by Jennifer Joy
She would hide her discomfort with humor as she always did. With a shrug and a smile, she opened her eyes and said, "What? It is a fine name. And how fortunate you should bring a lamp with you, Colonel. Your presence will make our search much easier without having to worry about propriety."
William glared at his cousin, who would say what he wished despite William's threatening looks.
Colonel Fitzwilliam chortled. "It did not appear to me that either of you were overly concerned about propriety, but I am happy to be of service all the same."
Elizabeth's face burned, but she kept her smile intact. Of what use was humor if she could not laugh at herself? Indeed, had the colonel not given her an excuse to smile, she feared she would have grinned like a fool anyway. William had almost kissed her. What was worse — she had wanted him to. More than she had ever wanted anything before in her life, she had wanted him to kiss her.
She turned, occupying herself by removing cushions from a nearby settee and ensuring nothing out of place was tucked behind them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, "For what are we searching?"
William answered, "Anything out of place," at the same time she did. Awkward. She turned back to the settee before the grin overtook her face again.
Focus, Elizabeth, focus!
She set the last cushion down and stood erect. Unless she found an empty poison bottle, she was wasting her time with the furniture. "It had to have been some sort of poison," she said, adding, "There would have been blood with a knife, we would have heard a pistol shot, there would have been bruises around her neck had she been strangled… Unless someone managed to enter her room and smother her with a pillow—" She stopped herself, the images in her mind too grotesque to continue.
The colonel said, "I see someone enjoys reading gothic novels. I will attempt to discern if Aunt Catherine saw any marks on Anne which might serve as a clue. She prepared the body and would have noticed anything out of the ordinary."
William rubbed his fingers over his chin. "That would mean that whoever killed Anne is someone who resides in the house. Someone with access to this room."
Elizabeth sighed. "With as many servants as her ladyship employs, that does not do much to limit our list of suspects."
"A list with only two names on it so far as Aunt Catherine is concerned, both of whom I am confident are innocent," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, folding his arms and scowling into a dark corner.
Elizabeth followed his gaze to a small table with a silver tray filled with dark bottles covering the surface beside the bed.
William said, "Could it be so simple?" his eyes fixed on the bottles of tonic.
Elizabeth was already at the table. She counted eight glass bottles with their contents clearly labeled along with the name of the apothecary and his address in London glued to the glass. Most of them were nearly empty with the exception of one.
William picked up the bottle. It was full.
"Look at this," Elizabeth said, pointing at the tray, then swiping her fingers underneath the bottle to check for moisture. "The silver is stained. Someone spilled liquid on it."
William set the bottle back down and Elizabeth reached for it, pulling the cork out of the top and raising it to her nose to smell.
"Do not drink of it," William said, attempting to remove the bottle from her hands. "We do not know what it contains."
Elizabeth pulled it out of his reach and replaced the cork. Smell alone told her nothing about its contents. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Darcy, but I am not accustomed to drinking unidentified liquids from medicine bottles — especially when I suspect it was used to poison Miss de Bourgh." Her voice carried more bite than she had meant for it to, but there was little she disliked more than having her intelligence questioned.
William's eyebrows furled. "What sort of gentleman would I be were I not to express concern for your safety?" he raised a hand to stave off her objection, "Even to a lady fully capable of taking care of herself."
Having no further argument after that prettily delivered compliment, Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut.
William continued, "I sent for Anne's doctor. We should leave the bottles as we found them until he can discern if the contents have been tampered with."
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. "I will speak to Mrs. Beeton to ensure the bottles are not touched until he arrives."
An uneasy feeling settled over Elizabeth. "Poison. It will be difficult to eat or drink with the threat of it looming over us."
William smiled, another surprising reaction given the gravity of the situation. "I foresee several secret trips to the kitchen pantry in our near future," he said.
The promise of venom-free victuals paled in comparison to the way her heart fluttered as William included her in his future.
