The Inseparable Mr. and Mrs. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  “Of which I am the foremost!” Mr. Collins proclaimed, then bowed his head in mock humility. “I refer, of course, to my loyalty to the family de Bourgh. I would never presume to name myself a friend when I am but a lowly rector with the honor of presiding over the parish at Hunsford, though I cannot count on my hands the number of times her ladyship has condescended to include me amongst her guests at several gatherings at Rosings.”

  Father spoke. “I must apologize to you, Mr. Collins. In keeping you so long at Longbourn, your patroness must feel you have neglected your duties by her.”

  Clearly, the thought had never occurred to Mr. Collins. His face, red with the compliments he had bestowed upon himself, froze in alarm. Breathlessly, he said, “I have been away some time.”

  Elizabeth exclaimed, as if the idea had only just crossed her mind, “She is in London, which is only half of a day’s journey away by carriage. Much less if you ride a horse. It would be nothing to travel to her, ensure her wellbeing, and return to Longbourn once you are convinced your services are no longer needed at de Bourgh House.”

  She held her breath as Mr. Collins considered her tempting suggestion.

  Finally, when she thought she would turn blue with impatience, he said, “The hour is too late for travel today. It will soon be nightfall, and I fear the dangers on the road. Tomorrow is a holy day, and I had already given consideration to remaining at Longbourn with Mr. Bennet on the morrow so that my relatives might attend the service without leaving him unprotected. My own injuries prevent me from sojourning far, and I had hoped to practice one of my sermons for the edification of Mr. Bennet. I shall depart for London at first light on Monday if Mr. Darcy agrees with the plan. It would, after all, leave him as the only other gentleman at Longbourn capable of defending Mr. Bennet should another attempt be made on his life.”

  If anything, William would be grateful. Mr. Collins was more of a danger than a defender, though he would flatter himself otherwise.

  It was not as immediate as Elizabeth preferred, but one more day enduring Mr. Collins’ company with the promise of relief would make the morrow infinitely more bearable. She could hardly wait to tell William. Mr. Collins would only add to Lady Catherine’s concerns as he attempted to ascertain the nature of the gossip against her — and she took great pains to keep it from him.

  “You ought to discuss the matter with him, Mr. Collins,” said Father, his countenance cheerful for the first time since his accident the day before. “I believe Mr. Darcy is often found in my book room, giving some much-needed attention to my neglected volumes.” He sighed, looking wistfully toward the stairs which led to his precious sanctuary.

  Mr. Collins departed to search for William (an unfortunate event, but one for which Elizabeth would see her betrothed properly rewarded later).

  Elizabeth took her dinner with her father. They laughed and spoke of unimportant topics. Anything but the obvious, impending threat looming over them, jabbing him and Elizabeth with reminders of the danger he was in with every wince of pain from his broken leg.

  Wiping his hair from his damp forehead with a cool cloth, Elizabeth asked if he required another dose of laudanum-laced tea.

  “I do not like how the drug dulls my senses, Lizzy. I feel I must be on the watch just as you are.” Another row of sweat beaded over his forehead and upper lip. He squeezed his eyes and grunted as he shifted his weight a fraction of an inch to the side, the pain taking his breath away.

  “The surgeon said the pain will lessen as you heal. But, Papa, right now you must rest. Mr. Hurst is away in London and the housekeeper had no inclination of when he might return,” she said.

  “He is probably hiding to avoid prison,” he harrumphed.

  “In which case he will not appear here — especially when he is informed that Inspector Seymour is here. And Mr. Tanner assures us that Mr. Bilford has made no attempts to come near the house.”

  Father tried to sit up, but Elizabeth pushed his shoulders down. “Do not agitate yourself, Papa, I beg you.”

  “I cannot trust him anymore. I ought to have seen to it today, but I have not had possession of my senses long enough to see done what I should have attended to a fortnight ago.” Grasping her hand tightly, he said, “Mr. Darcy was right. I should have dismissed him when I had the chance. Now, Mr. Bilford will be angry at me — and rightly so — but I cannot keep him on as my steward when I cannot trust him. The sooner he is gone, the better.”

