Miss Bingley was alarmed by this suggestion. “Madam, that cannot be necessary. The baby may not appear for another two weeks and Longbourn House is not far. You may depend on my brother’s carriage being sent to fetch you when the time comes.”
Mrs. Bennet said that she did not like to put Mr. Bingley’s coachman to trouble, which contradicted her usual attitude on the matter, for she usually maintained that coachmen existed in order to drive coaches.
Mr. Bingley and Jane also encouraged Mrs. Bennet to remain in the comfort of her own home at Longbourn while she could, for they would certainly impose upon her once the child arrived. Mrs. Bennet resisted these hints till Kitty reminded her of a dinner she had been planning to give at Longbourn; the local poulterer had some fat geese – she did not wish to forego that if she did not have to.
Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley, Jane and even Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that Mrs. Bennet would not be moving in just yet. Kitty took a cloth and dabbed Jane’s brow while Mary seated herself in a corner and slept.
Nicholls said she would make an early breakfast, an offer appreciated by everyone. Within an hour, those residing at Netherfield had dressed; within two, nearly everyone was seated in the breakfast parlor, the exception being Jane, who remained in her own room with Kitty. And within three hours, Mr. Bennet arrived in the Longbourn carriage, leaning on a cane and limping because of his sprained ankle.
Miss Bingley was rather put out at being invaded by so many Bennets, from both near and far – but Elizabeth thought she should not be cross at her father’s arrival, as Mr. Bennet was bringing the means of taking most of them away.
“How is Jane?” he inquired anxiously. “Do I have a grandchild yet?”
Mr. Bingley informed his father-in-law of Jane’s situation. Mr. Bennet’s lips twisted with amusement, and he could not resist remarking to his wife: “You promised me a grandchild if I appeared this morning, but it appears that I was right to sleep till sunrise.”
“And I was right to come, Mr. Bennet! I was summoned by a carriage from Netherfield Park!”
“I am the guilty party,” said Mr. Bingley, particularly anxious, after a night of no sleep, to forestall a dispute between his wife’s parents. “I misjudged the situation.”
Kitty entered the room, and she suggested to Mr. Bennet that he go and see Jane for himself. “She has not come down for breakfast, but she is awake and dressed.”
“I will do that,” said Mr. Bennet. He spent ten minutes with Jane, then returned to the breakfast-parlor, where he joined them for some toast and tea. Then, sensibly pointing out that they were all tired and would need their strength in the very near future, Mr. Bennet herded his wife and younger daughters to the carriage so that anyone desiring a nap that day could easily take one.
CHAPTER XXXII
Later in the day Mr. Bingley and his sister decided to take some exercise by going out for a couple of hours on horseback, leaving Jane and Elizabeth together. They sat in the drawing-room with needlework.
Elizabeth yawned.
“I am so sorry for everyone’s fatigue,” Jane apologized.
It was at least the tenth time for Jane to apologize, thought Elizabeth. Sometimes one could tell that they were related to Mr. Collins – and then she mentally chastised herself for the unflattering thought about their dead cousin. “Given how worried I have been, I would have slept little anyway.”
“What do you plan to do?” Jane inquired.
“I have attempted to compose a letter to Darcy, but I cannot; everything I have written is unsatisfactory. But I am determined not to give this person the money he demands. So I have written a letter asking for more time, saying that I cannot give him the money just yet, and I will put that in the horse chestnut tree.”
“Do you think he will give you more time?”
“I do not know, and in fact, that is not my primary objective. Here are my intentions. In three days, the day on which I am supposed to leave the money in the tree, I will go to Meryton in my carriage, place my letter inside the horse chestnut tree, and then depart in the carriage. When we are out of sight I will descend from the carriage and send Wilson back to Netherfield. However, I will return through the woods and clandestinely observe who comes to the tree. In this manner I will discover who is to blame.”
Jane admired her sister for the boldness of her plan, but she was also concerned for her safety. “You should not attempt this alone. You should take someone with you.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I do not trust anyone.”
“What about your coachman?”
“Wilson? Do you think I should trust him, or that I should not trust him?”
“I do not say that you should trust him particularly, but he will be involved. If you drive to that field with him, and then descend from the carriage to walk back, then he will realize that you are doing something. And even if he does not understand it, he will be curious and might mention it to someone.”
Elizabeth considered. Wilson had been with the Darcy family for many years, which ought to be reason to trust him implicitly. Yet how could she be sure? Wilson might be mercenary. Or perhaps he was proud like Lady Catherine and disapproved of his master’s marriage to her. Elizabeth did not elucidate her doubts about her coachman to her sister, instead she said, more generally: “I do not know. On principle I am reluctant to trust anyone besides you, Jane. It is only two miles in one direction, and the weather is fine. So I will walk there, place my letter in the tree, and then walk away and then slip back through the woods. Wilson need not know anything about it.”
Jane still disliked the idea of her sister doing this alone. “Is there anyone who you trust? Our father, perhaps? Or Bingley?”
Elizabeth seriously considered both men. Mr. Bennet was still suffering from his sprained ankle and so would have difficulty walking the distance. She was reluctant to involve Mr. Bingley when she had not yet informed Darcy.
