by D. L. Carter
“But what of the rest of us,” demanded Kitty?
“Since I shall have Longbourn I shall surrender my share of our mother’s money in the exchange and pass it on to you all,” said Elizabeth. “And, Kitty, if I remember correctly, you have wished for some time to go to London and study art. Shall that please you? To take your turn visiting our aunt and uncle Gardiner?”
“Oh, that would be very good,” cried Kitty. “I should love that above all things!”
“Mary has spoken for years about wishing for more schooling,” continued Lizzy. “But it never seemed fair when there was not enough for us all to go. Perhaps we should look into schools.”
“Oh, yes!” cried Mary. “I have already made my selections.”
“Lydia shall go as well,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“To school?” said Elizabeth, with a laugh.
“Certainly not!” cried Lydia. “I will not go!”
“To London, my dear,” simpered Mrs. Bennet. “The Gardiner’s will not mind, I am certain. It would do you good be seen in a larger society.”
“Lydia shall not leave this house until she has shown better sense,” declared Mr. Bennet. “Or have you forgotten, she is not yet out in society! Have I not been clear? Now, if you understand the terms of the will I wish you all a good morning!”
Mrs. Bennet pouted but could do nothing. Lizzy, it seemed, had been given all the cards.
Chapter Eighteen
A few mornings later, unwilling to endure her own company, Mrs. Bennet summoned her daughters to the parlor and commanded they work on refreshing Kitty’s better dresses in anticipation of her visit to London even though no time for the visit had been planned. After they had been thus occupied for an hour Kitty rose to stand by the window.
“Mama?” said Kitty. “There is a very grand carriage turning in the gate.”
“What do you mean, you silly girl,” moaned her mother. “No one visits us. No one will ever visit us again and you will all die spinsters.”
Mrs. Bennet shot a glare toward her serene eldest daughter who continued stitching. Elizabeth suspected that Bingley was absenting himself for two or three days in order to inspire longing in his beloved. Elizabeth did not know how Jane and Bingley were faring but she knew her own pain at Mr. Darcy’s absence was acute.
The loss of her own reputation was an ongoing ache. Mr. Darcy’s regard, never offered, never to be achieved, was sincerely mourned and oh, how sincerely desired. Elizabeth found his absence an agony. She turned the page of a French novel from her father’s library, paying little attention to her mother and sister as they exclaimed over the fine livery of the menservants, the number of outriders, and the dignified personage descending from the carriage.
“Whoever can she be?” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “Is that a crest on the door? Can you see it? Lizzy, put that away and fetch the Debrett’s. Kitty, tell me the heraldry!”
Jane lifted herself from her distraction to look about.
“Surely I have seen that before,” said Jane. “Wasn’t that the crest that Mr. Collins showed us on that letter from his patroness? The de Bourgh crest!”
“Bless us all, yes it is. This must be Mr. Collins patroness come to condole with us. How very gracious. Jane, ring the bell. We must have a good tea today. She must be tired after a long trip.”
Mrs. Bennet settled herself in her favorite chair, smoothing her lavender skirts about her.
“Mary, play something soothing. And not one of those dreadful dirges.”
Mary said nothing but took up her position.
Mrs. Bennet frowned at Elizabeth. “You may stay. Lady Catherine will want to condole with you, though you don’t deserve the consideration. Mind your manners while she is here. Now, smile girls. Smile.”
There was a heavy knocking on the door and Mrs. Hill was heard hurrying up from the kitchen. Moments later an angry female voice echoed through the house.
“What a small hall? So narrow and dark. This could not be called elegant. What was Mr. Collins speaking of?”
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. This was not the voice of condolence. This was not even polite, nor gracious. They were coming to their feet when an unfamiliar female entered in a rush, Mrs. Hill in her train. Behind both women came two heavyset men. The taller in clothing much finer than the smaller, but both were stern, jowly and of advanced middle age.
The woman gave the room the benefit of her examination and sniffed.
“Such a small park. Barely worth of the name. This is a most inferior chamber and it faces full west. It must be most inconvenient in the evening.”
“It is,” said Mrs. Bennet, putting on her best smile. “But we do not sit here in the evening. We have another sitting room…”
“Two sitting rooms?” the woman sniffed again. “A mere two sitting rooms. How can this be regarded as a genteel home? What a dreadful, dark place.” Pinning Mrs. Bennet with a gimlet stare she continued. “You must be the mother.”
“Yes, I am Mrs. Bennet.”
“And these are your daughters, well, which is she? Which one of these is the degenerate soul that did my chosen parson to death?”
Mrs. Bennet opened and closed her mouth, unable to utter a sound.
“Speak up. Confess,” demanded the stranger, looking from one girl to another until she caught sight of Elizabeth and pointed. “Oh, you. Yes, he said your hair was brown, as is your eyes. Well, are you the Eliza Bennet he wrote of? His fiancé?”
Elizabeth straightened. “I have never been any man’s fiancé, madam. But I am a daughter of this house. Elizabeth Rose Bennet. Who, might one inquire, are you?”
“How dare you pretend you do not know me? Your own conscience should tell you.”
