by Jennifer Joy
“It is odd, but it gives her an alibi. I imagine her maid would lose her position if it were revealed." Lord Harvisham laid the quill down and chuckled. Finally, addressing Darcy, he said, "We will do our best not to drag her into this mess. There is no need to endanger the reputation of another lady, above all a lady who possesses little else to bring her pleasure."
"Thank you," Darcy said. Lord Harvisham's grace impressed him deeply. He had the perfect opportunity to revenge himself against his foe and gave it no consideration.
Lord Harvisham shifted his weight in his chair. "I received a letter from my son recently. He inquired about your aunt … and your cousin."
Panic shivered through Darcy. He tried to remember what Lord Harvisham's family surname was, but he could not recall it. Then again, there had been nothing normal about their introduction. "What is his name?"
"Henry Hammond," Lord Harvisham enunciated.
Aunt Catherine’s exaggerated reaction now held meaning. "Your son is the doctor I have been corresponding with in London? What did he tell you?" Darcy did not want to doubt the elderly gentleman, but life experience had taught him to be cautious.
"I am aware of the activities of my son, Mr. Darcy." Lord Harvisham looked at him levelly, and Darcy understood his family's secret to be safe. "He knew of my history with Cathy and, given the lady’s reputation, he felt it best to inquire of me about any family traits which might be relevant to Miss de Bourgh's case."
"He asked the same of me, explaining how an understanding of the family’s health enables him to see certain tendencies which might affect his patients," Darcy said. Mr. Hammond was an insightful doctor if he knew he would get no such information from Aunt Catherine. However, as knowledgeable as he may be, a more important question remained. Darcy asked, "Do you believe him capable of helping my cousin?"
"If Miss de Bourgh can be helped, he will help her."
Darcy grasped on tightly to Lord Harvisham's reassurance. Only time would tell if there was hope for Anne but, right now, he could afford no distractions. Elizabeth depended on him — well, that was not entirely true, but he wanted to believe she needed him as much as he needed her. What he was absolutely certain of was that they both needed answers and he would not disappoint her.
Chapter 29
Elizabeth looked out of the window in Father's study. The night sky was clear and resplendent with sparkling stars. There was a bite in the air, and Elizabeth was grateful for the warmth of the fireplace and the lingering aroma of Mrs. Hill’s gingerbread.
Father looked up from his book with a chuckle. It was the political satire William had given him. "Your Mr. Darcy has exceptional taste in literature, Lizzy."
Her Mr. Darcy. A blush crept up her neck and burned her cheeks. Try as she might to contain her smile, she could not. She liked the sound of that. Her Mr. Darcy.
"He has described his library at Pemberley to me in so much detail, I can imagine myself there already."
"Had I known that, I would have insisted he marry you directly. I have been much too permissive with my girls. Any other father would have demanded he propose once you were freed from Mr. Bingley's library." Father peeked over his spectacles at her, grinning impishly.
"There is some truth in that, but most fathers do not concern themselves with the feelings of their daughter when she could marry into a fortune."
"Forget that! It is his library I am interested in!" said Father, filling his study with their laughter. It was good to hear him laugh in earnest; to have evidence of his restored amusement.
"With all the trouble we have caused Mr. Darcy, he may never ask me." She chewed on the corner of her lip.
"Nonsense," Father fired back as quickly as she had hoped he would.
She needed reasons. Her heart was too involved to see anything clearly. Every word, every gesture and action, held multiple meanings and her judgment was clouded by her own contrary emotions. "Why do you say so, Papa?"
"Mr. Darcy is under no obligation to assist us, and yet he has gone out of his way to see justice done for … my dear wife." He took off his spectacles to wipe his eyes. Elizabeth had never heard him refer to Mother as anything but Mrs. Bennet. His use of an endearment had Elizabeth dabbing at her eyes too.
His voice shook, but he continued, growing stronger as he did. "I was in no position to hire investigators and bring in a magistrate as he did. Nor was I of any help to you in seeing to the sad details of her burial. I will be forever grateful you were not obliged to see to every decision after suffering the shock of discovering your own mother murdered."
