Too Close to Mr Darcy

by Claire Cartier

  Where are they?

  Although it made little sense, her mind went to the darkest, most wicked place of all. What if they referred to Mr. Darcy and herself? What if Miss Anne had suddenly figured out something untoward was transpiring between them. Elizabeth shuddered.

  No. Nothing had happened, let alone anything untoward. This crisis must be about something completely unrelated. And yet, why did she feel guilty for something she had not done?

  "Anne!" Mr. Darcy said, hurrying through Miss de Bourgh's open bedroom door and leaving Elizabeth behind at the threshold. "Is everything alright? Are you hurt?"

  Elizabeth followed inside without an invitation and nearly gasped in shock. What had happened? The room was turned upside down. Clothes, boxes and bedsheets were scattered all over the floor. The drawers of the dresser were drawn, the chest’s lid thrown open. In the middle of all the chaos, a disheveled Miss Anne was thrashing about, digging through a large open box and throwing objects behind her. At the sound of Mr. Darcy’s voice, she stopped abruptly and turned.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. If she had never believed that her mistress might be mad, now was the one moment to doubt her sanity. The young woman’s hair stuck out in all directions and sweat trickled down her temples. Her pupils were large and her eyes wandering wildly. Her hands shook inside gloves stained with dust and ink. Beside her, a distraught maid was rushing around trying to put back the things Miss Anne had misplaced.

  Miss Anne stared at the two newcomers with unblinking eyes.

  "Anne," Mr. Darcy said softly and reached out a hand towards the kneeling woman. "Come now. What has happened?"

  "They are gone," Miss Anne said in a dull voice.

  "What is?" Mr. Darcy said, taking a cautious step towards his future bride.

  "The jewels," Miss Anne said, a single tear breaking from her eyes and coursing down her cheek. She appeared calmer, defeated, spent.

  "I am sure we will find them here somewhere," Elizabeth offered from her spot by the door.

  Miss Anne, so jovial and amicable only minutes ago, did not afford her any attention. Elizabeth felt like an intruder on a private moment of an intimately-bound couple.

  "They are not here," Miss Anne said after a long pause. Mr. Darcy offered her his hand and lifted her from the floor, gently leading her towards the bed. She plopped down without much grace and sighed. "I have looked everywhere. Mother would be outraged. These were not just any trinkets. They were a family heirloom. If she finds out, and I am sure she will since she reminded me at least a dozen times to wear them tonight, who knows what she might—"

  "What is going on here?" a sharp voice came from the door and everyone turned. A stern-faced Lady Catherine stood just inside the room, calmly taking in the horrible mess that was her daughter's bedroom. "Anne, are you not feeling well? I thought we were past this." There was pain and disappointment in her voice.

  "No, Mama," Miss Anne hurried to say. "I am feeling well enough. It is something else entirely."

  "I heard screaming, Anne," Lady Catherine said reproachfully.

  "That is because there is a thief in the house."

  Elizabeth took a sip of the tepid tea and placed it on the table, trying not to make a face and offend Mrs. Byrd. Not that the housekeeper was concerned with her person at the moment. She had called all of the staff in the servants’ dining room and it was bursting at the seams with people.

  There was hardly enough space on the benches, but women had taken precedence over men in occupying the few available seats around the table where tea and stale biscuits were served. The men had lined by the walls. Everyone's eyes were on Mrs. Byrd.

  "There would be a thorough search of all the servants’ quarters. Naturally, any and all of you are the first suspects in a crime of such magnitude. It is imperative that none of you leave this room until the search is concluded or it may spoil its credence. Now, are there any questions?"

  Angry faces and whispers of concern circulated around the room.

  "How are you certain it was any one of us?" a young scullery maid with a heavy Irish accent asked aloud over the murmurs.

  "It is quite unlikely that a stranger has managed to sneak inside the house and known where to look for the stolen treasure."

  "What has been stolen anyway?" a footman raised his voice.

