Chapter Fifteen #2
“Yes, why should you? You were able to carry out your affair without his ever discovering it,” Mr. Bertram drawled.
“I should think Crawford stands more to gain in getting rid of your first husband so that he can become the second. Father made sure you would have a generous settlement if that bumbling oaf broke his head doing something idiotic. In addition to the advantages he already enjoys, he stands to gain considerably in matters of finance.”
“He had every cause to be content with things as they were,” Mrs. Rushworth cried. She also moved closer for a better look at the handkerchief scrap and then let out a shrill whimper. “Good God!”
Mr. Crawford motioned for Sir Edward to take his place restraining Sir Walter, and he hastened to Mrs. Rushworth’s side.
She handed the scrap to him, but spoke to Elizabeth.
“You asked me about the handkerchief I was stitching for Henry today. You never told me of this piece of evidence, and so I answered you entirely without guile. What did I say to you, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth felt an uncanny sense of foreboding as she answered the woman. “You told me that you were making Mr. Crawford a new handkerchief, as you often do, because your brother borrows them and does not return them.”
Mr. Bertram sneered and scoffed. “What poppycock! Do I not have my own handkerchiefs? Why should I take his? That I might weep over the death of our blackmailers?”
“Hardly,” Lady Susan said with a cheerful laugh.
Mr. Bertram ignored this outburst and continued to berate his sister.
“And did you not listen, Maria? They explained not ten minutes ago that Tilney came in and mixed the place cards up that night. Rushworth might not have been the intended victim. It could have been Willoughby attempting to hasten his inheritance, or perhaps Mrs. Younge or Mrs. Clay attempting to kill Sir Walter before he could do the same to them. It could have been anybody, but if Rushworth was the intended victim, it must have been Crawford.”
Mrs. Rushworth shoved her brother and moved to stand by Mr. Crawford. “These others you accuse, how and why would they have contrived to leave Henry’s handkerchief in the fire? By all means, persuade me. I cannot believe it was Henry.”
“If he truly mislaid it, anybody might have picked it up,” Cathy fretfully suggested. “And if Sir Walter is telling the truth about the vinaigrette, someone might have pilfered that, as well. They might have used objects belonging to someone else as misdirections….”
Lady Susan threw up her hands with exasperation. “So anybody might be the second murderer, and any of us might still be the intended victim? Apprehending Sir Walter has accomplished very little, beyond the entertainment of it all.”
“I hardly think my Lizzy nearly being shot is entertainment, madam,” Sir Edward snapped.
“You mistake me sir; I refer to… this.” Lady Susan gestured at Sir Walter, battered and bloody, his face twisted with fury.
“We ought to get him out of here, lock him up somewhere,” Mr. Willoughby said.
“We ought to lock up Rushworth’s killer, too,” Mr. Bertram said, grabbing Mr. Crawford roughly by the arm.
Mr. Crawford shoved him off as Mrs. Rushworth attempted to put herself between the two men, who stared daggers at one another.
“Stop this,” she wailed. “Sir Walter must be lying! He means to sow discord between us, planting seeds of doubt. He killed Rushworth to deflect from his other crimes, to evade blame.”
“Did I? How obliging of me,” Sir Walter snarled at her.
“It certainly is most convenient for you – and for Mr. Crawford,” Miss Denham said.
“Convenient indeed – and perfectly obvious,” Mr. Bertram cried. “Who could doubt it? The handkerchief is his, because he is the poisoner!”
“Or perhaps you are keen for him to take the blame, because he sold your secret to the general,” Mr. Tilney said.
Elizabeth watched Mrs. Rushworth and Mr. Crawford with a knot in her stomach.
She wanted to believe the woman; though she knew not why, she even wished to believe Mr. Crawford was innocent.
“We have searched all over the castle for the key that still eludes us, but we have never looked in the rooms we occupy. Surely a search of our own quarters may reveal something – the poison used on Mr. Rushworth, perhaps?”
“An excellent idea,” Mr. Darcy agreed.
“Yes! After Sir Walter is dealt with, we ought to commence at once to a searching of rooms, beginning with Crawford’s chambers,” Mr. Bertram agreed.
Sir Walter laughed bitterly. “Apprehended by such a pathetic assortment of amateurs, I ought to be ashamed.”
“You ought to be silent,” Mr. Tilney hissed, administering another punch to the gut. Sir Walter slumped over and groaned, and Sir Edward jerked him toward the door.
