Chapter Fourteen #3
“Probably me,” Lady Susan said with an irreverent trill of laughter. “Sir Walter and I have been acquainted for a dozen years, since his wife and my second husband died. I have been trying to give him the brush off ever since, and I daresay his vanity cannot abide it.”
Elizabeth gave a forced smile at the lady’s antics, though she could not agree with her theory. Mr. Tilney had said it would have been another man in that seat before the switch, and she could think of no other man Sir Walter would harm.
She glanced again at Mrs. Rushworth’s sewing. “May I see what you are making?”
“I was in want of some occupation,” Mrs. Rushworth said, presenting the embroidered corner of a handkerchief. Elaborately scrolled blue letters spelled out H.D. Crawford. A sense of recognition tugged at Elizabeth.
“I am sure I make half a dozen of these a month,” Mrs. Rushworth said with a teasing laugh. “My brother has a dreadful habit of borrowing things and failing to return them. But you have not told me how I can be of assistance.”
Emma detailed their intentions without any of the uneasiness that assaulted Elizabeth.
“What we must ask of you is merely your cooperation; Lady Allen and Miss Morland are going to ask the same of Mr. Parker and Miss Denham. We intend to make our case for Sir Elliot being guilty of all the murders, and we do not wish to be so beset by everybody accusing one another.”
“You will need some help in physically restraining him, I should imagine,” Mr. Crawford said.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “We need one further thing from you, sir. Mr. Willoughby believes he may have to dispel some suspicion on his uncle’s part, and put him at ease; he will tell Sir Walter that we mean to accuse you, in order to take him by utter surprise.”
“I see. And that means what, exactly? You all giving me some sharp looks in the dining room? I should not wish you to say such things in the presence of the others, of course. It will only incite the bickering you wish to avoid.”
Emma gave a thoughtful nod. “Yes, I think a few angry glares would suffice. “Mr. Tilney means to place you and Mr. Willoughby near Sir Walter at the table, and you must restrain him when the time comes, so that Mr. Tilney and Mr. Darcy can disarm him.”
Mr. Crawford gave his consent, and Mrs. Rushworth likewise agreed to cooperate with their scheme. Lady Susan could not contain her glee at the prospect of Sir Walter’s downfall, and was even more delighted when Emma shared the news of her engagement.
“He seems a charming fellow; well done,” Lady Susan told her niece.
“He is just the sort of man to suit you. He is handsome and agreeable enough that he will be a credit to you amongst your acquaintance, but he has enough other interests that he will leave you to yourself quite contentedly, and allow you every liberty amongst your own set of friends. Will he permit you to keep your companion?”
“Yes,” Emma said with studied nonchalance. “I am sure I will be perfectly at liberty to pursue my own interests without him being much of an inconvenience at all.”
Mrs. Rushworth snorted with laughter as she resumed her sewing. “I daresay talk like this is just how the men speak of us.”
“Then it is perfectly fair that I should say the same,” Emma replied with a smirk. “I wish for all the benefits of marriage, without all the pesky encumbrances that go along with a romantic attachment. I mean no offense of course, Lizzy.”
Mrs. Rushworth assessed Elizabeth with a twinkle in her eye. “Why should Miss Bennet be offended?”
“Because… oh! Sorry, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, ready to eat a little crow.
Despite her reservations about the lady’s morals, she rather liked Mrs. Rushworth.
They would never be great friends, but she was a worthy ally in a crisis.
“I shall permit you a few moments to triumph over me when I tell you that Mr. Darcy and I have also become engaged.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Rushworth purred. “I am always right about these things; a married woman simply knows when a man wants to… wed.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. “I did quite despite him until a few days ago,” she insisted.
“I am sure it is very clever to despise a shockingly handsome and exceedingly wealthy man; it must have driven him half mad.”
Mr. Crawford laughed. “Indeed, Maria, there is always something irresistible about an unattainable woman – have a care, my dear.”
The ladies bantered for a few minutes more before Elizabeth and Emma returned to their rooms to dress for dinner with Cathy and Harriet.
They were a chaotic cluster, all together in so small a room, but the ladies had much to talk of.
They had all been successful in securing the cooperation of the rest of their party for their dinner revelation ambush.
They had every reason to hope that all would go according to plan, and they went to dinner ready for the mystery to come to an end.
Mr. Willoughby entered with his uncle. He made a subtle motion to indicate drinking and then held up three fingers.
Sir Walter had partaken of a few drinks already, which ought to make him easier to apprehend.
A few of them gave Mr. Crawford theatrically hostile glares.
Everybody took their seats, though none so nervously as Elizabeth, who was to be seated on Sir Walter’s left hand, with Mr. Crawford on her other side.
They all agreed on their plan before coming down to dinner.
They would chatter happily about the engagements, casting wary looks at Mr. Crawford until Mr. Tilney indicated it was time to act.
Elizabeth felt as if her heartbeat was surely loud enough that everyone in the room could hear it, but Mrs. Rushworth was often leaning in to speak over Sir Walter with cheerful conversation.
The wine had been poured but the food was not yet served when Mr. Tilney enacted their plan; he intended the meal to be delayed until Sir Walter had been dealt with.
Mr. Tilney raised his glass. “Fear not; I have been in the dining room the whole time the table was set; we are perfectly safe. And so, I wish to make a toast, as strange as it may seem to celebrate. I hope you will all add your congratulations to my own, for the long awaited engagement of Sir Edward Gardiner and Lady Allen, as well as the betrothals of Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Willoughby, and Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s eyes from down the table and shared a warm smile with him.
She had been so preoccupied with solving the murders that it had not yet begun to feel real to her yet, that she should become his wife.
But soon, she knew, she would have time to acclimate to her future life, and she would do very well indeed if he would always look at her with such adoration in his gaze.
As they all raised their glasses, the table humming with excited chatter, Mr. Tilney added one final thing. “And a toast to the man who has killed six people in this castle; we know who you are.”
Just as planned, Mr. Tilney fixed a lingering stare on Mr. Crawford, for long enough that Mrs. Rushworth pushed her chair back and ran to her lover, crying out in his defense.
There was now space for Mr. Willoughby to seize Sir Walter from that direction.
Elizabeth needed to clear the other side; she needed to move.
Elizabeth stood, ready to pursue Mrs. Rushworth in a charade of calming her down.
But her dress caught on the carved scrollwork of the chair, and she did not move fast enough.
As Mr. Tilney shifted his gaze and pronounced Sir Walter’s name, Mr. Darcy and Sir Edward began to reach for their pistols.
Mr. Crawford was ready to accost Sir Walter, if Elizabeth could remove herself from his path.
But as she tugged at her gown, Sir Walter stood and jerked her by the arm with one hand and reached into his coat with the other. A moment later, the barrel of his gun was cold against her temple.