by Glenna Mason
Elizabeth savored the attention and was amused to see Darcy first so romantic and now so muddled, but she finally insisted, “Fitz, I am not a china doll. We were rolling in the hay on Monday, after all.” She giggled at the thought. “Now come on over here.”
“It's just that I am so pleased. I'll be smacking you around and punching you in the belly again by the end of the week,” he said, scooting over and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
*****
The next morning Elizabeth fatefully asked, as they finished their barn rounds, “Fitzwilliam, can you do the rounds tonight alone? When I get home from class today, I am going to those vicious chapters back to Claire. I'll be home by five, before you return from the barn. We can sit on the back veranda again and watch the sun set.”
“Of course, but I would rather come with you. That woman is a little scary these days.”
“No, Fitzwilliam, I must do this alone. I am not going to stay. I will just drop off the chapters, give her a comprehensive piece of my mind and come straight home.”
“But, Elizabeth . . .”
“No buts about it, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said. She was dynamically strong in her denial of his accompanying her, so he would not perceive there was any real danger and spend all day worrying about it. A mistake on Elizabeth's part!
*****
Elizabeth literally shook, as she drove up Claire's driveway a little after four-thirty on Thursday afternoon. Despite her bravado to Darcy this morning she felt that there was danger in this encounter. She planned on staying outside the house. She would be cautious and expeditious, yet totally candid.
Elizabeth did not drive straight to Claire's from school; instead she went home and found Peter. She figured that someone besides Darcy should know that she was going into the lioness's den. She explained to Peter that she was just going across the street to the Carstairs’ house and that she would be back in a half hour, adamantly repeating both, ending with a “Do you understand, Peter? A half hour tops!”
“Yes, Dr. Elizabeth.”
Yet as she pulled to a stop, anxiety caused her hands to shake, as she fumbled with the keys and the manuscripts. Elizabeth assumed some of the shaking was due to pent up anger, but she had to recognize that there was a substantial semblance of fear involved too. Claire was, after all, an unbalanced murderess.
“I should have brought Fitzwilliam,” she said. “I think I will just drive back across the street and get Mutt and Jeff.” But just as she put the keys back in the ignition, Claire's front door swung open.
“Elizabeth,” Claire called from the doorway.
“Too late,” Elizabeth mumbled, exiting the car. She stood by the car and yelled to Claire across the distance, “I called earlier to say I'd be by with the chapters.”
“Yes, I know. Susie told me, before she left for the day.”
Elizabeth leaned against the front of her car a safe distance from Claire, who still stayed in the doorway.
“Come in, Elizabeth,” Claire invited, looking like some black widow spider.
“No, I shall not come in,” Elizabeth said, approaching the steps. “You may consider me a scatterbrained numbskull, but I am not.”
“I think no such thing, Elizabeth. In fact, I know quite the opposite is true,” stated Claire icily, making no move out of the vestibule, where she remained with one hand on the door frame and the other hidden from view. “You are quite perceptive, a worthy nemesis.'”
“I have never read anything so chilling, Claire. I believe you are seriously psychologically disturbed. You need professional medical help, which I am sure you yourself already know,” Elizabeth said.
“So with no further ado, I will lay your chapters on the top step. All association of any kind between us is over, Claire. Never contact me again. Never send me any mail or put any packages in my paper box. If you do, I will consider it harassment and will file the proper papers to insure you desist. I will have you legally banned from my property and my life.”
Elizabeth had much more to say, accusations, admonitions, but thought better of it. It was time to escape to the safety of her home. She leaned over to lay the chapters on the top step of the porch. Suddenly she heard Claire race across the porch at her. She looked up, straightening just as Claire swung an iron poker aimed at her head. Instinctively, Elizabeth raised her left arm for protection. An excruciating pain ran through her forearm, before her head was struck and everything went perfectly black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Darcy arrived hot and sweaty from the barn and headed directly upstairs to shower and clean up. After the shower, as he looked into his closet, he tried to remember a particular outfit Elizabeth liked on him. She had been on a horrendous errand this afternoon, and so he wanted to be especially considerate of her tastes and appealing to her senses.
