Murder at Netherfield Page 8

  For a moment, Bingley seemed to be unable to understand what Darcy was saying. He blinked, looked up at Darcy, his mouth slack and his eyes wide. Darcy watched as the clouds cleared from the depths of Bingley’s eyes, and he soon sat up straight in bed.

  “Mr. Forbes has died?”

  “I am afraid so, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “It seems he fell down the stairs sometime during the night and was discovered only a short time ago.”

  Hastily, Bingley stood from his bed and began pacing the room. “How could this have happened? It is inconvenient, indeed, to lose my most senior male employee.”

  “Really, Bingley,” reproved Darcy. “A man has died in this house tonight. Have a little respect for the dead.”

  Chastened, Bingley shook his head. “I apologize, Darcy. I did not mean it to come out in such an unfeeling way. I am simply shocked that this has happened.”

  “As are we all,” replied Darcy.

  “What of the body?”

  “A pair of footmen were tasked with taking the body to the cellar. According to the housekeeper, he did not have any family nearby—any family at all, that anyone knew. It would likely be best if you simply had him interred in the local cemetery.”

  Bingley nodded distractedly. “I suppose that is best. I suppose I will have to promote one of the footmen to the position of the butler, at least in the short term.”

  “That would be best,” agreed Darcy. “The position is important and should not be left vacant.”

  Darcy stayed with his friend for some minutes discussing the situation. As he had expected, Bingley did not wish to view the body at the late hour. When they had made some few decisions, Darcy bid his friend good night again and retired to his room.

  For the rest of the night, the matter bothered Darcy, and he could not sleep again. He ended up sitting in a chair near the fire which had been built up in his room. At times, however, he took himself to the window to look out onto the world below. The snow had continued through the night, and if Darcy was any judge, was now several inches deep. No one would be leaving Netherfield any time soon, he thought.

  When Elizabeth eventually fell into a fitful sleep, it was punctuated by nightmares, the sensation of falling, and chilling screams of terror, some she felt issued from her own throat, though no one came to investigate. But such was her fatigue that though she was woken several times by her night terrors, she would soon fall back asleep, only to have the pattern begin all over again.

  At length, well after the dawn, Elizabeth woke from her bed and refreshed herself with the cold basin of water in her room. She dressed and took herself to the window to investigate the damage to the outside world. The storm, however, was still ongoing, as snow fell, though now it appeared to be whipped up by the wind, which whistled and shrieked, causing the manor to groan in response. Her bedchamber, situated in the front of the house, would usually allow a view of the drive. But nothing could be seen but endless white.

  Breakfast was served late that morning, almost the time when luncheon would normally be served at Longbourn. As the night had been late, many of those in residence did not make an appearance until called to break their fast. For Elizabeth’s part, she attempted to find something to read in Mr. Bingley’s library, only to discover that the man’s poor selection of books did not contain anything of interest. Elizabeth wished she had brought a book or two with her, though she knew it was nonsensical, given the reason for their attendance the previous evening.

  When she was finally able to make her way to the dining room for the repast, she found that the entire company had gathered. Naturally, the conversation at the breakfast table was dominated by two subjects: the storm outside and the death of the butler.

  “It is nothing less than foolishness and carelessness,” said Lady Catherine in her authoritative voice. “The servants at Rosings are better trained and know not to tumble down the stairs. I declare I have never heard such a thing.”

  Miss Bingley, Elizabeth suspected, had heard about the incident just before arriving and had been heard to voice her shock and sense of annoyance at the work this would cause her. It also seemed like Miss Bingley’s well of tolerance for Lady Catherine was rapidly evaporating. She did not like being taken to task in her own home and for such a ridiculous reason.

  “I hardly think it is a matter of training. The servants are not taught to walk, after all. They should already possess that accomplishment when they apply for a position.”

  “Well, perhaps you should consider it when next you hire,” replied Lady Catherine. “Clumsiness is not a trait to be prized in a servant.”

