Chapter Fourteen #2
“And perhaps we can warn the others ahead of time, tell them what to expect,” Elizabeth said. “If we do not, I should be surprised if anyone would be willing to leave their rooms again!”
“My uncle may be suspicious,” Mr. Willoughby mused. “I cannot guess what he may be thinking of me spending the day with you all.”
“Tell him you acted on his advice,” Emma said. “Tell him that I accepted you proposal, and turn the table on the odious man – get him drunk!”
“My clever bride!” Mr. Willoughby brought Emma’s hand to his lips, then winked at Harriet. “Have you any clever advice, Cousin?"
Harriet pondered for a moment. “It may be some time before dinner can be arranged, and all of us prepared. For how long can you stall him?”
“An hour, perhaps longer if you would permit me to distract him with the whole truth.”
Harriet and Emma exchanged a look and a nod. “Yes,” Emma said. “If you must. He is soon to be hanged for his crimes, anyhow.”
Lady Allen tittered nervously. “Perhaps you might also distract him and put him off his guard if you tell him that we mean to reveal the identity of the killer. You know, throw him off the scent.”
“That is clever, Margaret,” Sir Edward said. “Perhaps say that we are convinced it is somebody else, Crawford and the widow Rushworth are suspicious enough.”
“I daresay he may be tempted to watch someone else take the falls for his crimes,” Emma sniffed.
“I can speak to Mrs. Rushworth, I believe we esteem one another, though I should hardly call us friends,” Elizabeth said. “She has offered twice to be of assistance.”
“I will accompany you for safety,” Mr. Darcy said. “We cannot know where Sir Elliot may be lurking.”
“No, I will go,” Emma said. “Mrs. Rushworth is sharing a suite with my aunt.”
“We wish to be useful, too – do we not, girls?” Lady Allen smiled indulgently at her daughters.
“Oh, yes,” Cathy cried. “Maybe we could go and speak with Miss Denham and Mr. Parker? If everybody is aware of the plan, there will be less squabbling and accusing one another at dinner, and we can proceed directly in explaining what we have discovered about Sir Walter.”
Harriet smiled brightly as she thought of another contribution to the plan. “We should bring all our evidence to dinner to present. Cousin, could you obtain a sample of Sir Walter’s writing, like you said?”
He nodded. “The book he loaned me, I shall say Miss Woodhouse wishes to read it and discuss it with me.”
Harriet giggled. “Prepare yourself for something very dreadful, Mr. Willoughby. Emma and I have made extensive and ambitious reading lists, and have often sat down to read together, but I am sure we never get three pages before we decide we have improved ourselves enough, and seek some other occupation!”
Cathy looked aghast at her twin, and pressed her lips together to avoid commenting on this great disparity between them. Mr. Tilney stood and clapped his hands. “Well, let us get on with it, we all know what we are about.”
The gentlemen helped the ladies to their feet, and they began to set about their schemes. Mr. Tilney departed to arrange dinner with the servants; he would arrange the place cards well in advance, and strategically for their plan.
As Mr. Willoughby bid them farewell for a while, Harriet began to fret for his safety. “Will you be safe with your uncle? What if it goes wrong?”
“I have a pistol; I daresay all the gentlemen would have been armed for such a long journey to Wales.”
Mr. Darcy and Sir Edward nodded their agreement. Emma knit her brows. “Then why did Sir Walter not simply shoot everyone? The candlestick was a bit much.”
They all looked askance at Emma, and Harriet gave her a playful pinch. “Emma, we all went running at the first gunshots.”
“Oh, right.” Emma laughed at her own silliness and latched onto Elizabeth’s arm. Mr. Darcy lingered near Elizabeth, as if unwilling to let her out of his sight.
Sir Edward came and clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder. “If you would give me a moment, you and I could go retrieve the rope and place it somewhere hidden in the dining room. But first, I should like a word with Lizzy and Miss Woodhouse.”
Mr. Darcy nodded and stepped away, affording Sir Edward a modicum of privacy as he spoke to Elizabeth and Emma.
Sir Edward reached out and took Elizabeth’s hands. “I wish to congratulate you most heartily, Elizabeth, though I had thought you hated the man,” he whispered.
“That is all in the past, Uncle. We have come to understand one another so well, and I think we are quite alike. I had never imagined finding anybody who suits me so perfectly.” Elizabeth glanced across the room at Mr. Darcy, who betrayed a little smile before turning to gaze out the window.
