The Meryton Murders

by Victoria Grossack

  The reactions of the rest of her family were not as loud but each member still had much to say. Kitty worried for Charlotte and her son; she asked Elizabeth how they were, and unlike Mrs. Bennet, actually attended to the answer. Mary reminded them all that in the midst of life they were in death, of whom may we seek for succor? – and that it was important to remember this: “at all times every man had but a short time to live. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow and never continueth in one stay.”

  As for her father, he was less voluble, but the expression of his face showed that he was shocked and grieved by the demise of his much younger cousin. He stayed with his wife and daughters for a few minutes, then rose with the assistance of a cane – he explained tersely to Elizabeth that he had, while climbing the bank of the river when Mr. Collins’s body was finally removed, badly sprained an ankle – and withdrew with Mr. Bingley into the library.

  There was also speculation about where Mr. Collins should be buried. In his case there was little indication of suicide, so he merited a sanctified resting place – but where? With the deceased of the Lucases? He had been married to a Lucas, so there was reason for that notion. On the other hand, the Lucas family plot was extremely crowded. Mr. Collins had belonged to the Bennet family as well, so perhaps they should offer him a place in the Longbourn section of the cemetery.

  Elizabeth suggested that if Mr. Collins were to be consulted he would wish to be buried in Hunsford, where he had served as rector. Near Lady Catherine, was what she thought but did not say. Elizabeth wondered what the expense might be, and then remembered that she could easily afford to pay for moving the body back to Kent if that was what Mrs. Collins wished.

  They could make their offers, but the decision, ultimately, would belong to Mrs. Collins.

  “Was the entail cut off?” Mrs. Bennet inquired hopefully.

  Mrs. Bennet had posed this question several times already that day; Elizabeth’s reply was as disappointing as the others. “No, Mamma, there is the son of Mr. Collins; he is now next in line.”

  Yet today even Mrs. Bennet could not voice any resentment towards young Lewis Collins. “Poor little fatherless boy! Well, at least he is not poor,” she amended. “Still, life will be difficult for him, growing up without a father! You girls do not realize how fortunate you are, growing up with both parents still alive! Ah, Kitty, would you ring for tea? It is a little early but I am so thirsty.”

  Elizabeth, agreeing that it was useful to have a father and a mother, used the arrival of tea to join her father and Mr. Bingley in the library. After serving each of the men a cup, Elizabeth asked her father how he was. “It must have been terrible to see Mr. Collins’s body this morning.”

  Mr. Bennet, his swollen ankle resting on a footstool, agreed that it was, but as Mary had been reminding them for the last few hours, they were all mortal.

  “Your father handled everything very well,” said Mr. Bingley admiringly. “He is a man for a crisis.”

  This was not the usual epithet for her father, but Elizabeth was aware that Mr. Bennet could be competent when compelled.

  “I understand that you sent Mr. Bingley to fetch Lady Catherine, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet explained his reasons. “As she had been so important to Mr. Collins, it was imperative to inform her. Mr. Bingley was the only one at the bridge who had met her, and he is also a friend of her nephew’s. He seemed the most acceptable messenger.”

  Mr. Bingley said that in a situation such as this he was willing to do whatever was necessary.

  “On her way back to Hunsford, Lady Catherine stopped to see us at Netherfield Park. Do you know what she suspects, Papa?”

  Mr. Bennet sighed and placed his teacup on his saucer. “I expect that she believes that someone killed Mr. Collins deliberately. She did not declare that this morning, but her questions led in that direction.”

  “What is your opinion, Papa?”

  “I agree that there are several things about the death that appear suspicious, but who could have done it? There are many who wished to avoid Mr. Collins, but I can think of none who hated him enough to want him dead – unless your friend Charlotte tired of being married to him. And as for your mother – Mr. Collins may be a favorite of hers today, but he was not two days ago – I can vouch for her being at Longbourn last night.”

  “Has Mr. Bingley told you Sir William’s idea? How it might have been an accident?”

  “Yes, but unless the driver of the unidentified cart or carriage was both blind and deaf, I cannot comprehend how that happened. Even last night – and although the moon was new, the stars were bright – one would see a large man like Mr. Collins when crossing the bridge. Even if the driver were inattentive or drunk, Mr. Collins should have had the time to get out of the way – no one can drive across that bridge at a gallop.”

  “Every theory seems impossible,” said Elizabeth, “yet Mr. Collins is dead.”

  Mr. Bennet acknowledged that his daughter’s statement was true.

  “After consulting with your father, I agree that an accident of the type envisaged by Sir William is highly improbable,” said Mr. Bingley regretfully.

  “Yet an accident is preferable to the idea of murder,” said Mr. Bennet. “Your mother is sufficiently anxious with the current products of her imagination – I expect it will be a month before she ventures across that bridge – I do not wish to give her another, even greater source of anxiety.”

