried to speak to Mr. Baldwin.”

  “Then I am now accused,” Mrs. Williams charged, “of a deed most foul?”

  “Blame is not this inquiry’s purpose, I assure you, ma’am; I simply wish to know the facts. For all I know, the late Mrs. Jenkinson may have willingly partaken of the arsenic as part of a beauty regime.”

  The woman protested, “Well, I never!”

  The baronet pressed the point. “Never what, madam? Never entered this room before the others? Never planned to hurt Mrs. Jenkinson? Never held knowledge of the potency of the powder? Never liked the lady?”

  “How could anyone not like Mildred?” Anne disputed.

  “The lady was of the first cut,”Worth added his evaluation.

  “Never expected to face such censure,” Mrs. Williams snapped, not liking the implications.

  Darcy glanced uneasily from Mrs. Williams to Sir Phillip. “Would you mind answering the baronet’s question, ma’am?”

  The lady glowered at Darcy. “I thought I just did.”

  “No, madam, you have not.” A shocked silence filled the room.

  Mrs. Williams’s face looked thunderous. “I was the first one in the room,” she hissed.

  “And when I accused Mrs. Wickham before of having the opportunity of performing a ‘deed most foul,’ as you so kindly put it, why did you not correct my misinformation?” Adam Lawrence charged. “Why did you not assume the truth then?”

  “How was I to know whether Mrs. Wickham wanted to hurt Mrs. Jenkinson? She was the first to the house and the first to be around the refreshments that afternoon. Possibly the young lady might choose to place the culpability in my lap. Who might the Darcys believe? Their own sister or a complete stranger? I kept quiet to protect myself.Who could fault me for that?”

  “And what do you know of arsenic?” Stafford continued.

  The widow looked trapped. “No more than any other well-trained lady.”

  Anne shivered, her mood somber as a tomb. “And Mildred—what did you think of my companion?” She brushed away the tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

  Mrs. Williams choked back her anger. “I barely knew Mrs. Jenkinson ; I had no opinion one way or the other.”

  She thought she might end the conversation there, but Lydia asked, a hint of betrayal playing through her voice,“Was it you, Mrs. Williams, who arranged the cups in the pattern on the serving tray?”

  “Again, I am unaware of what you speak!”The woman’s expression grew mutinous.

  Georgiana ventured a comment, encouraged by the close proximity of her cousin.“In rows—three, then two, then three, and one alone. The one alone was the one over which my sister and Mrs. Jenkinson dickered.”

  Mrs.Williams rose to her feet. “I do not need to stay and listen to this!”

  Sir Phillip’s calm voice stayed her. “I am afraid you do, madam. Please return to your chair.”

  Her face grew cold. “As you wish.” The lady resentfully sat once more.

  “Now tell us, Mrs. Williams, if you arranged the cups on the service tray.”

  She gritted her teeth, tightening her jaw. “I did, sir.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “For no purpose, sir, except that I am the widow of a man who spent his life in the military—a man who preferred things orderly—in rows and perfectly spaced—an old habit.”

  Lord Stafford appeared unconvinced. “Why did you not say so without the baronet’s prompting?”

  “I am a very private woman,Your Lordship. I recognized how my perversion might appear to the rest of you.”

  “Then the last cup—the one from which Mrs. Jenkinson drank—was purely a matter of Fate?” Sir Phillip inquired.

  Mrs. Williams raised her chin in defiance. “Even I could have chosen that cup. It could have been any of us in this room, including me.”

  A long silence followed as each of them considered what the lady had said. Finally, Mr. Worth broke the quiet. “I ask again: Did you disapprove of Mrs. Jenkinson?”

  The widow looked uncomfortable—every eye in the room surveyed her demeanor. “I thought the lady could have shown more restraint,” she declared with some emphasis on the last word.

  “Would you explain what you mean by ‘restraint,’ ma’am?” Sir Phillip asked quickly.

  Mrs. Williams sat up straighter, throwing her shoulders back—stiff and proper—unbending in her righteousness. “Mrs. Jenkinson held a position where her actions should be of an exemplary nature, but she set a poor example.”

  “Mildred Jenkinson was a woman of the first ilk,” Anne defensively charged. “When I was at my lowest, she tended to my needs in lieu of her own. Her last thoughts were of my well-being.”

  “I agree, Miss de Bourgh,”Worth expressed wholeheartedly.

  Mrs. Williams nearly snarled, “Of course, you would say so, sir. You shared intimacies with Mrs. Jenkinson.”

  “The lady and I spoke of her late husband—a man renowned for his diplomacy.”

  The starchily virtuous woman straightened an imaginary seam on her dress. “A man’s greatness does not define his wife. Mr. Jenkinson’s reputation does not expunge that of Mrs. Jenkinson’s.”