  “Do you wish for me to speak with him, Father?” she asked.

  “No!” Father squeezed her hand. “I will not have his anger against me directed at you. If he is the one to have caused my suffering, I will not endanger your life by including you in my business affairs. He would resent your involvement. Do you understand me, Lizzy?”

  He did not release his hold until she assured him she would say nothing to Mr. Bilford.

  “Good. This matter is for me alone to see to. It is my mistake and I will suffer the consequences.” Father sighed and added, “It is only too bad I did not think to do this before. It is too late in the day to send for him and I cannot dismiss him on a Sunday.”

  “Why ever not?” demanded Elizabeth. “Mr. Bilford will hardly praise your sensibility for prolonging the inevitable by one day — be it a Sunday or not. Though Mr. Hurst appears guilty, I cannot determine a motive for him to act against you. What does he possibly stand to gain with you gone? Mr. Bilford, however, would soon convince Mr. Collins to keep him on so he may continue draining the estate of its assets. Mr. Bilford has a motive. And he has had the means to slip poison into your brandy, cut the ladder in your book room, and tamper with the reins. He is untrustworthy and I suspect him of attempting to murder you.” Her chest heaved with passion. She knew Mr. Bilford was guilty. She felt it in her bones. All the pieces fit. Had Father not rested his hand atop hers, she would have charged into Meryton to lay the evidence before Mr. Tanner so he could arrest the man who had taken Longbourn’s peace away.

  “Lizzy, do not forget the obvious. Yes, he has acted treacherously against us these many years … but it was cleverly done. Mr. Bilford is not so much of a fool to put himself in a position to be accused of murder, a crime for which he could hang.”

  “With the amount he has stolen from you, he could hang too,” she countered, angry his argument made sense when only moments ago she had been so decided.

  “He knows I respect life too much to allow that fate when he could be transported and begin anew in another distant land. I could never take another man’s life over something so fickle as money.”

  Elizabeth knew it too. If only everyone held that same value, Father would be safe. Not that he possessed much, but to someone with a lesser income (or no money at all, as was the case with the Hursts) what he had might be tempting … if it did not have an entailment attached to it.

  She felt her shoulders slump as her mind spun in circles, each conclusion she came to seeming less likely than the previous. What other motive existed to kill Father?

  She spent a restless night pondering the possibilities, but woke up the following morning no wiser than the day before, adding to her frustration and alarm as the hours passed. Whomever they dealt with was just as Father and Inspector Seymour had described. Cunning and secretive.

  Chapter 29

  Nearly three days had passed since Father’s accident, and Elizabeth was on pins and needles. Every squeaky floorboard and tree branch tapping against a window sent her up to his bedchamber.

  Mr. Collins had departed on the first conveyance to London that morning, but not even his absence brought the relief she had hoped it would.

  The inspector had requested an audience with them that day, and she expected him to arrive soon. Casting aside formalities, she had asked for him to call earlier than the accepted social hour. After all, his could hardly be deemed a social call.

  Sitting in the drawing room with Lydia, Georgiana, and Mrs. Annesley, pretending to embroider but spending more time tuggin
g her work basket out of Chloe’s sharp, little teeth, Elizabeth’s nerves jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud knock on their front door.

  Allowing Chloe the victory, Elizabeth yielded a ball of yarn to the puppy and peeked into the hall.

  It was Mr. Bilford accompanied by the young man Mr. Tanner had employed to track the steward’s every move. He certainly took his task seriously … and Mr. Bilford did not appreciate it, as was evidenced by his scowl, raised shoulders, and hands balled stiffly at his sides.

  Elizabeth made to follow, but stopped when she heard Mr. Hill send for William to meet them in Father’s room.

  Returning to the drawing room, she left the door open to better hear Mr. Bilford’s raised voice while keeping an eye out of the window with a view of the drive leading to their front door. Her skin tingled in anticipation. She could not shake the sensation that something important would be discovered today. The attacker would reveal himself today, and she would be ready. They would all be ready. She hoped.

