by Jennifer Joy
"I do not believe you, Anne. What possessed you to speak now when you have been quiet these past two days?" Aunt Catherine asked, pulling Darcy out of his castle in the sky.
"My maid overreacted when she went to fetch my earrings for dinner. Before I could stop it, word had spread through the house. It was so uncomfortable, and I sought to clear the misunderstanding with you, but I could never find the right moment."
Darcy’s head reeled. So convinced was he that Aunt Catherine had used the stolen earrings to manipulate him, he could not believe the instigator to be Anne. What motive did she possibly have to hide her own jewelry?
Aunt Catherine scoffed. "What? Is it so difficult to say? Am I that difficult to talk to?"
Darcy agreed that Anne should have set everyone straight days ago, but he also recognized that Aunt Catherine was not the easiest person to talk to.
"If you do not believe me, then I will fetch them myself," said Anne, now pale again.
Richard spoke then, "Perhaps it might be wiser to have your maid fetch them?"
Darcy hoped she accepted. In her current state, she would never make it up the stairs.
Sitting back down, Anne asked for Hortense to be brought before her.
"Hortense, I want you to go into my room. In my writing desk, there is a drawer where you will find my earrings inside their velvet pouch. Will you retrieve them and bring them here? Here is the key."
The maid turned to complete her task.
Aunt Catherine called out after her. "Nobody is fetching anything of value alone in this house. Mrs. Jenkinson, will you go with her? Anne will sit quietly until you return and should be no worse for your brief absence."
Mrs. Jenkinson patted Anne's hands, and joined Hortense.
The clock in the corner ticked the seconds loudly. Seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes grew longer with each tick.
Darcy looked questioningly at Anne, but she looked just as curious as he did as the time crawled by. They should have returned by now.
Richard, too, fidgeted in his chair. So much rested on Anne's claim that the wait grew heavy on them.
“What is taking them so long? If the diamonds are where you say they are, they should have returned by now,” complained Aunt Catherine. She pointed her finger to Darcy, “I know very well who is responsible for their disappearance, and I plan to take action. I am through waiting for you.”
Finally, the door opened, admitting a grave Mrs. Jenkinson and a timid lady’s maid.
"I regret to inform you, Miss Anne, that the earrings were not where you said they would be. There was nothing. Hortense only found the empty velvet case."
The lady’s maid held up the satchel. It lay flat in her hands. Empty.
Chapter 20
Charlotte sat in the chair facing the window, looking without blinking toward the front gate. Alternating between wringing her hands and sighing, her worry filled the room and made everyone else in it tense.
Elizabeth wanted to help her, but she understood the consequences too clearly. If Mr. Collins offended Lady Catherine, the stability Charlotte enjoyed would come to an end. She would be the wife of a parson without a parish. One unfavorable word against him from Lady Catherine and his future in his profession was in shambles. His foolishness and nearsightedness could cost them everything. For Charlotte's sake, Elizabeth prayed that all would end well. Although it was difficult to imagine. Lady Catherine did not strike her as the forgiving, forbearing sort.
"Oh, Lizzy, it is the waiting.... This dreadful, everlasting waiting." She looked at her childhood friend for comfort.
Elizabeth had to agree with her. "Let us talk of other matters to help with the passing of time. Do you plan to walk into the village today?"
"Yes. I would have gone already, but for this." She waved her hand toward the window overlooking the lane.
"Who do you plan to call on?"
"I want to visit the Thatchers. They welcomed a new baby to their family only last week, and I knitted some little things for her. Then, I need to go to Mrs. Baxter's shop to return the magazine."
Elizabeth looked at Maria. Surely, by now, she had told Charlotte. Maria rocked herself in her chair, looking at the floor. Whether it was because she had said nothing, or because she was ashamed of her mistake, she did not know. If Maria had said nothing, then she would.
"And all is well with the magazine?" Elizabeth asked tentatively, needing to know, but not wanting to upset Charlotte more than she already was.
