by Jennifer Joy
"What about your father? Could he not spare the funds?" asked Darcy, angry that he had been unaware of his cousin's difficulties until that moment.
Richard ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw. "Let us leave my father out of this. He and I are not on speaking terms at the moment— his choice, certainly not mine.”
"What has happened? You get along with everyone." Darcy was appalled. Richard's jovial nature and charming manners put him in a good light wherever he went. He was the favorite in the family— except with Aunt Catherine, who only favored Darcy for his fortune.
Richard choked out a cold laugh. “The loss of a pretty piece of the family’s fortune in a bad speculation has strained our relationship, though I had advised him against it. To make matters worse, last season I was hunted by a young lady from a wealthy family. I say ‘hunted’ for her family endeavored to put her in my way at every opportunity. They even went so far as to arrange for me to fall into a compromising situation and, thus, force me to marry her."
Darcy hated the scheming ways some families had of marrying off their daughters. But, in Richard's case, he needed to marry into a fortune.
"I can understand your loathing, but would not such a marriage benefit you?"
Shaking his head emphatically, Richard said, "Not this one. You know that I would prefer to have some level of respect for the woman I choose to marry. We would need to have at least some common interests. I see marriage as one of the most important decisions a gentleman can make in his life."
"Who was this lady? Was it someone of my acquaintance?"
"I should say you know her. Or rather, you know her dearest friend."
Curious, Darcy waited for Richard to continue.
"She is none other than Miss Louisa Dawson, Miss Bingley's closest friend. Her parents have been unable to rid themselves of her after four unsuccessful seasons."
Darcy shivered. Any friend of Miss Bingley was someone he would run away from as quickly as his feet could carry him. Miss Dawson would make any man miserable in marriage if she was anything like Miss Bingley. No fortune could account for the misery she would put her future husband through. He was glad Richard had escaped.
"I take it that Uncle wanted you to agree to the match?" It always came down to money. Those who had it lorded it over those who did not. Those who had none resented those who did. Friends were easily made when one possessed a fortune, but how many of them really cared for the man more than his possessions?
"My father was furious. He felt that it was not my place to refuse to make an offer when the lady was obviously willing to accept it. He is so much like Aunt Catherine, it is disturbing. Both of them refuse to live within their means— not that their means are difficult to live within, quite the opposite. Did you know of Aunt’s latest plan to hire an architect to improve the already perfect gardens in the park?" Leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair, he continued, "So, I was in the position of owing a good amount of money I had no means of paying. I did what most men in my position do. I borrowed from a lender."
Darcy winced. "Why did you not appeal to me for help? I would gladly have given you the money."
Richard’s stance softened. "I know it, Darcy. And I thank you for it. However, you had just dealt with Wickham, and you had your hands full with Georgiana. I could not burden you with my problems too.”
Richard did not need to say it, but Darcy sensed that his pride would not let him ask for help when it was so desperately needed.
"Was that what you wanted to speak to Aunt Catherine about?" he asked.
Richard shifted his weight in his chair, and kicked the heel of his boot against the floor. "Essentially." Kicking his boot heel against the floor again, he added, "Have you seen Anne’s arms?"
The change in direction of the conversation caught Darcy off guard. "No. She always wears elbow gloves or long sleeved gowns. Why?"
Richard leaned forward. "I think her doctor is a charlatan. I only happened to see because one of her gloves slipped down. She is so thin... Well, I shall never forget the cuts I saw on her arm. I suspect the other one is just as bad. I know that bleeding is an accepted treatment in the medical profession, but I saw with my own eyes what a loss of blood did to the men on the battlefields. It killed them, Darcy."
Darcy exhaled in disgust at the doctor and pity for Anne. She was weak as it was. "Aunt Catherine calls him in from town, does she not?"
Richard scoffed. "She personally selected him and pays for him to travel the distance here so that he may bleed Anne once a week. I suppose he applies leeches to her temples for her frequent headaches as well." He threw his arms up, then crossed them in front of him, a scowl on his face.
Darcy tensed as well. He had never been close to Anne. His efforts to discourage Aunt Catherine's desire for their union guaranteed that. But he did not want her to be mistreated in any way. She was his family, and if her own mother would not protect her, then somebody should. Could he risk speaking to Aunt about Anne’s health? Or would she twist his concern for her into unmerited interest in their imagined engagement?
"Richard, would you be willing to suggest a different doctor? I would be happy to pass on the name of mine in town."
"Someone needs to say something before the charlatan bleeds our cousin to death."
Darcy sat contemplating for a good while. This new information about Richard cast a new light on the disappearance of Anne's jewelry. He had nearly convinced himself that Aunt Catherine had contrived it to keep him at Rosings, but the unraveling of recent events pointed to Richard. He rebelled at the thought, rejecting it as false before it could poison him.
"I know what you are thinking, Darcy, and I cannot blame you for it. The evidence against me is damning."
Measuring his words carefully, Darcy said, "I admit that the blame could easily be placed on you. If it became known that you were in debt to a lender, you would move up in the list of suspects. Does Aunt Catherine know about this?"
"Do you think I did it?" Richard asked, looking intently at Darcy.
