by Jennifer Joy
Lady Catherine’s arm extended, her fingers pulsing up and down in expectation. Elizabeth thrust the odious earrings into her waiting hand.
In a calculating voice, Lady Catherine asked, "You openly confess before the witnesses in this room that you are the thief?” She inspected the earrings in her grasp and slid them inside the velvet pouch she had brought in anticipation of their discovery.
Elizabeth nodded. She would not say the words unless forced to.
With a haughty sneer, Lady Catherine asked, “When did you take them? How did you do it?"
"I took them the same day Miss de Bourgh's doctor came. It was not difficult, nor shall I bore you with the details." She did her best to keep the waver out of her voice. Never in her life did she think she would have to convince someone of a lie like this.
"Why are you admitting to something it is impossible for you to have done?" asked Mr. Darcy.
She loved him all the more for coming to her defense, but she could not allow it at the expense of her friends. Her eyes never wavering from his, she said, "I am known to be careless and not take things so seriously as I ought to. I can only hope that, if given another blessed chance, I would have reacted differently." She watched him closely. Did he understand her meaning? Could he save her from the agony she felt, trapped as she was between despair and hope? Was she worth the bother?
"Take her to the carriage, and see that she is kept under the constable's watch. Mr. Collins, I will send for you later. There are some plans we need to discuss." With that said, Lady Catherine stormed out of the parsonage.
Mr. Darcy assumed control once she had gone. Everyone was in such a state of shock, they could have heard a pin drop.
"Mr. Collins, will you accompany Miss Elizabeth and myself into Hunsford? Mrs. Collins, perhaps you could stay here with Miss Lucas? She looks like she needs some sisterly reassurance. I will send the carriage back for Miss Elizabeth’s trunk. Can you please see that her belongings are packed?"
Elizabeth felt sorry for Maria. Had Mr. Darcy not helped her into a chair, there was no doubt that she would still be in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room. As it was, she reminded Elizabeth of the dolls she and Jane had made their younger sisters out of stuffed bits of fabric. She sagged in her chair, unable to even hold her head up.
Between sobs, she muttered, "I am so sorry. I am so sorry," over and over.
Elizabeth rested her hand on the girl's shoulder. "I know you did not do it, Maria. As for me, I will have to trust that the real thief is found before a trial is arranged." She looked imploringly at Mr. Darcy, lingering over his features, so that she could remember every detail. If anybody could find out who was responsible, he would. Not that it mattered much. Even if she were granted freedom, she feared he was lost to her.
The muscles at his jaw and temples tensed, and the determination on his face was unmistakable. It brought her comfort.
Charlotte, silent tears flowing down her cheeks, grabbed Elizabeth, hugging her so violently, she struggled to keep them on their feet.
"Oh, Lizzy. What have you done?" With a kiss on her cheek, she backed up to stand at arm's length.
"Nothing more than you would have done. Of course, you would have had more sense than I have shown and would have avoided this mess completely, I daresay." Elizabeth tried to smile.
"You would laugh at a time like this," Charlotte said through a choked voice.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat. "My dearest Charlotte, why do you not sit in the front parlor with our sadly repentant sister? I will order some tea to be brought in for you."
Elizabeth, who had started toward the door to the carriage, paused mid-step. She looked at her cousin— the same man whose false humility and absurdity made him the cause of ridicule to many, including herself. Yet, there he stood, reaching out to take Charlotte's hand to tenderly caress it. Elizabeth had not seen any affectionate exchanges between the newly married couple before this, but the tender display he showed his wife in that moment, and her sweet acceptance of it, made her think kindlier toward Mr. Collins. Her sacrifice seemed more worthwhile somehow.
Her noble thoughts lost their strength the closer they got to the carriage. No longer could Elizabeth enjoy what she had helped her dear friends gain, as the implications of her rash action trickled in.
Mr. Darcy sat opposite her with Mr. Collins at his side.