  “Thank you, Lady Catherine,” replied Miss Bingley, an edge in her voice. “I am sure I will take your advice and give it the consideration it deserves.”

  A regal nod, which suggested Lady Catherine had completely missed the sarcasm with which Miss Bingley spoke, was the woman’s only reply. The company spoke for some little time concerning the disposition of the body of the late butler, his lack of family, and other such topics before the subject was changed.

  “What have we planned for our guests’ return to their homes?” asked Miss Bingley, peering at her brother. “Has the Bennets’ carriage been repaired?”

  “The Bennets will not be returning home today,” said Mr. Bingley. “I have spoken with the groundskeepers. The roads are exceedingly hazardous, and more snow is piling up as we speak. It is much too dangerous to attempt to drive their carriage through such roads, whether it is repaired or not.”

  Miss Bingley was clearly not amused. “I am sure you are overstating the matter, Charles. Longbourn is no more than five miles away. I am sure they may go safely over such a short distance.”

  “Three miles, actually,” interjected Mr. Bennet. “Unfortunately, I concur with Mr. Bingley, though I would prefer to be in my home again. This is the worst snow storm I have ever seen. I would not wish to gamble the safety of my family on our ability to push our way through the snow drifts.”

  “An eminently sensible decision,” said Mr. Collins. “It is often said that discretion is the better part of valor, and in this case, it would be best to remain at the location which offers protection and sanctuary. And we must thank Mr. Bingley for his generosity in offering us shelter from the storm in our time of need.”

  “It is no trouble, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bingley. “Of course, we would not wish to leave you to the elements or attempt an unsafe journey back to Longbourn.” Mr. Bingley turned to Lady Catherine. “And you and your daughter—and Colonel Fitzwilliam too—are quite welcome to stay here until the roads are passable again.”

  “Of course, we must stay,” replied Lady Catherine. “It is providential, indeed, for I have much to make right while I am here in Hertfordshire.”

  The little undercurrents around the table were fascinating to Elizabeth. Miss Bingley was annoyed with Lady Catherine, while Lady Catherine considered herself superior to anyone else at the table, with the exception of her daughter and two nephews. Colonel Fitzwilliam was watching his aunt’s performance with a grin, and Mr. Darcy, with poorly concealed annoyance. Kitty and Lydia were giggling at each other, prompting glares from Mrs. Hurst, who was situated nearby, and Mary appeared to be watching the company with bated breath. No doubt she had memorized some little tidbit of wisdom and was waiting to insert it into the general conversation.

  “Either way,” continued Mr. Bingley, “we are quite happy to have all of you. About the only matter of concern is the clothing requirements.” Mr. Bingley turned and regarded Mrs. Bennet with compassion. “Between Darcy and myself, we can likely clothe your husband, Mrs. Bennet, but my sisters are only two, whereas you and your daughters are six.”

  “One of the footmen was sent back to Longbourn with some clothes for us to wear today,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “We do not have much, but we shall make do while we are here.”

  “Excellent!” replied Mr. Bingley. “If you require assistance, I am sure Caroline
and Louisa have some dresses with which they may dispense.”

  It was clear that whatever Mr. Bingley thought, his sisters were not of like mind. It was a relief, therefore, when the sisters declined to respond to their brother’s assertion. The way they glared at every Bennet lady seemed to dare them to ask for a single article of clothing. Two dresses had been delivered from Elizabeth’s closet—Mrs. Hill, having seen the weather, had likely suspected their stay might be longer, and had planned accordingly. Thus, though a dress would need to be laundered every day, Elizabeth knew she would be kept clothed as long as she needed to be at Netherfield.

  “You are very good, Mr. Bingley!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “I am certain we will all be well. Happily, my Jane looks good in anything, for we only have a few dresses each.”

  What a mortifying statement! Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst carefully avoided all response to Mrs. Bennet’s absurd words, but Mr. Bingley only smiled at a blushing Jane. “I cannot agree more, Mrs. Bennet.”

