Murder at Netherfield Page 17

  With a nod, Miss Elizabeth moved to the nearby drawers and opened them one by one, peering inside and pushing the articles to the side to see if anything was hidden underneath. They checked the closet and the vanity to see if anything had been left on its surface. But there was nothing out of order, not that Darcy had expected to find anything.

  When Miss Elizabeth completed her search, Darcy approached the door. Opening it, he stepped out into the hall, looking both directions to see if he was being observed. When he saw no one, he beckoned to Miss Elizabeth, closing the door behind her when she stepped through. Then, side by side, they began walking down the hall toward the stairs, speaking softly as they went.

  “Do you have any other clever suggestions, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy.

  She directed a quick smile at him. “I am not certain about clever, but clever or otherwise, I am afraid I am at a loss.”

  “As am I.”

  “Then what do you think?” asked she, focusing a long look at him.

  “I do not know,” replied Darcy. “But while I would like to attribute it to an elderly woman whose time had come, I cannot. People die all around us, and other than the bereaved families, we take no notice of it, knowing it is the way of life. Sudden deaths happen, even to those who seem otherwise healthy. But in this instance, something is telling me it is all wrong.”

  Miss Elizabeth nodded, though she appeared distracted. “What was your aunt’s age?”

  “She did not marry young, for obvious reasons,” replied Darcy, eliciting a grin from Miss Elizabeth. “I believe she was already five and twenty when she married. Then she experienced the same difficulties my mother had with bearing a child, losing at least two or three to miscarriage.”

  “Anne also spoke of a brother who died in infancy.”

  “Yes, that is true. But that child was born after. Anne would know her mother’s exact age, though I do not. But I suspect she was at least thirty when Anne was born, and Anne is now five and twenty, I suspect Lady Catherine was five and fifty, or perhaps even a little older.”

  “Not old enough that we would not be surprised if she would pass, but old enough that her passing suddenly does not seem odd.”

  Darcy nodded, but he did not speak. They reached the bottom of the stairs then, and Darcy gestured toward the hall, feeling it would be best for them to join the others for a time. Miss Elizabeth was about to move in that direction when from another hallway, a man emerged and directed a fierce look at them—at Miss Elizabeth in particular. It was Mr. Collins.

  “Cousin Elizabeth,” said he in his usual pompous tone, one which Darcy had noticed contained more than a hint of superiority when he spoke to his younger cousins, “I fear I must speak to you about this unseemly behavior you have been exhibiting.”

  Most young ladies might have been offended at Mr. Collins’s tone and words, but Miss Elizabeth only lifted an eyebrow. “You have my apologies, Mr. Collins. I did not realize that walking through the halls was a reason for censure.”

  “Do not attempt to feign misunderstanding, Cousin,” said Mr. Collins. “I know what you are about, and I must say that it disgusts me. My honored patroness and Mr. Darcy’s revered aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has not even been laid to rest in her grave and you are already attempting to turn Mr. Darcy’s eyes away from his predestined bride. Do you have no shame? Is this what your parents have taught you?”

  “Again, Mr. Collins,” said Miss Elizabeth, “I have done nothing but walk with Mr. Darcy. Or do you consider a walk a declaration of intent?”

  Mr. Collins looked down his nose at Miss Elizabeth, and Darcy felt his hackles rise at the arrogant manner in which he regarded her. “My dear cousin. Have you not heard Lady Catherine state from the moment she entered the house that Mr. Darcy was destined for Miss de Bourgh? Why must you, in defiance of all decency, against the wishes of his whole family, continue on this course? What must be done to stop you?”

  “I suggest you cease speaking, Collins,” said Darcy, feeling his patience desert him, even if Miss Elizabeth was still watching the ineffectual man with amusement. “I have told you before that my aunt does not direct my life. Your cousin has done nothing wrong.”

  Mr. Collins turned wide eyes on Mr. Darcy. “Surely, Mr. Darcy, you intend to honor your late aunt’s wishes and marry your cousin.”

  “My intentions are my own, Mr. Collins. I need not explain them to you.”

