by Jennifer Joy
“Tis I who should thank you. You have given me an excuse to forgo your aunt’s card party, and I shall return home at a much more convenient hour.”
So much for thoughtfulness. On the bright side, she would not be trapped indoors all day, and Father was infinitely better company than Mrs. Forster, who would no doubt be cross when she heard about the card party to which she had not yet been invited.
A fresh tea service was brought in, followed by Mrs. Forster.
“Please stay a while longer and enjoy a repast,” she said. While she and Elizabeth did not hold many common interests, Mrs. Forster was an excellent hostess.
Biscuits and sandwiches were passed around on china saucers along with steaming cups of tea. The conversation turned to the more socially acceptable topics of the weather and, naturally, to Aunt’s card party.
Turning to Elizabeth, Mrs. Forster said, “I only received an invitation today, but forgot to make mention of it in my excitement. It has been ages since we have enjoyed a party, and I need your help in selecting the best dress for the occasion.”
Forcing her mouth into a smile, Elizabeth muttered something agreeable. As a guest in Mrs. Forster’s home, she could not refuse to accompany her. She only hoped Miss Stallard would be present at Aunt’s home or she would be forced to wait another day to ask her questions.
Father accepted their change of plans. Tipping his cup to drain the last of his tea, he set it down. “We should depart so you can ready yourselves for this afternoon’s entertainments.” To Elizabeth, he said with a meaningful glance, “We will see you there. We will make our call together on the morrow.”
There was nothing else to be done. Straightening her shoulders in resignation, she waited for the hours to pass.
The only excitement was the removal of Mr. Darcy’s trunk to Mr. Tanner’s inn and Colonel Forster’s return to the house to prepare for Aunt’s card party. He seemed to be as excited as Mrs. Forster.
Elizabeth thought she might float away with all the tea she had sipped during the day, but she took the cup the colonel offered politely, savoring a hearty drink of the beverage in her mouth so she would not appear rude to drink it so slowly. It was a horrible mistake. The tea was so bitter, it was all she could do to swallow it.
The magnitude of her mistake spread through her body as quickly as the blurred numbness which followed.
“It was you,” she said, her speech slurring. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.
“You finally figured it out,” the colonel said with a bow. He had the audacity to be proud of it. “I admit I held little hope of avoiding suspicion this long, but Mr. Darcy’s valet will soon find Mr. Wickham’s pistol when he unpacks his master’s trunk.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It will not take them long to realize I am the only person who could have put it there. Tis a pity. I had hoped not to have to involve you.” He took a step toward her, a rope in his hands.
She raised her heavy arm to throw her teacup at him. The liquid doused his coat, the cup bouncing off him harmlessly.
Chapter 31
Lawrence did not delay in arriving at Mr. Tanner's inn, placing Darcy’s trunk where he could easily unpack it as soon as he had ensured the room was suitable for his master.
Mr. Tanner watched in amusement as the gentleman's gentleman carried out his duties. "He will not find anything lacking and will soon have nothing to do," he commented confidently.
Darcy smiled at Mr. Tanner. He was beginning to understand his gruff manners and straight speech. "Then I shall have to send him to the shop for a razor or a comb. He does not like to be idle, and should protest if I so much as hint he take some time for himself."
"You have attempted to do so? I daresay that is not a common practice among highborn gentleman."
"I would much rather live by my own rules than adopt someone else's. You seem to me to be the sort of fellow to live by your own values…" He said it like a question, letting his words trail off so Mr. Tanner could finish the idea if he were so inclined. Somehow it seemed more polite than asking directly. He did not want to pry, but he was curious.
"Aye. I learned long ago a man must act as he best sees fit. Otherwise, as I have observed, one must suffer the torments of a guilty conscience or risk hardening the conscience so much from abuse that one loses all sense of what is right and wrong." He stared out of the window. "My father was such a man. He rarely gave much thought to others. He was too absorbed in his own world to give consideration to others."