“Everyone wait here; when we return, we shall commence a searching of the guest chambers,” Mr. Tilney said. He took the keys off the table and joined Sir Edward and Mr. Willoughby in leading their captive away.
Sir Walter did not go quietly, and as his shouts of indignation echoed down the hall, Mr. Bertram scowled. “I ought to have offered to help them,” he muttered before leaving the dining room to assist in locking Sir Walter away.
Lady Susan watched him go with the same saucy look she ever wore, and she positioned herself in front of the open doorway. “We had better all remain here, else we might be accused of hiding things we do not want found.”
“I have nothing to hide,” Mr. Crawford insisted.
Mr. Parker picked up Sir Walter’s dossier and examined its contents for a moment before looking over at Cathy. “You have one of these for everybody?”
“The general had them,” she hedged, glancing nervously at Elizabeth.
“And now you have them,” Miss Denham said.
“Well, yes,” Cathy admitted.
“Leave her be,” Emma hissed, striding arm in arm with Harriet to stand protectively beside Cathy. “We have done a fine thing in deducing who the murderer is in our midst, and I daresay you only think of yourself.”
Miss Denham squared her shoulders in a haughty posture. “We have a right to know if you have read all about us.”
“Tilney has danced around his denials,” Mr. Parker said with a shake of his head.
“Can you blame him? Everybody who knew anything was killed,” Emma huffed.
“And now the killer has been contained. Anyone else who knows what is in our dossiers will live to tell the tale,” Mr. Parker said.
Cathy trembled a little. Elizabeth began to go to her sister, but Lady Susan intervened first. “Do stop bullying the poor girl,” she said, swatting at Mr. Parker.
“We all have secrets – hers was aired publicly on the second night, the poor child! We will find these secret documents when we conduct our search, and perhaps it is best if we air everything. We shall achieve a sense of mutually assured destruction, which must compel us all to silence.”
Elizabeth could sense Mr. Darcy seething at her side; he had every reason to wish his secret to remain contained.
She was on the point of coming to Cathy’s aid when Miss Denham tugged at Mr. Parker’s arm and drew him away from Cathy.
She led him to one of the windows and began to speak with great animation.
Relieved that Mr. Parker was no longer intimidating her sister, Elizabeth was equally curious at how Miss Denham had managed to subdue him. She and Mr. Darcy were standing near the other window, and she stepped that way in order to peer through the diamond latticework.
The waxing moon was bright, no longer impeded by the storm clouds that had shrouded the castle since their arrival.
She looked out at the landscape, and Mr. Darcy came to join her.
He glanced downward and drew Elizabeth’s attention to a narrow strip of muddy embankment along the castle, sloping down toward the moat.
There was something, veiled in shadow, at the edge of the dark water.
“I believe that must be Sir Walter’s raft of casks,” he whispered to her.
“They must be considering making a run for it, given what they are guilty of.” Elizabeth shuddered a little, and he wrapped one arm around her as they stared out the window together. Behind them, their companions continued to bicker, and Lady Susan was loudly encouraging the discord.
“I suppose it is tempting to escape all this,” Elizabeth mused. “Do you think Mr. Tilney is telling the truth about the royals coming? It may be our only chance of rescue.”
“I am not as trusting as I once was,” he said somberly. “I want to believe him, but only time will tell. Today was our first day without rain; perhaps by tomorrow, the roads will be manageable, if indeed the princess and her brother are coming to Clwyd Castle. Your mother….”
Elizabeth met his eye and smiled sadly. “I do not know what I believe, or even what I wish to believe. The arrival of the royals would be our salvation, if we do not find the key to unlock the drawbridge. And yet, I have had little time to think of….”
He nodded. “You do not have to say it,” he murmured.
He squeezed her hands in his and leaned his forehead downward until it brushed her own.
“We may dare to hope tomorrow will be a calmer day. With Sir Walter locked away, and Rushworth’s killer soon to be exposed, we shall have the peace of safety.
We might find some scenic, serene spot to sit and ponder everything. ”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and let his soothing tones wash over her, and she conjured up the scene he described.
There had been a pretty little place in the courtyard by the well, a bench beneath a small willow tree; the perfect place for a fanciful and relaxing interlude with the man she had come to love.
She could easily imagine herself sitting beside him, bearing her innermost thoughts to the man whose counsel she had come to cherish so dearly.