Chapter 22
The men carried Miss de Bourgh's coffin to the family tomb on the north side of Hunsford's parish.
The yellow parlor reeked of flowers. Elizabeth sat near a window, praising the heavens for every breath of fresh air sneaking through the drafty glass. Charlotte and Maria kept her company while a scattered assortment of Lady Catherine's friends paid their respects — no doubt moved out of a sense of indebtedness and obligation than out of any real concern.
Charlotte leaned forward and whispered, "It is so odd Miss de Bourgh is gone. I would not have believed it possible for her to have died of her illness when she was doing so well under the care of her doctor. But Mr. Collins informed me that Lady Catherine refused to allow the coroner to examine the body, and so it must be true."
Elizabeth looked around to ensure no eavesdropper could overhear them. "She is not convinced at all. In fact, I will not be able to call at the parsonage as I am a prisoner here until the murderer is found."
When Charlotte and Maria covered their mouths to stifle their gasps, Elizabeth realized how dramatic her news sounded. To be sure, it ought to have bothered her much more than it did. Perhaps it was the company she kept. Trapped in a house with William…. She shook her head. What a fool she was! There was a murderer on the loose, and she was dreaming about the number one suspect!
Charlotte dropped her hand to her heart. "Then Lady Catherine is most fortunate you are here, Lizzy. You are so clever, you will discover who the murderer is before the passing of a se'nnight. I do not doubt your ability, I only pray you will do nothing to put yourself in danger," she said, reaching forward to grasp Elizabeth's hand.
"I promise," Elizabeth said, thinking how difficult it would be for her to place herself in danger with William and the colonel watching her every step.
Charlotte squeezed her hand. "Good. Now, tell me how I may help."
Elizabeth told her friends about the bottles in Miss de Bourgh's room, and their suspicion that poison was used.
Maria gasped and clutched her stomach. "What a pity you cannot visit us at the parsonage. I do not know how you will manage to eat or drink anything at all knowing how someone poisoned Miss de Bourgh."
Elizabeth reassured her. "The cook is a friendly woman who enjoys company and doles out samples from her kitchen freely." Like most of the servants at Rosings, she had nothing but kind things to say about William, and it pleasantly surprised Elizabeth to hear stories of him attempting to hide apples in his pockets to feed the horses or gingerbread in his cap for a family of tenants to celebrate the birth of a babe.
Charlotte grew quiet, tapping her chin with the tips of her fingers.
Elizabeth knew that look well. "What is it Charlotte?"
"If Miss de Bourgh was indeed poisoned, that means Maria and I ought to be under suspicion as well."
Maria went pale, and Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Charlotte continued, "Do not dismiss us so quickly, Lizzy. I would rather my name and Maria's be mentioned and excluded from guilt earlier rather than later."
She had a point. "How could you possibly be under suspicion?"
"The very day Miss de Bourgh died, Maria and I had been only a few doors down in Mrs
. Jenkinson's room practicing on her pianoforte. I should think that anyone who might have had access to Miss de Bourgh's bedchamber is under suspicion, and so I must make mention of it. I suppose you have a list of everyone who might have entered her room that day?" she asked practically.
"I do, but I had not thought to put your name on it, knowing you to be in the company of Mrs. Jenkinson the entire time."
Maria's eyes widened. "Charlotte was with Mrs. Jenkinson, but I was with Miss de Bourgh. She asked for me to join her in the library so that I might read aloud to her."
Elizabeth asked, "Did you set foot in Miss de Bourgh's bedchamber?"
Maria shook her head emphatically. "Only her sitting room."
The girl looked so scared, Elizabeth patted her arm as she would have done to one of her own sisters. "I am certain the maid will confirm as much. Besides, what motive would you possibly have against Miss de Bourgh?"
"None at all!" Maria answered, near tears.
Charlotte acknowledged, "You have nothing against her, but the same cannot be said of everyone. Miss de Bourgh was not well-liked, and I fear you will have some difficulties sorting her friends from her enemies."