She did not have it in her heart to regret what she had done. Her loyalty to her friends was too strong. But it did not prevent the regrets of all she had lost from tormenting her.
Wanting to break the silence— to do anything to distract herself from her own imaginings, she opened her mouth to speak. But what could she say?
“I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I think I may have complicated things further for you.”
Mr. Darcy looked at her much the same way he had the day she had mercilessly and unjustly accused him of the worst evils she could cast against his character in her eyes.
“It is nothing I cannot manage. My aunt will have to learn to live with her disappointment,” he replied with a melancholy smile.
"Cousin Elizabeth, I..." Mr. Collins began.
For a man who never suffered from a lack of words, his pause caught Elizabeth's attention more than a sermon would have. She pulled her eyes away from Mr. Darcy and braced herself for the lecture which was sure to come.
"...I want to thank you," he finished. "There are details which I will get clarification on from Charlotte upon returning to my home, but I do realize what you did for us today. Thank you for securing my living. We expect a little olive branch in some months, and I despair to think what would have happened to us had we been cast out of Hunsford."
So, she had read the signs correctly. The joy he and Charlotte would experience brought a bittersweet smile to her face.
"Thank you, Mr. Collins," she managed to say through the lump of lost hopes balling up in her throat.
Mr. Darcy said nothing at all. She did not sense disapproval from him. His frequent glances in her direction bore no judgments. Still, she wished he would say something. Anything.
They arrived in short time to the blacksmith's shop. He worked outside, pounding on a chunk of red hot metal. He waved and smiled as Mr. Darcy got out of the carriage.
Elizabeth did not expect Mr. Darcy to assist her— a confessed criminal— but he did. In her haste to leave, she had forgotten her gloves. The touch of his skin against hers sent chills up her spine and through her limbs. She gasped at the current running through her.
The blacksmith, appropriately named Mr. Smith, dunked his metal in a bucket of water, set it to the side, and came over to greet his visitors.
"Good day, Mr. Darcy. Miss Bennet," his look grew in confusion as he acknowledged the third passenger of the Rosings carriage. "Mr. Collins," he nodded. Mr. Smith looked at the group before him.
Mr. Darcy stepped forward and spoke in a tone low enough for only them to hear, "Mr. Smith, I apologize for troubling you. We have come to you about a matter of the utmost delicacy. Might you have some minutes to spare?"
"Aye, Mr. Darcy. I would nary refuse you." He stood with his feet planted widely, clearly expecting the discussion to take place in his open shop on the main lane running through the village.
Looking around him for onlookers, Mr. Darcy asked, "Might we go where we will not be overheard?"
Slapping his hands against his work-worn trousers, Mr. Smith slid the heavy, leather apron over his head and hung it on a hook. "Let us go to the house. The missus will be glad to offer you what we have in the way of refreshment." He turned and led the way to the small residence behind his shop.
Laundry hung on lines peeking out from behind the house. Mrs. Smith, her hands red and chapped, came bustling up to meet them at the call of her husband.
"Nelly, be so good as to bring out some of your small ale for our guests, will you, love?" he asked.
She curtsied to everyone and exchanged welcomes to her humble home before she hurried to
the kitchen.
Mr. Smith closed the door, standing in front of it with his thick arms crossed after everyone was seated.
Elizabeth sat on a wooden bench with room enough for herself and Mr. Collins. Mr. Smith insisted that Mr. Darcy sit in what must be his chair. It was larger than the rest.
"What is the reason for your visit, Mr. Darcy?"
Mr. Darcy scooted forward in his chair so that his long legs jutted out. "It is unpleasant business which brings us here, I am afraid. You may have heard about Miss de Bourgh's missing diamond earrings?"
Mr. Smith nodded once. "Everyone in Hunsford has heard."
Mrs. Smith came out with a tray with assorted mugs. Accepting her offering with thanks, Elizabeth sipped at the ale without tasting it.
