by Jennifer Joy
Continuing, Father suggested, “If Mr. Darcy will be so kind as to write — I fear I am unable to with my arms as they are — perhaps we may placate Mr. Collins by recording his final wishes before the arrival of the coroner. But please, not with this inkwell.”
Mrs. Burk’s eyes flickered to the offending inkwell. “That was the very one. To think I had imagined Mrs. Bennet to somehow be responsible for its disappearance … I now believe I ought to have covered over her faults — minor as they were in reality. She was never the monster we claimed her to be. She was harmless, and I am so, very sorry. The LAMB Society is disbanded. I am ashamed of ever forming a part of it. Please accept my apologies.”
Father’s eyebrows, like giant, silver caterpillars, moved up and down as he pondered. Peeking over his spectacles as he drew a conclusion, he said gravely, “I only wish Mrs. Bennet would have known of the existence of such a club.”
“Absolutely not! What an appalling thing to say. She would have been deeply cut,” said Mrs. Burk, her eyes wide in horror.
Shaking his head slowly, Father smiled sadly. “You did not know her as I did, Mrs. Burk. My wife would have been offended for the few seconds it took her to realize how flattering it was for the ladies in the village to deem her worthy of discussing so often to merit the formation of a club. She would have been honored to give cause for the creation of the first and only society for women in our village. I guarantee she would have taken it as her purpose to give you much to discuss at your gatherings.”
Elizabeth bit her lips together. Father was right. Mother would have gloried in the knowledge of her influence over the members of the LAMB Society.
Loosening her bite, she allowed herself to smile at her first happiness-inducing memory of Mother since her murder. As she looked at Father and William beside her, she knew it would be the first of many more to come.
Chapter 32
Hour upon hour passed and William never left their side. The coroner's inquest revealed that Mrs. Thorne's death, though tragic, was not manslaughter — involuntary or otherwise. It was an unfortunate accident brought on by the foolishness of a crazed murderess to inflict as much damage as she could in a poorly lit room.
As for Father, he sustained a large bump on the back of his head from where he fell against Mr. Collins' bed. The scratches on his arms were mostly superficial, but two gave the surgeon cause for concern. In the superior lighting of the fireplace in the front parlor, he poured some whiskey on the wounds (provided by Mr. Tanner) and bound them tightly, leaving instructions on the care of the wounds lest fever set in as Father looked longingly at the empty bottle left behind. Elizabeth understood all too well. She was not one to imbibe, but she would have loved a sip from the bottle as well. It was a night for it.
The Burks remained behind as well. Elizabeth suspected it was more to appease their own consciences than to be of any real assistance. However, Mrs. Burk proved to be a wealth of information once she called the day of the parade to memory.
Father, putting the bottle on the floor where it could not mock him with its empty state, ran his uninjured hand through his hair. "What I do not understand is how Mrs. Thorne avoided notice. There were people everywhere — even in the parlor of the shop!"
Mrs. Burk, who sat with them while Mr. Burk assisted in the coroner's inquiry, said, "I have pondered that same question since Mrs. Thorne admitted to the deed. She was with us in the parlor before Miss Elizabeth entered the shop."
"Really? But she was not a member, was she?" asked Elizabeth.
"No, although she attended most of our meetings. She chastised us for our gossip, saying nothing good ever came of it. Little did we know …." Mrs. Burk clasped her hands and stared into the fire.
"Now is not the time for regret. We need answers," said Father. "How can you be certain she did not leave directly? That she hid?"
"The bell above the door did not ring. I knew Mr. Burk to be busy in the back room and, while I did not expect anyone to enter the shop at that time — what with the parade to keep them out of doors — I always listen for the bell. As a shop owner, we must never ignore a customer."
"The bell did not ring?" prompted Elizabeth before Mrs. Burk got lost in a tangent.
