Accusing Elizabeth

by Jennifer Joy

  Biting her lip at what she was about to suggest, she took a deep breath and said, "I think I have a plan which might allow you a little bit more time."

  Maria latched on to her with an embrace. "Thank you! Oh, thank you!"

  Elizabeth hugged her, but then pulled her away so that she could see her face clearly. She would not have any misunderstandings. "Only a little bit more time. It does not mean that you are free from admitting your wrong to Charlotte. You must still speak with her. I only offer you the advantage of an hour or so. I can buy you some time, but you must speak to her before she walks into Hunsford this afternoon. Do you understand me?"

  The girl placed her hand over her heart like she was making an oath. "Yes, I do understand. I will tell her. I will talk to Charlotte," she said, trying to convince herself.

  Elizabeth looked into her face. Maria's eyes and nose were swollen and red. She did not waver in her determined expression, so with one final look, Elizabeth nodded. "Then, we have a deal. I will do my best to delay Charlotte's trip, but you must confess today."

  Chapter 12

  The tavern in Hunsford, which boasted the name, Hearty Lion, had much to offer the villagers after a hard day's work in the way of good food, refreshing drink, and abundant conversation. Darcy and Richard left their horses at the stables opposite the tavern to begin their search for Mr. Badger. The Hearty Lion had a couple of rooms upstairs and was their best guess at finding the man. If nothing else, the innkeeper, Mrs. Shepherd, would know where he could be found. Nothing happened in the village without her knowing about it.

  "Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam! How good of you to stop by for a visit. Do you care for a tankard of my best ale?" she asked, with a large smile and rosy cheeks.

  It was impossible not to smile back at Mrs. Shepherd. "Yes, a tankard would be much appreciated. Thank you," replied Darcy as Richard looked about the room.

  "Let me set up my special room for my special guests. I will only be a moment," she said as she disappeared behind a curtain between the bar and the stairs leading to the rooms above.

  Richard whispered to Darcy, "I do not see him. Do you suppose he might have gone back to London? The distance is not too great."

  "That is nothing but wishful thinking on your part. If Mr. Badger is anything like the moneylenders’ men I have heard of, he will be like a bulldog sniffing for a bone until he gets his master's money. He will go nowhere until his purpose is accomplished."

  Richard tugged his sideburns. Darcy watched his cousin's attempts to keep his confidence in the face of his debts. He did an admirable job of it, but Darcy knew him too well. Richard had taken great pride in his ability to live off his army salary. For years, he had asked no favors of anyone. Darcy knew he often suffered want and there were times when he would invite Richard to dine with him when he was in town just so he could ensure that he enjoyed a fine meal and a warm room every so often. His family, who rarely came to town, were more preoccupied with their own financial burdens with their extensive, and unnecessary, renovations at Matlock.

  Bustling out from the private room, Mrs. Shepherd said, "Come this way, please, gentlemen." Once they were inside the room, she said, "I will call the man who has come for you from London. The sooner I get him out of my tavern, the better. I do not trust men of his sort." Without another word on the matter, she left Darcy and Richard alone in the room to wonder how much she knew. Probably more than they were comfortable with.

  A few minutes passed by. Richard must have pulled out his pocket watch half a dozen times while they waited.

  Darcy, who did not want to lose any advantage they had over the money collector, tried to calm him. "Do not show any anxiety, Richard. He will get his money today, and your business with him will be done."

  "It is not Mr. Badger I worry about. He is only a minion. Who I worry about is the man he works for." Richard shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, crossed one ankle over a knee, decided against it, then crossed the opposite ankle over his other knee.

  Darcy intended to ask who Mr. Badger worked for and what kind of hold he had over Richard, but just then, Mr. Badger sauntered into the room. He swayed from side to side, his head held high and his shoulders erect as if he owned the place. It was the same posture Darcy had seen at Rosings. He knew he held the upper hand, but why?

  "How good of you to come to me, Colonel Fitzwilliam. And I see you brought your cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley."

