But the chief of Mrs. Philips’s woes centered on the apparent defection of her new friend Mrs. Smith, who had recently repulsed every effort at amity. “I wished to introduce her to Mrs. Collins, but she refused, and she has refused every invitation since.”
Elizabeth wondered if Mrs. Smith, like Miss Bingley, had decided to develop headaches in order to avoid undesirable social commitments.
Mrs. Philips continued. “At my time of life, it is so important to have female friends – something you will learn to appreciate when you are older, Lizzy. I was delighted with Mrs. Smith, who was always agreeable and amusing. And now she will not accept any invitation at all, from an evening of casino to a game of cards to mere afternoon tea. I have asked her if something is wrong but she will not say.”
“Perhaps she is not feeling well,” said Elizabeth. “That could make her disinclined for engagements.”
“Or perhaps she has decided that she has had enough of Meryton and wishes to leave it, as Mr. Clarke hinted – then we shall have to go through the annoying business of having to find another tenant. You, who have so much, cannot understand how important every little bit of income is to us, Lizzy. If only the war office would quarter another regiment here – then every room in the town was full, and we could charge whatever we wished!”
Elizabeth attempted to console her aunt, suggesting that either Mrs. Smith would recover her good will towards Mrs. Philips, or if Meryton truly displeased her, then another tenant would come, someone more consistently agreeable. “I am sure that Mrs. Smith’s desertion has nothing to do with you, Aunt,” said Elizabeth, “but is due to something that you do not know about Mrs. Smith.”
But Mrs. Philips was determined not to be consoled. “Why does she not like Meryton?”
“It is a cross summer,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe something will happen that will shake our friends out of their bad humor.”
CHAPTER XXI
Something did happen. The very next morning Mr. Bingley was not at breakfast, and his wife reported that shortly after dawn an urgent message had arrived from Mr. Bennet, summoning Bingley to the Meryton Bridge, which connected the village of Longbourn to the town of Meryton. Bingley had saddled his black horse and departed at once.
“Is Papa unwell?” Elizabeth asked, alarmed. Their father’s health had seemed quite usual the last time they had met, but good health three days ago did not guarantee good health today.
“Lizzy, the note came from him,” said Jane, showing it to her.
Elizabeth anxiously read it. It contained no more than what Jane had reported, but his handwriting seemed firm.
Miss Bingley was likewise curious. “Lady Catherine’s carriage took me past that bridge last night.”
The sisters asked if Miss Bingley had noticed anything unusual, but she replied that she had not.
They all wondered why Mr. Bennet would summon Mr. Bingley to the bridge, but that curiosity was certain to be satisfied later. So instead they questioned Miss Bingley about her evening with Lady Catherine. Had anyone else been present? Had she enjoyed herself?
Miss Bingley replied that it had been an interesting, if not exactly an agreeable evening. Lady Catherine wanted to know what she thought of the denizens of Meryton, but Miss Bingley’s information had not been as complete as she would have liked. She had questioned Miss Bingley about her artistic skills and wished to know if Mrs. Darcy had had any skill in that area – she had then asked about Mrs. Darcy’s penmanship.
“Lizzy’s penmanship?” Jane repeated.
Elizabeth was also taken aback; she could not see how her handwriting could matter to anyone except a correspondent, and she did not expect to write many letters to her ladyship in the future. “Perhaps she hopes I will write to Miss Anne de Bourgh?” she speculated, but then, recalling her conversation with Lady Catherine just the day before yesterday, and how her ladyship had been convinced that she was attempting to ruin Miss de Bourgh, that seemed unlikely. “How did you answer?”
Miss Bingley had said she had only seen Elizabeth’s handwriting once or twice, and that there had been nothing particularly remarkable about it.
Elizabeth was tempted to ask if Lady Catherine had mentioned the name Radclyff but she decided not to risk it. Instead she pursued a different topic and inquired about Miss Bingley’s opinion of the inn.