There was a bitterness to his tone which stunned Darcy. When Mr. Tanner looked at him, he was a man divided between an anger Darcy did not understand and a desire to be understood.
The door opened, bringing in a rush of winter weather and a smiling Bingley.
"Darcy! There you are! I had thought to find you at Colonel Forster's, but I was told you are now here," said Bingley in all of his joviality. "And good day to you, too, Mr. Tanner. I hope you do not find your new guest too cumbersome," he added with a grin. He could not miss Mr. Tanner’s impressive black eye, but he said nothing. Only a small wince betrayed his composure.
Mr. Tanner, his face and voice devoid of all emotion, said, "That remains to be seen."
Darcy nearly choked in his effort not to laugh at Bingley’s reaction.
Bingley looked between the two gentlemen. He would not allow his friend to be maligned in any way, but he avoided confrontation like the pox— especially from an impressively proportioned man like Mr. Tanner. “Say here, Mr. Tanner…” he mumbled.
Shaking his head, Darcy alleviated his well-intentioned friend’s anxiety with a clap on the back. “Pull up a chair, Bingley. Mr. Tanner, please pour him a tankard of your fine ale.”
“He looks to need it,” Mr. Tanner said, removing the cork from the barrel and filling a tankard to the brim.
“You were only teasing?” asked Bingley, reaching out for the drink offered to him. “I ought to have known, but you know how dashed uncomfortable I get when there is an altercation.”
“I do, and let me assure you that Mr. Tanner and I are now on amiable terms.” He received an affirming nod from the constable.
“Ah, good. The world would benefit greatly if we all got along.”
Bingley’s incessant optimism cheered Darcy, lightening his worries so he believed that all would end well— if only for a moment.
Darcy was too realistic to believe anything but a shrewd mind and keen eye for detail would explain the events of the past few days. Now that someone had involved Miss Elizabeth, Darcy was unshakable in his purpose to find out who had attempted to cause her, or someone in her household, harm. If he were to believe Mr. Tanner, the message had been meant for Mrs. Yeats. But why?
Mr. Tanner said, “What brings you into Meryton, Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, that.” Bingley looked around the room sheepishly. “You see, I… Well, I felt entirely useless. I do not have the sort of clever mind necessary to be of any assistance in an investigation. What is more, it was my own sister who could have caused you more trouble by concealing information which I am certain only made you appear guilty of hiding something of importance. I mean to say, you were hiding something, but I know you well enough to be certain it is not related to the murder…”
Before Bingley could go off on an unrelated tangent, Darcy asked, “What did you do? You are explaining yourself in a roundabout way as if you are guilty of something, but you have yet to say what it is.”
Sucking in air, and holding it, Bingley said in a burst, “I wrote to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Please do not be angry with me, Darcy. I could think of no other way to help you, and it looked very bad for you when I wrote.”
“When did you write?”
“I sent him a letter by messenger yesterday,” responded Bingley, downcast.
“Then Richard will ride all the harder having received two urgent messages in one day. Do not trouble yourself, Bingley. I wrote to him as well.”
Richard would arrive that same day, of that Darcy w
as certain. He would ride his big, black stallion from London at a gallop, slowing only when his horse required it.
Bingley slumped in his chair in relief, drinking deeply from his tankard. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
For Mr. Tanner’s benefit, Darcy added, “Colonel Fitzwilliam is my cousin. Richard is the sort of man you want on your side in a battle. Besides me, he is my sister’s guardian.”
“Will he require a room?”
“Do you have another available?”
“One of my guests is leaving on the post coach this afternoon. He may have the room once the maid has seen to it. It should be arriving shortly.”
Mr. Tanner busied himself about his work while Darcy filled Bingley in on what he had missed.
As Mr. Tanner had predicted, Lawrence soon had nothing to do. He came downstairs.
“The room is simply furnished, but it is clean,” he commented.
