Accusing Elizabeth

by Jennifer Joy

  He bristled at the mention of her nerve-grating siblings, but kept his thoughts to himself as he should have before. "Georgiana is fifteen. There was a brother between us, but he died when he was just a child." He had not meant to share that detail, but he found that, when he could speak, he often said things he did not mean to say while in Miss Elizabeth’s company.

  "I am sorry for your loss. That must have been painful for your parents and for you."

  Darcy could only nod. It had devastated Mother especially. She never returned to her normal, happy manner after it happened.

  "I was too young to remember, but it devastated my parents. It is the worst fate a mother can suffer, I think. By the time Georgiana was born, Mother’s sadness had weakened her heart so much that she could not continue much longer. We lost her within a month of the birth."

  Miss Elizabeth's face lost its joyous aspect, and Darcy felt foolish for making her sad. This was not going how he had anticipated.

  "I am sorry, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to share my sadness, but rather to talk of my sister. Sometimes I think she would benefit from the company of other young ladies closer to her age. She only has Richard and myself to keep her company... besides her companion."

  Elizabeth tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone like Mr. Darcy as a guardian. It was such a disagreeable thought, her pity for Miss Darcy grew.

  “Does she prefer to stay at Pemberley rather than visit her aunt with you?" If it were her, she would prefer to avoid the company of her supercilious aunt, as well as her proud brother at every chance.

  Darcy smiled. "It is a challenge to visit my aunt Catherine. She has an overbearing personality from which I would rather protect Georgiana. She is a shy girl, and the company here only makes it worse."

  His response surprised Elizabeth. Could it be that he thought of the comfort of his sister more than his own? "That is selfless of you, Mr. Darcy. Often, I have wished to have Jane here with me to offer her gentle support. She is far kinder than I am, and she would find many positive things to say about those whom I do not." She bit her tongue. It was one thing for Mr. Darcy to call his aunt overbearing. He was family, and as such, had the freedom of speech to say what he very well pleased about them. She did not have that same luxury.

  With a smile, Darcy said, "What you tell me of your sister is similar to Georgiana's character. I had not seen it before." His smile vanished.

  Elizabeth had revealed Jane's shyness of character to him when she refused his proposal. Though she regretted speaking so forcefully to him, she did not regret a word of her accusations against him for separating Jane from Mr. Bingley.

  "Is that why you would rather Mr. Bingley marry your sister?" she asked. It was a bold question, but she needed to know why Mr. Darcy had seen fit to interfere with her dearest sister's happiness.

  Stopping abruptly, Mr. Darcy gawked at her with his mouth wide open. "That is what you think? That I cultivate Bingley's friendship out of self-interest for my own sister?"

  His shock stunned her. It was too genuine. Her cheeks burned at his reaction and blunt statement of her equally blunt opinion. Still, she would not back down. "It is what I thought when Miss Bingley made it perfectly clear to both Jane and me that her brother was set apart for Miss Darcy. After it was revealed to me that you were the cause for their separation, it was as good as confirmed."

  "Nothing could be further from the truth. Bingley is my friend. I have never singled him out to be my brother.”

  Still unwilling to believe Mr. Darcy to be in possession of any good qualities, she said, “Of course, his connections in trade would rule that out.”

  “You think that, do you?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “My sister is too young, and I would be the last person in the world to attempt to matchmake when I have suffered the effects of a supposed arranged marriage most of my life."

  "You are not engaged to Miss de Bourgh?"

  Mr. Darcy's eyes widened in horror. "You think that I would propose to you if I were engaged to another?" Shaking his head, he added, "You must think I am the worst class of gentleman to believe me as selfish and unfeeling as you claim."

  At a loss for words, Elizabeth clasped her hands together in the hopes that she could find some way to justify her opinion of him. It all sounded so much worse coming from his mouth. Could it be that she had mistaken his character as badly as he had Jane’s? Her mind flooded with doubt.