“Indeed, madam, I am entirely at a loss to account for your behavior, or your presence and know you not at all.”
“Lizzy, enough!” cried her mother, sensing Elizabeth’s temper was rising. “Please let us all sit and perform the niceties. Surely this is Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
“Indeed, I am. But I shall not sit. You do not deserve the condescension. It is enough I know who she is.” The angry woman pointed a shaking hand at Lizzy. “That is the one. She has murdered my parson. Arrest her at once.”
The shorter man stepped forward and shook his hands. With a heavy clanking a set of iron manacles appeared from his sleeves as he advanced upon Elizabeth.
“What is this?” shrieked Mrs. Bennet.
Jane jumped between Elizabeth and the man, Kitty screamed and Lydia watched, eyes wide and eager.
“Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet,” screamed Mrs. Bennet. “You are needed at once!”
There was such a tone in her voice that for the first time in decades Mr. Bennet emerged from his bookroom at a run.
“What is this?” he cried, taking in the strange old woman, her two male companions, and the shackles. “Who are you? By what right do you enter my house and harass my family!”
“I am Sir Benjamin Michael. Magistrate. The village of Hunsford is in my remit. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has sworn out a warrant of murder against a … uh … Eliza Bennet, affianced bride of William Collins, the late vicar of Hunsford parish.”
“I reject your warrant,” snapped Mr. Bennet. “It is entirely without merit. Mr. Jeffers’s Court of Inquiry cleared my daughter of all wrongdoing.”
“That is irrelevant!” declared Lady Catherine. “Obviously this country coroner does not have the knowledge or skills needed. I will see justice done.”
Mrs. Bennet burst into bitter tears and collapsed into Kitty’s arms.
“Oh, this is jolly fun,” cried Lydia. “Are they truly going to take Lizzy away in chains! What a shame no one is here to see it.”
“No, they will not.” Mr. Bennet turned to the open-mouthed servants. “Hill. A message to Netherfield as fast as you can. Tell Mr. Darcy I would appreciate him coming and collecting his relative.”
“Darcy?” Lady Catherine’s eyes bulged. “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? By
what right do you claim acquaintance with my nephew? How is it you know him? Answer me. I am almost his nearest relative and I demand to be satisfied.”
“Your dissatisfaction is not my responsibility,” returned Mr. Bennet, and then addressed the magistrate. “Sir, you have been called here on a fool’s errand. If you will sit in my bookroom and wait I shall send a message to Mr. Jeffers who heard the case and you may review the documents and see that all was done according to the law.”
“Mr. Bennet,” said the magistrate. “I do apologize for intruding in your house, but I have my responsibilities to the law.”
“If it is to the law, sir, then you will find its conditions already met. My daughter is entirely innocent. Now put those manacles away. I shall not permit my child to be so assaulted.”
“I must take her in charge, sir,” protested the constable.
“You must sit, quietly where you are put and wait,” said Mr. Bennet.
“I ain’t takin’ my eye off the prisoner, nor my manacles either.” The man stepped forward, manacles raised toward Lizzy.
“Take her to London,” commanded Lady Catherine in a ringing voice. “She shall remain in the Westgate prison until her case is heard.”
“Westgate,” repeated Jane, and swayed where she stood.
“She goes nowhere, madam,” ground out Mr. Bennet.
“That is unacceptable,” said Lady Catherine. “She will be transported to the gaol in London to await trial.”
“No, she shall not!” Mr. Bennet turned and left the room, within a few minutes he returned, hunting rifle in his arms, and planted himself firmly in the doorway, flanked by Mr. Hill and two of the stablemen. “She shall stay here and you will compose yourselves to wait.”
“You will not prevent my leaving with your daughter as prisoner,” declared Lady Catherine.
“Do you think so?” said Mr. Bennet in a soft wondering voice. “Do you know, I suspect you will discover I am not impressed by your rank or your imagined authority. You will sit and wait. If you are polite I might even offer tea.”
“This is intolerable. I am not accustomed to being obstructed. You will clear the door. If you are so concerned for your daughter you may engage a lawyer.”
“I would be honored to act for Miss Bennet,” came a voice in the hallway. The servants stepped aside so that Darcy, dressing in dusty buckskins and muddy indoor shoes, could enter the parlor. “I may not have been admitted to the bar but that might yet be arranged.”
“You made good time, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet.
“I came the instant I received your message, Mr. Bennet. I even used your own horse rather than wait for my own.”
Darcy stepped into the parlor and took in the diverse persons gathered with one sweeping glance.
“Lady Catherine,” he said in a voice tight with anger. “I believe your brother the earl will be horrified when he hears of this day’s work. I have ordered your driver and outriders to make ready. They will return you to Rosings Park where the earl will attend you as soon as he receives my letter.”
“I shall not! I am here to see justice done!”
“No, you are not. You are here to persecute an innocent gentlewoman! That is not justice!”
“This is nothing to do with you, Darcy,” her voice dropped to what she probably imagined was a confidential whisper. “This family can be nothing to you. You do not bring any honor on our family by associating with them.”
“Aunt, I am here as Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s legal adviser.”