“That is very good to hear, and I believe you shall be happy. And I am tremendously proud of you, my dear girl, for all your courage and clever, resourceful thinking. I know Margaret means to tell our girls the same. And you, as well, Miss Woodhouse.”
Sir Edward reached one hand out to clasp Emma’s with paternal affection. “You are a credit to yourself, and to my Harriet. Her fondness for you has guaranteed you should have my esteem, whatever your peculiar friendship may be.”
He coughed uncomfortably but offered her a smile.
“You have shown your own fine qualities amidst all this horridness, but I worry for your arrangement with Mr. Willoughby. You may feel differently about it when the dust settles. I have no right to say so, but you are without a father, and I would not like to see an unprotected lady taken advantage of. I hope you have some relation besides Lady Susan looking after your interests, for she treats everything as a jest.”
Emma smiled warmly at him. “You are very solicitous, but I am not so wholly unprotected. My friend Mr. Knightley is as staunch a defender as a severe critic, and my brother-in-law was a barrister for ten years before he and my sister inherited Hartfield. My sister has been unhappy with me since she discovered my, ah, friendship with Harriet. John may have been glad that I should never marry, and help look after all his children forever, but above all he dislikes arguing, having given up that profession. He will support my wishes so long as there is not too much fuss involved.”
Elizabeth felt a pang of sadness for her friend, who could never be so happy in a sham of a marriage, as Elizabeth hoped to be with Mr. Darcy. “Are you sure it is what you wish?”
“Certainly; it is better than I ever expected. To be the spinster sister with a funny friend, besieged by children for the next dozen years or more, always living at the pleasure of my sister – after she called me sinful and unnatural! I think not. I have never left Highbury before; this is the only time I have been away from home, how ghastly! As Mrs. Willoughby, or Mrs. Anybody, I would have consequence. A home of my own and blessed peace. I shall do as I please, go where I like, have Harriet with me always, host parties and travel, and I shall make sure I am given a splendid allowance. Due to Mr. Willoughby’s, ah, history with Eliza Williams, my husband shall even have an heir without me having to risk childbirth or any of that unpleasantness. ”
“You certainly know your own mind,” Sir Edward said appreciatively.
Elizabeth was touched by her uncle’s concern for her friend, which she certainly shared. She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear man, and I have been frightfully spiky to you.”
“You have had a series of very great shocks,” he reasoned.
“Two new sisters, my engagement and your own, you are soon to meet the princess, your mother, and there have been six murders in less than a week. I know you will need some time to recover from this ordeal; I daresay we all shall. After such terrible events, there is often a delayed onset of feeling. But we must make a plan, after this, and surely that plan must include a great deal of rest.”
“And indulgence, of course,” Emma added.
“Cakes, perhaps?” Elizabeth winked at her friend.
“Lord! I shall grow quite plump before my wedding!”
The two friends parted from Sir Edward and Mr. Darcy, and went back to the suite Mrs. Rushworth shared with Lady Susan.
Mrs. Rushworth bade them enter; she was sitting on a chaise by the window, embroidering a handkerchief and watching idly as Mr. Crawford and Lady Susan played chess.
She invited Elizabeth and Emma to sit with her.
“Are you here to take me up on my offer of assistance?”
“We are,” Emma said.
Mrs. Rushworth set aside her sewing and leaned forward with interest. “You know who it is.”
Across the room, Lady Susan toppled a rook from the chessboard as she leaned in to listen. “Do not keep us in suspense, Emma.”
“Sir Walter Elliot,” Emma said, smiling at the look of wicked delight on her aunt’s face.
“Sir Walter Elliot?” Mrs. Rushworth wrinkled her nose. “I should have just as soon imagined it was my husband! It makes no sense.”
Elizabeth and Emma explained all that they had pieced together with Mr. Willoughby’s help.
They omitted one detail, however. When Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Rushworth’s embroidery, she felt strangely compelled to discreetly pinch Emma before she could mention the handkerchief remnant in the fireplace.
Mrs. Rushworth listened intently to all they told her. “You are to be commended on your deductive skills. All signs do seem to point to Sir Walter; that is a relief.”
“A relief? Do you not enjoy being locked in a castle with me?” Mr. Crawford grinned at his lover.
“I have been in such a strange state of mind, I had begun to imagine….” Mrs. Rushworth bit her lip and let out a little sigh. “But I cannot think why Sir Walter would wish to kill my husband.”
“It may be that he placed his poison before Mr. Tilney rearranged the seating,” Emma observed. “Somebody else might have been his target.”