“Drat! I wish I would pay more attention to those types of things,” Darcy complained aloud, loitering in front of his Claysmount wardrobe selections, dressed in his towel.
Then he spied it. “Yes!” he exclaimed. There was the light wool suit that Elizabeth had picked out for him in London. He selected a perfectly starched white shirt and was soon in front of the full length mirror tying his favorite blue tie.
He was pleased with the effect. “Sartorial splendor, thanks to my bride!” Darcy said. Satisfied, Darcy descended the stairs in search of that bride.
“Lizzy,” Darcy called, fully expecting a reply, when he opened the library door. The hall grandfather clock chimed six. “Of course, the veranda,” he said aloud and strolled down the hall. Not finding her there, Darcy circled the house from the outside, checking all the other porches.
“Where is she?”
“Peter will know,” he decided and re-entered the house by the front door.
“Peter!” Darcy shouted.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”
“Where is Miss Elizabeth? I seem to have misplaced her.”
“She hasn't returned yet.”
“Hasn't returned yet? Man, it is six o’clock. She was supposed to be back by five.”
“Yes, sir. Dr. Elizabeth left at four-thirty and gave me specific instructions that she was going to Mrs. Carstairs and was expected right back, no later than five.
“She asked me to arrange for you two to have cocktails on the back veranda, as there is a nice afternoon breeze. I am right worried, sir. Shall I call Mrs. Carstairs and see why she's detained?”
“Of course, Peter. Please do. Perhaps they are talking about Mrs. Carstairs' new novel and have lost track of time,” Darcy said, a tinge of doubt in his tone.
Peter soon returned. “According to Mrs. Carstairs, Dr. Elizabeth left about five and said she had a few unexpected errands to run. Relax, Mr. Darcy. I imagine she will be pulling in the drive momentarily,” Peter said, albeit somewhat warily.
“I expect you are right, Peter. And thank you,” Darcy said, himself a little wary. He didn’t trust Claire Evans. “I think I'll just have a drink and try to relax a little. My first experience with a tardy wife, you know. I do not want to appear possessive when she arrives.”
“No, sir,” Peter agreed.
However, when Elizabeth had not arrived or called by seven, concern turned to alarm. Peter, Amelie and Nanny Lulu knew Elizabeth better than Darcy; they realized that Elizabeth would never willingly allow them to worry unnecessarily about her. Peter also relived the certainty in Elizabeth's voice, when she emphatically expressed the fact that she would be back by five. They knew that if she had been delayed unavoidably, she would have called by now.
The four organized a calling tree: family, friends, hospitals, and finally even the state police to check on possible automobile accidents. At eight o’clock Peter called Jane. “Dr. Jane, we are all getting quite upset. Perhaps you should come over, so we can confer together.”
“I'll be right over, Peter. And call the local police and advise them to put out an all points. This is now serious.”
When he heard the car
zoom up the driveway, Darcy slammed down the phone and rushed to the door, expecting to see Elizabeth alight from her car. The disappointment on Darcy's face was so stark that it even startled the doctor in Jane.
“Jane! Where can she be?” Darcy shouted and collapsed onto a porch chair.
Jane rushed to him and clasped his hands. “She's probably had an accident and for some reason is unable to phone. You know Elizabeth never knows where her cell phone is. There will be a simple explanation,” Jane told Darcy, wishing she could believe her own protestations.
“Do you really think so, Jane?”
“There has to be, Fitzwilliam; there just has to be.”
Jane sat down next to Darcy on the porch. He smiled weakly at his sister-on-law, but said proudly, “Did she tell you yet, Jane? We're expecting a baby.”
“No, Fitzwilliam. However, I suspected. Just a few signs a doctor would notice.”
“You bested me. I had no inkling, until she told me last night. We want a baby so much, and she wanted confirmation before she told me. She didn't want me to be disappointed. She thinks of me first always.”
“Congratulations! It is wonderful news!”