  "This is confidential at this point. Lady Catherine thought it best if as little information about the crime was provided lest it gave the culprit a possible way out."

  Another round of angry mutters followed.

  "How could it be me?" a stable boy called out. "I have hardly ever set foot inside the house, let alone the ladies' floors. Even if I wanted to steal something, I wouldn't know the first place to start looking."

  "He's right," the cook agreed. "If it was any one of us, it must be a chambermaid or someone who has regular access and knowledge about the mistress’s rooms."

  "When did this happen?" the Irish scullery maid asked. "If we knew the precise time the crime occurred that could rule out a lot of us. For instance, I am locked downstairs in the kitchen for most of the day and would not even dream of letting my nose out until after supper preparations are finished."

  Mrs. Byrd raised her hands to placate the sudden outburst of opinions and protests.

  "Little is known at this time. I am simply adhering to Lady Catherine's instructions. If you have a clear conscience and have done nothing wrong, there is little need to become upset. You may rest assured that the search will be conducted respectfully and your possessions and rooms will be treated with care."

  Elizabeth studied the faces around her with interest. Already, there was panic rising in the room. There were clenched jaws, shifting eyes and fidgeting hands all around her. She wondered how long this search would continue and if it would hamper the plans for tonight's dinner. It was a pity that the event might be canceled at the last minute.

  "Mrs. Byrd?" a familiar voice rose above the rest. Elizabeth saw Miss Ashburn shoving her way to the center of the room. "Mrs. Byrd, we are ready to begin."

  "Very well,” the old woman said, then turned toward the crowd again. "Please wait here in peace and I will try to keep you informed about the search progress. Please, do not try to interfere with the process or it might take considerably longer to conclude. Be patient and everything will be resolved. I personally know each and every one of you, and some of you have been in employment for years. I still trust that this is some kind of misunderstanding and that the missing object will surface before any unfair blame is placed on any of you."

  With that, she left the room and the relative silence that had accompanied her presence shattered at once. An outburst of voices followed the closing of the door, everyone struggling to speak their opinion louder than the others.

  Elizabeth felt uncomfortable in the cramped space. There was little air for all the busy mouths to breathe and a plethora of smells circulated the room. The variety of servants had brought in with them the scents of sweat, spices, manure, grass and ashes from the grates.

  A myriad of concerns were expressed.

  “…and I have a sick mother to take care of…”

  “…can’t afford to be dismissed over some silly blunder…”

  “…sure someone innocent will have to take the blame…”

  “…this has happened before…”

  Elizabeth's head buzzed with all the noise and she felt faint with the lack of air. The only members of the staff she knew well were Mrs. Byrd and Miss Ashburn and currently they were both gone. She felt alone and miserable and could not wait for the misunderstanding to be cleared so she might finally go outside.

  It felt like hours had passed by the time Mrs. Byrd returned. The din had winded down and people were mostly slumping in their seats or crouching on the floor. A few loud snores betrayed those who had taken the opportunity to indulge in a quick nap in the middle of their busy days despite the worse than optimal conditions. A few new smells had been added to the existing
ones and to a newcomer to the room the effect was rather offensive.

  Everyone looked up at Mrs. Byrd with expectation. Even those who had just woken up from their naps stared at her with large eyes. The old woman marched to the center of the room and smiled like a teacher looking fondly upon her classroom full of students or a pastor considering his dear congregation.

  "As I have been sincerely hoping," Mrs. Byrd said in a husky, tired voice, "the entire incident has been found to be a big misunderstanding. The missing items have been located and none of you is to take any blame for misplacing them."

  A shared sigh of relief traveled through the room. Whispers followed.

  “Then why did they keep us here that long?”

  “I have dinner for twelve to cook…”

  “It's almost dark outside and I haven't finished mending the hedge.”

  "You can all go now," Mrs. Byrd said and stepped aside to let the crowd eagerly file towards the door. "Thank you for your patience."