Elizabeth mumbled, "If she could claim any friends at all."
Charlotte nodded in agreement. "I think it best for my sister's safety that she should return home — that is, once she is absolved of any involvement and her ladyship is agreeable to her departure. If there is a murderer about, I do not wish for Maria to be exposed to such a wicked individual."
Elizabeth would have done the same for her sisters. She would not rest easily until the villain had been captured and peace was restored. It was for that reason she had not made any mention to her family of Miss de Bourgh's sudden death. She did not want to give them cause to worry when she was confident that between herself, William, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, they would catch the killer well before the end of her stay at Rosings. They simply had to.
Darcy was ready to snap by the time they returned to Rosings. Five minutes in the company of Mr. Collins was sufficient for a lifetime, but an entire morning with him felt like purgatory.
Five minutes in Elizabeth's company, on the other hand, had felt like what Darcy imagined heaven to be.
He was both angry and relieved Richard had prevented him from showing Elizabeth how he loved her still. Angry at a lost opportunity. Relieved he had not made the ardor of his love known … lest she not receive his affection with the same care with which he freely gave it. He knew Elizabeth would not treat him cruelly, but indifference from her would be just as heartbreaking as an outright rejection. And so, Richard's nose was spared.
Taking a deep breath before he and the other gentlemen entered the yellow parlor, Darcy braced himself for the wave of nausea with which the odious flowers would rack him.
Mr. Collins took the shortest route to Aunt Catherine's side, his shiny face replete with practiced sympathy. Darcy had never known any gentleman to bow so much as Mr. Collins, nor anyone so able to effect such a pompous display of humility.
Richard followed the clergyman, knowing his place to be beside Aunt Catherine. Darcy was grateful for his help (for the most part), serving as a buttress between him, Elizabeth, and his aunt.
Elizabeth stood in front of the draftiest window in the room, and Darcy needed no further excuse to join her and her friends there.
She had stitched a black ribbon around the collar of what he supposed was her drabbest dress. Her thoughtful detail may have been overlooked by Aunt Catherine, but it was not lost on him. Not all the black crepe in the world could squelch Elizabeth's vibrancy. She was the rainbow after a downpour; a ray of sunshine peeking through storm clouds. She was hope — and as much as Darcy wished himself not to be susceptible to anyone, he was powerless to resist the influence she had over him.
She blushed when he joined them. Did she realize how closely he had come to kissing her the night before? Had she wanted him to? Or was he only making her uncomfortable? Oh, the torment of uncertainty!
He bowed and exchanged somber greetings with Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas. Just as he was about to inquire after his aunt, a gentleman carrying a black leather case entered the parlor.
Elizabeth asked, "Is he the doctor?"
Mrs. Collins said, "He is. What a pity he did not arrive before the burial. He may have offered some insight into Miss de Bourgh's sudden death."
As much as Darcy would have preferred to stay in Elizabeth's company, he dismissed himself to greet the doctor. Only, she followed him. He ought to have known she would and, while he did not want her to draw more attention to herself than necessary, he was proud of her for taking an active role in her own life when most ladies in Darcy's circles allowed others to guide them out of fear of societal ridicule.
Aunt Catherine treated him and Elizabeth civilly as she welcomed Anne's doctor, no doubt to avoid appearing rude before the few gathered in her parlor.
She struggled to keep her composure, however, when the doctor turned to Darcy and said, "Thank you for sending for me when you did, Mr. Darcy. I fear I have missed the burial, but I am happy to assist where I might for the benefit of my practice and your own peace of mind."
Aunt Catherine scowled at Darcy, her black gloves squeaking as she gripped the top of her cane.
Richard intervened before she dented the floor with it. "There is a matter I am certain my aunt will have considered by now, but which has only now occurred to me."
Darcy bit the sides of his cheeks to conceal his grin. Richard could lay on the charm when it was necessary — and with Aunt Catherine it was always necessary.
