The Elizabeth Conspiracy

by Jennifer Joy

  It was early the following morning when Elizabeth tapped lightly on her door, bringing a tray of coffee and a light repast for the colonel, Charlotte, and Mrs. Jenkinson (who had insisted on remaining behind as well).

  Colonel Fitzwilliam answered the door, looking as alert at dawn as he had at dusk the day before.

  Mrs. Jenkinson stirred in her chair behind him, rising to check on her ladyship and joining them at the table where Elizabeth set the tray.

  Elizabeth asked, "Was her ladyship able to rest during the night?"

  Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "She cried out several times, but I could not understand what she said. If she did rest, it was not the healing sleep from which she would most benefit."

  William entered the room, a maid bringing a heavily laden breakfast tray behind him.

  He stopped short when he saw them seated around the table. "It appears Miss Elizabeth has already seen to your appetites. Well, allow me to add more delights from Cook's kitchen to the spread before you." He signaled for the maid to set the tray down. Clearly, Cook favored Darcy over herself if trays were to be compared.

  Lady Catherine rustled in her bed, and William went over to her, his low voice speaking gently to her.

  "Is it time for her medicine?" Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Jenkinson buttered the piece of bread she pinched between her fingers. "Not for another two hours, Miss." She set the butter knife down, her mouth pinching together and relaxing several times before she added, "Miss Bennet, I find it incumbent upon me to apologize to you."

  "Really?" Elizabeth asked in surprise.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stirred sugar into his coffee and sat back in his chair as if he were watching an entertaining scene at the theater.

  Charlotte sat quietly and observed over the cup of coffee from which she sipped.

  "Whatever for, Mrs. Jenkinson?" Elizabeth could venture why Mrs. Jenkinson would apologize (it was not every day she was accused of murder and manipulation), but she asked all the same.

  To her credit, Mrs. Jenkinson looked her squarely in the eye and spoke clearly. "I assumed you would replace me, and I spoke bitterly to you when I felt myself threatened. I realize now that my anger was misdirected."

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. She would have thought Mrs. Jenkinson would apologize for accusing her of murder rather than the matter that appeared like a trifle in comparison. But an apology was an apology, and Elizabeth accepted it.

  Mrs. Jenkinson looked into the bottom of her cup, searching for something Elizabeth doubted she would find there but hoped she discovered all the same.

  After a deep breath, the elderly woman added, "It was very wrong of me to accuse you of any wrong against Miss de Bourgh. I acted out of an unjustified sense of vengeance, and I encouraged her ladyship to act against you as well. I am sorry."

  Now that was more like it. Elizabeth's heart softened toward Mrs. Jenkinson, who had no doubt suffered silently for decades in the company of Miss de Bourgh.

  Elizabeth said sincerely, "Then it is forgotten as far as I am concerned. We have all suffered enough."

  Darcy met her gaze from across the room, and she recalled a comment he had made many months ago at Netherfield Park. It seemed as if a whole lifetime had passed since then. Elizabeth had commented on his resentful nature, and he had replied: "My good opinion once lost is lost forever."

  Elizabeth may have extended her forgiveness to Mrs. Jenkinson willingly, but she did not expect William to overlook the woman's faults. Nor would Elizabeth so easily forgive a sin committed against someone she loved as she could against herself.

  Then again, while she had forgiven Mrs. Jenkinson, Elizabeth would never trust her. Was that what William had meant?

  She watched him treat his aunt — the very woman who had imprisoned them together at Rosings and had been willing to send her away to the gaol — with a kindness and decency born of a true gentleman, and Elizabeth understood him better. It was not so much resentment as deservedly withheld trust, and she respected him all the more for it.

  Lady Catherine was fully awake now, and kept looking toward the breakfast table, attempting to say something. Elizabeth went over to her.

  Looking at William, Elizabeth commented, "Perhaps she is hungry. Let us prop her up on her pillows. The doctor said she could be spoon-fed broth and tea." She sent one of the maids to the kitchen for some bone broth.