  For a long moment, Mr. Collins peered at Darcy. What his conclusions were, Darcy could not say. But in the end, he appeared to realize that no good would come from his continued attempts to push the subject forward.

  “Very well, Mr. Darcy,” his manner as haughty as Lady Catherine’s ever was. “Then I shall not press you on the matter. But as Miss Elizabeth is destined to be my bride, I request, in all friendship and respect, that you keep her at arms’ length. It would not do to confuse her or give others the wrong impression.”

  “What would assist in not giving others the wrong impression would be for you to cease speaking such nonsense.”

  The sound of another voice prevented Darcy from berating the foolish man, and he turned and noted the approach of Mr. Bennet. The way he glared at Mr. Collins showed that he was not at all amused.

  “Mr. Bennet—”

  “No, Mr. Collins, you will listen to me,” said Mr. Bennet, his impatience oozing out in his tone. “I do not know why you have not understood this yet, but I am not interested in forcing my daughters into marriages they do not want.”

  The look of utter shock and consternation with which Mr. Collins regarded Mr. Bennet was enough to prompt Darcy’s laughter. “But Mr. Bennet! You must see how this is for the best. Your daughters, though they are all that is charming and good, will have very little to call their own when you pass from this world. Surely you wish them to be protected. I can offer that protection.”

  “Yes, you can offer protection,” said Mr. Bennet. “But I will remind you of two things. First, you know nothing of the state of their fortunes, and I suggest you do not attempt to guess it, sir. There are rumors about many things, and it is unfortunate, but rumors are often incorrect. Second, I care deeply for my daughters’ happiness. I cannot imagine anything which would make any of them unhappier than to insist they marry a man they do not favor.

  “You are, of course, free to attempt to woo any of them. But I will uphold my daughters’ right of refusal should they reject your proposal. I am sorry, Cousin, but if you are to have one of them for a wife, you will need to woo them successfully and convince them that you will make them happy.”

  Mr. Collins looked at Mr. Bennet for a few moments, as if attempting to determine his resolve in this matter. For Darcy, he did not need to look for Mr. Bennet’s resolve, for he was convinced the man was telling nothing but the truth. It heartened Darcy, informing him that regardless of Mrs. Bennet’s gauche actions and statements, Miss Bennet, for example, would refuse Bingley if she did not wish to marry him, and Mr. Bennet would support her decision. He had not disbelieved Miss Elizabeth when she had informed him as much, but the confirmation was welcome.

  While he might have been expected to come to the correct conclusion, Darcy, having been acquainted with Mr. Collins these past days, was not surprised when he did not. For Mr. Collins sniffed in disdain and said:

  “I know how it shall be, Mr. Bennet. I know my cousin has no better options. Despite her attempts to attract Mr. Darcy’s attention, I know he is destined for Miss de Bourgh. In the end, I am confident that my cousin will see sense. I will have her hand.”

  With those words, Mr. Collins departed. As they watched him go, Darcy heard Miss Elizabeth mutter: “Your certainty is misplaced, Mr. Collins.”

  Mr. Bennet laughed at his daughter’s statement. “I have no doubt it is, Lizzy. Either way, if you would oblige me, I should like to have a word with Mr. Darcy in private. Can I prevail on you to precede us to the sitting-room?”

  While Miss Eliz
abeth glanced between Darcy and her father, she agreed, curtseyed, and departed. The fondness with which Mr. Bennet regarded her retreating form betrayed his esteem for her. Theirs seemed a profound connection.

  “She is my treasure, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet with an absence of thought. “A man should not have favorites among his children, I know. My daughters are all dear to me, though the youngest are, I will own, trying at times. But Lizzy . . . She is a treasure—intelligent, compassionate, strong-willed, beautiful; I cannot summon all the adjectives to attribute to her goodness.”

  Then Mr. Bennet turned and regarded him. “It seems to me, sir, you are another who has come to appreciate her fine qualities. Am I correct?”

  As Darcy had suspected the subject which Mr. Bennet had wished to discuss, he was ready for the question. “I have nothing but admiration for your daughter, Mr. Bennet. I agree with your assessment in every particular.”