  “Papa, I do not wish for Mr. Collins’s death to be murder,” said Elizabeth. “The possibility is terrifying. But should we not act on what is most likely to have happened and not what we would like to have happened? I appreciate that you do not wish to distress Mamma, but you and I and Lady Catherine are not the only ones who believe it could have been foul play. Charlotte is of the same opinion. If Charlotte conveys her belief to her family, then it will spread throughout the neighborhood. It will be impossible to keep this from my mother, Papa – or from Jane, Mr. Bingley.”

  Mr. Bennet acknowledged the logic of his daughter’s point. “The question then becomes, what is to be done? Other than not crossing the bridge without protection?”

  Elizabeth said that Sir William Lucas and his sons planned to query the neighborhood, to discover if anyone had traversed the bridge. “If we have other questions that we think should be asked, we should convey them to Sir William. And you should ask him what he and his sons have learned. You are clever, Papa; you may understand something that escapes the Lucases.”

  “You flatter me, Lizzy.”

  “If Mr. Collins was murdered, then these queries may warn the criminal,” said Bingley, “and make him more difficult to discover.”

  Mr. Bennet believed that an investigation could affect the murderer’s behavior in a number of different ways. “He could become desperate, and harm another. He could become extremely cautious, and not do anything more. Or he could decide that the best option is to leave Meryton – which, other than discovering and stopping him, would be best for the neighborhood. Of course, we would not necessarily feel safe, at least not for a long while, because we would not realize that he was gone – not unless he were so considerate as to leave a letter behind confessing to his evil deed.” Which one of these course of events was most likely, Mr. Bennet could not guess, not without more information, although he had most confidence in saying that a letter of confession was highly unlikely.

  “Yes, but these queries will also serve to warn the neighborhood and put people on their guard,” said Elizabeth, “and although the neighborhood may not feel safer, it will actually be safer, because everyone will be more cautious. When I learned the truth about Wickham’s character – and I learned of it before his regiment departed from Meryton – I did not warn anyone in the neighborhood, because I feared it would cause too much trouble – and because I had become privy to some information that I am still not at liberty to make public. I would prefer not to make the same mistake that I made with Wickh
am – keeping silent when I should speak out – especially when the lives of my family and friends could be at stake.”

  Mr. Bennet sighed. “Mrs. Bennet will be extremely anxious.”

  “I understand how you feel, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley. “I also have a wife whom I do not wish to worry.”

  Mr. Bennet returned to an earlier point, this time without any levity. “Who in Meryton knows Mr. Collins well enough to wish to murder him? Who else even knows him, besides us and the Lucases?”

  None of them knew of any particular relationship that Mr. Collins had had with any of their neighbors, and certainly no one who had harbored any great resentments. Mr. Bingley pointed out that Lady Catherine had known Mr. Collins very well, and both she and he had been in Meryton last night. But Elizabeth and her father both raised objections to this conjecture. First, it was hard to imagine how Lady Catherine, who was tall but not that young, could have killed Mr. Collins, as the act would have required physical strength. Second, if Lady Catherine had killed him, then why would she have raised the possibility of his death being due to murder to Elizabeth?

  “What about one of her servants?” asked Mr. Bingley. “The coachman or any of the others she brought with her? Do you know anything about them, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth said that she knew their names but very little else about them. She suggested that this was another point to discuss with Mrs. Collins.

  “Perhaps whoever did this was not trying to kill Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bingley speculated.

  Both Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet stared at him. “Explain yourself, please,” said Mr. Bennet. “The injury on the back of Mr. Collins’s head could not have been administered by accident. Or do you mean to suggest that the killer mistook Mr. Collins for someone else?”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps your cousin was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Do you mean someone who finds pleasure in killing people?” asked Elizabeth. For some reason that was more terrifying than the prospect of someone murdering Mr. Collins deliberately. The latter might be wickeder, but the former was more dangerous.

  “Or perhaps someone who likes killing clergymen,” suggested Mr. Bingley.

  “That seems unlikely,” said Mr. Bennet. “But, as we have already determined, all our conjectures seem unlikely, nevertheless Mr. Collins is dead. So I expect there is a murderer in Meryton.”

  “Has there ever been one before?” inquired Mr. Bingley.

  Mr. Bennet described an incident from his youth, and a carriage accident that might not have been an accident, in which a wife died and the husband lived – but that was many years ago.

  “Papa, what should we do? Besides warn people and ask for the assistance of the Lucases?”

  Mr. Bennet said that they should consult with his brother-in-law Mr. Philips, the leading attorney in Meryton. Mr. Philips did not usually work on criminal cases, and Mr. Philips – stout, white-haired and red-faced – was not exactly energetic, but he had two young clerks who were eager to prove themselves.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Mr. Bennet relayed their conclusions to those he needed to inform: Sir William and Mr. Philips, and the members of his own family. Sir William was terribly distressed at the idea that someone could have murdered his son-in-law, but he agreed that Mrs. Collins needed to be informed, for her own safety, just in case Mr. Bennet was correct. As Mrs. Collins had already reached the conclusion herself, she was not as perturbed by receiving her father’s communication as he was in making it; in fact her anxiety was lessened, because now others would take precautions and she could more easily solicit her brothers and her father for protection.

