by Jennifer Joy
William sighed in annoyance. “And then, what happened?”
“The horses bolted and I lost my footing when the gig jolted forward. When I saw that Mr. Bennet was unable to calm the horses, I ran after him. By the time I reached him, the gig was gone and Mr. Bennet lay along the side of the road. It must have been divine intervention which saw you return at that moment, Mr. Darcy — not surprising given your connection to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth nearly choked on the air she gasped. That Mr. Collins would claim a special connection between God and Lady Catherine went beyond the most preposterous absurdity she had ever heard.
William, without pausing for breath, growled, “Lady Catherine’s hair certainly reaches imposing heights, but I do not believe she enjoys any more closeness to God than anyone else.”
“Did you see anyone about?” asked Mr. Tanner.
“I saw Mr. Hurst riding away as we left Longbourn’s drive to the main road. He seems to enjoy riding around this area. I have seen him several times and greeted him on a couple of instances, however, he never seems pleased to see me. I do not understand why.” Mr. Collins backed up to his chair, his ruddy face scrunched in thought.
Elizabeth thought of several reasons why a gentleman may not wish to see Mr. Collins — especially after today. Had the horses not bolted at the sound of his pistol shot, Father may have managed to arrive in Meryton unharmed.
Mr. Tanner strode to the hall, exchanged a word with Thomas, and returned with the reins in his hands. He held them up so everyone could see the straight line where the leather had been cut. “The horses bolting when they did was unfortunate, but I think we can all conclude it was an unfortunate accident. This, on the other hand, was done on purpose. Who could have gained access to the rig after the horses had been harnessed?”
“Could it not have been done beforehand?” inquired Mr. Collins, adding, “Anyone could have gone into the stables.”
“No member of the stable staff would fail to notice the reins had been tampered with. He would have changed them and taken the matter up with Mr. Bennet.” Mr. Tanner looked to Elizabeth for confirmation.
“It is true. With the age of our conveyances, our stable hands are accustomed to looking for needed repairs. In fact, they only recently did so with our carriage. The damaged reins would not have escaped their notice.” She had seen the carriage sent to the blacksmith’s too often to doubt the veracity of her statement.
“I saw something,” said Miss Darcy, causing a silence to settle over them.
The anticipation in the room intensified as every eye rested on her. Elizabeth held her breath. Could it be this easy? Would they apprehend the criminal this same day?
“As you know, my bedchamber overlooks the stables on this end of the house,” she began. “I saw a man I have often seen riding over the estate during my outings go inside the stables as the gig was being readied. I cannot recall his name, but he was pointed out to me as the steward of Longbourn.”
Mr. Bilford.
Chapter 23
Elizabeth insisted on joining Darcy and Tanner for their interview with Mr. Bilford.
Darcy had learned by now he could not keep her away when her chin set at a determined angle and a certain keen focus darkened her golden-brown eyes.
Before the surgeon had departed from Longbourn, they had unanimously decided the safest measure was to allow others to doubt Mr. Bennet’s true state of health. He would not die, but if someone wished to kill him, it was best to let the person believe he was in greater danger. The surgeon agreed with the plan, should any of the villagers inquire after Mr. Bennet.
If the individual who meant him harm was made to think he may never recover, it would buy them precious time. Time enough to discover his identity.
Mr. Bilford was shown into the parlor where he was received by Darcy, Tanner, and Elizabeth. His confident step slowed the closer he came, his eyes darting between them.
“You sent for me?” he asked.
“Please have a seat,” Darcy answered, watching while Mr. Bilford looked about him for another chair, then reluctantly took the only one available to him — the chair directly opposite Darcy.
Glancing over his shoulder at the door, Mr. Bilford asked, “Where is Mr. Bennet?”
“He suffered an accident,” answered Elizabeth.
Darcy studied Mr. Bilford.
His mouth fell open and his eyes enlarged. After a moment, during which he visibly composed himself enough to speak, he said, “I am sorry, Miss. I hope the accident was not serious?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I fear he may never recover.”