  “I am happy to hear it, sir. I would like to know what you mean to do about it.”

  It was this question that had consumed Darcy of late, and he was not afraid to confess to it. But when he did not immediately reply, Mr. Bennet continued to speak.

  “She is not of your level of society, sir. I know you are intelligent enough to understand this fact. But I am unconcerned about this personally because I have every confidence in Elizabeth’s ability to handle herself in any situation. But what you must ask yourself is whether you are able to withstand the naysayers who will disapprove of your choice. Perhaps chief among those are your uncle? I have heard he is an earl?”

  “Yes, he is,” said Darcy. “But my uncle will not interfere, and he will not risk a schism in the family by disparaging the woman I choose to marry.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “You are also aware that I cannot give her much when she marries?”

  “Did you not just inform Mr. Collins that he should not assume that what he has heard of her dowry is the truth?”

  Mr. Bennet replied with a laugh. “So you were listening. Excellent, sir. I appreciate a man who is not distracted by frivolous nothings.” Mr. Bennet’s countenance turned serious again. “I have no objections to your interest in my Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, and if you do decide she is the woman to whom you wish to make an offer, I will not object.”

  “Pending her approval, of course,” said Darcy.

  “Of course. All I ask is you do not play with her affections. If you wish to pursue her, please proceed. But if you do not, I will ask you to step back. I do not wish her wondering what to expect from you, and I especially do not wish to see her heart engaged when you have no intention of reciprocating.”

  “In that, I can reassure you, sir. I will own I have not decided to pursue her yet. But I am considering it. She is the most interesting woman I have ever met, and I find myself wanting to know more of her.”

  Mr. Bennet regarded him, eyes searching before he nodded. “I believe you will do, Mr. Darcy, if that is what you decide. I thank you for indulging a protective father. Lizzy is far too important to me to not inquire after your intentions.”

  “I understand, sir. I have a sister who is in my care. I would act in the same way.”

  “Excellent!” said Mr. Bennet. “Now, if you are willing, do you care for a game of chess? I have not had a good game since we came to Netherfield.”

  “I would, indeed, Mr. Bennet. Lead on.’

  Chuckling, Mr. Bennet turned toward the sitting-room where Bingley kept his chessboard. As they walked, he said: “Perhaps you should challenge Lizzy some time. She can best me as much as I can best her.”

  “That does not tell me much, Mr. Bennet,” replied Darcy. “You might not be a strong player.”

  “You will soon discover it, Mr. Darcy. I will warn you not to underestimate either myself or my daughter.”

  “I will take your advice to heart, sir,” said Darcy.

  Inside, however, he was intrigued. Miss Elizabeth played chess? It was not an accomplishment most women could boast. What else might the woman be hiding? Darcy could hardly wait to find out.

  Chapter XIV

  The last day of November was now upon them, and as fickle as the weather had been, coupled with the mood at Netherfield, Darcy decided it would be best to determine the state of the outside world. To that end, he approached the butler, knowing any reports of the roads would find their way to him. His hope that the Bennet’s would be allowed to return to their home and that he and Fitzwilliam could leave to see their aunt’s body back to Kent, however, were dashed.

  “I believe it ought not to be attempted, Mr. Darcy,” said the butler. The man fixed him with an apologetic glance, one which bespoke his hesitation—likely he expected a Miss Bingley-like reaction to his news. “Though the snow has ceased falling, it still snows in fits and starts, and the cold and wind complicates the matter. It is uncertain the horses could even navigate the roads, let alone the wheels of a carriage.”

  “Could a lone rider make his way to Longbourn?” asked Darcy. “If only to gather more clothes for the ladies.”

  The butler thought on this for a moment. He seemed to sense that Darcy would not react like his mistress and was encouraged to respond with candor. “Again, I think it would be best to refrain at present, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps tomorrow, should the weather improve, we may attempt it. Today it is best to wait.”

  It was not what Darcy wished to hear, but he knew the man was doing his best and relaying information as accurately as he could. Thus, Darcy thanked him and excused himself, much to the poor man’s relief. Darcy judged the unfortunate Mr. Forbes’s replacement to be competent, but he was too green for the position. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do at present, and Darcy was certain a replacement would be the responsibility of the owner, regardless.