  Her confidence shaken, she said, "You have given me every reason to think poorly of you, and I do not understand why my opinion of you is of any import." Especially when she felt unsure what that opinion was.

  Mr. Darcy breathed in sharply, the muscles on his jaw tensing. After a long exhale, he said, "Though I cannot explain my reasons at this moment, I can assure you that your opinion is important to me. I have promised that I will speak no more of the subject, so let us change this current one. How are you enjoying your stay at Hunsford?"

  It was a safe question, and one he had asked her several times since his arrival at Rosings.

  "I am enjoying it as much as the last time you asked," she said, tongue in her cheek. She could not help it. She peeked up at his face to see his reaction.

  Did he really roll his eyes? She had not thought him capable of such a common gesture. She bit her lips together to keep from laughing. Then, she remembered that she did not like him and willed her face to reflect the intensity of her dislike. She forced herself to focus on Mr. Darcy’s negative traits— cloudy though they were. His greatest and most unforgivable fault stood out as clear as crystal: he had ruined Jane’s chances of making a loving and advantageous match with Mr. Bingley, even sounding proud of having done so.

  Busy trying to justify her appraisal of his character after what he had revealed, she was startled when he spoke again.

  "What do you think happened to my cousin's diamonds?" He looked at her intently. Unlike the previous evening, his manner held no accusation. Or had she misread him then? What she had seen so clearly before muddled into a confusing mess, so that she did not know what to think about the man walking beside her.

  "Your aunt has already decided on the guilty party. She made it quite obvious. My only defense is to prove who the real thief is before she decides to call the village constable." She tried to sound confident, though she trembled. There was no humor and nothing ridiculous about facing an accusation from a lady respected in society.

  Mr. Darcy's shoulders stiffened. "She can be unreasonable. Please let me reassure you that I intend to get to the bottom of this. Have you learned anything thus far?"

  "I have only made a list of everyone who could have stolen the jewelry. I even went so far as to include Miss Lucas and myself. Next to their names, I have attached a motive. It could be anything as simple as the need for money to a lifelong grudge against Lady Catherine."

  Darcy nodded. “It is a good start. A growing suspicion has taken root in my mind… Do you not think that someone with a grudge against my aunt would have stolen an article of importance to her? Why would they steal Anne's earrings?"

  Elizabeth, disappointed he had not shared what his suspicion was, but knowing better than to ask, thought for a while. Normally, any harm done to one's offspring would be a cut against the parent. But Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh did not seem to have that kind of relationship. On first seeing Anne, she had even mistaken Mrs. Jenkinson for her mother when they had crossed in front of the parsonage in her pony and cart. Mr. Collins had corrected her, and later that same day, they had met Lady Catherine.

  "Perhaps you are right. What we need are some facts. It could be that a servant, one of the multitude at Rosings, was in need of money. I have no way of conversing with them, nor do I think Lady Catherine puts much store in that theory."

  "No, and I tend to believe her, though my reasons for doing so are different to hers. Rosings is the largest estate in Kent. It employs a great number of people, as you have seen, and I do not think that one of her servants would b
e so simple as to think that they could get away with stealing property from her residence without drastic consequences. Contrary to her views, they are too intelligent for that. If they fall into Aunt’s disfavor, not only would they lose their employment at Rosings, but they would be unable to find work elsewhere." He relaxed as he spoke, and their conversation felt strangely comfortable.

  "I see. Do you really feel that someone else is responsible then? Someone who was present at the dinner?"

  "I cannot say for certain, but I cannot rule out the possibility."

  Stopping to face him directly, she asked, "Do you think I did it?"

  He looked straight at her, locking eyes. "No. I do not."

  They stood thus for some time, the weight on her shoulders lightening. His eyes had flecks of gold surrounding his pupils.

  Catching her breath, she said, "Thank you." She was not prepared to think kindly toward the gentleman. Not yet. He still had sins against her family to account for.

  The parsonage was now in view, and it was the perfect time to depart from Mr. Darcy.

