Murder at Netherfield

by Jann Rowland

  “Darcy, come in man,” said Bingley. “We were speaking of the weather. I sent several men out to test the roads, and they have returned, saying the drifts are several feet deep on the road into Meryton. I am afraid we are all confined here for the moment.”

  I did not expect anything different,” said Darcy. “This much snow in this area is quite rare, though I have seen it many times in Derbyshire.”

  “We experience the same in York,” replied Bingley. “Though it usually does not stay long.”

  “It is a boon, is it not Darcy?” asked Fitzwilliam, grinning, likely about to make a jest. “The fair Miss Elizabeth Bennet is in residence with us, and you may take her measure in the following days. Of course, Lady Catherine’s presence is a hindrance, to be sure.”

  “Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy, holding his temper in check, “as I told Lady Catherine, I have not been paying any attention to Miss Elizabeth.”

  “No, I dare say you have not,” said Fitzwilliam. “But I know you better than most, and I am certain the interest is there.”

  Bingley chortled. “That is what I have been trying to tell your cousin, but he has been stubborn.”

  “Oh?” asked Darcy. “I do not recall you attempting to educate me, Bingley.”

  Bingley only waved him off. “Would you prefer, perhaps, that I pushed my sister in your direction?”

  There was no hiding Darcy’s distaste for such a suggestion, and he did not even try. Bingley was well aware of Darcy’s opinion of Miss Bingley, for they had discussed it many times, Darcy often suggesting that Bingley should control his sister better, lest she ruin him in society. Fitzwilliam chortled at Darcy’s reaction, but Bingley shot him a rueful look.

  “I do apologize, Darcy. I know my sister has been difficult, especially since we have come to Hertfordshire.”

  “It is no trouble, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “In fact, I think we are even now, given Aunt Catherine is now in residence.”

  “That is nothing less than the truth!” said Fitzwilliam.

  A knock on the door interrupted their hilarity, and for that Darcy could only be grateful. Bingley called out permission to enter, and the door opened, revealing the young man Bingley had chosen to replace the unfortunate Mr. Forbes.

  “Yes, Mr. Campbell?”

  “There is an officer of the militia here to see you, Mr. Bingley.”

  “An officer of the militia?” asked Bingley, a frown settling over his countenance. “Why would they send an officer here in all this snow?”

  Darcy exchanged a glance with Fitzwilliam and noted his cousin’s interest. “Did the officer leave his name?”

  “No, Colonel,” replied Mr. Campbell. He colored in embarrassment, realizing after the fact he should have asked the officer’s name. It was an indication of his inexperience. “I do know he was in attendance last night, but I did not request his name.”

  “Surely it could not be him,” said Darcy, a premonition suddenly coming over him.

  Fitzwilliam instantly understood Darcy’s comment, though Bingley appeared confused. “There is only one way to discover it,” said Fitzwilliam, pushing himself to his feet.

  As one, the three men followed the new butler from the room, toward the entrance hall. While Darcy knew that it was unlikely the officer was whom he thought, the suspicion would not leave him.

  When they entered the entrance hall, the officer stood there in his red coat, his grey overcoat open down the front, the snow melting in rivulets down the shoulders and back. He was tall and slender, his hair a little mussed due to the snow and wind. Darcy would know that stance anywhere.

  “Hello, Darcy,” said Wickham, as he turned and caught sight of them. He regarded them with an insouciant smirk, much as Darcy had seen more times than he would care to remember. “And Fitzwilliam too. I apologize for not greeting you gentlemen last evening, but I really had nothing to say to Darcy, and I did not know Fitzwilliam was in attendance.”

  “What are you doing here, Wickham?” spat Darcy.

  Wickham’s grin only widened. “As charming as ever, Darcy. I understand you are sniffing around Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Take my advice and develop a personality—she is not a woman to accept the attentions of a cold fish.”

  With a growl, Darcy lunged at Wickham, only to be held back by Fitzwilliam and Bingley. While Wickham continued to regard him, sardonic amusement evident in his mien, Darcy thought he sensed a hint of apprehension in the man’s detestable confidence.