  “You appear less than happy,” said Fitzwilliam as soon as Darcy stepped into the library where Fitzwilliam was leaning back in his chair with his boots on a nearby table, apparently lost in thought. “Has Mr. Collins been spouting his usual nonsense again?”

  Darcy scowled. Though Collins had said nothing since the scene in the entrance hall that morning, Darcy was still annoyed. Several times during the remainder of the morning he had caught Collins watching Miss Elizabeth, a hint of possessiveness in his gaze and attitude. Darcy had thought to call the man on his behavior more than once.

  But then Darcy remembered the morning, and his feelings softened. Mr. Bennet was an intelligent man, though Darcy judged him to be more than a little eccentric. He had proven a worthy opponent across a chessboard, which Darcy would always think a point in a man’s favor. Furthermore, when Darcy had played Miss Elizabeth, he found that Mr. Bennet had not overestimated his daughter’s abilities. Darcy had been hard-pressed to emerge victorious.

  “You have won this round, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth as she toppled her king. “But rest assured that I shall play with my full abilities next time. I shall prevail.”

  And then Mr. Collins had inserted himself yet again when Darcy thought to reply. “Gentlemen, this is unseemly. You are encouraging a young woman to behave in an indelicate manner. Why, my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, told me only months ago, when suggesting a topic for my weekly sermon at the pulpit, to speak on the delicacy of women. ‘A true woman of quality,’ said she, ‘does not attempt to insert herself in the realms of men. Such unladylike behavior as playing games with men—billiards, chess, and the like—make a woman seem like a bluestocking at best.’ Thus, I think it better if Miss Elizabeth should be encouraged away from such activities.”

  “I care not for your opinion, Mr. Collins,” was Mr. Bennet’s short reply. “Elizabeth is my daughter, and I shall decide what is appropriate for my progeny.”

  Darcy, who had been watching the detestable parson, noted his fury. But it disappeared after a moment, and the man shook his head. It was fortunate he decided not to speak further, for neither Darcy nor Mr. Bennet was in a mood to listen to him.

  “When he attemp
ted to censure Miss Elizabeth this morning,” said Fitzwilliam, bringing Darcy’s thoughts back to the present, “I thought for a moment you might beat him to a pulp.”

  “Had he spoken again, that was a possibility,” said Darcy. “But I would have had to reach him before Mr. Bennet did.”

  Fitzwilliam grinned. “I might have held him down for you. That Lady Catherine found such a specimen is not a surprise, but that he is related to the Bennets is a delicious irony.”

  “Perhaps it is,” said Darcy. “But I did not come here to speak of that.” There was no reply—Fitzwilliam regarded him with curiosity, but no apparent surprise. “I assume you possess the same… reservations as I do about two deaths in three days in this house.”

  “You speak of the possibility of a murderer in our midst?”

  “I do,” replied Darcy. “I know you will say that coincidences happen, and I would agree with you. But while I have no evidence, nor do I know why, I suspect something more than a simple fall or an apoplexy.”

  Fitzwilliam sighed and turned to stare moodily out the window. “I will own I had considered it possible. I am not sure what we can do.”

  “Surely you do not think we should simply wait for the killer to strike again.”

  “No,” said Fitzwilliam, turning back to Darcy. “But I have done a little investigating myself and have not found anything.”

  Darcy grunted. He had not thought Fitzwilliam, who was a man of action, would sit and wait for another death. For a moment he had sounded passive, frightened. Very little frightened his cousin.”

  “I have also done a little looking,” said Darcy. “I am afraid I have found little myself.”

  “Then we should pool our resources. Perhaps you have found something I have not.”

  It turned out that Darcy agreed with his cousin. For the next thirty minutes, they exchanged stories of what they had done and what Darcy had discovered. It turned out that Fitzwilliam had engaged in the same investigations as Darcy, only that he had done so the previous evening. Fitzwilliam had spoken to the servants, asking among them if they had witnessed anything strange in the past few days. But he had come away from those interviews without anything of interest to report.