Mr. Bilford dropped into the chair, his mouth agape as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I … I hardly know what to say. My sincerest condolences … If I can be of any assistance, I would consider it an honor to help the family of a gentleman who has been kind to me.”
Too kind, thought Darcy. But he said nothing aloud. It would not be the best strategy to put Mr. Bilford on the defensive when they needed straight answers. And so far, the steward’s reactions implied nothing but surprise at the news given him. If it was an act, they would see through his façade soon enough.
“Thank you, Mr. Bilford,” Elizabeth said, continuing, “The nature of his accident is questionable and we seek your opinion.”
The steward’s dark eyebrows gathered together. “Questionable, you say?”
“We believe someone seeks to harm Mr. Bennet. Kill him, even,” said Tanner, crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching Mr. Bilford as intently as Darcy did.
“Who would want to harm Mr. Bennet? There is no gentleman more agreeable in all of Hertfordshire.”
“And yet I have heard you cross words with him,” Elizabeth said coolly.
Darcy sighed. So much for level conversation. Darcy implored her to stop with a look, but she was too intent on Mr. Bilford — the man she had clearly already judged guilty in her own mind — to pay him any heed.
The steward stiffened. “Mr. Bennet and I do not always see eye to eye. That is to be expected.”
“What is not expected is for a man who claims to deal with him honestly to…”
Darcy clamped his mouth shut in the vain hope Elizabeth would follow suit. He ought to have known she was too involved, her emotions too raw, to see the advantage of Mr. Bilford’s cooperation.
“…steal money which should have gone to the betterment of the estate for his own gain.”
Mr. Bilford’s face turned beet red. “And what do you know, Miss? You ought not involve yourself in the business of men. Mr. Bennet is not so ignorant of the condition of his estate to require the assistance of a maiden who would judge the matter without the knowledge a man in his position possesses.”
Darcy held his hand up before Elizabeth could let the insult on the tip of her tongue fly. She would only regret it later. Perhaps. “The purpose of this meeting is not to make accusations, Mr. Bilford.”
Mr. Bilford folded his arms defensively and scoffed.
Continuing, Darcy said, “Nor is it your place to assess the capabilities of the daughter of your master. Given the tragedy which has befallen Mr. Bennet today, I trust you will act with more sensibility and discretion during our interview.”
He heard Elizabeth breathe out, her shoulders dropping as she forced herself to relax. She nodded to him, communicating with a gesture that she would not provoke Mr. Bilford any further.
Darcy waited for an apology. Mr. Bilford may be the land steward — a position of respect, for sure — but he was still in the employ of Mr. Bennet. He had crossed the line of acceptable behavior by insulting Elizabeth, and such an attitude could not be tolerated.
Mr. Bilford glared at Elizabeth, his mouth twisted shut. She raised her chin and met his malicious stare levelly.
While pride surged through Darcy at her indomitable firmness, he did not like the obstinate tightness in Mr. Bilford’s jaw nor the haughty disdain evidenced in his eyes. He would speak
to Mr. Bennet soon. Mr. Bilford was not fit to continue as Longbourn’s steward, and the sooner Mr. Bennet released him, the better.
There would be no apology, Darcy now knew. And so, he continued his questioning.
“Do you recall seeing anyone in or around the stables this morning before Mr. Bennet drove his gig into Meryton?” he asked.
Mr. Bilford, his arms still folded tightly over his chest and his complexion a deep red, considered his three questioners. “Why should I answer? It is as plain as day you have already determined I am the one to have acted against Mr. Bennet. Well, what if I tell you I was at the stable this morning? In fact, I was the one to help harness the horses.” Addressing Tanner, he said, “Will you hang me for that, Constable?”
Tanner’s eyebrow arched, the only sign of expression on his stern face. “I am not interested in seeing an honest man hang, Mr. Bilford. I merely seek to determine if you are, indeed, as honorable as you wish us to believe. Did you cut the reins?”