  Elizabeth rose to follow the rest of the servants. She too could not wait to resume her duties, freshen up and find out whether the plans for dinner remained unchanged. She also wanted to check on Miss Anne and make sure her mistress was content with finally locating her missing jewels.

  She shuffled along the bench towards its end and just as she was about to rise and head for the door, she found Mrs. Byrd blocking her way, her face expressionless.

  "Mrs. Byrd?" Elizabeth asked in confusion.

  "Miss Bennet, would you follow me, please?" the old woman muttered under her breath, her eyes cold and unsmiling.

  Elizabeth steeled herself. What was this? Fear gripped her and her body tensed so much, she could not speak. Deaf to the happy chatter of the servants still walking out of the room, Elizabeth followed Mrs. Byrd.

  "She must have done it then," Miss Ashburn said with conviction, just as Mrs. Byrd and Elizabeth entered Lady Catherine's private receiving room just off her bedroom.

  "Hm," Lady Catherine grunted. She did not acknowledge the newcomers, her attention solely centered on her young companion who sat in the armchair opposite hers.

  "I do not believe she would have had the chance to sneak inside Miss Anne's bedroom on her own with Miss Anne absent at any other time. The two were nearly always together."

  Elizabeth realized that the person being discussed was none other than herself. But this was all an awful misunderstanding! She should be able to clear whatever lies were being said about her person in no time.

  She opened her mouth to say something, anything to stop this charade from going any further but Lady Catherine raised a hand to stop her. The old woman did not even look at Elizabeth. The simple gesture made the words stick in Elizabeth's throat like a lump of dry bread.

  "So, Miss Ashburn," Lady Catherine's voice boomed, "you are saying that Miss Bennet had only pretended to be asleep while she was in your care?"

  "Indeed," Miss Ashburn nodded. "After making me read to her from some obscene book she had undoubtedly stolen without permission, she feigned drifting off to sleep. I must say the woman is a good actress as she managed to fool me just as well as she has been fooling our dear Miss Anne all this time."

  "Despicable," Lady Catherine spat out. "How long was she without any supervision?"

  "I could not say for certain," Miss Ashburn said. "At some point I decided I could quickly go to my room to change and return before she had awoken. She must have sneaked out of her room then. As you know, my own room is quite removed from hers so I could not hear any noise. I suspect she had been planning this for some time and simply struck when the opportunity arose."

  "I cannot believe my ears."

  Elizabeth was speechless for a moment. She could not begin to comprehend the blatant lies that were being spoken about her right in her face.

  Only now she noticed the two figures at the bottom of the room. One was Miss Anne, standing with her back to the room, staring out of the window. She had not turned once since Elizabeth's arrival. The other was Mr. Darcy who looked into the distance with blank eyes. His arm was draped around his future fiancee's shoulders to comfort her.

  Elizabeth was suddenly infuriated. What kind of nonsense was all this?

  "I have not done anything," she said without being invited to speak. She did not care. She simply wanted to clear the air so everything could go back to normal. "I would not know the first thing about where Miss Anne might store her keepsakes. This is absurd. At the time, I could barely walk, let alone roam the house in search of something to steal. I have never stolen anything in my life!"

  "Enough!" Lady Catherine interrupted her. "I do not want to hear any of it." She turned to Miss Ashburn again as if the mere act of looking at Elizabeth offended her. "Miss Ashburn, did you notice anything unusual upon returning to Miss Bennet's room after your absence?"

  "I must admit I did not get the chance to return there at all. I was walking down the corridor and passed by Miss Anne's bedroom. It was then that Mrs. Byrd called for me and I rushed back towards the stairs. I only noticed in passing that Miss Anne's bedroom door was slightly ajar and I heard a noise coming from inside the room. I only assumed that Miss Anne had returned without my knowledge as I trusted Miss Bennet was asleep this whole time. Mrs. Byrd can confirm the timing."

  Both Elizabeth and Lady Catherine turned to look at Mrs. Byrd who only nodded silently. Elizabeth felt dizzy. How many people were involved in this despicable scheme to tarnish her name?