"And yet, I have been ungrateful to him. I was angry he had seen to everything, leaving me nothing with which to occupy my mind and busy my days." If happiness in marriage depended on arguments, she would feel much more confident in her standing with William.
Father did not scold her, nor shake his head in disappointment. Instead, he laughed. "You are too much alike and much too stubborn for your own good, my Lizzy. You have met your match, and it would appear Mr. Darcy considers you worth the trouble you will forever cause him."
"I do not know whether to be offended or relieved," she smiled. "If he will love me, faults and all, then I cannot be offended … for long."
"Neither of you are perfect, my dear. Always remember that and try to be more understanding of his faults than I was with my poor wife’s." With a sniff, he put his spectacles back on.
A knock sounded, and the front door creaked as it was answered. Elizabeth held her breath and waited for the footsteps to approach them in the study.
Sure enough, it was a message for Father. He read it, moving his spectacles up his nose. Lifting his head up sharply, he said, "Mr. Collins says he knows who murdered Mrs. Bennet. We must make haste to the vicarage."
Elizabeth did not contradict him, though Mr. Collins' delicacy would surely oppose her presence. Donning her warmest coat and wrap, she informed Jane of Mr. Collins' note and left her sisters in the warmth of Longbourn to accompany her father in the bone-chilling cold night to the Thorne’s residence.
"It feels like snow is in the air," Father commented upon seating himself across from her in the carriage, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.
One detail bothered Elizabeth. "I wonder why Mr. Collins sent a message when he could have told us on his return? While I appreciated the reprieve from his presence this afternoon, I worried at his imposition on the Thorne’s hospitality when several hours had passed."
"Yes, he does tend to overstay his welcome. Still, if he has learned anything useful, I will forgive his presumption and haughty manners for the peace we stand to gain in learning the truth."
The front parlor was crowded with gentlemen when they arrived at the vicarage. Leave it to Mr. Collins to create a scene. Not only had he summoned them, but he had also sent for Lord Harvisham, Mr. Tanner, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and William. It appeared the hearing would be held early.
William made his way closer to the door as Mrs. Thorne received them, smoothing down her frazzled hair with trembling hands.
"Mr. Bennet, thank you for coming so quickly. I can hardly comprehend what has happened here this afternoon, but I give praise to God in heaven that Mr. Thorne and Mr. Collins are still with us." Her eyes appeared larger than normal, as if that afternoon had provided so much shock, she could not relax her expression.
"Still with us?" asked Father.
Elizabeth's unease increased. When William reached her side, she stepped closer to him.
Confusion added to her anxiety, Mrs. Thorne said, "Did Mr. Collins say nothing of his condition? That would explain why Miss Elizabeth is present. Otherwise, I am certain her sensibilities would have obliged her to remain at home."
Elizabeth had expected that, and she had an answer ready. However, she had no need for it. William answered, "As the one who found Mrs. Bennet, I am certain even Mr. Collins would approve of Miss Elizabeth’s wish to be here. So long as Mr. Bennet has no objections, I doubt anyone else wil
l either." He looked around the room, daring anyone to contradict him. As tense as the room was, Elizabeth dearly wished to laugh at the picture before her. If anyone objected, they did not dare voice it in front of William when he bore the expression he did.
"It was at my insistence she came. The message only said Mr. Collins had discovered the identity of the killer. I would not dream of keeping my daughter away when answers are within our grasp." Father draped his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and squeezed her to his side.
Mrs. Thorne nodded rapidly, the hair she had smoothed waving around her face. "Of course, you know what is best and I defer to your better judgment. I apologize profusely that Mr. Thorne is unable to greet you." She twisted her hands together. "He is suffering from the same affliction as Mr. Collins."
"Affliction? Please, Mrs. Thorne, what has befallen the gentlemen?" asked Lord Harvisham.
Mrs. Thorne's chin quivered and William reached for her arm, leading her to the nearest chair.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. What a fright I am. Mr. Thorne and Mr. Collins were in fine health earlier this afternoon, but not an hour had passed after serving tea when both of them fell gravely ill." She pressed her hands to her temples. "I fear for their lives."
