The Honorable Mr. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our near relationship, constant intimacy, and one of the executors of my father’s will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, I pray you might give me the benefit of consulting with him. I have written to him and expect his arrival to Meryton before the inquest. I shall endeavor to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning.

  I will only add, God bless you.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  Gasping for air, Elizabeth clutched the letter to her chest. Every bit of hostility she had ever felt toward Mr. Darcy melted away, leaving her light-headed and breathless.

  Falling back against the pillows on her bed, she ran her fingers over the paper and closed her eyes. Had Mr. Wickham not poisoned her against Mr. Darcy, would she have understood his character sooner? She groaned as pieces of past conversations came to mind. She had bitten him!

  Elizabeth lifted the letter to read it again, the drumming rhythm of her pulse increasing along with her agitation at herself.

  A loud crash startled her from her self-deprecation. Shards of glass flew at her face. Bolting upright, she screamed so loudly it hurt her ears.

  Chapter 24

  Forcing her panic aside, Elizabeth gathered her wits and ran to look out of her shattered window. The darkness swallowed up and hid whoever had done it, but she thought she heard the clattering of hooves fading into the distance over the scuffling of feet coming up the stairs.

  On the floor, near her feet, lay a brick. 'Murderess' was painted on it with thick, black letters bleeding into its clay like blood soaking into the earth.

  Father reached her first. Bursting through her door, his white hair standing on all ends, his nightclothes rumpled, he demanded, "What has happened here? Lizzy, my dearest girl, are you well? You are unharmed?" He strode over to her, unconscious of the glass cracking under his feet, to hold her face between his hands. He lifted her hands up to examine them, but there was nothing to see.

  "Father, I am well. I cannot say the same for the window," she added, forcing a smile.

  "I do not care a frog's fart about the window. Are you certain you are unharmed?" He only released his hold on her when Jane rushed into the room.

  Reaching for her sister, Jane pulled a shard of glass from Elizabeth's hair with a gasp as she took in the damage done to their bedchamber.

  "Who would do this?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes roaming the room.

  Father leaned down, picking up the brick. "Murderess," he read aloud.

  Jane and Father both looked at Elizabeth as if she could explain what had just happened. Alas, she was as clueless as they were.

  "Lizzy, what does this mean? Why would anyone accuse you of murdering Mr. Wickham?" he asked.

  "I do not know what it means," she said. "I ran to the window, but could see nothing. I think I heard a horse, but I cannot be certain."

  Mrs. Yeats entered the room. "Miss Elizabeth?" she asked, her mouth gaping wider the further into the room she drew. She stopped when a piece of glass crunched beneath her foot. She gasped, moving her hand up to her mouth and breathing heavily. "This is awful. Who would do this?"

  A shrill cry sounded from downstairs.

  Father, in the same soothing voice he had used when Elizabeth was a small child and had scraped her knee, asked, "How is Mrs. Bennet?" to Mrs. Yeats.

  Dropping her hand to speak, Mrs. Yeats said, "I saw she was in no position to leave the room, and so I asked Miss Mary if she would stay with her mother and younger sisters. They were growing hysterical, so I offered to come up to ensure all was well while Miss Mary kept them company."

  Father nodded approvingly. "Good. I want you to return to them and assure them that Lizzy is well. No harm has been done, only the unfortunate shattering of a window."

  He waited until she had left the room, and they heard the wooden stairs squeaking under her weight on the way downstairs.

  "I will send Hill in to help clean this mess," he said, one of his hands holding her by the elbow, and his other hand supporting Jane. "We must send for the constable. He needs to know what has transpired."

  Jane's eyes widened. "You will not leave us, will you?"

  "No. I will send Thomas to fetch Mr. Tanner. He ought to alert Colonel Forster as well." Looking directly at Elizabeth, Father said, "This almost certainly confirms what you have said all along, though I doubt you meant to bring suspicion on yourself, my dearest girl. This casts doubt on Mr. Darcy’s guilt. Of course, everyone will know you did not do it. They had better know." He smoothed his wild hair. "What a dreadful mess."