It occurred to Darcy that his valet looked pale. As if he needed some exercise. What he would give for a ride over the countryside, but he could not leave Meryton. Not with Miss Elizabeth across the square and a murderer on the loose. Far be it from him to deny his man exercise merely because he could not venture far.
“Lawrence, I do believe my green riding coat is still at Netherfield Park. I would like for you to fetch it.”
Lawrence took to the idea with great enthusiasm, asking if there was anything else he should bring or see to whilst at Netherfield Park. Darcy obliged by adding a few more items to his list.
“I have not yet unpacked. Do you wish for me to do so before I leave?” asked Lawrence.
“No. I would rather you go with Bingley.”
Bingley nodded. “I am ready to leave. You will send for me if I may be of any assistance?” he asked Darcy.
Mr. Tanner returned, bringing with him two steaming mugs of black coffee. He set them down only after Bingley refused them politely, not wishing to delay any longer. Mr. Hurst was to escort his sisters back to London, given the Bennets’ recent fright, and his presence was required at Netherfield Park.
“I will get the horses,” said Bingley, departing with good cheer.
"Do you take sugar or cream?" Mr. Tanner asked, sitting next to Darcy so he could still see out the window at the front of his inn.
"No. Thank you," Darcy accepted the coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. It was good and strong— precisely how he liked it.
At the door, Lawrence turned around, wearing a contented expression. “This is how I had always hoped it would be. The connection between you is too strong for you to have remained foes.”
“Connection?” asked Darcy.
Mr. Tanner went pale and fidgeted in his seat.
“I fear I have spoken out of turn, sir. My deepest apologies.” Lawrence frowned at Mr. Tanner, nodding at him as if to move him to do something, and departed without another word.
“What did he mean by that?” Darcy asked Mr. Tanner. A suspicion sprouted in his mind, gripping him both with excitement and the worst shame he had ever known.
Mr. Tanner set his mug down, continuing to spin it slowly around. "Have you ever heard of a lady named Clarissa Dent?" he finally asked.
Darcy made to deny having ever heard that particular name before, but something in Mr. Tanner's eyes made him consider longer than he needed to. What he answered was of importance, and he would not treat the question lightly.
He pondered, thinking back to his youth at Pemberley, his schooling at Eton and Cambridge, his travels around the country for education and business…. Still, he could not recall ever hearing that name.
"No, I cannot say I have. I am sorry."
The hurt spread over Mr. Tanner's face so that it was impossible to ignore.
"Was there never any mention of…" Mr. Tanner wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee, his fingers turning white at the pressure. He looked up at Darcy and swallowed hard.
"Whatever you have to say will not become any easier to utter by delaying in saying it." Darcy wished to end Mr. Tanner's agony. And he needed to hear it.
"Did Mr. Darcy, your father, say nothing of his life before marrying Lady Anne?"
"Not that I can recall." His father never spoke of his indiscretions. Darcy’s heartbeat hurt his chest.
"He never told you he had another son?" Mr. Tanner stared into him, willing him not to have to say the words he had kept hidden his entire life. In a look, his brother concealed nothing and revealed everything.
Chapter 32
Darcy slowed his words, his heart thudding so violently, he thought he might choke. "We are brothers."
Mr. Tanner nodded. "I am the illegitimate firstborn of George Darcy with a barmaid his family refused to allow him to marry."
The sadness in his voice was like a stab to Darcy's gut. There was nothing he could say to right the lifetime of wrongs done against Mr. Tanner. Questions boiled within Darcy, but he did not feel he had the right to ask them when the memory clearly caused his brother pain. His brother.
“I would not have said anything,” Tanner said.
“I am glad you did. I can—”
“You can do nothing! I have done well enough on my own,” Tanner growled, pounding his fist on the table in a magnificent display of Darcy pride. How had he not seen it before?
Knowing especially well how to deal with that particular trait, Darcy said, “Very well. I will respect your wishes… for now. Until you decide how you want to proceed, you must allow me to address you as a friend. It would please me for you to do the same.”