"As bad as that?" asked Mr. Tanner. "Have you sent for the apothecary?"
"Yes, I did so immediately. I would not have believed it possible, but it was the apothecary himself who suggested … Oh, it is awful!" She looked between Elizabeth and Father.
"What is awful, Mrs. Thorne?" asked Father, his arm squeezing Elizabeth's shoulders.
"Please understand I do not take the accusation lightly, and I repeat it only because of the responsibility I bear before my friends and before God. I cannot withhold a truth when it is in my possession." She paused long enough, the gentlemen began to shuffle their feet.
Finally, she spoke in a whisper. "We believe the cake was poisoned."
Elizabeth clamped her teeth down on her tongue to keep from shouting, "No!"
"I understand you did not make the cake? Who did?" asked Lord Harvisham.
Mrs. Thorne sighed, her face contorting in discomfort. In a low voice, she said, "Mrs. Hill sent it." Quickly, she added, "Mrs. Hill has always been an upstanding member of our community. While the evidence appears to indicate she meant to do my husband and I harm, I cannot accept it. Mrs. Hill would never do such a thing … I do not think."
Alarms blared in Elizabeth's head. It could not be true. Mrs. Hill was as close to another mother as she had, and the thought that the housekeeper who had been with their family since the beginning would cause harm to her mother was simply unbelievable to her.
She felt William's piercing look bearing down on her. While Lord Harvisham asked several questions to which Father listened in intense silence, releasing his hold on her, William asked her, "Do you think it is true?"
"With every fiber of my being, I know it not to be true."
He nodded, the muscles on the side of his jaw pulsating in time to the pounding in Elizabeth's head.
Mrs. Thorne, now being on the verge of tears in her distress, was patiently attended to by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who asked the maid to bring her mistress something to calm her nerves and sat with her, speaking softly.
His ministrations proved effective until she looked up and saw her husband standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching his stomach and swaying from side to side. "Mr. Thorne, you are not well. You will catch your death out here." She rose to join him, but Mr. Thorne waved her away.
"My love, I would not have you bear the burden of this wretched evening alone. It is true I am not well, but I am well enough to see the gentlemen upstairs to our guest room. Mr. Collins will wish to give what details he knows. It will give him comfort should he not survive the evening."
Elizabeth had never held any tender regard for Mr. Collins, but she certainly did not wish for him to die. The idea that he might set her heart hammering.
Father leaned down, whispering to her, “Lizzy, I think it best for you to go no further than the sickroom doorway so you may hear without having to see anything untoward.”
The room being cramped, it was decided Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Tanner would wait downstairs with Mrs. Thorne while Lord Harvisham and Father listened to what Mr. Collins had to say. William held back to accompany Elizabeth, a gesture she appreciated all the more as the acrid stench of vomit pierced her nostrils the closer they got to Mr. Collins’ room.
As he had done many times the past few days, William handed her his handkerchief. She accepted it gladly, pressing it against her nose to inhale his much more preferable scent.
When she saw William gag, she handed him the handkerchief, holding her breath until he returned it. And so they stood on opposite sides of the door to Mr. Collins’ room, sharing William’s clean cloth until they grew accustomed to the smell.
Chapter 30
A tallow candle offered enough light to illuminate Mr. Collins' waxen face. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.
The maid scurried into the room, apologizing profusely and clearing a spacious path around her as she gathered the chamber pot and a pile of soiled bedclothes from the floor. The smell improved dramatically with those items gone.
Elizabeth had never seen anyone so ill, and she shared Mrs. Thorne's concern that Mr. Collins might not survive the night.
"He said nothing of his illness in his message?" William whispered to her.
"No. Otherwise, we would have brought him a clean change of clothes. I do not know if he could make the trip to Longbourn."
Father motioned to the chair by the bedside table. "You had best sit down before you fall down, Mr. Thorne."