  After that, the company attended to their breakfast with a little more zeal. Conversation, while there were still some words exchanged between diners, was more banal in nature. For that, Elizabeth could not be anything but grateful.

  At length, breakfast was complete, and the party made its way from the dining room and dispersed to their sundry activities. Though she would learn to rue the choice, Elizabeth joined several others in the sitting-room. With nothing to do at present, it was clear that all amusement would be had by sitting with other residents of the estate. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, clearly wishing their guests miles away, took themselves to the pianoforte. Elizabeth, however, joined Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the de Bourghs, Mr. Collins, Jane, and Mary in the sitting-room, and for a time, they sat in that attitude conversing among themselves. Of course, it was increasingly difficult to hold any conversation due to Lady Catherine’s propensity to attempt to dominate any such discourse. Mr. Collins, of course, hung off every word which proceeded forth from her mouth, inserting his flattery whenever he thought he could do so without inciting Lady Catherine’s ire. Elizabeth could cheerfully have continued in such a manner had she known what was to come next.

  “Now, Mr. Collins,” said the lady after discussing some nonsensical improvements to the latter’s parsonage. Shelves in the closet sounded like a remarkably daft notion to Elizabeth. “I am reminded that I have come here for a purpose. Will you kindly point out which of the Bennet sisters has been attempting to turn my nephew from his duty?”

  Mr. Darcy frowned, and Elizabeth glared at the parson, but before either of them could say anything, Mr. Collins had answered his patroness’s question.

  “It was Miss Elizabeth, your ladyship.”

  The bludgeoning weight of Lady Catherine’s gaze fell on Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, is it? I suppose I am not surprised, given what I know of your family. What have you to say for yourself?”

  “I need say nothing, Lady Catherine,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins has quite clearly misread the situation. Mr. Darcy has given me no such notice, nor have I attempted to solicit it.”

  “Miss Elizabeth speaks the truth, Lady Catherine,” added Mr. Darcy. “Whatever your quarrel with me regarding your wishes, you need not involve Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, do be still, Darcy,” replied Lady Catherine with an irritated wave of her hand. “Allow me the greater understanding of the arts and allurements of young ladies. I have seen the likes of the Bennet sisters before. They are all minor gentry, possessing little but avarice and determination to entrap a man of fortune.”

  “I assure you that you are quite mistaken, Lady Catherine,” asserted Elizabeth. “As I have said, Mr. Darcy and I have done naught but exchange a few words on occasions when chance has brought us together.”

  Lady Catherine considered Elizabeth for a few moments, slowly nodding her head. “It seems you now understand the folly of your ambitions. That is well. Then I require your promise, Miss Elizabeth. You will stay away from my nephew, and if he should, at some moment of infatuation, propose, you will instantly refuse him and resist all further entreaties.”

  Though Elizabeth was shocked at the lady’s demand, she could not help but notice Mr. Darcy’s sudden anger. By his side, Colonel Fitzwilliam was shaking his head, clearly not amused with his aunt’s behavior. Anne, by contrast, was keeping her reaction carefully blank, though Elizabeth could not be certain that was because she wished to avoid angering her mother or because of some other reason.

  “Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth carefully, “I have informed you I have no designs on your nephew. But I dislike having my freedom taken from me in such a manner, especially since Mr. Darcy and I are both to be confined to this house for who knows how many days.”

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine, her manner suggesting impatience, “if you have no designs on my nephew, you will give the assurances I require. What reason could you have to refuse, unless you are attempting to mislead me with falsehood?”

  “No, Lady Catherine,” interjected Darcy. “I will not allow this. You have made an unreasonable demand of Miss Elizabeth, and she has every right to refuse it. Please cease speaking of such a matter.”

  “It is clear you have lost your head over her,” snapped Lady Catherine. “As such, I have no choice but to appeal to her sense of right. I will not retract my demand.”

  “Miss Elizabeth,’ said Mr. Darcy, “if I might prevail upon you, can you please leave the room. I believe it is time we had a long overdue family discussion.”