  The hair on Darcy's arms stood straight up. He had not been presented and, while his family name was well-known, it was a breech in common courtesy to assume knowledge before it was presented to him.

  "Since you presume to know who I am, let me speak plainly, Mr. Badger. We have come to cancel the colonel's debt in full," said Darcy through his tense jaw.

  Mr. Badger sat opposite them, taking his time to pick a piece of lint off his coat, roll it into a ball, and watch it fall to the ground. "If only our business were that easy. You see, the man I work for is a powerful man and used to getting his way in business. When the good colonel approached him with his scheme, he gladly obliged." His smile revealed pointy teeth.

  Richard tensed, but kept his composure as steady as a card player.

  "I see no need to draw this interview out any further than necessary." Darcy pulled out the bank notes required to cancel the debt. "This covers the amount borrowed, as well as the interest." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out another bank note and placed it on top. "This extra should see to your expenditures and safe return back to London, bringing our business to its conclusion." Darcy moved forward in his chair in order to stand.

  Mr. Badger, in a low, menacing voice said, "Mr. Volante will be most pleased with his payment. And I thank you for my share." He grabbed his portion from the top of the pile of bank notes and shoved it into his pocket greedily. The rest, he folded carefully and put inside his breast pocket. "However, this does not conclude our business together. My work is to know everything about the people who come to borrow money from Mr. Volante. The question I will ask you, Mr. Darcy, is this: What secrets do you have that you would pay a tidy sum to keep quiet?"

  Darcy never winced and, through many years’ practice, he controlled his complexion and breathing. "I have nothing to hide, nor do I give any credibility to your threats. You are speaking to the air." He moved to rise again.

  Richard leaned forward, his open hands on the table so that his knuckles turned white. "Your business was with me. Now, it is done. You will leave my family alone."

  Mr. Badger chuckled. "I see that I have touched a nerve."

  With that, Mr. Badger stood. "Gentlemen, our business is far from done. I thank you, Colonel, for introducing me to your relative. It will be a prosperous encounter— for me, at the least." He turned to leave the room, and Darcy put on his haughtiest expression. He would never let on that the greedy man's threats shook him to the core.

  Just before he reached the curtain, Mr. Badger said, "Until we meet again, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy."

  He disappeared through the curtain, and Darcy sat in silence for some time before he turned to Richard, who had his hands on his temples.

  "What kind of a man is this Mr. Volante, and why did you involve yourself with him?" asked Darcy.

  "He is the worst sort of man, but the only one who would risk giving me a loan. My parents have put off paying too many debts for too long in their efforts to renovate Matlock Estate. In doing so, they have blemished our family name. Nobody else would give me money, and I was in a desperate situation."

  Darcy leaned back and tugged at his hair. "Why did you not speak with me?"

  As soon as he said it, he wished he had not. Richard looked miserable enough and accusations would only worsen the problem by causing tension between them.

  "Never mind, Richard. We must focus on the present and what harm Mr. Badger can do to Georgiana. If he found out about Wickham, the damage they would scheme together would be irreparable."

  Richard's
eyes shot up, and he clenched his hands together. "I never thought he would involve her. Do you think he knows about her near elopement with Wickham?"

  Darcy nodded. "He certainly knows something. We must continue on the assumption that he knows enough to ruin her reputation and cast a shadow on our family’s name. I will not risk Georgiana's future."

  "I am sorry, Darcy," said Richard, his face downcast for the brief seconds before his jaw set with determination. “I will not allow any harm to come to her.”

  Sitting taller, Darcy clasped Richard on the shoulder. "I trust you. What is done, is done. We must think of a way to get Mr. Badger out of our lives and keep Georgiana's name clear."

  Richard nodded, his shoulders tense. "All right. Where do you suppose we start?"

  "You are the military man in the family. What do you suggest?" Darcy had some ideas, but he wanted to know what Richard thought.

  With a smile, Richard said, "One benefit of my profession. Did you notice Mr. Badger’s wording just before he left. He said it would be a prosperous meeting for him."