“I believe she intends to tell the family, when you all come for Monday night supper next week.”
“Everyone will be so delighted.”
“Jane, give me guidance. I’m a little disconcerted, so I could use your expertise.” Darcy bounded from his chair, ready to spring into action. “Tell me what I should do, and I’ll do it!”
“Fitzwilliam, first and foremost, we must remain calm. Please come inside with me and let's set out a plan of action together.”
As he and Jane walked slowly toward the library, Darcy tried to explain to Jane the reasons for his present state of extreme consternation. “You see, Jane, I've been having premonitions. Their vibes seem to flow freely into my very soul.”
“Vibes? Premonitions? What kind of vibes, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy ushered them both into the library and closed the door. He went directly to the sofa and indicated for Jane to join him there. After Jane settled silently beside him, Darcy tried to explain, “If you only knew, Jane, how much I love Elizabeth.”
“I think I do, Fitzwilliam. I know I do. Your love is the rare kind that few are lucky enough to find.”
“Well, I am sure that part of the presentiments stem from normal anxiety about the well-being of someone dearly loved. However, there is more to my fancies than the simple concern of a man for his wife. You see, Jane, I have always had a strong predilection toward extra sensory perception.”
Jane sighed loudly.
“Now, Jane, hear me out.” Jane assented with the tilt of her head.
“For some time now I have been receiving psychic messages of a disturbing nature, messages, which have portended that Elizabeth might be in danger. Tonight they are racing through my mind.”
“Fitzwilliam, I believe you. I have heard of such a phenomenon. Even science admits the possibility.”
“But, Jane, what good are my perceptions? They are not helping me find Elizabeth.”
“Fitzwilliam, think! Did Elizabeth mention anything today that might suggest where she might be?”
“I have wracked my brain, Jane. I truly have. She only said to me that she really appreciated my taking her turn at the barn tonight, so she could return those ghastly chapters to Claire and get them out of our house.”
Unnoticed by Darcy, who soldiered on, Jane started visibly at Claire's name.
“Claire's novel,” Darcy said, “has upset Elizabeth immensely. Elizabeth's attitude toward Claire has deteriorated severely, since Elizabeth and I first met. Elizabeth actively dislikes Claire now. That novel is the catalyst. She will not discuss it with me.
“The worst part is that I know that she is just trying to protect me.” Darcy's mind wandered back to the day in the field, when he had admitted to Elizabeth his fears for her safety. Cognizant of his concern, Elizabeth had apparently closed some avenues of their usually open dialogue. And Darcy was aware that his worst nightmares might be coming true.
Meanwhile Jane was aghast. She recognized immediately what had happened to Elizabeth, and it terrified her. She had, after all, read Chapters Five and Six. She decided instantly that she must be careful not to undermine Darcy's precarious equilibrium, but she also realized that she must act quickly. So, although personally panicked, she commenced carefully to further question Darcy.
“So, Fitzwilliam, are you saying that Elizabeth asked you to do the barn rounds tonight, so that she could go to Claire's to return Chapters Five and Six?”
“Yes.”
“Fitzwilliam, I did not know this.”
“Peter called Claire, and she told him that Elizabeth left at five to run some errands.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Jane said, placing a strong medical hand on her brother-in-law's arm, “do not panic please, but I do not believe Claire. I believe Elizabeth is still at Claire's, held there against her will.”
“Oh, no!” Darcy gasped. “What is wrong with me?” Jane increased the strong downward pressure on Darcy's arm. “It never occurred to me that Claire lied to us, when Peter called her. But it should have. I have personally observed Claire’s animosity toward Elizabeth. I've wasted two hours. But you must be right, Jane. Elizabeth only drove across the street to return the pages.”
“Fitz, I know I am right. You see I read Chapters Five and Six, while you all were in the British Isles; I had them at my home. And, Fitz, they are filled with malicious hate—hate, Fitzwilliam, for Elizabeth.”