  If Lady Catherine's huff was any indication, Elizabeth had misunderstood her disquietude. She muttered a string of gibberish, her eyes fixed toward the breakfast table.

  Elizabeth produced the slate and chalk, but Lady Catherine contrarily shoved it away with her good hand. She did not resist their efforts to prop her up in her bed, but her manner grew increasingly agitated as time passed.

  Mrs. Jenkinson suggested, "Her ladyship is a great lover of music. If the servants bring the pianoforte into the next room, perhaps one of you ladies would play for her."

  In short order, the instrument was placed in Lady Catherine's sitting room, and the door between the two rooms was left open.

  Elizabeth would not be able to escape making a performance, but she could delay it. With the delight Lady Catherine took in criticizing her lack of skill on the instrument, it would not be calming to the lady anyway. "Charlotte, will you please play for us? I have no doubt but that your steady and consistent practice on the instrument has improved your skills far beyond my own."

  "I doubt that. But I have been known to calm my listeners to the point of slumber, and so I will indulge your request," Charlotte said with a smile as she seated herself on the bench and placed her fingers on the ivory keys.

  Charlotte's words were prophetic. Within five minutes, Mrs. Jenkinson's chin fell against her chest and her lips puffed out the occasional deep breath of one in a sound asleep.

  A chilling sensation creaked up the back of Elizabeth's neck, and she turned to Lady Catherine. The lady's eyes glinted as she looked between Elizabeth and the open doorway leading to the performer who had charmed Mrs. Jenkinson into a deep slumber with the stroke of a few keys. The lady whose alibi was no longer as solid as Elizabeth had believed it to be. A lady who had sense enough to know the evil works of Miss de Bourgh and had endured listening to the high praise of the undeserving lady from the mouth of her own husband. A woman who had access to Mrs. Jenkinson's apothecary chest and could have slipped away unnoticed to place the laudanum in Miss de Bourgh's medicine bottle. A thinking lady who would never have agreed to her husband's unreasonable request that she care for Lady Catherine … unless she had her own reason to agree to stay. Charlotte.

  Chapter 34

  The longer Elizabeth considered the possibility of Charlotte poisoning Miss de Bourgh, the more the clues added up and the more Elizabeth wished to prove them wrong.

  Charlotte was her friend. Had Mr. Collins made her so miserable in the few months they had been married that she would act against the principal source of her torment? Elizabeth did not want to believe it. But her desire to discover the truth was stronger than her need to conceal it for the sake of a friend.

  Lady Catherine knew, a fact of which, if it proved true, they would never hear the end. Until now, she had refused to use the slate. Elizabeth guessed she did not wish to write where Charlotte could potentially see it — the effort to write taking her ladyship a good deal longer than normal.

  An idea formed in Elizabeth's mind, and she carried it out as soon as Charlotte finished playing her piece. "Would it please her ladyship to have a book read? One of us could easily fetch one from the library."

  Both the Colonel and William rose to their feet, quick to offer their assistance.

  Elizabeth smiled at them. "I do not believe your aunt trusts either of you to make a proper selection. Is that not so, your ladyship?"

  Lady Catherine grunted, which was all the affirmation Elizabeth needed to continue. "Would it please your ladyship for me to open the curtains to better see to read, and shall we entrust Mrs. Collins with the
task of selecting something appropriate?"

  Charlotte nodded. "I have just the thing in mind," she said as she departed from the room.

  As soon as the door had clicked behind her, Elizabeth turned to Lady Catherine. "Do you know who killed your daughter?"

  William and Richard fell silent from their conversation, their complete attention on their aunt.

  Lady Catherine lifted her hand and waved it in the air.

  Elizabeth was ready. She held the slate in front of Lady Catherine, handing her the chalk.

  The letters were legible enough. Mrs. Collins.

  Elizabeth's heart sank to her toes. A comment Charlotte had made earlier returned to her. She had implied that a gentleman being charged for the crime of murder would not be made to suffer much. Knowing how disagreeable she believed William to be, how Elizabeth had despised him for reasons she had revealed to Charlotte … had her friend thought to cast the blame away from herself and Mrs. Jenkinson onto William?