  Elizabeth would not argue with him. It was a horrible mess, indeed.

  He sent for their manservant, giving specific instructions to go to Colonel Forster's home first, and then to the inn to inform Mr. Tanner of the brick and its damning message. Thomas was pleased to be of service and wasted no time in leaving. Elizabeth heard their carriage horse plodding along as Thomas’ voice encouraged it to a gallop.

  If only she could have heard more earlier, or seen anything of use. She occupied herself in tending to Father’s bleeding feet until Mr. Tanner arrived.

  A knock at the door loud enough to interrupt Colonel Forster's reading of some military tome Darcy had not been paying attention to, resounded through the drawing room.

  Not a minute later, the door opened and a manservant appeared in the doorway wringing his hat in his hands.

  "Mr. Thomas to see you, sir. It is a matter of grave importance regarding the Bennet family at Longbourn."

  Darcy rose from his chair near the fire as if pulled up by strings. He stepped closer to the manservant, commanding his attention before Colonel Forster had even closed his book. He knew better than to take the lead in the conversation, but Colonel Forster tested his patience.

  Finally, the colonel stood and asked, "Do tell us what has happened to bring you here at this late hour? I do hope that the Bennets are well?"

  Darcy's eyes never left Thomas. If he so much as flinched or hesitated, Darcy would see it.

  "They are in good health, sir," said Thomas quickly enough to placate Darcy's growing dread. "I have come at the request of Mr. Bennet because someone threw a brick through Miss Elizabeth's bedchamber window."

  "Dear God," gasped Darcy. "Did she suffer harm?" He needed reassurance.

  "Miss Elizabeth is well. The entire household is, as you can imagine, scared."

  Colonel Forster, with a forbearing look at Darcy, asked, "Did anyone see who made the assault on their home?"

  Thomas slumped his shoulders. "No, sir. More is the pity. I was bringing wood in for the fire when it happened. As for the rest of the household, you will have to ask them yourself. I was told to fetch you and Mr. Tanner, and that is all I know."

  Massaging his chin, Colonel Forster said, "You did well. I will accompany you to the inn so that we lose no time."

  To his wife, he said, "Do not wait up for me, my love. I will return as soon as I am able." She did not appear affected overmuch.

  Darcy fell in behind Colonel Forster.

  "Mr. Darcy, do not think you can accompany me," Colonel Forster commanded.

  Were Darcy not so determined, he might have felt like a lowly ensign after a rebuke. But nothing would persuade him to remain behind.

  "I must go with you. If someone is making threats to the Bennets, Mr. Wickham may not be the only victim. Now that this has happened, who could argue that I am involved? I spent all evening in your company."

  The colonel bunched up his chin and furled his brows. After several moments of thought, he raised his head. "Very well. Ready yourself."

  With that, Colonel Forster donned his coat and ordered another horse to be readied.

  The streets were quiet. It was not a night to inspire an evening walk. It was so dark, Darcy could not se
e more than a few paces in front of his horse. The air had a decided bite of winter in it.

  The inn was warm and smelled of fresh ale. Darcy did not like Mr. Tanner much, but the food he served was good and his beer was decent.

  Mr. Tanner was wiping down the bar in the taproom when they walked in. He froze with his arm extended as soon as he saw Darcy.

  "What is he doing here?" he demanded.

  "He insisted on joining me on urgent business. I had no reason not to comply," said the colonel as he closed the distance to the bar.

  "He is not welcome in my establishment," Mr. Tanner growled, speaking to Darcy without addressing him directly.

  Darcy was livid. Miss Elizabeth could be in danger, and this fool would rather nurse his grudge when he could go to her aid. “What do you hold against me? What have I ever done to you?”

  Mr. Tanner’s face twisted with hatred. “You have no idea, have you?”

  His answer puzzled Darcy. He had never met Mr. Tanner before his arrival in Meryton, but he would not waste precious time arguing with him. “Enough with your games, Mr. Tanner. The Bennets’ home has been attacked.”