Darcy sprang from the couch, almost knocking Jane to the floor. Even in his anger, he thought of Jane. “I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
Luckily Darcy's apology gave her an opening into his rage. So after Darcy declared, “I'll find her. I'm going there now,” Jane jumped to her feet and encased Darcy in her arms.
“Fitzwilliam, be sensible.”
“Jane, I can't. I won't! I will kill Claire Evans with my bare hands, if she has harmed Elizabeth.”
“Fitzwilliam!” Jane shouted this time. Surprised, he quieted. “Think of what is best for Elizabeth—think, Fitz.”
“But . . .”
“Sit, Fitz; we must be cautious. Elizabeth's very life is at stake.”
That did it; Darcy resumed his seat.
“Now we are not going alone. We must get the police involved. I have observed Claire since Jimmy Joyce's death. There is a sinister air about her—a kind of settled craziness. She is capable of anything.”
“But, Jane, what can the police do?”
“I do not know, Fitzwilliam. We will find out.”
“We must do something: you, Tish, Sir William, Kitty, Maria, Charles and I.”
“Exactly, Fitzwilliam, we must,” agreed Jane, a cold, calculating expression spreading across her determined face. “No crazy woman is going to destroy the Bennet world, if you and I have anything to say about it.”
“No—no crazy woman,” Darcy repeated. “We shall outsmart her.”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam, we must be smart,” Jane said. She placed her hand in his.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed. “And careful. You are right, Jane. We must be cautious for Elizabeth’s sake.”
“Then, Fitzwilliam, in your opinion, what should we do first?”
“We must get Sir William to help,” Darcy said, now seemingly in charge. “Thank God, he and Tish returned from their honeymoon yesterday. They flew in to Lexington from New York on the same plane as Claire. How is that for irony?”
“You call him, Fitzwilliam. He is the most influential citizen in several counties. The police will listen to Sir William. I want Sir William to insist the police get a warrant for Claire's arrest and a search warrant for every building on the property. You get him now. I am going to print out a satellite view of the Carstairs’ property, so we will miss nothing. And I am going to ask Tish, Kitty, Maria and Charles to organize a dawn search, in case we do not find her
tonight.”
Jane immediately removed her cell phone and dialed, commencing her directions to Tish, Kitty, Maria and Charles. She assigned Tish and Kitty the job of calling all the Pope Road neighbors, in order to get them and their personnel at the Carstairs’ fence at first light. Starting at seven, the group would walk the entire width and breadth of the Carstairs’ farm. Maria was to organize breakfast for everyone at Stantonfield, either for sustenance or celebration.
“Charles,” Darcy then heard Jane say, “you must do your rounds of course, but the feeding can wait. Everyone else is to be at the fence. No excuses. I am going to call the hospital and find two residents to take my morning patients. Get cracking, Charles.”
Darcy, seeing and hearing Jane so organized, immediately picked up the library phone and dialed Sir William. “Elizabeth is missing, Sir William. Jane and I suspect Claire. We need your help immediately, especially with Chief Clem. Please come to Longbourn now.”
Five minutes after Darcy hung up the phone, Sir William raced through the door. “Tish has an assignment from Jane, and so she stayed home to fulfill it. What is this, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy provided Sir William a brief synopsis of Elizabeth's plan to go across the road to Claire’s to return chapters of a novel, of her specific declaration that she would only be gone a few minutes and of her failure to be home more than three hours later. Darcy continued, explaining, “For several months, Claire has been authoring the great American novel, or so she thinks. She has been feeding the chapters to Elizabeth, allegedly for Elizabeth's opinion. The chapters have been upsetting Elizabeth terribly.”
Darcy paused. Sir William waited, every sense alert. “Jane and I have read some of the chapters. We have concluded that they contain a fictionalized version of a real life murder—to be specific the murder of Jimmy Joyce by Claire Evans. We believe that when Elizabeth went to Claire's today to return Chapters Five and Six, she confronted Claire with her suspicions. Elizabeth has not been seen since. Claire says Elizabeth left her house at five to run errands. Jane and I do not believe her.”