  Elizabeth returned the man’s gaze, unsure if she should leave in such a fashion. A part of her wished to give Lady Catherine the assurance she desired. After all, though Elizabeth had nothing against Mr. Darcy, she had no intention of ever accepting his overtures, even in the unlikely event he should ever offer them. Then again, such a request was impertinent and beyond the pale, and the other part of her wished to inform Lady Catherine of her opinion.

  But Mr. Darcy looked at her with such a pleading, yet encouraging, expression that she felt she had no choice but to accede. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. I shall leave you to your family conversation.”

  “You shall do no such thing!” commanded Lady Catherine. “I have not finished with you, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “I apologize, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, “but at present, I am afraid you are. You have insulted me in every possible way, and I believe Mr. Darcy’s suggestion is for the best.”

  Under the enraged eye of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth arose and, taking Jane’s hand and nodding to Mary to follow them, left the room without looking back. She was relieved when the door closed behind her, and the lady had not spoken again.

  “I cannot understand her ladyship,” said Jane, eyes wide. “How could she behave in such a way?”

  “The rich may act as they wish and offend whom they will,” replied Elizabeth. “I only hope Mr. Darcy can talk some sense into her.”

  Though Jane did not reply, Elizabeth knew she fervently agreed.

  Chapter VII

  Lady Catherine was an elderly, meddling, irascible woman, accustomed to having her own way. The family tolerated her for no other reason than she was family, and even then, they offered the bonds of familial affection only grudgingly. Darcy, because his mother had been fond of her sister, was one of the more tolerant members of the family, even going so far as to visit her every year at Easter to look over her estate books and deal with any matters which required a man’s hand.

  But that tolerance was quickly being put to the test—had been put to the test for some time, actually. As she aged, the woman appeared to be growing ever more cantankerous, ever more unreasonable, and exponentially more difficult to endure. This business with Anne and his supposed engagement to her had been quickly coming to a head, for Lady Catherine had suggested she would send notice to the newspapers, should Darcy not agree to the marriage soon. It was only his assurance that no newspaper would print it as he had already
warned them that to do so would be to invite a lawsuit that had prompted her to subside.

  “There will be no more assaults on the character of Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy at the end of a long discussion. “She has done nothing wrong. If you cannot refrain from bringing up the matter of my supposed engagement when you speak with her, then you will not speak with her at all.”

  “Darcy,” said she, in a tone of exaggerated patience, “you do not know what such a woman may—”

  “Enough!” snapped Darcy. Something in his tone must have warned Lady Catherine that he was not in a mood to be gainsaid, for she fell silent, though she glared at him with mutinous anger. “Remember, Lady Catherine, that I assist you every year at Easter. If you do not wish me to withdraw that assistance, you will oblige me now.”

  “You would throw your own blood over for that scheming little adventuress?”

  “I am throwing no one over,” said Darcy. “I am only resolved to protect a good woman who does not deserve your censure. I have nothing more to say on the matter. I am not engaged to Miss Elizabeth, and I have no intention of offering for her. That is enough for you.”

  Then with a final glare, Darcy let himself from the room. As he was departing, he heard Fitzwilliam’s chuckle, and his words to their aunt before the door closed. “It appears you have finally pushed Darcy too far. Well done, Aunt. Well done, indeed.”

  For the rest of the morning, Darcy avoided Lady Catherine—avoided everyone else in the house. The library was his refuge, for while he knew Mr. Bennet might be within, and Miss Elizabeth was also a devotee of the written word, Bingley’s library was so pitiful that no one of any interest in reading would consider it to be anywhere close to adequate.

  In the early afternoon, he went looking for Bingley, wondering what his friend had been occupying himself with that morning. He found his friend with his cousin, laughing in Bingley’s study. They fell silent when Darcy entered, and he wondered if they had been speaking of the situation with Lady Catherine. If they had been, Bingley should not laugh—Darcy suspected it would not be long before Miss Bingley also came to his aunt’s attention, for her behavior, unlike Miss Elizabeth’s, was truly objectionable.