  Mr. Tanner’s anger melted away, turning to alarm. “Was anyone harmed?”

  Colonel Forster stepped between them. “No one was harmed, but as you can imagine, they are rather shaken. They sent their manservant to fetch us and we ought not delay in going to them.”

  Nudging his chin toward Darcy, Mr. Tanner asked, “Must he come along?”

  Darcy leaned forward. “Try and stop me.”

  Chapter 25

  Their horses cut through the fog, their pounding hooves muffled in the thickness of the night. Darcy, his senses at their peak, kept his eyes open for any other riders or late-night walkers until they reached Longbourn. Every candle in the house must have been lit. A fuzzy glow surrounded the house.

  Mr. Bennet, his feet wrapped in cloth, greeted them at the door and saw them into the drawing room where Miss Bennet sat next to Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Collins sat gravely nearby.

  "Please join us here, gentlemen," said Mr. Bennet, motioning for them to sit, and limping to his chair.

  “What happened?” Darcy asked him.

  Mr. Bennet waved the matter of as of little import. “Just a few minor cuts from some glass. Nothing of concern.”

  “You were fortunate, Papa,” said Elizabeth, her voice strained.

  Darcy's eyes wandered back to Miss Elizabeth. Starting at the top of her head, he searched for cuts, bruises, tears… anything out of place. Aside from her stiff posture and the wringing of her hands, she admirably kept her composure.

  Mr. Tanner asked, “Where is the rest of your family?”

  Mr. Bennet answered, "I sent my other daughters upstairs, and Mrs. Yeats is tending to Mrs. Bennet, who was overcome by a fit of nerves as you could well imagine. If she does not improve, we shall have to send for the apothecary."

  Colonel Forster waved his hand. "I see no need to disturb them, Mr. Bennet. It was thoughtful on your behalf to see to their care under these distressing circumstances."

  Mr. Tanner paced about the room, tugging his fingers through his hair. Finally, turning to Mr. Bennet, he said, "I must apologize to you, sir. I have yet to find out who is behind this sordid affair, and now it has affected your family."

  Darcy had not known Mr. Tanner capable of speaking without a snarl. He wondered if Mr. Tanner had ever believed him truly guilty or if he only accused Darcy to be bothersome. To see that the rugged man was capable of gentleness came as a shock. To witness some small amount of honor was a relief.

  Mr. Bennet rose. Placing his hand on Mr. Tanner's shoulder, he said, "You have done your best as you always do. It is unfortunate, indeed, but it is not your fault." He extended his hand out toward a chair, thus encouraging Mr. Tanner to sit in it.

  Colonel Forster shifted his weight. "If I may be so bold, may I inquire what happened?" He looked between Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.

  Miss Elizabeth answered, her tone firm and factual. "I went upstairs to my room after dinner, seeking to retire early. While I was there, a brick flew through my window." She stopped abruptly, her eyes flickering to Darcy.

  The colonel asked, "Is there any other detail you remember?"

  Miss Elizabeth blinked heavily, as one does when remembering something unpleasant. "I ran to the window once I realized what had happened, but the night was so dark, and the fog hid whoever did this too well. There was a lot of noise by that time in our household, and so I am uncertain if I heard someone riding away or if I merely imagined it." She looked down at her hands and sighed while every eye in the room watched her. Raising her head, she added, "The brick… it is still on the floor of my bedchamber. It… it bears an accusation."

  Darcy's heartbeat slowed.

  With a huff of breath, she continued, "It says 'Murderess.'" She looked around at them.

  "It is, of course, preposterous to think any cousin of mine could act so immorally as to murder anyone," said Mr. Collins.

  Darcy ground his teeth at the clergyman's self-interested comment, but he could not disagree with him. Miss Elizabeth could not possibly have murdered Wickham. He knew where she had been at the time of his murder.

  Mr. Tanner slapped his thigh. "I will not have it. This is too much." He popped up from his seat and resumed pacing in front of the window.

  Colonel Forster frowned deeply and tugged at his side whiskers. "This is distressing. Do you have any notion of who might have acted against you in this manner?" he asked.