  Georgiana set her needlework aside. “I can hardly stand it! Something is afoot, but until whatever will happen happens, I do not know what to look for so that I might prevent it!”

  Mrs. Annesley continued poking her needle through the linen, not skipping a tidy stitch or tangling her thread as she looked up. “The wind is in the East. We must be watchful.”

  It did not take long for the scrapes of a chair and Mr. Bilford’s irate voice to reach them. Elizabeth held her breath in the hopes of hearing his words, but the walls separating them were too thick.

  Booted feet pounded overhead and the shouts grew louder. It was all she could do to remain seated as the steps descended the stairs.

  “That is enough from you,” William said coldly.

  “After years of service, he would cast me out without a recommendation? Do you expect me to kiss his feet for it when he has cursed my family to starve?” Mr. Bilford hissed.

  “No, Mr. Bilford. You have brought this upon yourself, and you should be grateful Mr. Bennet is kind enough to spare you your life when you could hang from a rope for your crimes against him. You are the only one to blame,” answered William, his voice hard like flint.

  Elizabeth watched them as they appeared before the doorway. Mr. Bilford was surrounded. Thomas and William held his arms at either side, and Mr. Tanner’s man walked behind should Mr. Bilford attempt an escape.

  Mr. Bilford must have sensed the four ladies, for he looked into the drawing room. Digging in his heels, he came to a halt, struggling to free his arms against his captors.

  His eyes met Elizabeth’s, sending chills through her body. She wished to look away, but she held his hateful stare. Baring his teeth like a rabid dog, he lunged against William and Thomas, shouting at her, “I will get you. You will be sorry, the lot of you!”

  Mr. Bilford was not a small man, but that did not prevent William from grabbing him by the back of his coat and lifting him onto his toes, forcing Mr. Bilford down the hall and escorting him out of the door.

  Elizabeth did run after them then. Were his threats not proof enough?

  “William!” she called.

  He whipped around to face her, his chiseled features unforgiving and hard. “Mr. Bilford is to return to his home, pack his things, and leave for Cambridgeshire within the hour. He will be accompanied the entire time and if he is ever seen within a day’s ride of Longbourn, he will answer for it.” Turning back to Mr. Bilford, he added, “Have I made myself understood? Mr. Bennet is far more lenient than I would be under the circumstances. Any man who would threaten an innocent family does not deserve the kindness he has extended to you.”

  He released his hold on Mr. Bilford’s coat, sending the man careening forward with enough force to discourage any attempt at a return.

  It was at that moment Inspector Seymour arrived. With a whistle, he dismounted, handing his reins to the groom still holding Mr. Bilford’s horse. “What is this? I do hope the Bennets and their household are well after the astonishing events of late?” he asked directly to Mr. Bilford.

  The steward had lost some of the wind puffing him up. The weight of defeat curved his shoulders and he bowed his head. “It is nothing. I am moving on. I have nothing against Mr. Bennet nor his family,” he mumbled.

  Inspector Seymour clapped him on the shoulder. “I am glad to hear it, Mr. Bilford.” Pulling out a scrap of paper and licking the tip of a pencil he pulled out from his coat pocket, he asked, “Now, just where might you be moving on to? I am beginning to think my “gentleman” might have something to do with Mr. Bennet’s misfortunes, and you might be able to provide me with some information if that is the case.”

  Elizabeth spoke. “You dismiss Mr. Bilford as your suspect, Inspector?” It chafed her sense of justice to allow the man she believed to be guilty of harming Father leave so easily.

  The inspector wiggled his eyebrows at Mr. Bilford, examining him with his mouth puckered up. “Do you have reason to believe this man is responsible for the injuries against Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Mr. Bilford.

  “Yes. Minutes ago, he threatened to harm our entire household.” She stepped forward, standing beside William. He moved his shoulder in front of her protectively.

