Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
D arcy’s hand hovered over the paper. It was a letter to Georgiana full of reassurances and commonplace remarks. He did not write of the reason for her departure or disclose the dramatic events of yesterday. Earlier, he had penned a shorter note to Fitzwilliam, informing him of the distasteful scene Elizabeth and Cecilia had interrupted. Setting aside the letter, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper towards him. He stared at it, holding his pen aloft, not sure how to begin. After speaking to Elizabeth the day before, the events leading up to Dominic’s death played heavily on his mind. For years, guilt has tormented me, but I did not learn from it. When a friend came to me in need of guidance, once again I acted without consideration for their feelings. After another moment’s thought, he quickly wrote several lines. Satisfied, he sanded the letter and folded it as soon as it was dry, then added the direction: Mr C Bingley, Netherfield Park, Meryton, Hertfordshire .
A knock at the front door indicated the arrival of an unexpected visitor. He stood, walked to the window, and drew back the curtain with the tips of his fingers. On the road, he recognised his uncle’s carriage. His heart sank, and he allowed the curtain to close. The earl presumably wanted to discuss the Fulfords. Duty demanded that Darcy receive him, but he was in no mood for his uncle’s ill temper. A moment later, the door to his study opened. He could not contain his surprise.
“Elizabeth!”
She stood before him in her morning dress, her eyes shining with unusual brightness. “Forgive me for startling you, but I am in possession of such information that I could not wait another moment to tell you.”
Darcy regained control of his senses and motioned for her to sit, but she waved her hand in refusal, saying, “I cannot. My mind is racing. It might be nothing, but every instinct is screaming at me that I am correct.”
He watched as she paced the room. “What have you learnt?”
“It is Mr Bull ! I spoke to a woman whose initials were in the paper, just as ours have been. She told me that she received demands for money to stop the articles being published.”
Darcy stared at her in astonishment. “But what does Mr Bull have to do with this?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks were flushed, and her hands moved wildly as she spoke. “Mrs Fitzroy-Grey, the woman in question, told me that he befriended her just when nearly everyone else began to shun her because of the speculation in that terrible newspaper. He helped her arrange the payments.”
“How can you be sure it is the same man? The name is common enough.”
Elizabeth stopped in front of Darcy. “I saw him! He was at the museum. With all that occurred afterwards, I forgot, but after speaking to Mrs Fitzroy-Grey, I remembered. He passed me as I was leaving. I asked a porter about him, and he told me that the man’s name was Mr Lennox, and he took a carriage in the direction of Denzell Street. But it was Mr Bull. There is no mistaking that scar.”
A jolt of recognition shot through Darcy. “Denzell. Where have I heard that name before?” He returned to his desk to retrieve a leather-bound notebook and leafed through its pages to locate the information he sought. “Here it is. Denzell is the name of the street Mr Lamm—the lamentable soul who was charged with collecting the money from Mr Easton—returned to.”
“It cannot be a coincidence.” Elizabeth began to pace again. “Ever since I heard his name on Mrs Fitzroy-Grey’s lips, I have begun to relive the conversations I had with that horrible man.” A red flush spread over Elizabeth’s neck. “On the first day we met, he spoke of the new tenants at Netherfield Park. He asked so many questions about Mr Bingley, but I did not wonder why he was so interested.” The flush grew deeper. “He told me his motto was ‘man makes his own mischief’, and he unlocked the gate to a field to allow the cows to escape.”
“That is not proof of anything, merely that he is fond of reprehensible behaviour.”
“The night of the assembly, he purposely knocked into you and caused you to spill your drink.” Elizabeth’s brow creased. “He knew of your insult towards me, and he clearly had no scruples in exploiting it to his advantage. And he knew Mr Wickham. I saw them in earnest discussion at my aunt Philips’s party. Mr Wickham spoke of your sister and you in unfavourable terms in front of Mr Bull. He also mentioned Dominic in Mr Bull’s presence.”
Darcy’s chest tightened and a pulse of anger rushed through his veins. “Wickham was always very jealous of me and Dominic. He is a man without scruples. I can well believe him sharing all he knew of Dominic and Georgiana in exchange for money. It would be prudent to learn more about Mr Bull. I do not need to be convinced of the depravity of his character. His actions towards you were proof enough. But we must find a connexion between him and the Morning Gazette .”