  He must have thought the same thing, for he said, "I should leave you here. Have a pleasant day." With a bow, he turned to cross the lawn leading to Rosings.

  Elizabeth watched him retreat. Then, with a sigh, she walked to the parsonage.

  She was met at the door by Mr. Collins. He stood rubbing his hands together, his customary layer of sweat covering his forehead.

  "Cousin Elizabeth, we have been waiting for you to return for some time now. It is time to begin my investigation, and my first order of business is to go through all the belongings in your room." He said it like he would take great pleasure ruffling through her things.

  Elizabeth looked behind him to where Charlotte sat in the parlor. She raised her hand to her temple and shook her head with her eyes closed.

  "Am I the only person in your household to have this honor?" Elizabeth asked with sarcasm.

  “Certainly not. All members of my family shall be treated equally. Even Mrs. Collins’ room has been searched thoroughly. Only you and Miss Lucas remain.” He slapped his hands together, and rubbed them again. “Come in, cousin. We have work to do,” he said with the same glee Lydia had when she had informed her family in Longbourn of the arrival of officers in Meryton.

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth opened the door to her bedchamber. There was not much to see other than a stand with a wash basin near the door, a chair in the corner by the window, the bed against the wall to the right, and the trunk with her possessions at the foot of it.

  Mr. Collins walked in, telling the ladies to stand on the opposite wall to observe while Betsy, the housemaid, sorted through everything under his watchful eye. Elizabeth could only imagine the disorder her cousin would make in his home during the course of the day. She looked at Charlotte, who appeared tired. As much pride as she took in the orderliness and comfort of her home, it must distress her greatly to have it disarrayed so badly by her own husband.

  Starting in the corner with the chair, Betsy ran her fingers down the curtains, checking every fold and seam in the fabric for hidden diamonds. Elizabeth folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. This would take some time. How fortunate for her that she had missed everything except the ransacking of two bed chambers.

  Betsy flipped the covers off the bed, meticulously checking each blanket as she had the curtains, pausing on occasion to look to Mr. Collins for instructions. The feather pillow, of which Elizabeth was grateful she only had one, was flattened and squished inch by inch.

  Looking at them from under his moist brow, he said in a disappointed tone, "Nothing thus far."

  She stepped away from the wall, but one look at Charlotte silenced the retort on the tip of her tongue. Grumbling to herself, she leaned back, resuming her position against the floral paper. Just because she had refused his hand and insulted his pride did not mean that she was a thief!

  Mr. Collins turned his attention to the trunk. It was not large, nor did she have many possessions in it as her wardrobe consisted of the minimum assorted dresses a gentleman’s daughter should be in possession of. Since a pair of earrings could only be placed in a book if a hole were cut in it, the two novels she had brought with her had been spared a page by page inspection. Still, it did not stop him from thumbing through the pages.

  After removing all the contents so that Mr. Collins could ensure that no secret compartment existed in the trunk, Betsy kindly arranged everything back in the order in which it was found.

  One more look around the room confirmed that there were no other hiding places available, and ended the search.

  In an official sounding voice, Mr. Collins declared, "The earrings are not here. Let us continue." He could not hide the disappointment in his tone, and Elizabeth glared at his back as they followed him to Maria's bedchamber.

  Maria's room was slightly larger than Elizabeth's, but it held no more furnishings nor hiding places than hers. The search proceeded in the same manner, and Elizabeth occupied herself with counting how many insects buzzed past the window outside.

  Maria shuffled her feet back and forth. She clasped her hands together and unclasped them, then wiped her palms against her morning dress.

  Charlotte, who stood next to her observing Betsy's progress, placed her hand on Maria's shoulder. "You are making me nervous. Calm down."

  Maria looked anxiously at Elizabeth, a pleading look in her eye. It was the same look her younger sisters gave her when they were about to get into trouble. Not that they got into trouble often. It was not so much for want of trying, but rather due to Father's indifference to their silly actions and Mother's nerves, which refused to confront anything not to her liking.