Without hesitation, Darcy answered, "No, I do not."
Richard relaxed in his seat. "I am not a thief. But the reason I wanted to stay here for a couple more days was to ask a special favor of Aunt Catherine, and thus clear my debt. Mr. Badger had promised to give me until the end of the month, but he must have grown impatient. I am sure it brought him great pleasure to show up here."
"I saw him walk up to the front door. I heard him say that he will stay in Hunsford until you pay."
"Of course he will. He will make sure everyone in the village knows my business, and Aunt Catherine will know by the end of the day."
"We cannot allow that. What is the sum you owe? I will give it to you, so that he can depart this same day."
"I cannot accept your charity. My pride will not allow it."
Darcy had nothing to say against his reasoning. His own pride would not have allowed it either had he been in the same situation as his cousin. Stupid pride. He must tread lightly.
"Would you accept a loan? I will loan the money to you, and you may pay me back in installments over a reasonable period of time."
Darcy could see the war in Richard's mind. On one hand, he needed the money so badly, he had been willing to fall on the good grace of Aunt Catherine— if such a thing existed. On the other hand, he would be indebted to another. Worse still, to a relative. It was a difficult position to be in, but Darcy prayed he would make the sensible choice.
"All right. I accept your terms."
"Good. Let us go into Hunsford directly so the man can be on his way."
They stood and crossed the room together.
Reaching out to the door, Richard paused. His eyes full of gratitude, he said, "I want to thank you."
Darcy held his hands in front of him to keep him from having to say more, but Richard continued, "No, Darcy. It is not just the money. Thank you for not believing me capable of stealing property and dealing in a tra
itorous manner toward our relations."
"Let us hope that we can find out who is responsible before Aunt Catherine draws the wrong conclusions."
"I know it. It is between me and the visitors to the Hunsford parsonage. You do not think Miss Bennet or Miss Lucas could have...?" Richard asked, letting the rest of his question dangle in the air.
Darcy knew in his heart that Miss Elizabeth could not have stolen them, but he had no explanation nor any reason outside of his instincts to excuse Miss Lucas from suspicion, so he kept his thoughts to himself. "It is what I aim to find out."
With determination, the gentlemen left Rosings toward Hunsford in search of Mr. Badger.
Chapter 11
"What is this immoral magazine doing in my home?" insisted Mr. Collins, his left eye twitching in his fury.
Elizabeth's breath came out in a rush. It was nothing more than a magazine. She read the title. La Belle Assemblée. And that was when she understood Maria's apprehension.
Maria bowed her head, too overwhelmed to speak.
Charlotte reached an arm out to Maria. "You know that not even Mother and Father allow you to purchase this magazine. It is frivolous and only encourages excessive vanity. Where did you get this?"
Indeed, where did she get it? Looking closer at the cover, Elizabeth saw that it was the same edition Mrs. Baxter had in her shop. Only, Maria had not purchased it. What was it doing in her trunk?
"I only wanted to look at the dresses. They are so lovely. I even found a design similar to one of Miss de Bourgh's gowns." Maria looked up, hope in her eyes. No doubt, she thought the mention of the great lady de Bourgh's daughter might soften Mr. Collins. It did not appear to work. The disapproving rector pinched the magazine between his fingers and held it out from him as if it were a snake.
Charlotte shook her head slowly. "You know that you are a guest in our home. As such, you must live in accord with the rules of our home. Mr. Collins has expressed his distaste of the magazine, and so we must remove it from the premises. I daresay you only fell victim to the follies of youth and will not do so again. Otherwise, I would have to speak to Mother and Father."
Maria shook her head vigorously. "No, you need not say anything. It was an impulse, nothing more, and I have learned my lesson."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the girl. She was leaving out a lot of information. How did she acquire the magazine in the first place? She reserved her questions. She would not embarrass her further by asking them in front of her sister, but she would ask Maria how she had acquired the magazine as soon as they were alone.
Reaching out to Mr. Collins, Charlotte said, "Please let me have the magazine. I will see that it makes its way back to the shop in Hunsford." Looking at Maria, she asked, "I take it that is where you purchased it?"
Maria nodded her head but said nothing. Her face flushed a bright red and, once again, she wiped her hands against the muslin of her dress. Yes, she was hiding something. And Elizabeth knew very well what it was.
Mr. Collins, still holding on to his righteous indignation, said, "I am disappointed in this turn of events. What would the members of my parish think of me if it became known that my sister by marriage entertained frivolity in my house?"
Charlotte, who had already got over her shock and now stood with the magazine in her arms, said, "At least, you can reassure her ladyship that a proper search was done, and the diamonds are not here. Unless you have somewhere else you wish to search?"
Mr. Collins shook his head gravely. "No, that is all."
"Then, might I suggest that you go to your book room or out to the garden. It will calm your nerves, and you will soon see how best to proceed."
They left the room, and Elizabeth closed the door softly behind them as she heard their shoes descending the stairs.
"When did you buy the magazine, Maria? Did you walk back into the village later?" she asked, hoping in vain that the girl had a reasonable explanation.