  There was only one way to find out. "Who told you of Mr. Darcy's proposal at the parsonage?" That had been the defining moment that had set Lady Catherine against her own nephew. Charlotte would have been well aware of how her ladyship would take his proposal to anyone other than Miss de Bourgh as a personal affront.

  Lady Catherine raised her quivering hand and tapped the slate.

  Elizabeth sighed. "Mrs. Collins."

  "Yes? Is there any other task you wish for me to see to?" Charlotte asked from the doorway, followed by the newly arrived Mr. Collins.

  In one smooth motion, Elizabeth rubbed her sleeve over the slate and prayed her friend had not seen it or heard more of their conversation than the mention of her name.

  Elizabeth forced a smile. "You returned in good time, Charlotte. How could you possibly have made it down to the library and back so quickly?"

  "Mr. Collins was good enough to lend us his copy of Fordyce's Sermons."

  Mr. Collins bowed. "I would do anything to see to the pleasure of her ladyship."

  Charlotte grimaced as she watched her husband fawn over his patroness.

  William stood, pulling out his timepiece. "I shall send for my aunt's tea. It is nearly time for her to take her medicine."

  Charlotte handed the book of sermons to Elizabeth, interrupting Mr. Collins' soliloquy on Lady Catherine's improved state and praise for her strong constitution. "You have a much better reading voice than I do," she explained.

  Elizabeth began reading from the first page, hoping she did the passages justice while her mind was anywhere but on the print covering the page.

  When the maid entered the room with the tray, Charlotte rose to receive her, smoothing her apron and ensuring that her back was to them. If she was going to attempt to harm Lady Catherine, now was her perfect opportunity. Did she suspect her ladyship knew?

  William and the colonel rose from their chairs, but Elizabeth motioned for them to sit back down. If Charlotte truly was a murderess, they had no option but to catch her red-handed. She was too clever to admit to a crime unless they had proof.

  With Lady Catherine's apoplexy, Charlotte would have a solid alibi were she to succeed in poisoning her with an overdose of laudanum as it appeared she had done to Miss de Bourgh. Nobody would assume it was anything other than failing health and despair over the death of her own daughter. Charlotte could get away with it all … unless they caught her.

  Elizabeth continued reading, looking at William and nodding in an attempt to communicate that she did indeed have a plan.

  Charlotte turned toward them. "Here, your ladyship, this will soon put you right just as the doctor said."

  Elizabeth snapped her book closed and set it on the bed beside Lady Catherine. Holding her hand out, she said, "Look at the steam rising off the tea! I do believe the doctor was explicit in his instructions that the tea not be overly hot lest it diminish the effect of the medicine and burn her ladyship. Allow me, Charlotte. I will test to ensure it is the right temperature." It was not the best excuse, but it was the best she could conjure up in so short a time.

  Charlotte pulled the cup and saucer out of Elizabeth's reach.

  Uh oh. So there was something in the tea…

  Elizabeth stretched forward. "If you do not wish for me to do it, then perhaps you will?"

  "There is no need. If you believe it to be too hot, it will only need a couple of minutes to cool."

  Mr. Collins offered his opinion. "My dear, we must not do anything to exacerbate her ladyship's condition. It is not an unreasonable request, and I praise my dear cousin for her delicacy and consideration toward one so far superior to those entrusted with her care."

  Lady Catherine exclaimed, the features she could arrange frowning in a notably displeased expression.

  William translated for them. "My aunt does not wish to wait. If you will not test it or permit Miss Elizabeth to, then perhaps you will allow me?"

  Charlotte pulled away from them. Elizabeth could no longer deny the possibility of her friend's involvement in Anne de Bourgh's death. Now, all that remained for Charlotte was to claim it had been an accident. Although, with whatever Charlotte had added to Lady Catherine's cup, her friend was beyond that.

  Elizabeth stepped forward, her hand out. "Come, Charlotte. This is silly. If you are concerned about my health, I only mean to test it against my lips." She reached forward to grab the saucer, the damning evidence within her reach.

