Chapter Ten
Elizabeth awoke disoriented in the windowless dark of the room she shared with Cathy.
She had not brought a dressing gown with her from her old chambers, so she wrapped Mr. Darcy’s coat around herself and flinched as her stockinged feet met the cold stone floor.
She padded out of her room, and was met with the bright white light of another rainy morning.
Sir Edward and Lady Allen were still asleep on the mattress by the fire, which had long since died out.
Mr. Darcy stood by the window, staring out at the gray storm clouds that seemed to cling to the dying leaves on the distant treetops.
He had slept in his clothes, and though rumpled and weary, his usually brooding appearance had not suffered.
Elizabeth doubted the same could be said of her, for her hair was a fright and she felt ridiculous to be wearing his coat again.
Nonetheless, she went to the window and stood beside him.
There was frost on the narrow glass panes, and when she glanced down at the moat a dozen feet below them, there was ice along the far banks.
Thick mist clung to the orange and brown brush beyond, but a break in the gray clouds at the horizon revealed a small patch of brilliant sunrise. It was strangely serene.
Elizabeth reached her hand out just enough that it brushed against Mr. Darcy’s and she willed herself to hold it there.
After a moment, he silently laced his fingers with hers.
She drew in a slow, contended breath. She told herself that she needed the comfort, that what happened amidst the madness at Clwyd Castle had little to do with real life, that it mattered not how well she liked holding Mr. Darcy’s hand.
“What hour is it?”
“Nearly eight.”
Elizabeth yawned and shook her head as if to rouse herself. “That is generally late, for me.”
“Myself as well,” he agreed with the trace of a smile. “Do you require more rest, or a fire and some coffee?”
She chuckled softly. “The thought of food and drink makes me a little uneasy, but I should not like to languish in bed all day. Well, I may wish to, but I should think it very wrong to be so idle.”
“I am sure there will be ample time for pampering when all this is over,” he murmured, running his thumb over her palm before releasing her hand as he uncle began to stir. “Do you think the others shall wake soon? I could go down to the kitchens, supervise the preparation of breakfast for us all.”
“That is very kind of you, but you better take Mr. Tilney. Do not go alone.”
Mr. Darcy smiled at her concern and gave a little nod. “I may as well wake him. He got us all into this mess, so I shall certainly not let him languish in bed.”
She could hear Sir Edward whispering to Lady Allen, and Elizabeth reflexively took a step away from Mr. Darcy.
She began to take off the coat that belonged to him, but thought the better of her such immodesty, with only her nightgown beneath it.
“I must thank you, for supporting me yesterday, when I defended Mrs. Rushworth.”
He inclined his head. “You made a sound argument.”
“I fear I may have to have it out with the rest of our little group about it,” Elizabeth sighed.
Mr. Darcy rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “You may depend upon me to champion your cause.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Perhaps we better break our fast and get on with it. I do feel that we are close to some discovery, some missing piece to the puzzle.”
“I hope you are right about that,” he said, his expression a trifle sardonic. “Another day or two and I may have to swim the moat.”
Elizabeth glanced out the window and shuddered at the sight of the cold, dark water. If it were to freeze over entirely, they might attempt to traverse it, but even that notion made her uneasy. “Give me a moment, and I shall return your coat. You cannot go down to the kitchen looking like that.”
Mr. Darcy glanced down at himself and laughed.
“I am not fit to go anywhere but Bedlam looking like this.” He followed her as she returned to her room, and she closed the door half way, stepping behind it as she shook off the coat and handed it back to him through the narrow opening.
He laughed as he took it from her, and Elizabeth was chagrined that Cathy should again witness a moment of such whimsy.
Cathy was sitting up, the light from the open doorway barely illuminating her as she grinned.
Elizabeth only shook her head and waited for the sounds of Mr. Darcy’s retreat before sneaking back out into the parlor to light a couple candles.
She made great haste, and returned to dress with her sister.
The rest of their party was awake and dressed by the time Mr. Darcy and Mr. Tilney returned with two large trays of breakfast, which they laid out on a low table between two sofas. Everyone began with a cup of tea, feeling rather worse for wear after the previous evening’s horror.
“I hardly know where to begin,” Cathy said with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I ought to look over all the pages of notes we took down from the wall in our old suite, if there is any point in it.”