“No. And they were not cut when they passed through my hands. I would swear as much in the court,” he answered defiantly.
Everything about Mr. Bilford’s manners judged him guilty. His blatant admissions and the pride with which he declared his involvement, the cold glint in his glare and the hard set of his chin. Darcy believed him fully capable of causing harm to Mr. Bennet if he wished it. But it was too easy.
“Was there anyone else in the stables?” he asked.
Mr. Bilford scoffed. “Even if I told you, it would not change your minds.”
Elizabeth flinched forward. “You did see someone else? Who was it?”
With a sneer, he said, “A gentleman. How about that? Will you cast the blame on a man who must earn his living by the sweat of his brow to spare a man who has never seen a day’s work?”
“Who did you see?” Tanner rumbled.
“Mr. Hurst.”
“Mr. Hurst has been acting strangely of late. But what could he possibly stand to gain from hurting Father?” Elizabeth asked.
The strain in her voice and the worry in her countenance strengthened Darcy’s resolve. He would find the fiend who dared wrinkle her brow; to cause a frown where there should be smiles and laughter.
She, Darcy, and Tanner had remained in the parlor after Mr. Bilford departed. The air was heavy, though several minutes had passed.
Tanner rose to his feet, pacing about the room. “That is the missing piece. Motive. Several people have had the opportunity and the means to cause Mr. Bennet harm — if we assume his recent illnesses have been a result of poison, which I am not disinclined to believe. His so-called accidents could have been arranged by anyone who has called at Longbourn or otherwise has access to the home. After today’s incident, it is clear someone means to do away with your father. But why? Why would anybody want to kill Mr. Bennet? What is the motive?”
“Until we can converse with Mr. Hurst, we must include him in our list of suspects. I think it wise to keep a watch on Mr. Bilford as well,” said Darcy.
Elizabeth rubbed her hands together and moved closer to the fire. “He has a motive. Did you see how angry he became when I questioned his honesty?”
“How could we not? I wish you had not challenged him. If he is willing to kill Mr. Bennet to keep his dishonesty secret, he may hold no qualms in harming you too.” Darcy’s chest squeezed at the thought.
The lovable imp reached for the fire iron, wrapping her fingers around its handle and wielding it like a sword. “I shall have to carry this with me, then. Take care not to walk the halls at night, William. I would regret it very much if I were to mistake you for the villain.”
He rubbed his hand where she had, months ago, sunk her sharp teeth when they had been trapped in Bingley’s library. “You have weapons enough in your arsenal. When we go to Pemberley, I shall take delight in giving you fencing lessons.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said, stepping toward him.
The flickering flames of the fire could not compete with the fireworks she lit within him.
Tanner, playing the part of the boorish older brother annoyingly well, cleared his throat and spoiled the moment. “Some investigators you are. The murderer could walk past you and ask for the time, and neither of you would notice.”
Darcy stepped back and Elizabeth replaced the fire iron on its stand. Tanner was right. They could afford no distractions.
“The sooner we solve this mystery and leave for Pemberley, the better,” Darcy said.
A scowl covered Tanner’s face. Waving his arm in riddance he stalked out of the parlor, nearly trampling over Mrs. Annesley on his way out to the hall.
Mrs. Annesley unpeeled herself from where she had pressed against the frame of the door.
“What has happened?” she asked, looking down the hall where she no doubt saw Tanner’s retreating figure.
Darcy shrugged his shoulders. Were all older brothers as agitating as Tanner?
Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy’s arm. “He will be sad to have you gone. You are his family.”
Frustration welled up in Darcy’s chest. “If he were not so stubborn, he would accept my invitations to stay at Pemberley.”
A mischievous spark twinkled in Elizabeth’s eye. “A family trait?”
Mrs. Annesley joined them. “He refuses to visit Pemberley?” she inquired.