  Mr. Collins finally got around to the trunk. Elizabeth wondered at her young friend. She had obviously hidden something she did not want him to see. Surely, she did not steal the diamond earrings?… Or did she?

  Elizabeth considered the day they had gone together to Rosings. Not once had Maria left her side. Maria would have had no opportunity to take them. Besides, she was a good girl. In Elizabeth’s recollection, she had never done anything to draw unnecessary attention to herself.

  The trunk lid opened with a squeak. It embarrassed Mr. Collins greatly to see a pair of lady's stockings— so much so that Charlotte joined him as Betsy removed the rest of the personal effects.

  They reached the bottom of the trunk, and all but Betsy froze. Charlotte placed her hands on her hips and stood erect, facing her sister. Mr. Collins' face took on a stern aspect as he continued to stare at the object at the bottom of the trunk.

  Elizabeth heard Maria suck in her breath and hold it. Wringing her hands in front of her, she resumed her shuffling.

  What had they found? Elizabeth chewed on her lip, and was sorely tempted to walk the few steps to the foot of the bed to see for herself. As it was, the silence in the room only made Maria's now shallow breaths sound too loud within the small space.

  Finally, when Elizabeth did not think she could stand another second of ignorance, Mr. Collins reached down to gather the offending item.

  Darcy sat in the library overlooking the topiary garden. He had not had an opportunity to speak with Richard since he had returned from his morning walk. Richard had ensconced himself in his room— no doubt to tend to the letters he had mentioned.

  Needing a place where Aunt Catherine would not bother to enter, he felt safe in the library. Unlike the other gaudy rooms in the house, the walls in the book room were lined with volumes of tomes, rather than murals and tapestries. Darcy did not like the painted figures in his aunt's home. Dozens upon dozens of eyes watched his every move, and it made him crave the simpler, more elegant design of Pemberley.

  A man walking across the garden toward the front door caught his attention. It was not the gardener. Aunt Catherine made sure that every servant in her employ wore garments easily identifying them as such. This man, at first glance, looked like a dandy with his coat cut in the lat
est fashion and satin breeches. The buckles on his shoes shone. But he was no gentleman. Of that, Darcy was certain.

  The man walked tall— like he had every right to be there. Like a man with a score to settle.

  Darcy listened by the glass. Aunt Catherine would send any unwanted or uninvited visitors away without the slightest consideration.

  "I am here to see Colonel Fitzwilliam. Be so good as to announce that Mr. Badger has come to collect what is his," the visitor spoke loudly enough to the butler, Darcy had no difficulty hearing him.

  Of course, the man was not allowed entry, but was left to wait by the front door as Simmons went upstairs to Richard's room.

  After a short time, Simmons returned to the entry and Mr. Badger.

  "The colonel is away at the moment. Are you staying in the village where he can contact you, perhaps?"

  Mr. Badger affirmed and stated his location, as well as a warning. "Tell the colonel that I expect a visit very soon. My employer does not take kindly to delays."

  Darcy watched Mr. Badger depart.

  Intrigued, Darcy went to pay his cousin a visit. As he suspected, he was in his room.

  "Richard, what is going on?" Darcy demanded. "First, I see you in an argument with Anne, and now I could not help but overhear a man demand to see you. Are you in trouble? Is there something I can help you with?" His concern grew as he watched Richard shove his fingers through his hair and down to squeeze the back of his neck.

  "It is not what you think, Darcy."

  Chapter 10

  Massaging the nape of his neck, Richard invited Darcy to pull up a chair to sit by him.

  "You are aware that I recently had to buy a new horse because Ebony, may his soul rest in peace, broke his leg when he stepped in a hole and landed in such a way to put paid to my saddle. In a series of unfortunate events with no merciful ending, I had to replace my horse, my saddle, and a few other items essential to my profession. All of this happened suddenly, and I had to take on a great deal of debt."