"Precisely. The bell did not ring for quite some time. Much longer than it would have taken Mrs. Thorne to reach the door. To be honest, the shop was so busy just before the start of the parade, I did not notice Mrs. Bennet had remained behind when I thought the showroom was empty. She most likely searched for me for some trifle for Miss Kitty’s gown. I ought to have looked to be certain, then this would never have happened." Her voice shook and her chin quivered, but she quickly regained control when Father spoke.
"We must remember the past only as it brings us pleasure. Of what good is it to dwell on what we might have done when we cannot change the consequences of a chosen course? No, Mrs. Burk, I am determined to learn what I can from what has happened with the purpose of living more wisely from now on." He patted Elizabeth's hand as he spoke, and she prayed he meant every word.
"What do you remember next?" she asked, needing to know every detail though it brought painful memories.
"The bell rang and I recall hearing scraping noises and a thud, but I never dreamed what had caused it with Mr. Burk rearranging furniture in the next room. Mrs. Thorne must have acted then."
Elizabeth recalled Lady Lucas' confession. The bell Mrs. Burk heard must have been her entering the shop. She had fled directly after Mother's fall, panicking that she had killed her and leaving the shop door open in her haste to depart. Sparing her best friend's mother, she said, "When I entered your shop, the door was open. Mrs. Thorne must have left it open and disappeared among the crowd before I came in."
"You and poor Lady Lucas. She suffered quite a shock. I do hope she recovers. She is an excellent customer. Did you know she bought a lovely, chiming mantel clock the day before the incident? The Lucases are a stable family and good people. No doubt, they have been of great comfort to your family during these distressful times?" she said like a question, searching for information Elizabeth was not about to give.
"Of course. They have always been our dearest friends." And they would stay that way. Elizabeth would call on them first thing on the morrow … er, rather that day. It must have been after midnight. She would go after a quick nap. She would apologize for her suspicions, explain what had happened, and insist Lady Lucas cast her guilt aside. Mother had a thick skull. Lady Lucas' greatest fault had been to leave in a panic so soon. Had she only waited …
Elizabeth stopped herself. She could not allow herself to think so. It would only lead to a lifetime of regrets, taking away her peace and leaving her miserable. She would heed Father's advice. If anyone knew how to maintain serenity whilst surrounded by disorder, it was Father.
She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she remembered, Father shook her shoulder. "Come, Lizzy. It is time to go."
The fire had died down to a few burning embers and the pale gray dawn of a winter morning frosted the windows with ice crystals.
“It is snowing,” she said. Outside the window, with the world covered in a clean, white blanket, Elizabeth felt that the heavens had given them a gift. A new beginning.
The men joined them downstairs, looking exhausted and in need of the fresh view out of doors (and, most likely, a stiff drink and a hot meal).
Mr. Thorne drew closer to the window, saying in a hushed voice, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.”
Mr. Tanner clapped him on the back. “A comforting thought. As for me, I am returning to the inn. I welcome anyone who wishes to join me for a hot meal and refreshment.”
Father looked too eager to join him for Elizabeth to insist they return home. When William tucked her hand in his arm on the pretext she might otherwise fall on the slippery ground, her senses awakened fully, leaving behind any trace of sleep. And that was when, in the dawning morning and their closeness, she saw the gash
in the left side of his coat.
Gasping, she forgot how inappropriate it was to touch his chest in the middle of the square, in front of gentlemen who would tease her relentlessly. None of that mattered if he was injured. “William! You are hurt!” she patted through the dark cloth, examining the fabric for blood stains.
He turned away from her. “I am well. Mrs. Thorne took a stab at me, but Mr. Bennet held her arms down.”
“If you are well, why do you avoid my touch?” Her finger tapped against something hard. “What is that?” she asked. Whatever it was, it had saved him.
He straightened, taking her hand and placing it purposely in the crook of his arm, holding her so tightly, she could not move her hand had she wished to. (She did not wish to.) “It is nothing with which to concern yourself. We are all well, Mrs. Bennet’s murderess was brought to justice, our friends’ reputations are saved, and hope reigns as we begin anew.”