“That means you should inform Darcy,” said Jane.
“I have every intention of doing so,” Elizabeth assured her sister, “but some communications are better made in person than on paper. I will be extremely careful, Jane, I promise.”
Jane begged her not to do anything rash. She could not convince her sister not to make this excursion but she did persuade her to agree to some precautions. Elizabeth would go but she had to promise to return before it became dark. “If you are not here before the sun sets, I will send both Bingley and Wilson after you.”
Elizabeth agreed to this condition, which she thought reasonable, and over the next two days they decided on several improvements to the scheme. She would carry some bread, cheese and fruit, so that she would not be hungry or thirsty while she waited; she would wear comfortable, sturdy shoes; and she would dress in an old gown of green and brown muslin, so as to be less visible when she hid in the forest. Her French maid was not particularly impressed by her selected attire, even when she gave a reason for it – “Why do you wish to walk anywhere, Madame Darcy, when you have such a comfortable carriage?” – but Madame Darcy was known for her lengthy strolls through the grounds of Pemberley, so even if Jeanette could not comprehend the strange ways of Madame, Madame’s decision to take a walk did not strike her as anything out of the ordinary. At breakfast, her letter in her reticule, Elizabeth explained that as it was a beautiful day – fortunately the weather had cooperated – she would take a long walk, and perhaps call on friends or family, and that she would be back in time for dinner. Miss Bingley raised an eyebrow but did not comment. Jane did not perfectly control her countenance and her unhappy expression caused her husband to offer himself as a walking companion to Elizabeth. She said no, she was inclined to a solitary ramble, and besides, Jane needed him more. And so, shortly after breakfast, carrying her parasol and her reticule, Elizabeth left Netherfield on foot.
The day was lovely, with a brilliant blue sky, cows in meadows and farmers in fields, and with all the golden glories of late summer. At first the
exercise revived her spirits, but as Elizabeth neared the field with the horse chestnut tree her heart beat faster and even her hands shook.
She slowed her pace as she stepped off the dirt lane on to the field with the horse chestnut tree. She had strolled this way many times before, and she was pleased to see that her memory was exact. The large field was shaped like a triangle with sides that were not particularly straight. It was bordered on one side by the dirt lane on which she had walked; forest and shrubbery edged another side of the field, and the rocky edge of river, where a pair of boys fished, completed the triangle.
The forest was what interested her most; Elizabeth studied it, wondering if someone were in it watching her – and deciding where she should hide herself. She did not see anyone, but if someone were watching her – waiting for her to leave money in the tree – then she did not think her behavior would be unduly suspicious. She thought that most people in her situation would be seeking to discover the extortionist – and then wondered, distractedly, how many people had ever been in her situation?
Elizabeth did not detect anyone in the forest, which meant at least one of the following: that the forest was an excellent hiding place or that no one was watching. She hoped, when she reflected, that both were true.
She approached the tree, which rose tall and majestic in the middle of the field. Her heart fluttered with doubt: what if it were the wrong one? Then all of her effort, including the two miles she had already walked here, and the two miles she had yet to walk back, would be for nothing. But then she found the hollow and inside the hollow she discovered a wooden box. Whoever was doing this had left a box for the bank notes that he extorted, to keep them from getting wet, from being blown away, or even from being chewed on by an avaricious squirrel. With trembling hands she reached up and withdrew the box and examined it. Inside she found a note in handwriting that was exactly like her own, and on paper similar to what she owned. How annoying! Whoever was behind this had made his paper with its writing a worthless clue, but she removed it anyway. “Put the money in here, close the box and return it to the hollow of the tree,” the note instructed. Frowning, she withdrew the letter from her reticule – the letter without money inside it – and put the letter into the box, then closed the box and replaced it in the tree. Feeling queasy and faint, Elizabeth glanced all around her but she still saw no one suspicious.
She closed her reticule, and then walked quickly away from the tree and back to the lane. At that point she stopped and turned to look – surely it would be natural to have some curiosity – but she discovered nothing. She returned the way she had come, till she reached a place on the lane where she was completely alone, with no one visible in either direction who could observe her. She stepped off the path and into the woods, pushing her way through brush and trees; Jeanette would have to work hard to clean her shoes and her petticoat. Elizabeth estimated that the horse chestnut tree had been out of her view about twenty minutes by the time she settled on a fallen log, reasonably hidden, to observe the situation. As far as she could perceive, nothing had changed.
When she sat down she was full of anxious apprehension. The anxiety remained, but Elizabeth soon found that her task was simultaneously one of tedium and dullness. She compelled herself to pay attention, as if she were a soldier on guard duty, but there was so little to see and to hear. A few butterflies flitted haphazardly a few feet above the grass. A dog barked in the distance. The boys continued to fish – this had been a favorite spot of her uncle Gardiner’s when he was a boy – but she believed that he had had more luck than the youths before her. As far as she could tell, they had caught nothing.