  Darcy nodded. "Do you think he is acting alone?”

  “If my instinct is to be trusted, he is. If we catch him seeking to profit without the involvement of Mr. Volante, we could secure his silence in exchange for ours."

  “He will have to strike soon. My guess is that he will attempt to extort money from Aunt Catherine.”

  Richard chuckled. “I should like to see him try!”

  Darcy stood, and together with Richard, they left the private room for the open space of the front of the tavern. Mr. Badger was nowhere in sight, and only a few villagers remained, talking at their tables with their tankards of ale in front of them.

  Mrs. Shepherd called them over to the bar where she wiped the rims of her newly washed mugs with a clean, white towel. "I forgot to mention earlier that Mr. Collins came in before you did. He was overly interested in your business here, if you ask me, and has been up in Mr. Badger’s room for some time. Take care of him," she said in a voice low enough to keep her words unheard by others.

  Darcy exchanged a look with Richard. That was all they needed. Aunt Catherine's overzealous rector informing her of Richard's debt. It would only make his precarious situation worse.

  "Thank you for the warning, Mrs. Shepherd." With a bow to the kind woman, Darcy and Richard left the tavern.

  As they went across the way to retrieve their horses, Darcy could not help but feel that they were being watched. The impression that someone tracked their every move was unnerving.

  They mounted and followed Hunsford Road out of town. Unable to shake the sensation that someone watched them, he turned. Mr. Collins stood half-hidden behind the side of the tavern.

  Chapter 13

  "Lizzy, Maria, I am walking into Hunsford. I cannot wait another moment for Mr. Collins if I am to deliver this basket to the Thatcher family and return the magazine." Charlotte stood by the gate, her shawl protecting her from the moist air and a basket with the provisions she could spare in her arms. In her time at Hunsford, Charlotte had made several trips to visit the parishioners in and around the village to help alleviate their needs. Her practical views and no-nonsense manners made her popular amongst the poor families. She could be counted on for sensible provisions outside of merely expressing her sympathy and giving suggestions to help them improve their lot.

  At the top of the basket, Elizabeth, who was enjoying the warm afternoon sun in the front garden, could see La Belle Assemblée poking out.

  Maria sat inside the house by the window seat which overlooked the garden. Elizabeth glanced at her with the unspoken question in her mind. Had she talked with Charlotte? Not even an hour had passed.

  The wide-eyed look of terror she saw in Maria's face was answer enough. She had not said anything, and now Charlotte would surely find out from Mrs. Baxter that Maria had not purchased the magazine— that it was, indeed, stolen property.

  "Wait, Charlotte. Are you certain you cannot wait just a few minutes longer? Mr. Collins might be cross," she suggested, knowing full well that Mr. Collins only concerned himself with the whereabouts of his wife if it inconvenienced him or, God forbid, Lady Catherine.

  "Do not be silly, Lizzy," Charlotte clucked at her and reached her hand out to undo the latch on the whitewashed picket gate. That one simple action jolted Elizabeth with inspiration.

  With one look of appeal to Maria, Elizabeth jerked her head toward Charlotte. If Maria wished to speak, now was the time. She prayed she would, or else Elizabeth might regret what she was about to do.

  Large, teary eyes looked back at her.

  As Charlotte left the house accompanied by the housemaid, Elizabeth marched to the back of the house and down the sloping lawn to the pig's pen. Elizabeth had not experienced the flight of said animal, but she knew that Charlotte lived in terror of it escaping again. Every commotion Mr. Collins caused was followed by the question, "Did the pig escape again?" from Charlotte.

  Walking quickly, before her sense of reason could catch up with her and stop her, Elizabeth raised the latch which secured the door to the pen. She flung open the gate and clapped a few times to set the animal in motion. It needed no further encouragement.

  Squealing with the joy of its newfound freedom, the pig ran as fast as its four pink legs could carry it, its ears bouncing and its tail swishing through the air as it cut through the lawn with Elizabeth chasing after it, trying with all her might to keep up so that she might encourage it to go toward the front of the house where Charlotte could hear it.