Elizabeth nodded absently. “The article announcing our engagement came almost immediately after that terrible encounter at the Netherfield ball. I have always wondered why it felt so vindictive towards me. Perhaps it was because I refused his advances. It even mentions that only the deepest affection would induce me to matrimony and”—her gaze fell to the floor—“that was a topic of conversation between Mr Wickham, Mr Bull, and I.”
Darcy contemplated her words. “He might have written to the paper and received money for the information he provided. Maybe he knows the editor. He must be connected to it if he offered to assist Mrs Fitzroy-Grey in paying to stop the gossip about her.” He drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk. “Currently, we have nothing but conjecture. We must find evidence to support our suspicions. I shall begin to make enquiries about Mr Bull immediately.”
“He once told me he was a civil servant,” Elizabeth said. “He mentioned Mauritius and India.”
Nodding, Darcy made a brief note of the information and everything else they had discussed. It then occurred to him to wonder how she came to be at his house.
As though she could read his thoughts, she said, “Forgive my intrusion, but I was so struck by Mrs Fitzroy-Grey’s mention of Mr Bull that I had to tell you immediately.”
“Why are you in my uncle’s carriage?”
She smiled mischievously and told him of the conversation between her and Lord Matlock earlier that day and the earl accompanying her to call on Mrs Fitzroy-Grey.
“After speaking to her, we returned to his house to discover that Lady Fulford was still sleeping. Your uncle kindly offered me the use of his carriage to return to Gracechurch Street. Almost at once, I decided to come and see you, and I instructed the coachman to change direction.”
“I suppose I ought to chastise you for calling on me without a chaperon, but I am too glad to see you.”
“I was escorted by a maid who is presently waiting in Lord Matlock’s carriage. Please accept my apologies for any breach of decorum, but I could not wait a moment longer.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I have reflected on the sad histories you have relayed to me over the course of our acquaintance, and I find myself greatly affected by them. The trust you have placed in me is invaluable. I hope as time goes on, the confidence between us will grow.” She bit her lip and quickly took one step towards him, standing so close the tips of her half-boots touched his brightly-polished Hessians. Hesitantly, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. Blushing, she broke away. “I should return Cheapside. My aunt and uncle expected me before now, and I prefer not to answer too many questions about where I have been.”
Darcy nodded, the love he felt for Elizabeth deepening ever more. How lovely she looked in the soft light, the sun’s rays dancing off the deep brown hues in her ringlets, her eyes glittering like uncut gemstones. He could still feel the sensation of her lips against his skin.
“As reluctant as I am to be parted from you, I believe that would be for the best.”
“Come to Gracechurch Street tomorrow, if you are able,” she said. “I shall remain at home all afternoon.”
“I shall be there,” he promised, longing for the time when she did not have to leave. “It will be the brightest point of my day.”
Elizabeth pulled the blanket tightly about her as she warmed her feet by the fire. It was late and she should be abed, but she was too restless to sleep. Mr Bull was responsible for the news articles and the threatening letters about Georgiana, but why? Groaning with frustration, she stood. The coal on the fire hissed. What can I do to help? She drew the blanket closer to her and paced in front of the fireplace. She would not allow the young lady’s good name to be publicly ruined, if for no other reason than that it would destroy Darcy.
She retrieved her diary and turned through the pages. Her eyes came to rest on a little note that she had scribbled, and she murmured the words as she read it.
“I wonder what is true and what is false.”
Pensively, she retrieved a sheet of paper, and calmly began to draft a letter.
When Darcy arrived at Gracechurch Street, his face was sombre, and Elizabeth knew he was the harbinger of unhappy news. They sat together in the alcove of the drawing room, her aunt far enough removed that she would not overhear their conversation.
“I received another letter,” he said quietly. “It is a final demand. I have been given a week to pay one thousand pounds.”
She gasped. “Such an amount!”
“I am afraid I must pay it,” he said. “I cannot allow my sister to be humiliated.”
“Did you speak to your agent about Mr Bull?”
He nodded. “I am doing all I can to investigate him, but I am afraid there is not enough time before Georgiana’s scandal is widely reported.” He paused and leant towards her. “However, I have discovered something interesting. Mr Andrews provided me with a description of the people entering and leaving the establishment Mr Lamm returned to when he was not given the money. I read it again last night, and one of the men fits Mr Bull so accurately that I am convinced it is him.”
“Let us hope that your agents can find an incriminating piece of evidence.” Seeking to reassure him, she added, “There is still time.”