The front door opened and Mr. Denny slipped inside, peeking out of the window, then ducking out of its view. Seeing them, he nearly stumbled over his feet in his haste to join them at the table.
“Mr. Darcy, you must help me!” He leaned against the table, too agitated to sit.
Tanner moved over to the window. “What are they doing?” he muttered as he looked out of the glass. More loudly, he added, “I see Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty, and Mrs. Yeats standing by the coach. There appears to be an altercation.”
Mr. Denny groaned. “I could not go through with it. Mrs. Yeats made all the arrangements for us, and I am certain we should be happier than most, but I could not start our life together this way. And then she found out about it!”
Darcy did his best to interpret what was not said. “You were going to elope with…?”
“With Miss Kitty. I love her dearly, but Miss Lydia insists that I love her! She cannot accept how I could possibly choose Kitty over her. Mr. Darcy, please, you must help me or I will never be free of her!”
Darcy crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “You ought never to have encouraged Miss Lydia in the first place. The consequences have caught up with you, and you must face them.”
“I hardly encouraged her at all! She only focused her attention on me when I made it clear I preferred Kitty over her.” Mr. Denny’s desperation grew the more he talked.
Tanner jerked his thumb at the window. “This is the sort of domestic dispute in which one does best not to involve himself. It never ends well.”
Passengers from the recently arrived coach poured into the inn, chattering about the scene outside in hushed voices. Tanner’s workers set about their business efficiently.
“But you must help me!” Mr. Denny insisted. “I saw you leave through the library window,” he hissed in a voice loud enough to draw some eyes.
Darcy kept himself from bolting out of his chair. A hasty reaction would only call more attention to them. Slowly, he sat forward, resting his hands against the table. “Kindly keep your voice down, and tell me why you have chosen now to tell me what you saw.”
Mr. Denny obliged. In a whisper, he said, “I have not said anything for fear of being discovered in an equally awkward position.”
Tanner joined them, standing between Darcy and Mr. Denny, thus blocking the view of several passengers with his large frame.
Darcy raised his eyebrows, encouraging Mr. D
enny to continue.
His cheeks coloring to the same scarlet shade of his coat, Mr. Denny said sheepishly, “I was alone with Miss Kitty. Mr. Bingley’s garden has a nicely placed statue where we talked— I swear on my honor we only talked— without interruption from Miss Lydia.”
“Did Miss Kitty see me?”
“No. Her back was to the house.”
Darcy relaxed slightly. “I thank you for your discretion.”
Standing upright, Mr. Denny asked, “Does that mean you will help me?”
“We had best interrupt their dispute before the ladies get into the carriage,” said Tanner.
Darcy stood, clamping his hand on Mr. Denny’s shoulder. “I will help you if you speak with Mr. Bennet. Miss Kitty is very young.”
“I promise. Indeed, I wished to do so instead of sneaking off as if we were ashamed of our attachment, but Miss Lydia is like a bur on my coat and Mrs. Yeats was insistent.”
Darcy followed Tanner and Mr. Denny to the coach.
He asked, “The lady in the middle is Mrs. Yeats?” Her back was turned to them, and he could not see her face.
Only a few paces from the post coach, the lady turned and Darcy froze mid-step. “You!” he roared between clenched teeth.
The lady turned to run, but he caught her arm before she could escape. She writhed like the evil serpent she was. Miss Lydia swooned, forcing Mr. Denny to catch her before she landed in the pile of horse manure at her feet.
“I would have let her drop,” remarked Tanner, without deviating his gaze from Darcy and his captive.
Darcy needed to explain, and the Bennet girls needed to be dealt with. There were too many people milling about. The inn was too crowded. That only left one place.
Tightening his grip lest she escape, Darcy marched across the square to Colonel Forster’s home. He would lay bare her sins, and by God she would pay for them.
He listened with half an ear to Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia’s incessant bickering. Mr. Denny could not get a word in until Tanner’s patience had hit its limit.