  Miss Bennet, who had been quietly sitting next to her sister with one arm draped around Miss Elizabeth's shoulders said, "Lizzy and I share a room. I do not think it wise to assume the message was meant only for her."

  Whipping her face around to her sister, Elizabeth exclaimed, "Jane! No.”

  Mr. Collins nodded his head approvingly. "It is true, and I am proud to hear my cousin admit to it. For that matter, any or all of the females in this household are under suspicion."

  Darcy glared at Mr. Collins. He ought to keep his mouth shut.

  "What are you implying, Mr. Collins?" asked Mr. Tanner, his voice gruff. "In an effort to prove your self-righteousness, are you willing to cast suspicion on all of your female relatives?" He shook his head, not bothering to disguise the disgust on his face.

  Mr. Tanner's eyes darted over to Darcy and they met for some seconds. Darcy held his gaze steady. He had nothing to hide, nor did he feel defensive of himself when all of his focus was on the Bennet family. With a furl of the brow, Mr. Tanner looked away.

  Colonel Forster addressed Mr. Bennet. "With your permission, and that of your daughters, of course, I would like to inspect the room and the grounds under the bedchamber window."

  Leaning forward, and nearly tumbling out of his chair when he attempted to bow, Mr. Collins, asked, "Might I be of service?"

  Colonel Forster inhaled deeply, his lips pursed together.

  Darcy opened his mouth to suggest Mr. Collins take charge of the inspection outside, but Colonel Forster beat him to it.

  "How kind of you to offer, Mr. Collins. As you are more familiar with the area, I think you would be of considerable use outside. If you could find a boot print, or anything the individual may have dropped, it could be enough to solve this mystery."

  Darcy dearly wanted to laugh at the look on Mr. Collins' face. No doubt, he had hoped for a more prestigious task. Miss Elizabeth cleared her throat and kept her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her.

  Mr. Bennet sent the manservant out with Mr. Collins, lantern in hand, lest the clergyman get lost in the fog. Once they had disappeared out of doors, Mr. Bennet said, "Let us go upstairs then. We did our best not to disturb anything. I did pick up the brick to read the writing on it, but I placed it where it fell."

  “Papa, are you well enough?” Miss Elizabeth asked, looking at his feet.

  Mr. Bennet hobbled toward the door. “I have been comfortable for most of my life, Lizzy. A little discomfort mi
ght be good for me.”

  He led the way up the stairs, followed by Colonel Forster and Mr. Tanner. Darcy held back so Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet could pass in front of him.

  "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said as she passed by. Her eyes lingered on his, communicating so much more than her words. Had she read his letter?

  "My pleasure," he replied, wishing he could ask more. Say more. But they had to continue up the stairs. He followed so closely, he could appreciate the curls defying her hair pins at the base of her neck. He could not rightly explain how powerful the urge was to ensure her safety— nor how deeply he wished to hold her in his embrace so nothing could ever harm her again.

  Glass crunched under their feet as they entered the modest-sized room. The window was opposite the door and a stiff breeze blasted in, chilling him with cold and worry as his gaze followed a trail down to the floor and he saw the condemning message painted on the brick.

  The colonel and Mr. Tanner poked around, but there really was very little to see.

  In one glance Darcy took inventory of his surroundings. Without a second guess, he could tell which part of the room belonged to Miss Elizabeth. The table on her side of the bed held a candle burned down to nothing more than a wick. Three books lay on top of the table.

  The contents of the table on the opposite side of the bed were not nearly so interesting, and Darcy wasted no time on them. What was a hairbrush to a book of poetry? Darcy squinted to see the title of the second tome better. A book of political satire. Not exactly the preferred reading material of most young ladies, but, then again… Miss Elizabeth was not a typical young lady.

  "There is nothing more to see here," declared Colonel Forster, interrupting Darcy's tender thoughts. What would she think if she saw his room at Pemberley? Would she notice the stack of books always by his bedside? Would she take interest in his views and welcome the opportunity to expand her own? She would love Pemberley. He would love showing his home to her.