“MrDarcy, I give you fair warning. Do not be so ungenerous as to mention all that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire—for I may retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations.”
MrDarcy replied, “I am not afraid of you. You could not really believe I entertain any thoughts of alarming you. Further, I admitted to my cousin that my behaviour in Hertfordshiremerited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
Elizabeth concentrated on her playing to hide her surprise. Contrition from MrDarcy without prompting? Without privacy? Perhaps she, too, could move things along despite the audience.
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that visit,” said Elizabeth. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable. But since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”
Elizabeth met MrDarcy’s gaze and felt something pass between them. Elizabeth was not sure what was different this time, but she was confident they would succeed in reconciling Jane and Bingley, and in protecting Meryton and its inhabitants from Wickham. She was sure her joy was reflected in her smile.
When they had been silent too long, the colonel began a lively discussion of what Elizabeth should play next. They were joined by Lady Catherine, who radiated disapproval as she sharply critiqued Elizabeth’s playing. Then, although her Ladyship’s carriage was ready to take them all home, MrCollins remained in conference with Lady Catherine.
How different this Easter is becoming from mymemoriesof Rosings.
Once MrCollins joined them in the carriage, he spoke to Eizabeth, “Lady Catherine has generously condescended to encourage your exercise. She has assigned a footman to attend you through the park each morning.”
Charlotte’s brow creased as she took Elizabeth’s arm. Her touch seemed to implore Elizabeth to comply with her Ladyship’s plan.
“Each day, he will escort you to a different point of interest that Lady Catherine has condescended to choose for you. He will then either return you to the parsonage or to Rosings to practiceupon the pianoforte there.” His self-satisfied smirk bordered on cruel.
For once, her wit failed her, and Elizabeth could think of nothing polite to say in response, so she merely nodded. Charlotte gave her a quick smile of thanks.
Elizabeth’s early optimism—that she and MrDarcy could quickly reunite Jane and Bingley, resolve the matter with Wickham, and free her to consider whether her friendship with MrDarcy might grow into something more—had completely vanished. Clearly, Lady Catherine had noticed her improved manner towards MrDarcy and was preventing her from being in MrDarcy’s presence. It was now the end of the fourth day since Easter, and she had yet to speak to either MrDarcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam.
As she stared out into the inky blackness beyond her window, Elizabeth’s thoughts were fixed entirely on how to escape the quagmire her visit had become. For while she would delight in besting whatever schemes her cousin and his patroness were planning, she also needed to protect Charlotte from further censure. Almost every night since Easter, she had heard her cousin rant to Charlotte. When he was particularly strident, phrases such as “young woman of inferior birth,” “lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy,” “You have brought this viper into our home” and “I am ashamed of you” could be heard.
Jones, the swaggering footman assigned to attend her on her walks, clearly had a role to play. He did not look like the other Rosings footmen. He was stocky with meaty hands and a jagged nose. Jones tended to linger at the parsonage both before and after her walks. Sally, Charlotte’s maid of all work, nearly jumped out of her skin every time she saw him. Rather than trail discreetly behind Elizabeth, Jones walked at her side. Shewondered what kind of impression his gestures and tendency to lean towards her might give to all those observing them.
There seemed to be a whole cast of characters observing them. MrCollins would watch from his garden. Those working the grounds seemed to note their movements. To complete the set, either Colonel Fitzwilliam or someone in MrDarcy’s livery remained within hailing distance, seemingly going about some other task. Even within the parsonage, the servants seemed attuned to her every activity. Maria seemed to sense the tension and stayed near Charlotte, so it was rare for Elizabeth to speak only to her friend. Charlotte confessed that all of Elizabeth’s letters were to be given to MrCollins, but she volunteered to write any message to send on her behalf. Only here in her room was she free from scrutiny.
Was this a matter of someone’s amusement?She looked to the grate where she burned an anonymous note that she found hidden in the music the day before, while practicing in MrsJenkinson’s room. In a simple script, the note revealed that footman Jones had joined MrCollins for his daily consultation with Lady Catherine. “When passing by the closed door, I could not help but overhear her Ladyship proclaim that ‘your upstart cousin’ should be ‘censured, slighted and despised.’”
The letter continued, “I exhort you to shorten your visit without involving your host or the footman Jones. They remained in conference together long after Lady Catherine departed the room. The servants will witness everything coming in and out of Rosings, including the other servants. If you need urgent assistance, I have listed a few tenant families below who can help. I know there are others here at Rosings whom you might wish to turn to, but they are so closely watched that anything they do is likely to inflame the situation further.” Elizabeth was unsure how much to trust the note. Regardless of the sender’s motives, its mere existence unsettled her greatly. Ina fleeting moment of privacy, she asked Charlotte to contact her uncle to arrange her early return to London.