  Darcy’s cold voice penetrated the tension filling the room. He blamed himself for not asking the obvious questions and for allowing this creature to enter his household. “Beware, Mrs. Williams. The same might be said of you and the admiral.”

  At first, the lady appeared to want to offer a protest, but then a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “For once, Mr. Darcy, we are in accord.”

  “Might we leave Mrs. Jenkinson’s case for a few minutes?” Sir Phillip interrupted.“Do any of you have insights into the deaths of either Mr. Darcy’s footman or the maid?”When a silence ensued, he clarified, “Even if you believe your thoughts without merit, please do not withhold them. Often, a minor detail is the one which turns the screw.”

  Lady Catherine cleared her throat. “Darcy, far be it of me to speak poorly of my niece, but I thought it odd that the footman’s death followed the disclosure of someone having invaded Georgiana’s room.”

  “I am aware of Miss Darcy’s nightmare,” Sir Phillip noted, “but do you believe,Your Ladyship, that there was more to the story?”

  Lady Catherine shifted to face him.“My niece cried out in fear; my daughter and I ru
shed to her side, but my nephew and his wife assured us it was no more than a nightmare. Then later my niece disclosed to this group in a similar meeting what she believed she heard a voice repeat in her room.”

  “Then you consider the possibility the voice belonged to Lawson, the footman,” the baronet said, looking very ill at ease. He realized the implications would infuriate Darcy.

  As expected, Darcy intervened, refusing to allow his sister to be portrayed in a poor light. He looked positively murderous, and several of the others automatically shrank back in response. “Miss Darcy has admitted what she heard, and she has addressed how she met secretly with the young man, teaching him to read. I do not believe there is a connection between the two, despite my aunt’s suspicions.” He thought he could easily strangle his mother’s sister at the moment and enjoy every second of it.The woman purposely tried to deflect the attention from Anne, a culprit in this mess, and send the attention toward Georgiana. Well, she would pay for this betrayal. His good opinion once lost was lost for good.

  “Why not?” Worth ventured, ignoring Darcy’s look of contempt. “I mean, none of us are beyond scrutiny.”

  “Might I, Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana ventured, her lower lip trembling. The colonel lightly touched her arm, and the girl sucked in a deep breath. “It could not have been Lawson because the night the intruder entered my room, Lawson was in Dove Dale for his sister’s wedding. Do you not remember, Elizabeth? You gave Lawson permission to borrow one of the horses so he could ride to the neighboring village; otherwise, he might have missed the ceremony. He attended the wedding and then returned the next day, after spending the night with his mother. It was the family’s first time together following his father’s passing.”

  “Yes, he brought us both a piece of the bridal cake from the breakfast. I remember now that you say it. His mother insisted because of our kindness to her son.” Elizabeth looked at the group, silently daring any of them to dispute what she said. “Like my husband, I am assured the ‘ghost’ my sister heard in her room was not Lawson.The boy’s death resulted from his coming upon our intruder at an inopportune time. No one will convince me otherwise.”

  “Mrs. Darcy holds the theory that the boy’s death was staged to appear a suicide.We are aware that Lawson could not have written the note left behind and how the windows did not lend themselves well to such a use. My wife has expressed her opinions previously to that behalf,” Darcy said, summing up the discussion in his authoritative tone.

  Sir Phillip judiciously moved on to another topic.“The maid—Lucinda Dodd—she had a confrontation with Mrs. Darcy’s sister. We assumed she was the one to destroy Mrs. Wickham’s belongings. The question remains, why did someone kill Miss Dodd?”

  “It seems logical to me, Sir Phillip,” Elizabeth spoke first, “that, like Lawson, Lucinda must have surprised the intruder.”

  Lady Catherine snarled, “Is it not possible that Mrs. Wickham exacted her revenge on the maid? She was overheard reprimanding your servant, Darcy.”

  “If we accused every man or woman of murder who has spoken harshly to the help, most of English aristocracy would stand accused, including you, Aunt.” Darcy defended Elizabeth more than he did Lydia Wickham. His aunt still clung to her old ways, and he feared he would once again have to sever ties with her. Besides, her defection from Georgiana brought his own personal censure.

  Her Ladyship snorted her disgust, but she refused to force Darcy’s hand any further.

  “As Mrs.Wickham is nearly a head shorter and more than two stone lighter than the maid, it is not likely that she could first, overpower the woman, or, second, carry the body so far away from the house,” Stafford pointed out.

  Cathleen Donnel asked, “Is not Lucinda the maid who claimed to have had several flirtatious conversations with your unknown footman, Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy observed her evenly. “You are correct, Miss Donnel. I do not believe any of us had made that connection before now.”

  “Then if I understand what we have said here today,” Sir Phillip made some quick scratches on the paper, “Mrs. Jenkinson’s passing appears more calculated than the other two, which seem more opportunistic.”