  “I suggest you say what you came to say and leave,” said Fitzwilliam. He caught Darcy’s eye, and when Darcy nodded, he released Darcy’s shoulders and turned back to the libertine. “But let me warn you that if you taunt Darcy again, I will not hold him back. In fact, I will join him.”

  A sneer met Fitzwilliam’s words, though Darcy noticed that Wickham did not say anything further to them. Instead, he turned to Bingley and bowed.

  “At least there is a reasonable man here to talk to.”

  “I have no more care for you than my friends,” said Bingley coldly. “If Darcy informs me your character is lacking, that is all I need to know. Now, please state your business.”

  With a nod, Wickham said: “Officers of the regiment have been sent to every estate nearby to ascertain the wellbeing of the residents in this weather.”

  “Oh?” asked Bingley, frowning at Wickham’s assertion. “Why would Colonel Forster concern himself with such matters? Most estates are self-sufficient for at least some days.”

  “Because one of our number was sent to Longbourn to speak to Mr. Bennet and discovered that he and his family had not arrived home. The runners are to determine if the residents returned in safety last night and to try to discover the whereabouts of the Bennets and mount a search party for them if need be.”

  “The Bennets are at Netherfield,” said Bingley at once.

  At the same time, Darcy frowned. “That does not make sense. I know the Bennets sent to their home for clothing last night. The housekeeper, at the very least, must have been aware of their whereabouts.”

  “I know nothing of this,” said Wickham. “I am only following orders.” When Darcy made to speak, Wickham added: “I did hear that rumor, but Colonel Forster dispatched us, regardless.”

  Darcy turned to Fitzwilliam, a question in his gaze, and his cousin shrugged. “It is not unheard of for a regiment to take such an interest in the residents of a neighborhood.”

  “Your trust in me is positively heart-warming, Darcy,” came Wickham’s sarcastic response.

  “I would not trust you for any reason, Wickham,” snapped Darcy. “You are inherently untrustworthy, as you have proven over and over again.”

  Wickham snorted and turned back to Bingley. “It is good, then, that the Bennets have been discovered. The weather is growing worse by the hour. It was difficult to even make my way as far as I have, and providential, as well. I was instructed to return if they were not here, but as the colonel is concerned for his officers, he gave me leave to stay if I found them here.”

  “You? Stay here?” Darcy growled his disdain. “There are gentle ladies in residence at this estate, and I would not have you within fifty miles of them. You had best turn around and push your way through the snow drifts back to your barracks.”

  “We cannot make him return in this weather, Darcy,” said Bingley.

  “Yes, we may,” replied Darcy. He turned to his friend and continued: “Wickham has no morals, and no bad behavior is beyond him. You have a sister in residence—she will be a target for Wickham’s schemes and his need to acquire wealth, to say nothing of how he will prey on the Bennet sisters.”

  “Perhaps I have changed,” came the unconcerned response of the man Darcy most detested in the world.

  “Do not make me laugh,” replied Fitzwilliam. “You have not changed since you were five years of age unless you consider your increased depravity a change.”

  “Either way,” said Bingley, raisin
g his voice to make himself heard, “I would not send a man to his death, regardless of his character, and sending him out in this weather may result in such.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” said Wickham.

  “Of course, Mr. Wickham,” said Bingley. “But I will warn you—we will be watching you while you are in residence. If you attempt anything improper with any of the ladies here—”

  “Or any of the servants,” interjected Darcy.

  Bingley nodded. “Or any of the servants, then you will be removed to the stables where you may wait for the storm to abate.”

  “I have no intention of doing anything improper,” said Wickham with a bow toward Bingley. “All I wish is a place to stay until I can leave.”

  “Very well. If you wait here, I will ask the housekeeper to assign you a bedchamber.”