With a sigh, and another look out the window, Charlotte said, "Yes, of course. I will simply return it and no harm will have been done."
Maria ceased her rocking and looked thoughtfully toward her sister. "Thank you, Charlotte. You cannot know what a relief it will be when everything is set right."
Charlotte smiled softly to her. "Think nothing more of it. You have suffered enough for your mistake, and I will not add to your misery."
Elizabeth nodded at Maria. So, she had talked to Charlotte. What a relief.
Sitting up like she had been struck by a bolt of lightning, Charlotte said, "He has returned." Unable to remain seated, she opened the door to receive her husband.
Holding her breath, Elizabeth took in every detail of Mr. Collins' demeanor. His shoulders were slumped as he trudged slowly into the room. He took off his hat and fiddled with it in his hands.
Charlotte placed her hand on his arm. "Please, tell us what happened. I have been in agony all this time." Pulling on his arm, she led him to a chair.
He sat dangling his hat between his knees until the maid took it and his coat from him.
"I think that I had best leave the investigation in Lady Catherine's capable hands. Her superior knowledge in handling such delicate matters will soon set affairs straight. It turns out that I acted in haste and her ladyship, in a display of superlative beneficence, sent me away with a mild rebuke."
Elizabeth let out the breath she had been holding, though she imagined that more than a mild rebuke had been administered. Charlotte placed her hand over her heart and smiled in relief. Maria resumed her rocking.
"What a blessing that she should consider you worthy to continue as her rector." Charlotte fluttered her fingers over her heart.
"Yes, her ladyship is magnanimous in her forgiving nature," said Mr. Collins, wiping his damp face.
Elizabeth choked back a chortle. She never would have granted the great lady that particular quality.
She wanted to ask more, but she did not think she could bear to hear it from Mr. Collins. He would draw out every nonessential and dull detail and babble on profusely about the superiority of Lady Catherine and how honored he was to be the recipient of her generosity. She would wait to ask more details from Charlotte later.
She wondered if Mr. Darcy had been there. Had he intervened on behalf of Colonel Fitzwilliam? Had he influenced his aunt to show kindness toward Mr. Collins? After meditating all morning on the contents of the letter, she would expect nothing less of his noble nature. How horribly she had misjudged him. Her cheeks burned in shame as she remembered the words she had spoken when she refused him. She had been so forceful. So certain. If only she had known….
She looked at Mr. Darcy in a new light, analyzing his actions and comments with her newfound knowledge.
Mr. Collins regaled Charlotte with a circuitous narrative of the morning's meeting, giving Elizabeth sufficient time to ponder. She had to admit to herself that there were times when Mr. Darcy spoke in a way that defied social norms, but now it was easier for her to forgive him for it. How would she have felt in the same situation? Would she want to dance and be merry not long after rescuing a sister from a disastrous fate? Even with her love for gaiety and dancing, she had to admit that she would have difficulty feeling merry after such an event— especially if she were the guardian of an only sister who did not have the advantage of a mother's guidance.
She considered the actions of her family and shivered in her seat.
Only five
days remained of hers and Maria’s stay at Hunsford. They would leave as quietly as they had come, and the de Bourgh household could solve the mystery on their own. Of hers and Maria’s innocence, she had no doubt. If anyone had stolen anything, it was a member of Lady Catherine’s own household. Colonel Fitzwilliam, in light of the information Mr. Collins shared, did look suspicious. But he did not seem to Elizabeth to be the sort to steal… and certainly not from his own cousin.
She prayed that word did not get back to Lady Catherine of Maria’s theft. Otherwise, the girl would appear guilty. Had Elizabeth not known Maria’s character to be contrary to that of a criminal and had she not been at her side the entire time they were at Rosings, even she would suspect her.