Aunt Catherine arched her neck. "Indeed. But let us not speak of it here when such delicate matters require privacy. Let us discuss the matter in my drawing room."
Darcy followed them, giving his aunt little opportunity to dismiss him from their company without causing a scene. Mr. Collins, apparently, was of a similar mind and deemed it appropriate to involve himself in familial affairs, a breach in propriety which did not go unnoticed by Aunt Catherine.
"Mr. Collins, why are you here?" she demanded as soon as she had turned to face them in her sanctuary.
The rector bowed acquiescently. "I had thought to be of assistance to your ladyship during this grievous time of tribulation."
"Where is your cousin? Where is Miss Bennet?" Aunt Catherine asked with a crack of her cane against the floor.
Mr. Collins looked up from his obeisant posture. "You wish for me to send for my dear cousin?"
Darcy nearly rolled his eyes. Elizabeth certainly would have done so at Mr. Collins' expression of endearment.
The clergyman deepened his bow and continued. "But of course, a lady is more qualified to give consolation than—"
Aunt Catherine interrupted, "That is enough, Mr. Collins. You must leave this room and have Miss Bennet join us." She lifted her chin. "She is my guest here."
Guest? Darcy doubted the prisoners at Newgate would consider themselves guests.
Mr. Collins snapped to attention in a fashion worthy of an officer. Hand over his heart, he bowed repeatedly as he backed toward the door. "Of course, your ladyship. It is a duty to which I will give my utmost attention as you have requested my cousin Elizabeth's presence. I am certain she is aware of the great honor bestowed upon her to have your ladyship condescend to treat her as a guest during these tumultuous times. I pray my cousin will ease your burdens, your ladyship."
Finally, he left — taking his myriad of compliments about a cousin he had snubbed multiple times, but was now his clear favorite, with him.
Darcy wanted to ask Aunt Catherine why she wished for Elizabeth to be present, but he knew she would not answer him with the doctor in the room. He could not divine her reasons, but knew he would not like her reply all the same.
He read the same question on Elizabeth's open face when she stepped cautiously inside the drawing room.
Chapter 23
Richard lost no time in suggesting that the medic
ine should be examined by the doctor since he had taken the trouble to travel from London — a suggestion the doctor was all too willing to agree with, if nothing else than to appease his own mind (and that of his living patients) that his treatment had not provoked Anne's death. Conveniently left out was any mention of their discovery of the night before, a tactical move of which Darcy approved.
Aunt Catherine, of course, took credit for the idea, and Richard allowed it to encourage her cooperation.
"May I ask a few questions before we begin, your ladyship?" the doctor inquired, to which Aunt Catherine nodded her head for him to proceed.
The doctor shuffled his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. "Forgive me for asking such a delicate question, your ladyship, but might I inquire if in preparing Miss de Bourgh's body you found any questionable marks on her person?"
Aunt Catherine's nostrils flared and her chin jutted into the air. "You may not!"
Richard attempted to appease her. "The doctor is not a fool, Aunt Catherine. And naturally, he will attribute Anne's sudden death to a cause other than his medicine. We would do well to allow him to assist with your investigation."
"By asking indecorous questions? I refuse to honor vulgar inquiries with an answer when all I require of him is to inspect my daughter's tonic bottles." Leveling her accusatory gaze at the doctor, she said, "Perhaps the amount you suggested was too much for her constitution."
As Richard had said, the gentleman was not a fool. The doctor visibly bristled at Aunt Catherine's suggestion, but he said nothing.
Nobody said anything as they followed her upstairs to Anne's bedchamber.
Aunt Catherine ordered the curtains to be pulled, flooding the room with sunlight, and then she dismissed the servants. She stood beside Darcy and Elizabeth, watching both of them intently as the doctor crossed the room to examine the bottles.
"This bottle should be nearly empty like the others," the doctor exclaimed.