Collapsing onto her bed, Maria let the tears fall. Elizabeth sat beside her, rubbing her back as if she were one of her own sisters, waiting patiently until the words could come.
She talked soothingly and handed her a handkerchief to dry her eyes and nose. And she waited some more.
After some time had gone by— sufficient time, really— Elizabeth repeated her question, albeit in a quieter tone. "Maria, how did you come to bring that magazine here?"
Looking up with a trembling chin and a red face, Maria said in a whisper, "I took it."
It was what Elizabeth deduced, but she had not thought Maria capable of doing something so remiss. "You took it? Why? How?"
"Do you remember when Mrs. Baxter went into the back to check on the crash in her store room?"
Elizabeth nodded for her to continue.
Sucking in a breath, Maria said in one long sentence, "I have always wanted to possess such a beautiful magazine and, in front of me, I had the chance. So, I tucked it inside my pelisse when she went away and you were not looking. I am so sorry for what I have done, and if I could go back in time, I would not do it again. My guilt has been so great, I have not been able to enjoy the magazine. I have not looked at even half of it. And now it is gone." She wiped her hot cheeks with the handkerchief and sniffed.
Elizabeth had not believed Maria capable of defiling her family's good name, and her own standards of right and wrong, so easily. It bothered her even more that it had happened while in her company. How did she not realize? "How did you keep the magazine under your pelisse the entire walk home?"
"I had to walk with my left arm pinned to my side. I thought I would die when you asked me why I moved so rigidly."
"You lied easily enough." Elizabeth pitied the girl, but she would not make the mistake of consoling her too much. After all, what she had done was horribly wrong— especially in the light of recent events. What would Lady Catherine think if she found out? This was bad. Very, very bad.
Maria's lip trembled. "I was so scared, I did not know what to do. You cannot guess how many times during our walk home I was tempted to return to Hunsford and put the magazine back."
"Why did you not? I would have accompanied you gladly."
"How could I have done so without drawing more attention? Mrs. Baxter would have wondered why we had returned so soon, and I would have had to explain what I had done."
"Do you not think it preferable to the situation you are in now? I could have helped you. I would not have had cause to doubt your motives as I do now. As it is, you will have to explain to Charlotte what happened. Otherwise, she might hear Mrs. Baxter's version of the story before you have had opportunity to explain what happened... Not that your version helps much. Do you not realize what this means? You look guilty, Maria— like a thief!"
The red in Maria's face spread down her neck, mottling her skin. Her hands trembled as much as her lower lip did. Elizabeth hated being so stern with the girl, but she could see no other way out of it.
"No, I cannot tell her. I am not so close to my sister as you are to yours. She will think that I am not mature enough to visit her on my own, and she will never invite me back. She will tell Mother and Father of what I have done, and any freedoms I had before will surely be taken away. I will end up like Miss de Bourgh— frail, thin, and trapped indoors. I will die a spinster!" She burst into hysterical fits of weeping.
Elizabeth did her best to shush her, but this was not the time for dramatics. It had been plain for all to see that Lady Catherine had laid the blame on them for the theft of Miss de Bourgh's earrings. Were it found out that Maria had stolen a trifling magazine, it would guarantee her guilt before Lady Catherine and everyone else in Hunsford who had heard the news. By now, everyone knew about the missing earrings. It was only a matter of time before they heard about the magazine.
"Maria, listen to me." Elizabeth put a hand on each side of Maria's tear-stained cheeks. Wiping her disheveled, soggy hair off her forehead, she said, "You must calm yourself. It is unfortunate, but you have to take
care of the damage done from your impulsive action. Would you prefer for Mrs. Baxter to attack Charlotte for something you did? Or worse yet, for Charlotte to hear the accusations against you before you have the opportunity to defend yourself? You simply must tell her. What is more, this puts you in a bad light because of the theft of Miss de Bourgh's diamond earrings. What if people begin to reason that you are a thief, first stealing a magazine, then moving on to bigger rewards? People must not be allowed to make that connection, and you can prevent it by confiding in your sister. She understands the danger you are in, and she will help you." Charlotte was reasonable and incredibly practical. Elizabeth's confidence that she would assist her sister out of her predicament was absolute.
Maria did not share her confidence. Shaking her head emphatically, she said, "How I wish this would just go away. What I would give to turn back the hands of time."
Elizabeth felt like Charlotte when she said, "You must see what is practical to your situation right now. It does you no good to lament the past. It is done. Now, you must deal with the consequences of your choice. It will be difficult but, in the end, you will have an honest conscience and your punishment will be far less severe. Do you not realize the penalty for stealing jewelry from a family such as the de Bourghs? Were they to accuse you of the theft of their valuable property, you could spend the rest of your days in a prison. Or worse." Elizabeth shivered. Life was not valued as highly as a prized possession from a wealthy family. They could end Maria's existence if they chose to. Elizabeth would never place her trust in Lady Catherine’s ability to be fair and just. Maria should not either.
"I need more time. Please, I need more time," Maria repeated. "I cannot face Charlotte in this state."
Elizabeth could see that Maria was in no condition to talk to anybody at that moment. She really did need some more time.