  “And Harwood?” the colonel asked into the silent room.

  Cathleen Donnel glanced furtively about the room. “Where is Lieutenant Harwood? I expected him to be here.”

  “There are a few facts about the lieutenant of which I would like each of you to be aware,” Darcy took up the tale; yet, he did not answer Miss Donnel’s question.“The lieutenant has misrepresented himself to my family and to me.”

  “How so, Mr. Darcy?” Cathleen asked innocently. Despite Adam’s warning, she saw the man’s goodness.

  “Initially, when Harwood called at Pemberley, I expressed my surprise at his being able to travel in such inclement weather. The lieutenant assured me that Derby had received the storm’s force. In reality, it was the reverse: Cheshire took the hardest hit. I am positive of my words’ truth because the colonel came from Matlock today, and although the roads were muddy—”

  “And miserable,” Edward interjected.

  “And miserable,” Darcy continued, “traffic to the east has resumed. Roads headed north or west are still impassable.”

  Anne found her voice. “Why would Lieutenant Harwood lie?”

  “Why the lieutenant offered a prevarication I will explain momentarily,” he assured everyone. “When the viscount and I began our investigation, we found an unusual muddy pattern on the tree trunk closest to the tenant cottages, where my sister had seen the phantom stranger.”

  Lord Stafford stood to fill his glass with brandy. “It was a heel print,” he said casually as he poured the golden brown liquid. “The heel’s shape was irregular—not curved like those most of us wear. We discovered a similarly shaped track near Lucinda’s body and again today.” He returned to his seat. “When Colonel Fitzwilliam tracked in mud and snow on Pemberley’s tiled foyer, we quickly noticed that the mark from the tree and from Mr. Darcy’s floor compared favorably. They both came from a military-issued boot.”

  “That does not prove the lieutenant created the mark.” Mrs. Williams appeared shaken, but she raised her chin defiantly.

  Darcy smiled in perverted amusement. “You are correct, Mrs. Williams; however, Miss Darcy identified Lieutenant Harwood as being the man she had observed.”

  Georgiana explained, “I thought from the beginning that the lieutenant held a familiarity. He did: He wore the same style of dark cloak and hat that I have seen the colonel wear with his uniform, but there was something else. It was his blond hair tied back with the leather string that caused me to make the connection. I am sure you all noticed the lieutenant’s straight blonde hair.”

  “The point I wish to make is that Harwood could know nothing of Cheshire’s roads because he dwelled in Derby before we were beset by the storm. He has been in the area all along,” said Darcy. “I checked with my groomsmen and the gatekeeper, and they report that the lieutenant has been asking questions about this household for several days. He was most interested in the Rosings Park equipage, for example.”

  “That scoundrel!” Lady Catherine declared.

  “I imagine, Aunt, the lieutenant arrived before your journey to Pemberley. Harwood likely escaped Liverpool when you arrived to claim Anne—it is very likely the man paralleled your journey on horseback.”

  Mrs. Williams sniffed in disgust. “You accuse a man when he can make no defense.”

  “That is where you are in error, madam.” Lady Catherine’s autocratic tone brooked no debate.“The lieutenant practiced a deceit upon my daughter—opening my poor, dear Anne to a possible ruination—and then demanded payment for his silence.” Her Ladyship’s desire to keep her family’s good name had gone by the way-side in her need to have the final word.

  Anne felt the embarrassment of her mother’s announcing her daughter’s weakness to the whole room, but the shame of the incident lessened with each retelling; and in a strang
e way, Anne gloried in her own mistakes. They meant she had taken control of her life.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sat forward to draw the room’s attention to him. “I suppose it is time that I share what I know of the lieutenant.” Even Darcy turned to listen. He had his suspicions, but only his cousin knew the truth. “Lieutenant Robert Harwood accompanied me to Kent three months ago. We were to set up an exchange of information post with the British Navy. Being at Dover, it seemed only appropriate that I call upon my aunt, and I often requested Harwood’s company.

  “It took me little time to note the lieutenant’s interest in my cousin. Thinking it but a simple flirtation, I saw nothing of which to object. In fact, observing my cousin’s change of demeanor and her newfound confidence, I purposely looked the other way. Yet, something about Harwood and Anne’s relationship disturbed me, and after my cousin’s trusted companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, sought me out to express similar concerns, I took it upon myself to find out more of the lieutenant’s background.”

  “And what did you discover, Colonel?” Elizabeth encouraged him.

  Mrs. Williams rose quickly to her feet. “I must object, Sir Phillip, to this line of questioning. The officer is not present to defend himself against these acrid accusations. I will not allow anyone to soil the good name of an honorable officer.”

  She made to depart, but Sir Phillip’s words stayed her leaving. “You will remain where you are, madam, or I shall have you detained by my magisterial powers.”