by Jennifer Joy
Aunt Philips, stirring her tea with one hand and fanning herself with the other, said, "Have you not read the gossip columns lately? Julia Johnstone had her court presentation and her debut in society not long after her father died. If it is good enough for the royal family, it is good enough for me. Kitty will marry as soon as confirmation is received from Officer Denny's parish, although we will refrain from hosting a lavish wedding feast. That would be unseemly under the circumstances."
Take that, ladies! Successful vengeance stirred Elizabeth's spirits and made the day bearable.
Aunt continued, "I daresay there shall soon be another engagement amongst my nieces before long." Much to the Bingley sisters' consternation, Aunt smiled not only at Jane, but also to Elizabeth.
"Marriage can be a great source of joy when God has blessed a union," commented Mrs. Thorne.
Lydia, still lethargic from the previous evening’s draught and thus uncommonly quiet, sniffed delicately. Like a martyr, she endured their company and seemed determined to display how dramatically death had matured her. "I wish to marry a handsome, charming gentleman whom God has blessed with good looks and fortune. I think the happiest marriages are the wealthy ones."
"Happiness does not depend on possessions where moths and rust can consume, Miss Lydia. You would do much better to store up treasures with God. That is the path to true contentment," Mrs. Thorne corrected gently.
"Speak for yourself. I want more than contentment. I wish to be rich." Lydia dabbed her eyes with her black handkerchief. "It is what Mother wanted for all of us, and I am determined to fulfill her wish."
Mrs. Hill came into the room bearing a plate with cake on it. Lydia reached out for a piece before Mrs. Hill could set it on the table. It smelled of ginger and rich molasses with a touch of cinnamon. It was still warm and the spices wafted off the top of it in a swirly steam.
Mrs. Hurst took the serving plate closest to her and raised it to her nose. "Mmm, this smells divine."
"Stop that, Louisa, you act like Charles." Had Miss Bingley left her statement at that, she would not have aroused suspicion. But she did not. Her eyes darted over to Jane and her complexion deepened a shade. When Mrs. Hurst pinched her arm and hissed, Elizabeth (and everyone else in the room for that matter) knew Miss Bingley had inadvertently hinted at something worth knowing.
Elizabeth expected Lydia or Kitty to ask directly, but it was Aunt Philips who pressed for more information. "What is this? Please explain your meaning, Miss Bingley."
Not surprising there. Aunt Philips loved to gossip. Elizabeth leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word or flinch.
Miss Bingley shrugged her shoulders in an attempt at flippancy, but it was too late. Mrs. Hurst stared down at her untouched cake as if she were cursing it for causing such trouble.
"It is nothing at all. I believe most gentleman enjoy the scent of cake. My brother is no different." Miss Bingley waited until Aunt altered her gaze to her cake, and she reached over to pinch her sister, who bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Jane came to their aid. “Of all the senses, I believe smell to be the most powerful for recalling memories. Mrs. Hill’s gingerbread smells of the comforts to be had in a happy home.”
Elizabeth felt the same way about sandalwood and fresh linen. She would forever think of William and how safe she had felt in his arms at its scent.
"I will never be able to use smelling salts again without remembering my dear sister," said Aunt Philips in a quivering voice. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
Elizabeth looked out of the window. She would much rather accompany her father than be stuck in a cramped room. She was grateful for her friends, but she had no use for Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst with their fake sympathy and hypocritical attitude. They had not even liked Mother. Which reminded Elizabeth …
She began cautiously, knowing she would not get a direct answer, but hoping for the tiniest bit of information. "Perhaps Mrs. Burk can recommend an alternative to smelling salts. The last time I was in her shop, she had a group of ladies with her. Her acquaintance has widened so much of late, I do not doubt but that she will be an excellent source of a new restorative."
Mrs. Hurst wiggled in her seat and Miss Bingley pinched her lips shut. They knew something.
Charlotte knew nothing and, as Mrs. Thorne took the first bite of her cake at that moment, Elizabeth could read nothing on her expression other than the immense pleasure of enjoying a delicious repast.