  Again, Wickham bowed and murmured his thanks. Bingley instructed him to wait in the entrance hall until the housekeeper summoned him to go to his room. Though Wickham did not miss the inference that while he was a guest, he was not a welcome guest, he only regarded Bingley, sardonic insolence alive in his manner as he acceded to Bingley’s instructions. Then Bingley led Fitzwilliam and Darcy back into the house. The butler had been waiting nearby, and the man acknowledged Bingley’s instruction before leaving to make the arrangements with the housekeeper.

  “I am not exaggerating the danger to the ladies, Bingley,” said Darcy as they walked. “Wickham has no respect whatsoever for rank, and he considers any woman a challenge. Your sister’s dowry will be an enticement to a life of ease, such as he has always desired.”

  Bingley’s response was not what Darcy might have expected, for he fixed Darcy with a wry grin. “I should like to see him try with Caroline. She is a woman who has planned and schemed and attempted to become the mistress of Pemberley—can you see her falling for whatever charms Wickham possesses?”

  While Darcy did not quite appreciate Bingley’s jest—particularly given the events at Ramsgate the previous summer—Fitzwilliam could not help but chortle. “You have a point there, Bingley. I imagine Wickham will experience all the blasts of winter’s chill should he attempt anything with Miss Bingley.

  The two men grinned at each other, but Darcy only glared at them. “Fitzwilliam, you know Wickham’s character firsthand. This is no jesting matter. And, if you consider who else is in residence, you may reconsider your jocularity. Can you imagine Miss Kitty or Miss Lydia Bennet resisting Wickham’s charm?”

  In an instant, both men returned to a sober demeanor. “We shall simply need to be watchful,” said Bingley. “And perhaps it would be best to inform Mr. Bennet.”

  Fitzwilliam replied with a snort of derision. “Oh, yes, I am certain their father will be pleased that you invited a known libertine to stay at your estate.”

  “It was either that or send him out into the storm again, potentially causing his death.”

  “Believe me, my friend,” said Darcy, “I am not at all certain which would have been the better option. Given what I know of Wickham, it is not at all clear.”

  That evening was utterly uncomfortable for Elizabeth, and she thought several other members of the party were in similar straits. She had not come across Lady Catherine again that day, and for that she was grateful. Whatever Mr. Darcy had said to his aunt, it seemed it had been effective to a degree, though the woman was not to be completely silenced. At least she did not speak to Elizabeth in particular, instead confining her comments to the entire company, though her meaning was completely transparent.

  Of greater annoyance, however, was the presence of another guest, and one whom Elizabeth had not thought to see again so soon. When the party gathered in the dining room, she thought her eyes had betrayed her when Mr. Wickham entered the room, surveying it as if he thought it his own. When his eyes alighted on Elizabeth, he fixed on her, smirking in a manner most unpleasant, and turned his steps toward her.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said he when he approached, favoring her with a bow. “How wonderful it is to see you tonight.”

  “Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth with a gasp, finally finding her tongue. “Why are you here?”

  Though her query was delivered with more shock than manners, Mr. Wickham did not seem offended by it. “Colonel Forster decided it was best that he confirmed the wellbeing of those in the neighborhood when it was discovered that your family had not returned to Longbourn. I was fortunate to be sent to Netherfield.”

  “I see,” said Elizabeth, unsure how to take his current assertion.

  “Yes, I am fortunate, indeed. For there is no other estate in the neighborhood in which there are so many beautiful and agreeable ladies in residence.”

  Elizabeth had heard flattery aplenty, but never had it been delivered with such smoothness, such utter assurance that the speaker would be believed that his words were nothing more than the truth. Of course, Elizabeth disbelieved and distrusted him in an instant. While he might find her attractive, she was certain he was speaking in such a manner for his own benefit.

  Before she could speak, however, the obnoxious voice of Lady Catherine rang out over the group. “By my word, Miss Elizabeth, you are forward, are you not? Must you attempt to use your wiles on every man in the room?”

  The scowl Elizabeth directed at Lady Catherine caused even that great lady to pause. “In case you did not see what is happening in this very room, Lady Catherine, Mr. Wickham approached me, not the reverse.”