“How very poetic of you, William,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. It was clear he hid something from her in his pocket, but she would not force him to reveal his secret. Not yet.
Mr. Tanner shook his head and trudged through the snow, leaving a trail of large boot prints behind him.
Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled out his timepiece, clearly disappointed with the hour he saw.
Lord Harvisham chuckled with Father, the two of them talking between themselves and continuing on to the inn.
“Do you like poetry?” William asked.
“If it is said to nourish a fine, stout, healthy love. Words must mean something from the person saying them, not emptily recited to gain a hollow smile or superficial admiration.”
“I cannot disagree with you, though I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love.”
“You would never say anything you did not believe wholeheartedly, and thus I believe you would use poetry most effectively. You are much too honorable for anything less.”
“And how would you encourage affection?” William asked, a gleam in his eye.
“Were we at a ball, I would say by dancing —”
A squeal escaped Elizabeth as William twirled her, leaving her light-hearted and breathless.
“Will that do?” he asked with a smile in his voice.
Puffs of icy fog at her mouth proclaimed the cold weather, but she did not feel it. It was as warm as a perfect summer day to Elizabeth. “It will. Where there is laughter, joy flourishes.”
“And love?”
He stood so near to her, she could feel the heat of his skin. Fireworks spread from her hands, which he now held between his own, through her body, leaving her knees weak. She held Fitzwilliam Darcy’s heart just as certainly as he held hers. That he would cherish it, she felt confident. That she would live every day loving him gave her strength greater than her grief.
“Come inside before you both freeze to death,” growled Mr. Tanner, holding the door to his inn open and waving at them to hasten their steps.
William smacked him in the arm as they passed. “Killjoy.”
They sat down by the fire to steaming bowls of stew and bread still warm from the oven. Never had food tasted so delicious. The conversation was equally pleasant. Troubles would visit them later, but for now, they had a brief reprieve and they rejoiced in it.
The colonel was especially merry. Elizabeth hoped the trouble he had taken in assisting them during his leave would be rewarded when he next called at Lucas Lodge.
Lord Harvisham would leave for his estate once his things were packed and his coach ready. He extended invitations of hospitality to each of them, luring them with tales of numerous pheasants to hunt, a large pond with giant fish eager to swallow the dangerous end of a fishing rod, enough works of art to show in a museum, and a sizable library. He was persuasive.
Elizabeth should have known that with no cares in the world, one would seek her out. The laughter around the table faded as the imposing figure of Lady Catherine entered the inn with Miss de Bourgh.
They stood to receive her, and Lady Catherine walked until she stood toe to toe with William.
“What brings you to Meryton at this early hour?” he asked.
She refused to look at him. “I could not stay another day in this dreadful place. Anne insisted on returning to London and, since you had yet to return to Netherfield Park, I thought it best to find you to insist once and for all that you do your duty by your family and marry Anne. Come with us to London, Darcy.”
Miss de Bourgh stepped between them, pushing them gently apart. “The truth of the matter is that Mother ruined Miss Bingley’s social aspirations when she wrote to Lady Jersey and advised her to refuse Miss Bingley’s voucher — to refuse her entry to Almack’s by any means. Mr. Bingley found out about it and he insisted Mother leave at first light.”
Good for Mr. Bingley! While his action showed him to be capable of decisive action and boldness — qualities Elizabeth admired greatly and wished for Jane’s choice of husband — she had difficulty pitying Miss Bingley.
Lady Catherine harrumphed. “Miss Bingley will know I am not one with whom to trifle.” Looking directly at Elizabeth, she added, “Which leaves you, Miss Elizabeth. You insist on interfering with family affairs which are of no concern to you. You had best take care lest a worse fate befall you.”