"They were found today, and Miss Bennet, with the most honorable intentions, admitted to taking them when she is, in fact, innocent of the crime."
Mr. Smith raised one calloused hand up to rub his face. "I see. I take it that Lady Catherine believes Miss Bennet's false confession?"
"She does. As such, we had to bring Miss Bennet here as you are the village constable, but my hope is that she might be treated more like a guest than a prisoner until I can get to the bottom of this wretched mess."
Elizabeth swallowed hard. She had expected nothing but consideration in Mr. Darcy's treatment of her, but experiencing it when she felt so completely helpless was almost more than she could bear with the weight of her confession freshly on her shoulders. It was clear to see that Mr. Smith respected his word above that of Lady Catherine’s.
"That should not be difficult, Mr. Darcy. My home is a humble one, but you may rest assured that Miss Bennet will receive the best we have to offer and will be treated with as much care as one of my own children."
Elizabeth heard the sounds of children playing outside. The older children would be out working in the fields.
“Good. Might I have a word with Miss Bennet and Mr. Collins?” Mr. Darcy asked. Mr. Smith dismissed himself, and Darcy sat looking at her pensively.
Elizabeth had so much she wanted to tell him, but most of it seemed entirely inappropriate at that moment. How could she tell him that she would give him her heart? She had been blind to their similarities. He understood her in a way too few did, and she could help him see the humor in life when he grew too austere. How could she tell him that she would respond differently were he to ask her the same question he had asked only a week ago?
She clasped her hands together for what she wanted most to tell him was difficult. Her desire to set things right was stronger than her pride, so gulping in enough air to guarantee that she could utter the words in one breath, she said, "Mr. Darcy,” at the same time he said, “Miss Elizabeth”.
She appreciated the use of her name. Perhaps, when all was said and done, he could think of her as a friend, though she craved so much more.
Ever the gentleman, he insisted that she continue.
Curious about what he had to say, she kept it brief, “I must apologize. I misjudged you completely, letting my misguided prejudice taint my attitude toward you. I am sorry. It has weighed on my mind, and I wanted you to know that my opinion of you is quite changed and even more favorable since our last discussion. You truly are a gentleman." She gave no concern to Mr. Collins sitting with them, ogling back and forth between the two.
Darcy’s eyes softened as he looked straight at her. "Thank you," he said. "You are not the only one seeking forgiveness. Had my manners been those of a gentleman, we could have avoided this misunderstanding all together. After my pride allowed me to see past my outrage, your words brought me to my senses. You helped me see myself as others do, and there were things I did not like in that unflattering reflection. Can you forgive me?"
Abashed that he saw fit to apologize, she answered without hesitation, "Of course. How could I not when I, too, have wronged you so badly? And I am not in a position to change the offenses done against you. My family will remain as you know them.”
Mr. Collins cleared his throat, but she ignored him. What she had to say needed to be said. Continuing, she said, “I chose to believe a man I hardly knew when he maliciously lied about your character, thus causing me to snub you when given the opportunity. And now, I have forever ruined my name. I would ask for your forgiveness, but it would feel presumptuous to do so under the circumstances."
In a low voice, tender in its sincerity, he said, "But I do forgive you."
They looked at each other for quite some time. There would be no more declarations of love, but she felt better that he accepted her apology and saw it in his heart to let go of any pain she had caused him.
Elizabeth felt lighter, though her problems were far from over.
“Miss Elizabeth, why did you do it? I am convinced of your innocence, yet you took the blame for Miss Lucas.”
“It seemed to be the right thing to do at the time,” she said with a shrug, in an attempt to sound more at ease with her decision than she presently was.
“You could have chosen an easier solution,” suggested Mr. Darcy, his gaze piercing through the layers of her soul.
“If there was an easier way, I could not see it. It was my choice of taking the easy path that complicated matters for my dearest friend and cousin. I remained silent about Maria’s mistake when I should have done what was right by ensuring that Charlotte knew about it earlier. That decision would have ruined the security of my friend at the worst possible time.”