Elizabeth hoped she did not have long to wait to hear from her uncle. Tomorrow, she would decline to walk. She would ask Charlotte about the tenant families mentioned in the note. It would give her a sense of how much to trust the anonymous writer.
Darcy paced the length of the billiards room. The sound of his heavy tread contrasted with the clack of the billiard balls as the colonel played.
“Do take pity on the carpet and cease worrying.”
“You are not the one responsible for subjecting the woman you love to our aunt’s displeasure. It infuriates me that I dare not defend her for fear of making it worse. Although, truth be told, it is her cousin and Jones that I worry about. That fool Collins is a true zealot, and according to my valet, Jones is as unscrupulous as they come.”
“We are watching the parsonage.”
“It does not alleviate the discomfort Miss Bennet must be experiencing.” Coming to a decision, Darcy paused by the fire. “I believe we should return to Town. Tomorrow, I will find a way to speak with Miss Bennet and determine what her plans are. If she is to remain, I shall leave my coachman and my servants here at her disposal.”
At breakfast, the chocolate was entirely too bitter and heavily spiced for Elizabeth’s taste, but Maria seemed to enjoy it. When MrCollins stepped out of the room to speak with a messenger from Rosings, Elizabeth gave the rest of her chocolate to Maria. MrCollins seemed inordinately pleased with the message anddid not even bat an eye when Elizabeth declared she would not walk out that morning. He even suggested they remain in Charlotte’s parlour until he returned from an errand for Lady Catherine.
Mere moments after they heard the front door close, Maria mumbled, “I think I will rest,” and melted onto the settee. Charlotte looked at her with concern that soon turned to panic as she found she was not steady enough on her feet to go to Maria. As Elizabeth guided Charlotte to the chaise longue, she too began to feel strange.Had someone put a sleeping draught in the chocolate? Why?Her thoughts moved at a snail’s pace. Would it be right to assume from MrCollins’s glee as he spied the empty cup in front of her that he doctored her drink?Why?It might be dangerous to assume he had not. If all three of them had been dosed, her cousin must not want any witnesses to what was about to happen. This whole situation had too much in common with a Gothic novel, only the danger was real. She was certain her cousin knew nothing of proper dosage and, given the effects on Maria and Charlotte, he had probably used too much. She must find MrDarcy or the colonel.
“I regret leaving you like this, but I must get help before I succumb as well. I shall send the apothecary to assist you and Maria.”
As Elizabeth kissed her friend’s brow, she noticed Charlotte’s pupils had become specks. As her eyes fluttered closed, she said a quick prayer for her friends, grabbed Charlotte’s sensible brown cloak, and carefully opened the door. She was in luck; it sounded like Sally was on the first floor. Elizabeth walked out imitating Charlotte’s stride as best as she could. Within moments, she realised she was not going to make it much farther, and she headed for the shelter of her favourite grove. She quitted the path and sat amidst a stand of trees, hopingCharlotte and Maria, somehow, might secure aid. Making herself as small as possible, she finally let sleep claim her.
Darcy let his dog, Argos, off his lead to dart along the path sniffing the ground. Darcy could not believe he had failed Elizabeth yet again. Why had he not trusted his instincts? Thank heavens he and the colonel had called at the parsonage. He had been pleased when his men watching the parsonage indicated both Mrand MrsCollins had gone out. The knots in his gut tightened as he remembered the scene that awaited them inside. Sally had gasped and rushed into the room, Darcy on her heels. Both Maria and MrsCollins were insensible. Darcy surveyed the room for any sign of Elizabeth, only to realise that since MrsCollins was at home, it must have been Elizabeth whom his men had seen leaving the parsonage. He had left his cousin behind to assist Sally, sent his men for the apothecary and the magistrate, and swiftly organised a search for Elizabeth.
Argos darted off the main path towards one of Elizabeth’s favourite groves. His heart plummeted when he found it empty. He called his dog; Argos merely barked but stayed where he was. Darcy strode into the trees to retrieve his dog. Argos stood by a cluster of trees as if waiting for his reward. Sighing, Darcy approached and then stopped; there, hidden in the cluster of trees, was a woman in a familiar yellow gown. Suddenly, his cravat was too tight. In an instant, he knelt beside Elizabeth. His eyes blurred with moisture as his trembling fingers found her steady pulse.
A cold nose. A wet tongue. A dog barking.