  Elizabeth's fingers touched the smooth porcelain, and she only had to pinch her thumb on top of the saucer to hold it when Charlotte thrust it to the floor.

  The delicate cup shattered against the saucer and their evidence disappeared into the carpet.

  Elizabeth's worst fear was confirmed, but now she had no proof.

  Mr. Collins was all apologies for his clumsy wife, but one look from Charlotte miraculously silenced him.

  "Why did you do it?" Elizabeth asked in the ensuing silence, her mercy tempered by the knowledge that her friend was willing to allow William to take the fall for her evil deed.

  "Do what?" Charlotte crossed her arms over her apron.

  She would play the innocent until the end, would she? Elizabeth was in no mood for games. "Tell me it was an accident, and I will believe you," she implored.

  "Lizzy, I have no clue what you mean." Charlotte patted her apron with one hand just as Lydia had done as a child when she attempted to sneak a puppy into the house.

  Elizabeth wanted to believe Charlotte was innocent, but the woman standing before her was not the same girl with whom she had been raised. The lady she had known was kind and practical. She would never dream of taking someone's life, if for no other reason than for her incredible ability to foresee the consequences and wisely choose to avoid them.

  The woman before her was hard and unwilling to admit to the logical conclusion everyone else in the room had drawn … except her clueless husband.

  Elizabeth lunged forward, plunging her hand into Charlotte's apron and clasping her hand around a glass object in a manner that would have made Lydia proud. Turning away from Charlotte, she held the bottle up for everyone to see.

  It was an empty bottle of laudanum.

  Chapter 35

  William took the bottle from Elizabeth. "How do you explain this, Mrs. Collins?" he asked.

  Mr. Collins visibly blanched. His eyes bulged in disbelief.

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes. "I suffered from a headache last night."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "That is your laudanum bottle. It has the label of the Meryton apothecary on it. It is the same one you offered to me a week ago when I suffered a headache. It was nearly full then."

  William said, "You have not complained of a headache, nor has your behavior suggested you took laudanum recently. Mr. Collins, to your knowledge, has anyone in your household used the laudanum during this past week?"

  Charlotte's head snapped over to William. "That is not necessary."

  The colonel said, "I will send for the constable immediately.
Mrs. Collins, you have a great deal to answer for."

  Charlotte turned on Elizabeth. "How could you do this to me, Lizzy?"

  Mr. Collins stood, balancing against the chair he had sat on to steady himself. "Charlotte, my dear, tell them it is not true. My wife would never bring harm to a lady who has graced us with the benefit of her patronage when we are too humble for her to even notice. So kind and good was she, with all the airs of one born into the aristocracy—"

  Charlotte cut him off. "Miss de Bourgh was a menace. Did you know she paid special attention to my little sister with the intent of asking her to be her companion? Am I to be pleased with her attentions when it would bring my sister lower than the station into which she was born? My sister," she stabbed her finger against her chest. "Maria is young and has good prospects for making an excellent match. Miss de Bourgh was nothing but a selfish, manipulative harpy."

  "But she did not ask Maria to be her companion. She asked me," argued Elizabeth, ignoring Mr. Collins' gasps.

  Charlotte scoffed. "I did you a favor. I did the world a favor. I did not think it would happen so quickly. I only wanted her to return to her sickly state. I never meant to kill her, but she was the one stupid enough not to notice how full her bottle was when the others were nearly empty."

  Elizabeth was furious, but Lady Catherine was as white as the sheets on her bed from where she glared at Charlotte.

  "You did nobody any favors, Charlotte. It is not your duty to decide who lives and who dies."

  "You would defend her when she has done nothing but connive against nearly everyone in this room?"

  "This is not like you, Charlotte. You have always been one to take responsibility for your own actions, but you were willing to allow Mr. Darcy to take the blame for something you knew him not to have done."

  "I could not allow Mrs. Jenkinson to take the blame when she has done nothing but endure the condescension and haughty benefaction of the de Bourghs for longer than me. You said it yourself, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy is every bit as haughty as his aunt, and it would do him a deal of good to be humbled before his peers. His suffering would only have been temporary."