“I would feel more at ease if I knew the true identity of the editor of the Morning Gazette .”
At the mention of the newspaper, Elizabeth asked, “Darcy, may I beg a favour of you? I have an idea. I do not know if it will work, but I believe it is worth a try.”
“Of course. What can I do?”
“May I request that you not ask me? You will think it a hare-brained scheme and will dissuade me from attempting it. I promise it is not dangerous, but I do need a little money to secure certain items.”
“How much?” She was surprised to hear the calmness in his voice, and, evidently seeing her confusion, he added, “I trust you implicitly.”
Elizabeth’s face felt hot under the intimacy of his gaze. “Thank you. I shall buy what I require using my aunt’s credit and inform you of the final amount. I promise it will not be much.”
He agreed, and she asked after Georgiana and Lady Fulford. Darcy replied that his sister was well, but he was concerned about his cousin’s health; she refused to leave her bed. “It appears that Fulford is selling anything of value from the house to pay his enormous debts. Cecilia’s heart will break when she learns her beloved house is being treated so ill.”
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “What does Viscount Thorpe say of this? He suggested his sister marry the man.”
“My cousin is not known for his thoughtfulness towards others.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Did you know he was at the theatre with Mrs Wilder the same night we went?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “No, I did not.”
“You must have taken Lord Fulford away by that point. And at Lady Fortescue’s party, I heard them discussing my departure to Cheapside, amongst other things.”
“You think Thorpe is passing on information about us to the paper?” Darcy’s jaw clenched.
“I think anything is possible,” she said with a touch of sadness. “The more I learn of the world, the more I am disappointed in it.”
Darcy closed his fingers around hers. “Not all of it, I hope.”
Blushing, she laughed. “I have much to be thankful for.”
Darcy’s lips parted to reveal his faultless gleaming smile, all traces of his anxieties disappearing from his handsome face. “As do I.” A moment later, he frowned.
“What is it?” she asked, alarmed by the sudden change in his expression.
“I have an idea,” he replied. “What if I were to give Thorpe a story, a salacious titbit too tantalising not to pass to the paper? If it is published, then we would have definitive proof that he is connected to it all. I never told Thorpe of Georgiana and Wickham, but it is not impossible for him to have overheard a conversation between Fitzwilliam and me. After I removed Georgiana from Ramsgate, we went to London and then we stayed together, just she and I, at Pemberley. Neither of us wrote to or saw our friends or relations. It would be enough to inspire suspicion in anyone who is closely acquainted with our habits.”
“How would you feel if you learnt that Thorpe had any part in these articles?” she said anxiously. Darcy had already suffered so much— she could not bear to see him further disappointed. “Do you think it is wise to try?”
“I do,” he said with resolve. “It is time for me to pay my cousin a visit. And I would like to meet Mrs Wilder. She already believes we know each other. Let us make it true.”
It took some time for Darcy to locate his wayward cousin, and, as he searched for him, he wondered what he might say to Thorpe to test whether he was indeed providing information to the Morning Gazette . To his surprise, the viscount was at home—one of the last places Darcy sought him. They met in his study.
“To what do I owe this honour?” Thorpe drawled.
Darcy sat across from his cousin. “I have come to discuss our grandmother’s diamond necklace.”
“What of it?” Thorpe’s eyebrows raised with interest. “It is locked securely away, alongside the other jewels I inherited when she died.”
“I wish to purchase it from you and present it as a gift to Miss Bennet.”
“You could not afford it,” Thorpe said dismissively.
“Allow me to be the judge of that. Name your price.”
“No.” His cousin’s mouth set into a firm line.
Darcy held his gaze. “A pity. I was planning to make a present of it for our wedding. I intended to dismantle the necklace— it is an ugly thing—and reset the diamonds as earrings and a bracelet.”
“Reset one of our family’s greatest heirlooms?” Thorpe cried. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Only my heart.” If offering to buy the most expensive jewels in his cousin’s possession did not grab his attention, then an uncharacteristically candid disclosure of his feelings would be sure to do it.
Thorpe sneered. “A man should not fall in love with his wife, Darcy. It can make for some awkward conversations.”
Unable to overlook the opportunity to remove the smirk from his cousin’s face, Darcy replied, “I have always believed a man should not fall under the spell of his mistress, especially when she is naught but a common harlot.”
Thorpe paled and without giving him a chance to respond, Darcy left.