Outside of the household staff, that left the Collinses, who were above suspicion in Elizabeth’s eyes— Charlotte, out of love, and Mr. Collins, out of his foolishness. He was incapable of delivering a sermon without bumbling the words, much less committing a crime and lying about it. Elizabeth narrowed her suspicions to Miss de Bourgh and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. Only, why would Miss de Bourgh steal her own jewelry? It made no sense. She was sickly, but only in body, not in the head. Mrs. Jenkinson had been in her room only a brief time, and it was unlikely she would steal the earrings from under Anne’s nose while she was in the same room. Why would she risk her position when she led a comfortable life?
Frustrated that she had made no more progress than before in her inquiries, she let her mind cross the distance to Rosings. What was Mr. Darcy doing at that moment? Had he made more progress than she had? Could he find it in his heart to forgive her?
Freeing themselves from Aunt Catherine and escaping to the safety of the library, Richard asked, “You do not suppose Aunt Catherine thinks I did it, do you?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Darcy shook his head, “I have no idea what to think right now. It lies with us to find out who is responsible. Has Anne said anything to you? What was all that business about the earrings not being stolen in the first place?”
Richard shuffled his feet. “I am not at liberty to say, though I wish to with all my heart.”
Frustrated at not receiving a clear explanation, Darcy pressed, “Now is not the time for secrets. You do not suppose that Anne is protecting someone, do you? Or could she have faked the theft for some reason?” His questions fell flat.
How did Anne stand to benefit from stealing her own earrings? It was nonsensical.
Richard looked at him sideways. “I think you know the answer to that. She would never do anything to cause upheaval with her mother. Still, it might be a wise course of action to question her. Maybe she knows a vital piece of information which could put this problem to rest.” He puffed out air.
Darcy, feeling the need to lighten the mood, asked, “Are you happy now that you made me stay when we should have gone before all of this mess?” He tried to keep the I-told-you-so tone out of his voice, but he failed completely.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Darcy is always right. I will remember that from now on and defer all important decisions to your superior choice.”
“Sarcasm does not suit you, but I thank you for the compliment.” His smile faded as his thoughts turned toward the guests at the parsonage. “We should communicate with them somehow,” he said.
“Who?” asked Richard, though Darcy thought the answer quite obvious.
“Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas. They are not completely out of danger, and there is the chance they have learned something valuable.”
“Right. Yes, you are correct, of course. Although, knowing Miss Bennet, she is well on her way to solving the case. She has the sort of keen wit that would make her the ideal investigator.” He chuckled and raised his hand up to his chin.
It annoyed Darcy that Richard should feel that he knew Miss Elizabeth. How well did he know her? Had he called on her more often than Darcy was aware of?
Moved by jealousy, Darcy suggested, “I will walk by the parsonage to see if opportunity grants me enough time to talk to Miss Bennet.” Darcy realized that he ought to have mentioned Miss Lucas too, not merely Miss Elizabeth, but fumbling over his choice of words would only draw attention to his preference. And that was a mistake he was unwilling to make in front of Richard. Continuing, he said, “You should stay here and keep an eye on Aunt Catherine. I do not trust her. I still think she knows more than she lets on.”
Richard looked like he would object, but he said nothing. Darcy went up to his room to change his coat before his cousin could protest.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth sat alone in the front parlor. Resting her forehead against the cool glass, she closed her eyes and listened to the breeze rustle Mr. Collins' prized rose bushes in the front garden. It was the one day she wished Mr. Darcy would call, not that she would know what to say to him if he did. His letter, along with Jane's, had changed everything. But were he to stand directly in front of her, she would not know how to begin to express her remorse. Of course, remorse was not what a man like Mr. Darcy would seek. He did not want her groveling. Then, what did he want?
She tried to imagine how she would feel in his place. Why would she put into writing an explanation that could potentially compromise one of her own sisters? For that was precisely what Mr. Darcy had done. Were she to share the contents of his letter, his sister, Georgiana, would be ruined. Elizabeth could not think of one person with whom she could confide something so precious. Not even Charlotte. Yet he had shared it with her.