Swallowing, Mrs. Thorne said, "I simply must ask Mrs. Hill if she will share her family’s receipt with me. There is nothing quite so comforting as gingerbread and hers is the best I have tasted."
"Gingerbread is my favorite. I could eat an entire cake in one sitting if I did not have to share," boasted Lydia. She reached out for a second slice and Elizabeth shook her head. There had been too many times when Lydia had helped herself to the remains of the gingerbread, leaving only crumbs for the rest of her family.
Aunt Philips cleared her throat. "Save some for the gentlemen, Lydia. They will be cold, wet, and hungry when they return." She smacked her niece's hand away from serving herself another piece.
Frustrated the conversation had been distracted, Elizabeth tried to think how she could ask what the ladies were doing assembled together at the haberdashery. Then again, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were probably not her best sources of information. She would have to call at Lucas Lodge. She could go on the morrow to inquire about Lady Lucas.
Continuing, Aunt said, "There is a matter I should like to discuss with you before I take it up with Mr. Bennet." She teared up and took some time to calm her emotions. Finally, she came out from behind her handkerchief. "I am dreadfully lonely. It is my hope that I may convince one of my nieces to stay with me and Mr. Philips for the duration of our mourning period. We have discussed it together and decided —"
Lydia perked up in her chair, swallowing quickly so she might not be quite so rude when she interrupted. "I accept! I would absolutely adore staying with you in Meryton. Oh, it is perfect!"
Aunt looked down at her lap and Elizabeth groaned inwardly. Aunt did not want Lydia.
Jane said softly, "Lydia, you must let Aunt finish. She and Uncle may have decided differently."
With a scoff, Lydia said, "But of course they would choose me."
There was no avoiding it. Either Aunt would be upset at being forced to take Lydia into her home or Lydia would have to be disappointed. Mr. Bingley's sisters paid rapt attention, enjoying the spectacle to come.
Charlotte said, "When my mother's younger brother passed away, she took great comfort in a dog. In fact, Duchess had puppies several weeks ago and we still have two in need of a home. Might that not be a welcome alternative to separating loved ones in their time of need?"
Oh, Charlotte. Her practical suggestion would fall on deaf ears.
Aunt replied, "That is a kind offer, Miss Lucas, but my loss is every bit as great as my nieces'."
Charlotte bowed her head, peeking at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye.
Elizabeth shrugged. She appreciated Charlotte’s intent.
"Who would not want a sweet, little puppy to cuddle and put bows on her ears? We would have so much more fun with a dog in the house, Aunt," said Lydia, still assuming Aunt could not possibly have anyone else in mind other than her.
Mary said, "I should think you would be more assistance if you offered to help Uncle file his papers and provide uplifting conversation."
"Which is precisely why Mr. Philips and I have selected you, Mary. You are level-headed and will provide a calm spirit in our home, providing companionship for me and assistance to your uncle. We would very much like to invite you to our home. If Mr. Bennet agrees, would you be willing to live with us for a time, dear Mary?"
Lydia's lip stuck out and she huffed through her nose. "Nobody wants me."
Instead of mourning the loss of their mother, the next few minutes became a game to see who could calm Lydia in her time
of distress.
Elizabeth leaned over to Charlotte. "Do you have a female puppy left?"
Charlotte smiled. "There is one. She is the sweetest little thing, although she does have a penchant for stealing her mother’s food from her dish."
"She will suit Lydia perfectly. May I call on the morrow? I wish to see how Lady Lucas fares and we can put ribbons around the puppy's neck to surprise Lydia."
"Mother will be happy to see you. She talks of little else other than you and your family."
She kindly made no direct reference to Mother. "Thank you, Charlotte."
"I am much more diverting than Mary," complained Lydia.
Jane, who now sat beside Lydia, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, said, "Aunt does not seek diversion, or else you most certainly would have been her first choice. Is that not so, Aunt?"
"Absolutely, my dear. My nerves are plaguing me and I need calm conversation." Aunt reached over and squeezed Mary's hand.