The Meryton Inn was reasonable, Miss Bingley reported; as there was nothing else, it would do. The food, at any rate, had been excellent; Lady Catherine would tolerate no less.
“Do you know when she returns to Hunsford?” Elizabeth asked, wishing that she could see Charlotte again before she departed but fearing that it was impossible.
“I believe her ladyship is departing today. She was to collect the Collinses late this morning and then continue on their journey. They may have already left.”
The ladies of Netherfield finished breakfasting and moved to the drawing-room. The morning seemed most tranquil, till they heard hoofs galloping to the house. Jane peered through the window. “Why is Bingley in such a hurry?”
“Jane! Caroline! Elizabeth!” Bingley called, his loud voice and his footsteps announcing his swift approach through the house. He arrived in the drawing-room and paused just inside the threshold. “There you are!”
His eyes were large; his face reddened from exertion, and he was breathing hard.
“What is wrong?” cried Jane.
“Mr. Collins is dead! His body was found beneath the bridge.”
CHAPTER XXII
All the ladies expressed consternation, but none of them had the presence of mind to engage in the reactions so often attributed to young ladies: no one burst into tears; no one fainted; no one even screamed or shrieked. They were, however, grieved and shocked and, after a few moments, burst forth with questions.
Elizabeth was the first. “Mr. Collins is dead! How can that be? Are you absolutely certain?”
Mr. Bingley assured them that he was certain. One of the servants from Longbourn House had been running an early-morning errand and had discovered the body herself. As Mr. Collins had occasionally stayed at Longbourn, and was generally known as Mr. Bennet’s heir, she had informed Mr. Bennet immediately. Mr. Bennet was shocked enough to be provoked out of his usual lethargy. He dressed hastily and went with her and several other servants to inspect the situation. After confirming that it was indeed Mr. Collins, he dispatched the servants in several directions. He sent for the apothecary, the senior Mr. Jones, who would know what to do with the body. He sent another servant in the direction of Lucas Lodge, to inform Mrs. Collins and to fetch Sir William. And finally, he sent a servant to Netherfield Park to summon Mr. Bingley.
“Poor Charlotte!” Jane exclaimed. “She must be extremely grieved. What will she and her little boy do?”
Miss Bingley wished to know why Mr. Bennet had summoned Mr. Bingley. “What good could you do?”
“As I am married to a cousin of Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet felt that I should be there,” replied Mr. Bingley. “He then asked for me to call on Lady Catherine at the Meryton Inn. From his visit to Hunsford, Sir William Lucas is better acquainted with Lady Catherine, but Mr. Bennet believed that Sir William was needed at Lucas Lodge for his daughter. Even though Lady Catherine once called at Longbourn House, Mr. Bennet had never met her. He asked me to bring her the news, as he did not think this task should be left to a complete stranger.”
“So you went to the Meryton Inn and informed her ladyship?” asked Elizabeth. “How did she react?”
Mr. Bingley confirmed that he had gone at once to the Meryton Inn. Lady Catherine, who had been planning to leave this morning, was already dressed and so had received him immediately. She had been horrified to learn what had happened to Mr. Collins, had demanded many details and then had finally insisted on being escorted to the bridge so that she could see for herself where the tragedy had occurred.
“She wished to see the body? Why? Did she not believe that he was dead?” asked Miss Bingley.
> “She wished to understand how he died. When we reached the bridge, Lady Catherine looked around and brought up several puzzling points. Her ladyship asserted that Mr. Collins always drank very moderately, so he could not have stumbled from it in a drunken stupor. His health was excellent, and so it was unlikely that he had had some sort of fit and had fallen. In fact, she did not see how he could have fallen over the side of the bridge at all. The walls are tall enough to prevent from someone making that sort of error, even a tall man such as Mr. Collins.”
“So Lady Catherine does not believe his death was an accident?” inquired Elizabeth, aghast at the implication.