  Inspector Seymour clucked his tongue. “Bad form, Mr. Bilford. See that your temper does not land you in deeper problems than you already are.” He looked around, nodding his head when he saw Mr. Tanner’s man ready to depart with Mr. Bilford. “I see you have an escort out of here. It is probably for the best.” He pushed the paper and pencil in front of Mr. Bilford, pointing at the empty space. “Right here, if you will, please, Mr. Bilford. I am going to keep an eye on you, sir, as I suspect Mr. Darcy will too. So, you see, there is no use making good on your threats. I can see you are smarter than that. A hardworking man such as yourself will have no trouble setting up anew.”

  Mr. Bilford returned the paper and Inspector Seymour read it aloud. “Cambridge, Cambridgeshire. Lovely country there, Mr. Bilford. Do you have family in Cambridge?”

  “A brother. I will rely on his kindness until I can get back on my own feet.”

  Another clap on the shoulder. “Godspeed, Mr. Bilford. I wish you the best, though I hope I never have occasion to see you again, sir.”

  Elizabeth watched Mr. Bilford and his horse depart until they became specks on the horizon. Nobody stopped him.

  As they crossed the threshold, Inspector Seymour turned to her. “I meant what I said moments ago, Miss Elizabeth. I believe the case I have been hired to investigate and your current trials are linked. Is Mr. Bennet well enough to receive callers? I should very much like to discuss the matter with him, as well as the other members of your household — anyone who might offer an insight into the villain who has eluded me these past few months.”

  Mrs. Hill, who stood beside Mr. Hill in the hall, said, “Oh dear. Oh no,” as she clambered upstairs as quickly as her worn limbs could carry her to Father’s bedchamber.

  The laudanum tea. Elizabeth forgot her disappointment and followed Mrs. Hill, shouting, “Papa, do not drink it yet.” If Father drank the bitter tea, he would not be able to attend to Inspector Seymour.

  Father was setting the teacup down on the table beside his bed when they barged into his room. “What is all this fuss about?” he asked.

  “Did you drink it?” Elizabeth asked, rushing forward to see his cup.

  “Only one small sip. Not enough to dull the pain,” he said, leaning forward so Mrs. Hill could plump the pillows propping him up and grimacing with every movement.

  Elizabeth sat beside him gently, careful not to disturb him. Taking the cloth in the basin of water on the table, she dabbed his face. “Poor Papa. I am sorry. Can you endure the pain a few minutes more? Inspector Seymour is here to discuss the crime he has been investigating. He feels there is a connection between it and us.”

  Father sat up from his pillows and waved at the door of his bedchamber. “By all means, let him in!
” he said heartily.

  More chairs were brought in and placed around Father at his insistence. Inspector Seymour even requested the servants of the house be present and soon Father’s room was packed with curious listeners. Mrs. Annesley and Georgiana joined them as well, sitting beside Lydia and Chloe.

  Inspector Seymour posted himself at the foot of Father’s bed, allowing himself a view of everyone present. His eyes scanned over them as if searching for someone in particular.

  “Is this everyone?” he asked.

  “Every guest, resident, and servant of the house is accounted for,” answered Father.

  Taking a deep breath, Inspector Seymour began, “First, I want to thank you for joining us. I have a great deal to tell and I encourage you to ask questions. My search has led me to your home for a reason, and I am dismayed to see my quarry appears to have eluded me once again. However, his disappearance convinces me of his guilt all the more.”

  Elizabeth looked around her from her seat between the inspector and Father. The only person missing of their household was Mr. Collins, but that had been at her suggestion. Inspector Seymour could not possibly mean him.

  “I can see you looking around suspiciously, and you have every reason to do so,” continued the inspector. “Allow me to explain what has led me here and we will see if you draw the same conclusion I have recently come to.”

  Rubbing his hands and clearing his throat, he said, “At the end of the Oxford Term, nearly a year ago, a young man, a Gentleman Commoner graduate, was murdered. His name, I suspect, was William Collins.”

  Chapter 30

  Chills raced through Elizabeth and her fingers turned as cold as icicles.

  She felt a rush of warmth spread over her and looked up to meet William’s gaze. Their thoughts were in unison. She could sense it from the anxious disbelief in his eyes.

  Inspector Seymour continued, “The young man was not found for several months. Nobody had missed him.”