"If Father agrees, I can pack a trunk to be sent today," Mary offered.
Lydia continued to grumble, feeling Aunt’s cut all the more deeply for its being unintentional.
Charlotte leaned over and whispered to Elizabeth, “Poor Lydia. You had best call early on the morrow.”
Elizabeth eagerly agreed.
Chapter 16
Darcy could not help but contrast his own mother's burial with Mrs. Bennet’s, the difference was too great. While every family in and around Pemberley had been present or had paid their respects in one way or another, the few present at Mrs. Bennet's burial were clearly there for reasons other than their esteem for the lady.
He stood next to Mr. Bennet in the rain, holding an umbrella so the gentleman would not get too wet and fall ill. He cared for Mr. Bennet as he would his own relative because Elizabeth would wish it.
Bingley came more out of concern for his intended and his own human decency than for his friendship with the rest of the Bennets.
Richard, too, had joined them in the hopes of seeing Miss Lucas. A more sensible lady did not exist in Hertfordshire.
Tanner had joined them in his capacity as a constable, Lord Harvisham determining it best for a known, local man to make inquiries instead of his own constables.
Lord Harvisham watched faces and whispered questions to Tanner as shovelfuls of mud were scooped over the coffin.
Darcy was pleased Mr. Whimple had been able to provide the flowers he had requested. Mrs. Bennet, though she had been a trial to Darcy’s patience, had possessed a love for pretty things and it would have pained Darcy to put Elizabeth's mother to rest without anything of beauty to accompany her soul.
"Mrs. Bennet loved flowers," Mr. Bennet said with a gravelly voice. His quiet tears touched Darcy more than Miss Lydia's loud sobs. In one way or another, he had loved his wife. "I should have —" Mr. Bennet’s voice choked dry.
Regrets. Darcy remembered vividly his regrets toward his mother. "I should have embraced my mother more when I had the chance," he said. It was uncomfortable for him to share the intimate memory with Mr. Bennet, but he felt compelled to do so.
Mr. Bennet looked blankly into the distance. "The first time I saw her was in the middle of a field bursting with wildflowers. I was at home during a break from my schooling and the sight of her amidst such beauty took my breath away. Her easy laughter captivated my heart." Pulling out his handkerchief, Mr. Bennet dabbed at his face, once again falling into despondent silence.
Darcy allowed him some minutes. And then he could no longer contain his thoughts. "You must tell your daughters. It would temper their grief to know their mother had been loved deeply, that their parents shared something rare, coveted, and beautiful."
"It was my fault it did not last. I mocked her when I could have taught her." Mr. Bennet's voice trembled to a stop.
What could Darcy say other than promise he would never fail to value the gentleman's daughter as Mr. Bennet had his own wife?
Darcy was done with regrets. He would have none where Elizabeth was concerned, which made it all the more imperative he speak with her about Anne. If Tanner and Richard were correct, he had given her every reason to believe he had betrayed her affections. To allow her to think of him thus repulsed him. He would not allow a miscommunication, of which he would unfailingly provide more in the years to come, to wedge itself in their trust and form a breach too large to span as the passing hours widened the gap.
The last of the mud was scraped off the sodden grass and onto the mound of earth marking Mrs. Bennet's final resting place. It was time to return to Longbourn. Darcy did not know how he would manage to speak to Elizabeth in confidence. He could not risk overhearing ears, nor could he risk writing it down. But manage, he would. He was determined.
They walked in a line, huddled under their umbrellas for the short stretch to Longbourn. The smoke coming out of the chimney promised warmth.
Lord Harvisham’s deep voice behind him said, "Colonel, will you be so good as to walk with Mr. Bennet to Longbourn? Mr. Tanner has revealed some information to me and I think it best to consult with Mr. Darcy at the inn."
Darcy wanted to object. He needed to talk to Elizabeth. However, he also needed to bring Mrs. Bennet's murderer to justice. If Tanner had found something, he would be foolish not to listen. But Elizabeth needed him too. She deserved to know the truth and the truth could only come from him.