“Lizzy, what are you suggesting? That Mr. Collins jumped?” cried Jane. “I cannot believe it. He had a good position, an excellent wife, and a little boy.”
“And the expectation of inheriting Longbourn House,” Mr. Bingley added.
Miss Bingley remarked: “His would not be the only suicide in Meryton.”
“I am only attempting to understand what happened,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “The bridge is not that high. I made a few inquiries of the crowd that gathered – everyone uses that bridge; it was impossible to keep people away – and learned that many of the boys, and even some of the girls, have jumped off it without injury. If Mr. Collins wished to take his life, jumping off the bridge would be an unreliable method.”
“I remember that when the regiment was quartered here, a private who had been drinking decided to walk along the wall of the bridge,” said Elizabeth. “He fell off, but he did not die. He only broke a leg, and then was rescued by his friends, and I believe he recovered. Like you, Jane, I cannot imagine that Mr. Collins would wish to kill himself – not only does he have a good position, a young son and expectations, but he would consider the act completely unfitting for a clergyman.”
“So it must have been an accident,” said Jane. “Perhaps Mr. Collins heard something and had some reason to be on the wall – and then he slipped and fell off and his fall was terribly unlucky. Or possibly – possibly someone pushed him, intending it to be a prank, but then it went horribly wrong. And then when whoever it was realized what he had done and left out of guilt and fear.”
“Those theories are plausible. What does Lady Catherine say?” inquired Elizabeth.
“She did not reveal her thoughts on the matter,” said Mr. Bingley. “She did say that this is a most unfortunate and unhappy neighborhood.”
“I completely concur,” said Miss Bingley.
“Lady Catherine also said that because of Mrs. Jenkinson’s ill health, she cannot delay her return to Rosings Park for more than a few hours. She said she would first call on Mrs. Collins at Lucas Lodge – she expects that Mrs. Collins, under the circumstances, would not be returning with her – and that her ladyship then intends to come here.”
“Oh! Then we cannot go to Lucas Lodge or to Longbourn,” said Jane, “in order to condole with Charlotte or Papa.”
“Not till later,” agreed Mr. Bingley. “And Mr. Bennet said it is unlikely that Mrs. Bennet will be able to venture to Netherfield today; he wished to keep the carriage at hand in case he needs it for something urgent.”
Jane and Elizabeth said that they understood perfectly, while Miss Bingley repressed a smile at the prospect of a day without Mrs. Bennet.
Even though Jane and Elizabeth could not depart from Netherfield themselves, they could dispatch a servant with notes to carry to Longbourn House and to Lucas Lodge and also to the Meryton Inn, in case Lady Catherine had not yet departed. When this first task was done, Elizabeth had longer letters to write, in this case to Mr. Darcy and his sister, while Jane decided to share the news with Lydia and with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Even Miss Bingley wrote about the dreadful event to her sister in Grosvenor Square.
CHAPTER XXIII
Lady Catherine did not keep the inmates of Netherfield Park waiting long, but arrived about four hours after Bingley had returned to the estate with the news of Mr. Collins’s death. When she appeared, her posture was as erect as ever, but the pallor of her skin signaled how perturbed she was by the morning’s discovery.
“I am most sorry for your loss, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said sincerely, after Lady Catherine had been shown into the parlor and had usurped the best chair.
The others also expressed their sympathy.
“He was not my relation. He was your cousin,” stated Lady Catherine.
“Because our fathers had quarreled, we only met Mr. Collins for the first time about two years ago,” Jane explained gently. “He has been a much greater part of your life than of ours, Lady Catherine.”
“Perhaps,” Lady Catherine acknowledged, her features tightening as if she were attempting not to weep.
Elizabeth added, “Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins valued your opinion more highly than any other person’s in the world, and was very grateful for your patronage.”
“A sensible and dependable young man. One rarely meets one like him,” Lady Catherine pronounced.
They all agreed that Mr. Collins had been a man of unusual talents; Elizabeth then asked about Mrs. Collins.