Mr. Collins sniffed, his downcast face full of gratitude.
“What you did took great courage, though how you manage to act both admirably and fool-hardily is something I may never understand,” Mr. Darcy said as he shoved a hand through his hair so that a forelock curled down to touch his brow.
“Nor I, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth agreed wholeheartedly. How her father would shake his head at the quandary she had trapped herself in.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Darcy asked, "Who has entered the parsonage since the earrings went missing?"
She forced her mind to focus on the business at hand. "Aside from the Collins and Miss Lucas, we have only received Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson. As always, their visit was brief."
"Where were they received?" he asked, growing agitated and shifting in his seat.
"In the same room in which the earrings were discovered.” She knew what he thought, but she could put no faith in it.
"Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson," Mr. Darcy pondered aloud. Looking back up to her, he asked, "Have you any reason to think either lady resents you or Miss Lucas?"
She had gone over motives, possible motives, and extravagant, imaginary motives since she found the earrings sparkling up at her in Charlotte's sewing box. "I have never felt any animosity from either lady. Mrs. Jenkinson has been gentle and kind to Maria and me— even in her room as we practiced the pianoforte. Unless she acted on behalf of Lady Catherine..." Hmm, now that was a possibility. She could see from Mr. Darcy's reaction that he thought similarly.
Mr. Darcy's knee bounced in place. Like her, he was not one to languish in one attitude for long. He was a man of action, and she was grateful that he wanted to help her.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Mrs. Smith came out of nowhere with a stunning velocity to open it.
Chapter 28
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, what a pleasure to see you here. I know Thomas thanked you already, but I want to add my thanks as well for your help mending our roof. Thomas is capable with his hands and can create anything with a bit of metal, but he is all thumbs with our thatched roof," Mrs. Smith said with a chuckle as she opened the door wider to receive the colonel.
"Think nothing of it, Mrs. Smith. It is always my pleasure to help Aunt Catherine's tenants and neighbors in any way I can," he said with a smile before he looked incomprehensibly at the grim occupants of the room.
Elizabeth had always thought favorably of the colonel, but learning of his thatching skills was surprising. She doubted such things
practical to one responsible for an estate was taught to soldiers in the army.
Mrs. Smith started to move the wooden bench closer to their group, but both gentlemen in the room pounced to her assistance.
"Very well then, I still have work to do. If you require anything, please just shout for me," she said, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked toward the back of the house once again.
Elizabeth could not imagine any of the three gentlemen present shouting her name aloud, though it was a common practice in her own home at Longbourn. The smile in her heart tightened as she thought of her home and her family. Homesickness, brought on at the very real certainty that she might never see them again, choked out the flicker of happiness their memory brought.
Sitting down, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I saw Aunt's old coach outside and thought to see what was going on. I had an interesting discussion with Mrs. Baxter. She admitted that, outside of Miss Lucas' lack of judgment on taking one fashion magazine, she would not have thought the young lady capable of doing any worse. She admitted to writing more severely than necessary to Aunt Catherine in the hopes of sending the young miss away and out of the view of her son, who is of the age to drool over anything in a skirt." He chuckled at Mr. Darcy, but soon remembered that there was another lady in the room. "Oh, I do apologize for speaking so plainly, Miss Bennet."
"Think nothing of it. I am happy to have my young friend's innocence reaffirmed." She tried to look cheerful and reflect the gaiety of the colonel, but it was growing increasingly difficult to do so as consequences crashed around her.
"Miss Bennet, if I may be so bold, what are you doing here?" he asked.
Mr. Darcy stood. "I will explain all on our return to Rosings. It is imperative that we act swiftly and decisively, as Miss Elizabeth has been charged with the robbery of Anne's diamonds."
Colonel Fitzwilliam nearly fell backward off the bench. "You cannot be serious," he exclaimed.