Darcy ran his hand through his hair. “He has the foolish notion he would bring ostracism on the Darcy name.”
“Really?” said Mrs. Annesley. “He would protect that which has been denied him? His family? The Darcy name?” She contemplated for some time, before adding, “Would he not deem to accept your invitation for Miss Darcy’s sake? She will miss him very much. As much as he will miss you.”
“Especially for her sake. He thinks he would ruin her chance of making a good match when the time comes.” Speaking of which … he had much to relate to Elizabeth once he spoke with Mr. Hurst. His mixed thoughts swirled in his mind, bringing forth one clear idea. “Of course! That is why Tanner has been unbearable.”
Elizabeth shook her head in pity and raised her hand to his cheek. “I doubt Mr. Tanner fully understands his heart yet, but imagine what he must feel. He has just begun to know you as a brother and a friend.”
“And he loves Miss Darcy with the blind devotion of a love-starved man who does not believe himself worthy of her notice,” added Mrs. Annesley.
“You insist on including him in your family, something which he has craved since infancy. And now, you talk of leaving.” Elizabeth lowered her hand to rest with her palm spread over his heart.
“If he wants to be part of a family so badly, why is he surly of late? It is his own, stupid stubbornness keeping him apart when we would welcome him,” Darcy argued.
“Loneliness — the threat of it, at least — makes him gruff. We must think of a way to reassure him he is no longer alone.” Elizabeth trailed her fingers down his arm to lace her fingers between his, leaving his nerves on point. She would be the death of him before they could marry. Fifteen days.
Mrs. Annesley smiled, but said nothing.
Elizabeth turned to stand beside him, facing the companion with a sly grin illuminating her face. “Perhaps Mr. Tanner requires another reason to visit Pemberley.”
“Perhaps.” Mrs. Annesley said, her lackluster eyes coming to life. Darcy recognized the transformation. Elizabeth had done the same for him. He shook his head in hesitant belief and wonder.
Never could two more opposite people exist than Tanner and Mrs. Annesley. But Darcy would not interfere. If his brother could find half as much happiness as he had found with Elizabeth, he would not prevent the match for the world.
And if it convinced Tanner to be their guest at Pemberley and bring their motley family together…. Darcy raised Elizabeth’s hand and brushed his lips over her fingers, his heart brimming so full it ached. And it was all her doing. She had brought him to Meryton. She had given him a reason to stay. She had extended her protective loyalt
y to his family — whether they wanted it, or deserved it, or not.
“Whatever happens, we will come out stronger for it. I thank God every day for bringing you into my life. I did not realize how empty I was until you made me whole.”
She raised herself up to her tip toes, clutching his lapel, and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, William.”
Fifteen days.
Chapter 24
Elizabeth could not sleep. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she slipped out of her room, walking down the hall where Father's manservant stood watch at Father's open bedchamber door.
"He rests," he said in a whisper.
Peeking past him, Elizabeth saw the rise and fall of Father's chest in the soft glow of the candle she held up.
Unable to return to her bed where her thoughts would keep her awake and restless, Elizabeth padded down the stairs to Father's book room.
Turning the corner at the bottom of the steps, her feet slowed as a long shadow fell across the worn carpet spread down the hall. She had only been teasing about carrying the fire iron with her, but now she wished she had something in her hand other than the limp corner of her shawl and a half-burned candle.
Stepping so lightly her footsteps could not be heart, she crept up to the edge of the door and was startled out of her wits when a tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway. Clamping a hand over her mouth, he pulled her into his embrace.
"You were not entirely teasing when you threatened to brandish the fire iron around the house, were you?" William said, his breath tickling her ear. It did nothing to calm the racing of her heart, but the panic subsided.
She giggled. "If only you know how only moments ago, I considered running to the parlor to fetch it."
He rubbed his head. "I am grateful you did not. With everything going on, I need my wits about me. How is your father?"
"He is resting." She slipped past him, curling up in Father's creaky, leather chair behind the ink stain-covered desk.