The lady staggered back, clutching at her throat.
“Certainly not! Darcy, you are no lawyer to be hawking your wares in the village square.”
“No, madam, I am in training and under consideration for the responsibility of magistrate which is how I know that your companion has much authority in Kent, but not here, where the village of Meryton comes under the authority of Squire Pennington.”
The visiting magistrate harrumphed. “That does not change the matter of the warrant. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has sworn…”
“How can she know anything of the matter, living as she does in Hunsford?” demanded Darcy. “She was not present for any events leading up to the day of the accident, nor after. I cannot see that she had any knowledge to provide.”
“Darcy!” gasped the old woman.
“Mr. Darcy, is it?” said the magistrate. “I am required to act on information provided. If you have studied, as you said, you know I must.”
“Then wait until the coroner arrives and soon you will hear the information that exonerates Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I should like to know how this woman knows about our Lizzy,” demanded Mrs. Bennet, stepping away from Kitty’s sheltering arms. “You come in here as if you know us, casting horrible accusations about.”
“I have it in his own hand,” declared Lady Catherine, reaching into a voluminous reticule and removing a crossed and recrossed letter. “Mr. Collins wrote to me saying he had gained the regard of the second of the Bennet daughters and anticipated bringing her back as his wife, to serve the people of Hunsford. He wrote at length about the progress of his courtship.”
“An interesting statement,” said Mr. Bennet, “as he was yet to receive a consent from either Lizzy or from myself for a courtship of any kind.”
“And why should he write to you?” asked Elizabeth. “A person so removed from our family and its concerns.”
“I am his patron. He would not have the house of which you would have been mistress without my approval and beneficence. All that you would have enjoyed came from me.”
“Indeed,” said Elizabeth. “I had thought Mr. Collins was a vicar of the church and all good things come from God.”
Color flooded Lady Catherine’s face.
“You dare speak of God, after you have broken the most important of the commandments?”
“I thought the most important was to honor God,” said Elizabeth, and then turned to Mary. “Would you not say so, Mary? Which commandment is the first?”
“The first?” stuttered Mary, then found her voice, astonished that she should be appealed to as the authority on such a matter. “Indeed, it is: I am the Lord, thy God. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me”
“Thank you, Mary,” said Mr. Bennet, smiling. “Of course, I had only the benefit of a few weeks of Mr. Collins sermonizing, but I gained the impression that he worshiped more often at your feet, Lady Catherine.”
Darcy positioned himself so that Elizabeth was in his line of sight. There was no polite way for him to draw her away for private conversation, nor could he do more to assure himself that she continued well than to stare at her. As far as he could assess she remained his Lizzy. Straight and tall and true. She bore up under the weight of his aunt’s nonsense and the threat of imprisonment with all the grace and strength he knew she possessed. It remained with him, her knight, to see to it all threats were removed and dragons defeated. He would begin with Lady Catherine.
“Madam, you have disrupted this family’s peace quite enough and I must ask you to take your leave.”
“I beg your pardon, Darcy? How dare you dismiss me?”
“If you have indeed made unwarranted accusations against Miss Elizabeth Bennet you have passed responsibility over to the magistrate and constable. Your presence here is unnecessary. I recommend you return home and await the results.”
“I shall not. How can I know the matter is properly managed unless I am present?”
Darcy regarded her coolly. “Forgive me, Aunt, I was unaware that you have been admitted to the bar. I must congratulate you on achieving a rare level of legal education. When, exactly, did that ceremony occur?”
Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye and had the pleasure of seeing the pallor fade from her lips as they curved just a touch in appreciation of his joke and her stance relaxed.
“I am not a solicitor,” shot back Lady Catherine. “I am the accuser!”
“Are you here seeking the rewar
d, ma’am?” inquired Mr. Bennet, with a smile. “I would have thought you did not need that pittance.”
“I do not need all this wit,” moaned Mrs. Bennet, sinking into her chair. “What is going forward?”
“It is well, mama,” said Elizabeth. “Papa has suggested Lady Catherine’s only interest in seeking a murder accusation against me is the payment given to those who bring a criminal to justice. It is a mere handful of shillings. One can hope that is not her reasoning, unless she is sadly pockets-to-let.”
“How dare you?” cried Lady Catherine. “I have hired the constable to investigate the crime.”
“There was no crime,” pointed out Mr. Bennet, mildly.
“That is for the courts to decide,” said Lady Catherine.
“Mr. Jeffers’s coroner’s court did so over a week ago, madam,” said Mr. Bennet. “I wrote to you of the result when I informed you of the death. Your presence here only exacerbates my family’s grief.”
“Grief, I know the manner of your grieving. Yes, I know all.” She reached into her reticule and drew out a sheaf of papers. “Parties with officers, the girls running wild. And Miss Elizabeth Bennet presuming to seek a marriage with a most unworthy man, when her cousin is barely in his grave. Oh, yes, these foul behaviors assure me this is a family entirely lacking in sensibility and honor.”
“How dare you?” began Elizabeth when Darcy stepped forward.
“From whom comes this intelligence? Who is your correspondent?”