  "I have not stolen anything!" she said more loudly than she had intended.

  "Please, calm yourself, Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine said with clear disgust in her voice. "Miss Ashburn, where did you find these today?"

  Only now Elizabeth noticed that the old woman had been fiddling with an exquisite amethyst necklace in her hands. Now she raised it in the air so the violet stones caught a stray ray of sunshine and twinkled like poisonous drops in the air.

  "I found them in one of Miss Bennet's valises, carefully hidden amid her undergarments."

  At this, Miss Anne finally turned. Elizabeth could not bear it. Her young mistress's eyes were rimmed in red and streaks of tears lined her cheeks. The young woman's unseeing gaze focused on the jewels in her mother's hands. She did not even look at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth could not tell what made her stomach turn more. The way Miss Anne avoided her eyes and was clearly in pain from all she was hearing or the way Mr. Darcy now considered her, his face distorted in revulsion.

  No, this could only be one of her terrible nightmares! Elizabeth could not believe this was happening to her. If she could only find a way to speak to her mistress alone...

  "I have not done it," she whispered instead. Unfortunately, she found that it was all she had any strength to say at the moment.

  "At least have the decency to admit to what you have done. As reproachful as it is already, it is doubly worse to pretend you have no fault. After all, there is little argument to be made in your defense."

  Elizabeth felt numb.

  "You may pack your things tonight and I will arrange for your transportation in the morning," Lady Catherine said. Her tone could have frozen a hot spring. "I would not stand for a heinous thief to stay under my roof for another minute."

  "I..." Elizabeth tried to say again.

  "Was I not clear?" Lady Catherine hissed. "I do not want to look at you another minute. Out with you!”

  22

  Elizabeth folded the densely written sheet of paper and stuffed it in the envelope. Here and there, wet stains had smudged the ink but she had no time to rewrite it. It was late already and she was nowhere nearly done with packing her belongings.

  She was not worried. She did not expect to be able to sleep at all during the night after what had happened. Bits and pieces of what had been said in Lady Catherine's parlor haunted her thoughts, echoing over and over again and bringing tears to her eyes. These dropped onto the paper but as long as what she had written was still legible, Elizabeth did not bothe
r to start over.

  She wrote out Jane's name and address and sealed the envelope. She hoped the letter would arrive at Netherfield earlier than the carriage that would bring her back to Hertfordshire.

  There was another letter she needed to write that would be even more painful to compose. It was bad enough having to lay out the terrible events of the evening before Jane, but now she had to inform Mr. and Mrs. Collins that she was traveling back to Longbourn and give them a plausible reason for her sudden return.

  Even if she tried to hide the truth, however, Mr. Collins would learn it soon enough from his former benefactor Lady Catherine. Or at least, he would learn her version of the truth. Elizabeth doubted her cousin would ever take her word over Lady Catherine's.

  As she put away the ready letter, she stood up from the dressing table and stretched. The two valises she had arrived with lay open on the bed and her trunk's lid was open. She had already managed to collect most of her clothes but there were still several items she could not decide what to do with.

  Elizabeth had laid out all the gifts she had received from her mistress on the bed — the riding suit, the several dresses Miss Anne no longer wore, the kit gloves, the mother-of-pearl comb — all given during a time when the two of them had been happy and held each other in mutual respect. It was no longer the case in Miss Anne's view.

  Certainly, it would be both unfair and too hurtful to keep these items. She would fold the dresses and arrange the rest of the things on the bed before she left. She would not take a speck of dust with her when she left Rosings in the morning. She had already been wrongfully accused of being a thief. She would not do anything to add to the preposterous allegation.

  A wave of humiliation washed over Elizabeth at the sordid memory again. She cringed, her face assuming a painful expression. She shoved one of the valises aside and stretched herself on the thin strip of unoccupied bed, her eyes glued to the ceiling. She tried to swallow back the sobs and blink away the insistent tears, but her throat was constricted and her chest heavy. Was there nothing she could do to at least clear her name?