Elizabeth refused to be intimidated. Holding her head high, she said, “I have no doubt of the powers of your influence, however, it would be a waste of your talents to use them against me. I hold no aspirations in society, nor do I seek their approval. I am simply a country bumpkin and much too insignificant for anyone of worth to notice.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam cleared his throat several times to cover his laughter, and William grinned widely.
“Now, Cathy, you have to admit you deserved that,” said Lord Harvisham with a chortle.
Before Lady Catherine could make a retort, William commanded her attention. “Aunt Catherine, the whole of the matter is that I am decided. I love Elizabeth Bennet with my entire being and I will not stop fighting for her affections until I have secured her heart. She gives my life meaning and direction where I was aimless and haughty, and it is my intention to marry her as soon as I can convince her to have me.”
Lady Catherine recoiled. “You speak of her as if she matters. As if she is your superior when in every way —”
William held up his palm. “She is. Elizabeth matters more to me than the world. In every way, she has made me strive to improve myself so that I might become the man she deserves. Of whom she dreams.”
Elizabeth held on to the back of the chair beside her for fear of swooning.
“Well, I never.” Lady Catherine pounded her cane against the floor.
She could threaten and insult all she wanted, Elizabeth did not care. Fortunately, Miss de Bourgh recognized when to withdraw and, with the help of Lord Harvisham, she convinced her mother to depart. It would take some time and a great deal of effort, but Elizabeth understood her well enough to know there would be no peace with Lady Catherine until her every option was exhausted.
But that was for later. Now, she preferred to fill her senses with the handsome, kind, honorable, responsible, considerate, handsome (did she say handsome already?) man standing beside her.
All the verbal battles she and William had waged together; all the needless offense caused by words poorly expressed disappeared like cake at Longbourn.
Before she could catch her breath, he was on one knee holding her trembling hands in his steady grip. “Elizabeth, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Finally!” shouted Father, popping the romantic bubble surrounding her and William. Father looked down sheepishly. “I mean, you have my blessing, of course. Then again, you knew that.”
William smiled at her, pulling her in like a magnet. Words could not describe the joy she experienced and so she did what she could. Raising her hands to either side of his face, she nodded as enthusiastically as she had ever done, pulling him to his feet and walking
into his waiting embrace.
Chapter 33
The next three days passed in a blur. Lord Harvisham returned to his home, Mrs. Thorne was buried quietly, and Mr. Collins did not die from his overindulgence. He remained with Mr. Thorne, who attended to his duties with admirable devotion. When it was suggested he employ a curate to assist him until he could mourn properly, he firmly declined.
Mr. Bingley and Jane would have their first reading of the banns that Sunday. Mother’s hopes of her daughters being the last wedding of the year and the first of the new would be fulfilled after all.
Elizabeth’s chest tightened whenever she thought of Mother, but when she cried, they were not the bitter tears of loss but rather of healing.
Father, thus far, had proved to be a man of his word. Time which he formerly devoted exclusively to study, he now spent with his steward, making plans and setting long-neglected projects into motion … so long as he could find his shoes. Chloe had developed the naughty habit of hiding them in a safe place where she might chew on them at her leisure. Her antics often brought Lydia and Father together with the mission of discovering Chloe’s newest hiding spot, giving Father and his youngest daughter something in common. It was a start.
Mary took great pleasure in assisting Uncle Philips with clerk-like duties. Her meticulous mind and ability to memorize were admired and praised often by Uncle. To Aunt, Mary lent a listening ear and, to her sisters’ delight, Mary deemed to repeat the juiciest bits of gossip when she came to call. She was not so pious as Elizabeth had believed her to be.
Donning her warmest coat and gloves, Elizabeth crept downstairs, wanting to escape out of doors unnoticed lest her sisters attempt to prevent her from enjoying a walk before Kitty’s wedding.
Mrs. Hill met her by the dining room, and Elizabeth greeted her with a kiss.
“Are you hoping your handsome gentleman will happen to walk along the same path?” she asked, a dimple flashing in the pudgy cheek where Elizabeth had kissed her.