The grinding of gravel under footsteps caught her attention, and she opened her eyes. Had her thoughts conjured the gentleman?
Before her stood none other than Mr. Darcy. He peered through the garden just outside the gate and raised his hand to wave when he noticed her at the window. Dropping his hand abruptly to his side, he stood looking at her. He had come to see her. But it was not for a social call. His stance was too stiff, and no trace of a smile adorned his face. More was the pity. Surely, he bore bad news.
Rising from her seat, she wrapped her shawl around her and met him at the gate.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. I hope you are well?" He looked around her and toward the house, as if he meant to ask if anyone else was at home.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy. I am well. Maria has hidden herself away upstairs, and Mr. Collins went with Charlotte into the village." She purposely left out the reason why her friend accompanied her husband into Hunsford. Since Charlotte left, Maria had quit to her room to ponder the consequences of her misstep and determine to do better.
"That is convenient, for I wish to speak to you privately without causing any offense," he said cautiously.
Did he think she thought he came to propose again?
"I have been hoping for an opportunity to thank you for your letter, sir. It has changed things.” She clasped her hands together, giving him opportunity to speak.
When he stood stunned, she quickly added, “I am happy to share with you that Jane is well in London. It seems that Mr. Bingley was unaware of her presence, and thanks to you, he paid her a call." Words were not enough to express her gratitude on behalf of her dearest sister.
Mr. Darcy raised his hand to stop her. "Please, Miss Bennet. I only righted a wrong committed unintentionally. I do not deserve your thanks."
He held his breath and clasped his hands together in front of him. If speaking of the letter made him uncomfortable, she would say no more on the subject.
Looking down the lane, then back toward the house, he asked, "Is there somewhere we can talk freely? I have some information about the missing diamonds."
Her curiosity piqued, Elizabeth opened the gate and led him to the orchard behind the house. The door leading to the kitchen was open, providing some sort of a chaperone in the form of the cook inside. At least it would have had Elizabeth cared to see if the cook was there.
She led Mr. Darcy to a wooden bench under the shade of a tree and motioned for him to sit.
Their knees touched as he miscalculated
the distance between them.
"My apologies," he mumbled as he moved away.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to object, but bit her tongue instead and moved her legs over. Her skin tingled at his touch, however brief and accidental. She wondered if he felt the same effect, then censured herself for her vanity. Flirtations were lost on Mr. Darcy, and she should not do anything to toy with his emotions when she had refused him only days before. She had no right.
Too aware of him, of sitting alone with him so closely, Elizabeth tried to think of him as she had before. Arrogant, rude, and taciturn. She focused on his weaknesses to better control her own emotions, but as she looked up to his eyes, her determination melted away. The kindness with which his warm eyes regarded her thawed her cold judgments, so that she looked down at her hands in shame. Would she never learn? She could no longer think of him as she once had. Nor would she attempt to do so. She had mistaken his character so completely, and instead of rebuking her, he had entrusted her with information that could ruin him if she were so inclined. How well he knew her! She would never betray his trust. She was incapable of it… and he knew it.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said in a voice as tender as his eyes.
Elizabeth looked up again, shocked and pleased that he addressed her by her Christian name.
"I do not yet believe you free from my aunt’s suspicions. She will lay the blame where it best suits her, and I thought it appropriate to warn you to remain watchful."
Elizabeth shook her head. It had occurred to her that she would be a prime suspect, not being well-liked by Lady Catherine for speaking her opinions so freely.
"I had hoped that you might have discovered something," he said, looking at her in a disarming way.
Uncomfortable and unsettled, Elizabeth chuckled. "Perhaps I should have taken greater care to keep my opinions to myself. Unfortunately, they often run in direct conflict with your aunt's views, making me the bane of her dinner table. I will share what I know if you will do the same."