Torn between opposing demands, Darcy whispered to Richard, "Tell her I need to speak with her." That would have to suffice until he could explain. She would appreciate his help in discovering the killer, and he hoped her gratitude would soothe her contrary thoughts toward him.
Climbing into the waiting carriage, Darcy fell into silent contemplation for the duration of the trip. Discussion inside the carriage was out of the question with the thick raindrops pounding against the roof and the wheels sloshing through the mud and water.
Tanner's inn was warm and the private room had a blazing fire ready for them when they entered. Mrs. Molly brought in slabs of venison over boiled potatoes and a bottle of red wine.
"Thank you, Mrs. Molly. That will be all," said Lord Harvisham, kindly dismissing the housekeeper.
As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Lord Harvisham said, "There are some details which we need to discuss. I am sure you agree with me that time is not on our side. There is a killer in the village and the sooner we identify this individual, the better."
He would hear no argument from Darcy.
Continuing, Lord Harvisham said, "Since we are in agreement, allow me to continue. The first and most obvious suspect is Lady Catherine."
Darcy sat back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "I doubt her physical ability to lift an object heavy enough to inflict the damage done."
"That remains to be seen," commented Lord Harvisham, tensing Darcy's shoulders.
"Mr. and Mrs. Burk …" Lord Harvisham listed through several names, but it was the final name he pronounced which surprised Darcy. It was preposterous. “And, finally, Lady Lucas.”
"Lady Lucas' daughter is Miss Elizabeth's dearest friend. She did not arrive at the shop until after the murder. She would be the first person I would eliminate from suspicion," said Darcy.
"You give your opinions freely for one so young," grunted Lord Harvisham.
Darcy felt the hair on his neck stand on end like one of his hounds when it was riled.
Lord Harvisham continued, "It is no wonder when you are not in possession of all of the facts. Mr. Tanner, be so good as to enlighten Mr. Darcy."
Tanner's lips twitched and Darcy wanted to reach across the table to tag him. Who knew elder brothers were such a bother? Did Georgiana consider him a bother? What would she think of Tanner?
"Today, Mr. Tanner. I have already made arrangements to interview various villagers during the course of the day as well as with Mr. Bingley to speak with his guests. We have four days to find the fiend who killed Mrs. Bennet. We do not have time to waste."
&
nbsp; Lord Harvisham's words did nothing to soothe the battle waging in Darcy’s mind. This murder hit him with a force much more powerful than Wickham's had. He had known his innocence, and Elizabeth's faith in him had made it bearable. Now, he knew he had caused her suffering and the very murder of her mother had prevented him from revealing the truth about Anne to her sooner.
Tanner cleared his throat. "You will not like this, Darcy. Using your suggestion and feeling at liberty to lighten your purse as I saw necessary, I was able to get Mrs. Burk to confess her reason for being present in the parlor with the other women when all of the village was enjoying the parade. Evidently, they had formed a sort of ladies' club. The group assembled are the most staunch members. The others who were not in attendance preferred to leave early for the parade. Among them are Lady Lucas —”
“Lady Lucas?” Darcy repeated in disbelief.
“That is not all,” Tanner continued. “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst are members, and they took it upon themselves to introduce Lady Catherine to their club."
Darcy sat up, clutching his hands on top of the table to keep them still. "Did Aunt Catherine accept their invitation?"
"She did. She was present for a time, but left before the parade to avoid being seen mixing in company with ladies of inferior stations. I have been unable to determine where she went after departing. She did not return here directly."
"That sounds like her. I am surprised I have not heard of this. She would have cut Miss Bingley for suggesting she involve herself with something so common."
"Oh, she became a member of the club. Oath and all."
Darcy forced his jaw to remain in place. "It must have cost you a handsome sum to acquire this information."
Another chuckle. "Not me, Darcy. You. Mrs. Burk was entirely moved by the coins I figuratively dangled in front of her face. She expects to be rewarded for betraying her sisters in hatred."
"Hatred?” Darcy did not like the direction this headed. “If it gives insight into the murder and gives peace to the Bennet household, I would give a fortune."