“Mrs. Collins is handling the news very well, although naturally she is prostrate with grief and shock,” said her ladyship. “She will remain at Lucas Lodge for the next few weeks, but will have to return to Hunsford at some point to direct what is to be done with her possessions. The timing of her return has not yet been arranged.” Lady Catherine sat more upright than ever, and glared at each person in Netherfield’s drawing-room in turn. “Even though we are grieving, I still wish to understand what happened. I must understand! Miss Bingley, you were in Meryton last night. Did you see anything or anyone? Did you look out the carriage window and see Mr. Collins?”
“No, I did not,” replied Miss Bingley. “But the coach paused for a moment in the town. I thought your coachman spoke with someone – it might have been Mr. Collins.”
“My coachman said he saw Mr. Collins, who asked if I were within the coach,” said Lady Catherine. “When Mr. Collins learned that I was not inside, and that the coach was carrying someone – you, Miss Bingley – to dine with me at the Meryton Inn, Mr. Collins told Johnson that he would not disturb me this evening, but that he might have some important information for me that he would convey to me on the next day.” Again she stared pointedly at each member of her audience. “Do any of you have any idea what that information might be?”
They all took a moment to consider, but no one had an answer to her ladyship’s question. Elizabeth reflected that Mr. Collins’s last and undelivered message could be absolutely anything, as her cousin had believed everything pertaining to Lady Catherine to be of the utmost significance, and so he could have referred to any matter, large or small, important or trivial. Yet Elizabeth comprehended her ladyship’s urgent desire to know what he had wished to tell her. Even if the missing message had been of no real account – perhaps a suggestion regarding the garden at the Hunsford parish church – it was Mr. Collins’s last message for her ladyship. Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine had, in their peculiar way, been a perfect match for each other: she so condescending and he so deferential.
“And what were you doing yesterday evening? I know where Miss Bingley was, but what about the rest of you?”
Her manner was autocratic and impertinent, but Jane answered calmly, explaining that they had all been together in Netherfield Park, receiving a visit from Mrs. Bennet and her sister Mrs. Philips.
Lady Catherine frowned, as if the report disappointed her, but she did not contradict it.
Elizabeth, reflecting, then said, “If Mr. Collins had something to tell you, it does not seem likely that he would take his own life.”
Lady Catherine was affronted. “Take his own life! Nonsense!”
“What do you believe happened, Lady Catherine?” inquired Mr. Bingley.
But her ladyship did not answer this question. “This is a wicked place. I will be glad to leave it. In fact, I m
ust depart immediately.”
She rose and so did everyone else. The Bingleys inquired if she or her coachman, her maid or even the horses needed anything before the journey.
Lady Catherine refused all offers of assistance. She then addressed Elizabeth: “Mrs. Darcy, would you accompany me to my carriage? I wish to converse with you in private.”
Elizabeth complied. As Lady Catherine only wanted her to accompany her to the carriage, rather than walk to a section of garden where they would not be overheard, she had hopes for a brief if not a civil exchange.
Lady Catherine began as soon as they were outside the house. “Mrs. Darcy, as both your relations and the Netherfield servants – yes, I have questioned them – confirm that you were here last night, I know that you were not involved, not directly at least, with the death of Mr. Collins.”
“Lady Catherine, I know you think ill of me, but I am amazed that you could contemplate such a possibility. Why would I want Mr. Collins dead? And even if I did, how could I possibly manage it?”
“Mrs. Darcy, as I said that I believe you could not be involved, there is no reason to take umbrage. But pay attention to my words. Vigilance is absolutely necessary; you should trust no one; I was simply applying this principle myself. Something is terribly wrong here. I believe that Mr. Collins was deliberately killed. You are a clever young woman, Mrs. Darcy. You may, if you keep your wits about you, discover the identity of the perpetrator and keep others from being harmed.”
The Meryton Murders Page 13