Mr. Collins groaned as Father helped him sit up in the bed. Elizabeth moved further into the shadows lest he request she leave. William nodded his approval, moving a step into the room so as not to miss anything.
In a raspy voice, Mr. Collins said, "Thank you, Mr. Bennet. You are most kind." He stopped to catch his breath. "Mrs. Hill …" he leaned back against his pillows, his head rocking from side to side as if it were too heavy to hold up.
Father sat at the foot of Mr. Collins’ bed. "Mrs. Hill made the cake. Yes, Mrs. Thorne mentioned as much downstairs. Mr. Collins, might I inquire why you are far worse off than Mr. Thorne and his wife if each of you partook of the cake?"
Mrs. Thorne was not ill in the least. Elizabeth leaned in, straining her ears to hear every word.
"Mrs. Thorne … offered her … piece to me.” It was painful to hear Mr. Collins attempt to speak. Elizabeth wished she could breathe for him.
“A more exemplary … baked good … I have not eaten." He stopped, pausing long enough to calm his heaving chest. "I ate more than … my fair share. My punishment … is deserved."
Father said, "You cannot mean it, Mr. Collins. Nobody deserves to be poisoned — if that is, indeed, what happened today."
William asked, "Is there no cake remaining?"
Mr. Collins cringed. "I ate it all. My greed … has led to my … downfall."
Putting his hand on what was most likely Mr. Collins’ feet, Father said, "Do not agitate yourself over what is done. You may feel miserable now, but your hearty constitution will not permit an easy defeat."
Father's optimism gave Mr. Collins a measure of strength — strength enough to continue.
"My greatest wish … is to be of service … to your family … should the worst come to pass. I prefer to go in peace … if it is my time … to leave this world."
Had he not looked so wretched, Elizabeth would have rolled her eyes at his dramatic speech.
He continued, his voice fading, “Mrs. Hill …” He clutched at Father’s arm, but Mr. Collins could say no more.
Patting his blanketed feet, Father said, "Allow me to understand your concern. Pinch your lips or moan if I am correct, Mr. Collins. If Mrs. Hill maliciously poisoned the cake, as you suggest, then it is your belief she also acted against Mrs. Bennet?"
Mr. Collins
groaned.
Elizabeth scoffed, drawing attention to her presence in the shadows. Mr. Collins was too weak to object, but he did cluck his tongue.
William asked, "It is understandable you might think Mrs. Hill to be guilty, given your illness after eating her cake, but what would she stand to gain by killing her employer?"
Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Elizabeth clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent any further outbursts.
"Jealousy, revenge? There are many qualities which could provoke a servant to act against her mistress," suggested Lord Harvisham.
Mr. Collins sat bolt upright, panic crossing his face. "My cousins? Are they safe?"
Mr. Bennet pushed down on Mr. Collins’ chest until he rested back against his pillows. "Do not concern yourself. Mrs. Hill is not alone with them. Had she meant to cause them harm, she has had many other — and better — opportunities to have done so."
Which was precisely the reason Mrs. Hill could not have killed Mother! Why do it in the haberdashery on the busiest day the village had seen all year? It made no sense!
William voiced her thoughts aloud, his tone decidedly more curious than defensive (as hers would have been). "Why would Mrs. Hill choose the day of the parade— a day teeming with potential witnesses? If she meant to harm Mrs. Bennet, she chose a rather public day to do it."
"Perhaps she saw protection in the crowd. Is it not true nobody has come forth as a witness?" suggested Father, to which Mr. Collins groaned in accord.
Lord Harvisham stood on the other side of Mr. Collins' bed, stroking his side whiskers.
Just as Elizabeth thought of another obstacle in the current reasoning pervading the room, William, again, voiced it. "What connection does the murder of Mrs. Bennet have with you and the Thornes? Do you possess some knowledge which might reveal the identity of the true criminal?" He looked between Mr. Collins and Mr. Thorne.
"I promise before God, I know nothing. I only wish I did so that I might be of greater assistance," said Mr. Thorne, continuing, "As it is, I doubt I will be able to attend the hearing on the morrow."