Elizabeth also observed the lane where she herself had walked just a few minutes before. It edged the field, then turned near the river and went downriver, and it, at least, was enlivened by occasional traffic. On it she spied several farmers, a pair of giggling girls, the manservant of Mrs. Long and several people whom she did not recognize. After about two hours she saw the familiar faces of Mr. Clarke and young Mr. Jones, who came with fishing tackle, crossed the meadow and were soon out of view as they went upstream along the river bank. The Lucas carriage appeared, and Mrs. Collins, her sister Maria and the nursery maid climbed out with Lewis. They spread a blanket on the field and stayed for about an hour. Mr. Morris walked by – Mr. Philips must have closed the office for the afternoon – and a while later Elizabeth thought she glimpsed her sister Mary. The greatest surprise was when Miss Bingley arrived on horseback, escorted by a groomsman. The coming and going of all the people could be explained by their pleasure in fishing, or the prettiness of the shady lane near the river, or simply because the route provided the most convenient path to their destination. No one, as far as she could determine from her position in the woods, manifested any consciousness of guilt – although perhaps the extortionist was so hardened that he would not – and no one approached the horse chestnut tree itself.
More hours passed. Elizabeth did not have a watch with her but she could determine this by the changing shadows. She consumed the fruit that she had brought with her and her other provisions. The anglers departed, both the men and the boys, and the lane was empty. Presumably everyone was at home drinking tea; Elizabeth longed for a cup herself. Surely the forger would come now for his money, or at least what he believed was his money? Or did he plan to wait till the cover of darkness? Yet the horse chestnut tree could be visited by anyone, and the cash which he was trying to extort from her could be found and taken by another person. The delay struck her as strange.
The shadows lengthened; if she did not leave soon, Jane would send the carriage after her. With great resolve, Elizabeth rose, pushed her way out of the woods, and with shaking legs and a fluttering heart, went to the horse chestnut tree.
The box was gone!
Elizabeth searched the hollow and the vicinity of the tree, even walking down to the river, but she did not find it. Someone must have taken the box out of the tree immediately after she put her letter inside, during the very few minutes that it had been completely out of her view. Where could that person have been hidden? In the woods, like herself? Or perhaps – and she looked up, and chastised herself for not having thought of this before – perhaps the culprit had been in the tree when she had put the envelope without the money in the box.
Tired and hungry, her shoes dirty, she turned back towards Netherfield. If only she had taken Jane’s advice, and had enlisted the aid of another person in this endeavor! If that person had been hidden before, and had observed, then she would have learned who was behind this.
And, if the extortionist made good on his threat, he would be sending a copy of the letter that he had forged in her penmanship to Mr. Darcy. Possibly, nay probably, it was already posted. She counted the days that would pass before Mr. Darcy received it – he could receive it as soon as the day after tomorrow – and then wondered desperately what he would think of her after he received it. Sometimes she believed that he would understand that it was a complete falsehood, but then, the paper – the manner of expression – the very shape of the letters – all these things were against her! Sometimes she did not believe that she had not written it! Would her husband still respect and trust her after this? Or would she be doomed to a loveless marriage, forced to live with a person who despised her? During the long walk to her brother-in-law’s hired estate – and the two miles seemed particularly long – her heart sometimes suggested one thing and at other times argued quite the opposite.
As she walked, she also considered all the things that she should have done and other things that she could have done. She could have enlisted the assistance of her father; even if, due to his injured ankle, he could not have accompanied her himself, he could have recommended someone discreet to assist her. Her father’s judgment of character was not always perfect, but neither was hers. Together they might have decided on someone suitable.
Or else she should have sent an express to Mr. Darcy. She had not wished to distress
him, but how much greater his distress would be now!
She almost hoped for a second letter from the extortionist. If he wrote again, then she could attempt a different solution to this terrible problem.
Footsore, berating herself for her shortsightedness, Elizabeth entered Netherfield and found her sister alone in her dressing room. Jane expressed relief in seeing her safe, ordered a tray of tea and bread and butter for her, and then asked if she had discovered anything.
Elizabeth explained her failure, and expressed her frustrations. “I wasted all that time!” she said. “But I was too proud – and too embarrassed – to involve anyone else but you, Jane.”
Jane offered what comfort she could. “It is done, and whether or not it was the best course of action, your intentions were good. Instead of reviewing what you could have done, consider what you should do now.”
“I will write to Darcy tonight,” said Elizabeth. “I only hope that the words flow more easily than they did before.”
“I think it would be wise. But, Lizzy,” Jane began, but she did not finish her statement, for at that moment Miss Bingley opened the door and entered the room. From that point on the discussion was on the relative merits of horseback riding and walking as forms of taking exercise. Elizabeth argued that if one rode on a horse, it was the horse that was exercising. But she granted that Caroline Bingley’s countenance was blooming, while she could see the dirt on her shoes and she was certain that her hair was a disgrace. She excused herself so that she could have order restored by the attentive ministrations of her maid.
CHAPTER XXXIII
That evening, instead of joining the others for cards and music after dinner, Elizabeth went directly to her room and sat down with renewed determination at her desk.
Possibly because she had been contemplating the letter that she had to write to her husband ever since she discovered that the box was missing from the horse chestnut tree, on this occasion after the words flowed more easily:
The Meryton Murders Page 19