  Mr. Philips was skeptical at first that Mr. Collins could have been murdered – at that bridge? And why Mr. Collins? But as an attorney he was cognizant of the greed and foibles of human nature. He conveyed Mr. Bennet’s theory to his clerks, who were both willing to do what they could to protect Meryton (and to increase their standing in the firm and in the town). Mr. Philips also told Mrs. Philips, and although she was not clear on the details which made murder rather than an accident more likely, the probability that it was murder was absolutely thrilling, and gave her reason to call on Mrs. Long, the reclusive Mrs. Smith (who allowed her in for half an hour in order to make this communication), the milliner across the street and anyone else who would listen. By telling Mrs. Philips, Meryton was warned.

  The ladies living at Longbourn also had their reactions. Mary reveled in the proof that there was so much evil in the world, which she had always maintained, and not just the whole world, but in their very own neighborhood! Kitty resolved that she would never, ever cross this bridge alone in her life – at least not till the murderer were discovered and stopped, or if her aunt were giving a particularly enticing party, or if she had a pressing appointment with the milliner. The realization that she had so many reasons to cross that bridge rather distressed Kitty, and she asked Mary to cross the bridge with her – an act that only interested Mary if she already had another reason to go. Nevertheless, it appeared as if there would be at least a temporary cessation of hostilities between the two Bennet daughters still at home – a benefit that even Mr. Bennet had not foreseen.

  Mrs. Bennet was loud in her alarm, and she cried out at every noise, was positive that evildoers lurked in the shrubbery, and complained about the state of her nerves every hour. Of one thing she was certain: till the perpetrator was caught, she would not be crossing the bridge unless she could do it in the carriage. This was inconvenient to Mr. Bennet, who needed the horses in the farm, but he said he would see what he could do about their schedule, for it was even more inconvenient to have Mrs. Bennet without respite at Longbourn House.

  Mr. Bingley did not like to alarm Jane with the communication, but his wife reacted far more calmly than Mr. Bennet’s. Jane actually had trouble believing it – she thought the conjecture with respect to an accident far more likely – and even if it were murder, which it probably was not, she had complete confidence in Bingley’s ability to protect her.

  Miss Bingley suggested that they all remove to London, as, despite the reputation to the contrary, that large city was evidently safer than the little market-town of Meryton. Respectable clergymen were never murdered in London; London only killed those who deserved it. And then she repeated, as she had already repeated so often, that her brother should purchase or even hire an estate somewhere else. The murder of Mr. Collins, she argued, had to be grounds for breaking the lease early; no one could be expected to live in a place where clergymen were being targeted.

  Mr. Bingley sighed, and said that he doubted that a murder two miles away would be considered grounds for breaking the lease. Even if clergymen were being targeted, no clergymen resided at Netherfield Park. Besides, Jane added, they were not completely certain that Mr. Collins had been murdered.

  Elizabeth questioned Miss Bingley again about what had happened that evening, but she had no new information to give. She only confirmed that Mr. Collins had not dined with her and Lady Catherine at the Meryton Inn.

  Most of Meryton was in an anxious state, and so when the Lucas sons and Mr. Clarke and Mr. Morris interviewed the neighborhood, everyone was willing to tell what they knew.

  They ascertained that no cart nor carriage had crossed the bridge during the evening in question – or at least, no one was willing to admit it. Nearly everyone claimed to have been at home.

  Although few facts were gleaned, many theories were offered. Old Mr. Robinson, who lived about a mile from the bridge, complained that a wheelbarrow of his had been moved that night – he had risen the next morning to discover it in the wrong part of his garden – but a wheelbarrow could not have knocked Mr. Collins off the bridge. The jailer’s wife thought Mr. Collins was looking for treasure; the milliner thought a gust of wind must have blown his hat into the water, and that he had dived in afterwards; while the poulterer was certain that a vicious dog had chased the unfortunate clergyman, which had caused him to fall –
but it turned out that the dog was detested by the poulterer, while the dog’s owner swore the animal had been inside that entire evening. Finally, several wondered if there could be a connection between Mr. Collins’s death and Miss King’s missing jewels – but no one could fathom what it might be. Mr. Collins was dead, but he had not been robbed, and it was not even certain if the two had ever exchanged any words during their lifetimes. Luckily for Hannah, the late Miss King’s former maid who had incurred so much suspicion, she had an alibi for the time of Mr. Collins’s death.

  Meryton had fewer parties in the evenings, and even fewer crossed the bridge at night. However, in the mornings half the town went to inspect under the bridge, especially the youths, in the hope of finding additional dead clergymen.

  After some discussion, Mr. Collins was buried in the Longbourn family plot. Mrs. Collins thanked Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for their generosity and informed everyone she would remain a few weeks longer at Lucas Lodge. With Mrs. Jenkinson still in a serious decline, Lady Catherine was too busy to seek out a replacement for Mr. Collins. The vicar from the next parish was engaged to preach the Sunday sermons, and as no one needed the Parsonage, Lady Catherine could wait for Mrs. Collins to move out.