  Then Elizabeth directed a glare at Mr. Wickham—which seemed to amuse him more than anything—and she stalked away from the man. Lady Catherine huffed at Elizabeth’s tone, but she did not speak directly to Elizabeth again. Instead, she began speaking of matters dearer to her interests.

  “It was clear to my dearest Anne and me that, even at a young age, our children were meant for each other. They were so close, you see, so much so that they doted on each other. My sister and I spoke about it many times over the years, and we knew it was nothing less than perfect; they are both descended from the same noble family on their mothers’ sides, and while their fathers were not titled, they possess old and respectable family names.

  “Indeed, who could stand between them?” Lady Catherine’s eyes fell on Elizabeth to no one’s surprise, but they soon switched to the person of Miss Bingley, surprising Elizabeth—she had not thought Lady Catherine so perceptive as to detect Miss Bingley’s interest in Mr. Darcy so quickly. “No one can, of course. I have no doubt they will both do their duty in the end.”

  “Of course, they must” added Mr. Collins, his adoration for the lady evident in his vacant smile. “You are to be commended for your boundless wisdom and infinite care toward your family. I am certain when presented with such arguments, your daughter and nephew must agree with alacrity.”

  It was difficult to determine who was made crosser at Lady Catherine’s pronouncements—Mr. Collins was ignored. Anne, who Elizabeth could acknowledge was still a new acquaintance, looked at Elizabeth and shook her head, then looked skyward, almost prompting Elizabeth to laughter. Mr. Darcy, by contrast, was glaring at his aunt, his angry countenance willing her to silence. Most of the rest of the party ignored her, but Colonel Fitzwilliam only watched her, amusement in his countenance and posture. When he spoke to vex his aunt, Elizabeth was not surprised at all.

  “I have always been curious, Aunt,” said he, “why you did not attempt to betroth Anne to me. Darcy already has an estate, after all. I am the poor soldier in need of an estate.”

  “Do not be foolish, Fitzwilliam!” snapped Lady Catherine. “You are your father’s responsibility, and it is easily seen that you and Anne are completely unsuited. Furthermore, a union between Darcy and Anne would be great, indeed! They will create one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. Why, even my brother’s wealth will pale in comparison.”

  “So you have teased and tormented us with your dreams for these many years solely for your greed and dynastic ambitions?” said Mr. D
arcy. It was obvious he was seriously displeased, for he glared at his aunt with the heavy force of contempt. “I will inform you once again, Aunt, that I have no interest in your ambitions, and neither does Anne. Keep your opinions to yourself lest you ruin the appetites of everyone present.”

  Elizabeth could only count it fortunate that the company was called to dinner at that very moment. Lady Catherine was instantly offended, but as Fitzwilliam rose and approached her, speaking in a soft but emphatic manner, she subsided. Mr. Collins, who could be counted on to support his patroness come what may, directed a censorious scowl at Mr. Darcy, but his reaction paled in comparison to Lady Catherine’s. Her scowl in Mr. Darcy’s direction could not be mistaken. It seemed, in this instance, the immovable object had been met by the irresistible force. Elizabeth could not imagine who would eventually prevail.

  Soon, Lady Catherine was on Mr. Bingley’s arm and Miss Bingley on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s, and they made their way toward the dining room. As the ladies outnumbered the gentlemen, several of the gentlemen escorted two ladies, and as a result, Elizabeth found herself walking with her father and mother. Mr. Bennet, it appeared, was quite amused, for he spoke softly to Elizabeth as they walked.

  “Is this not more diverting than comedy, Lizzy? I dare say Lady Catherine is so ridiculous that she will provide endless amusement until we are ready to quit this estate.”

  Mrs. Bennet stared at her husband, not understanding his jests. But Elizabeth glared. “Shall you not also censure the lady, Papa? She has been quite rude to me, for no reason at all, since her arrival.”

  “If I suspected you of being of little courage, I might,” said Mr. Bennet, favoring Elizabeth with a wink. “As it is, however, I think I shall simply watch as you put her in her place.”