“Oh! We have more,” Harriet said eagerly, earning her a grunt of agreement as Emma consumed a strawberry tart.
Harriet retreated to her room, and returned with all the pages of information they had compiled, the dossiers, and the newspapers.
She hefted the stack down beside the sofa and resumed her seat, offering the loose pages to Cathy.
“Emma and I stayed up late last night documenting everything important that happened!”
Cathy looked over a few of the pages and began to pass the stack around amongst them. “This looks very thorough, well done! And thank you, Emma, for even recording such things of your aunt.”
Emma shifted her shoulders in a haughty pose. “There is evidence against her, but there is more than enough suspicion to go around, and I am sure she will be vindicated.”
Beside her sister, Elizabeth glanced down at the page in Cathy’s hand. “It is noteworthy indeed that Lady Susan was the first to accuse Mrs. Rushworth, and the first and loudest in denouncing my theory defending the woman. Given what we know from her dossier, I believe she is capable of murder.”
“She has spoken very harshly several times,” Emma admitted. “But I cannot imagine her able to break the captain’s neck.”
“It must have been a man,” Mr. Darcy agreed. “He would have had to get a hand around the captain’s mouth to silence him.”
“Then Mrs. Rushworth also did not kill the captain, though Mr. Crawford might have managed it. He is so short, though!” Elizabeth sighed and shook her head as she read over the page she had taken off the stack, detailing Mrs. Rushworth. A great deal had been added.
“Are you still convinced of her innocence?" Sir Edward frowned as he nibbled a piece of bacon.
“I am,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Her manners were so rehearsed when we spoke in the library; she is no great actress. I believe her reaction in the dining room was genuine.”
“But Mr. Bertram told me something interesting,” Cathy argued. “At dinner, he said that when his family first met the Crawfords, they were of a mind to put on a theatrical together, though his father forbade it. He said that Mrs. Rushworth was to perform with them.”
“Then I daresay she would have acted very poorly,” Elizabeth said. “I cannot get past the footsteps in the passage. It must mean something.”
“It could mean there is more than one killer,” Harriet suggested. “A man to break the captain’s neck, and a lady who dropped the vinaigrette de toilette in the passageway.”
“I forgot about it last night,” Elizabeth admitted. “I did ask a few people before dinner, but after the end of the meal, it was the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Ask again today,” Cathy suggested.
Mr. Darcy furrowed his brows. “Do you think the owner would admit that it belongs to them?”
“Perhaps they may betray some reaction, a modicum of recognition,” Elizabeth mused.
Sir Edward flipped through a few pages of notes, nodding as he squinted through his spectacles. “I agree there is some notion in considering those who argue the loudest.”
“And those who say the least,” Mr. Darcy added. “Sidney Parker is often a silent fellow.”
“But what motive would anybody but Mrs. Rushworth and Mr. Crawford have in killing Mr. Rushworth? They have cause for every murder that has happened,” Lady Allen said.
“If the murderer was indeed the person in the passageway, they would have heard that we are compiling evidence. They might have used what they learned about Mrs. Rushworth to divert our investigation away from themselves.”
“A red herring,” Mr. Darcy agreed.
“I was the obvious culprit already. They had little need of a red herring,” Mr. Tilney said with a shake of his head.
“But they heard Mrs. Rushworth telling Lizzy that she knew of our investigation to clear your name,” Cathy told him. “It does make sense that with so many of us refusing to believe it could be you, they sought someone else to blame.”
Elizabeth smiled appreciatively at her sister and Mr. Darcy. The latter returned her warm gaze as he sipped at his coffee.
Sir Edward grumbled and said, “I believe there is one way to imminently find out.”
Cathy looked at him with eager anticipation. “How is that?”
“If the murderer is someone wholly unconnected with Rushworth, who targeted him to shift the blame onto the widow and her lover, then they would surely not risk harming anybody else.”
“But they have no motive to harm anyone else,” Mr. Darcy said. “If there is any further incident, we may have to consider that perhaps Mrs. Rushworth or Mr. Crawford took advantage of the other murders to rid themselves of the obstacle that kept them apart.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Do you think… surely nobody else shall be harmed.”
Emma scoffed. “I have never been less sure of anything!” She began to primly devour a lemon tart, her eyes full of anxiety.