  "Charlotte! The pig is loose!" she yelled.

  Charlotte, who had not walked far down the road, shoved the basket into Betsy's hands, picked up her skirts, and ran toward the house. The look of determination on her face was a fierce thing to behold.

  "You block it from that side, Lizzy. I will make sure it does not come through the gate. Maria!" she yelled.

  The girl, not understanding what all the fuss was about, but observing it tranquilly through the front window, came outside.

  Charlotte made no explanations, but she gave orders rather well. "See that the pig does not get into our garden."

  Maria ran to the opposite side of the house to stand guard, but Elizabeth knew that the pig must already be there. Its squeals of protest at Maria's attempts to shoo it out of the garden confirmed its location.

  Charlotte threw her hands up by her face. "Oh, no! It will uproot and eat everything. Lizzy, I need your help," she called from over her shoulder as she ran toward the garden.

  Elizabeth did not remember the last time she had run so much. Not since she was a child.

  Maria was in some sort of deadlock with the offending animal. It stood with a carrot hanging out of its mouth, chomping at the greens contentedly and daring anyone to draw near.

  "Maria, you get at him from the far side. I'll go from this side. Lizzy, make sure he cannot escape through the front," Charlotte instructed as she closed in.

  Betsy, having freed herself of the basket, joined them.

  With a wicked glint in its eye, the pig finished chomping on its carrot, then charged at Elizabeth. Widening her stance so she could grab the animal as it passed, it ran straight between her legs, catching her dress and pulling her down backwards. Charlotte and Betsy were quick to run to her, but the pig masterfully untangled himself from her dress, stepped over her, and continued squealing toward the open fence.

  "I suppose I deserved that," said Elizabeth to herself as she tried to get back on her feet. Thankfully, the pig was small and it had not hurt much when he stepped all over her in his haste.

  Dashing across the lawn to the front of the house, they watched as the pig headed toward the open gate.

  "Do not let it get out!" cried Charlotte.

  Elizabeth ran with the women after the pig, wiping her loose hair out of her face.

  "It must not cross into Rosings. Mr. Collins would be mortified," insisted Charlotte.

  Chasing the tireless, pink beast
down the Hunsford Road, Elizabeth's lungs burned for breath. After all this effort, Maria had best confess to Charlotte!

  Down the road, two gentlemen on horseback appeared. Elizabeth gritted her teeth at the sight of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. It embarrassed her for them to see her in such a state. A great deal of her hair was loose, and her dress was covered in dirt and muddy hoof prints. But it had all been of her own doing, and she must see Charlotte's pig safely back to its pen.

  Charging through her shame as she continued in the chase, she kept her focus on the pig, waiting for her opportunity to pounce. One quick look over her shoulder confirmed that she was on her own. Maria and Betsy lagged behind her. Charlotte had slowed to a walk, having grown tired.

  As the runaway animal neared the horsemen, Mr. Darcy handed his reins to Colonel Fitzwilliam and dismounted. Elizabeth had expected him to observe piously from the comfort of his seat. When he rushed the pig, turning it back to trot toward her, she could not have been more surprised.

  Unfortunately, the pig must have figured that its odds were better against one man than against four resolute women, who now stood closer together. It promptly turned back to Mr. Darcy, picking up his pace.

  Elizabeth, her limbs as tired as her spirits, yelled, "Please do not let the little devil past."

  Mr. Darcy took her seriously. He leaned down to grab the pig as it neared, but the pig had anticipated his move. Veering to the side just outside of Mr. Darcy's reach, he squealed in delight at what he thought was another victory in his escape. What the pig did not count on, nor anybody else, for that matter, was for Mr. Darcy to pivot in place and pounce on top of it. He circled his arms around the squirming animal.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam had his hands full with the nervous horses that did not much like a small pig darting about near their feet. He laughed so loudly, it echoed down the lane.

  Without losing his hold, Mr. Darcy’s eyes shot up to glare at his audacious cousin. “Stop your cackling and make yourself useful.”