Chapter 20
Twenty
Afternoon
Yes, he just said good night and left. Practically closed the door in my face.
I spent half the night thinking it over and the other half of the night thinking over the conclusions I had reached during the first half and thus by the end of the night I was back to where I had started, not knowing what to make of it at all.
I was also very tired. Oh, so very tired.
However, I cannot return to my room for an afternoon nap because Mama has decided we must immediately develop a scheme to mitigate Jane's unmarried state, preferably by bringing about an engagement with Mr. Bingley (though another eligible gentleman might do should a suitable alternative be found).
Since I cannot dissuade her enthusiasm for the subject and barring her from my rooms would only cause an uproar throughout the entire household when her displeasure became vocal, I am hiding.
I'm not proud of it. But sometimes one just needs a little time to oneself.
Time to further consider dismissive forehead kisses and what receiving one must mean for one's marriage especially when the forehead kiss is followed by a hasty retreat on the part of the kisser and the kissee finding herself on the lonely side of a definitively shut door.
I suppose his side of the door must have been lonely as well. Or perhaps not. He probably enjoyed his solitude. Experienced blissfully uninterrupted sleep untroubled by bothersome thoughts about the contrariness of his spouse. Bloody bastard.
The resentment I feel for Darcy at the moment is unreasonable, I know. But one's thoughts do not have to be reasonable especially when one has been reduced to hiding in the linen closet.
Yes, the linen closet. Mama will not think to look here for another twenty minutes at least. Previously I had been hiding under the desk in Darcy's study. I only just made it out in time to evade her as she made the mistake of calling for me prior to entering the room.
Were it not raining I would take Sir Sebastian (The Dog) for a walk.
However it is raining and also he no longer considers me his favorite person.
The displacement of his affection would not be quite so painful if his new object of devotion were not Lydia.
When they first met she tried to shoo him because he jumped at her skirts.
Now she carries him around everywhere, doting on him as if he were an infant.
He hasn't even tried to bite her once. It is insupportable.
Honestly if she was going to attract one of the Sir Sebastians why could it not have been the man? Perhaps she will win him away as well. They have yet to meet and since my youngest sister is apparently so bloody appealing—
I am not jealous over the love of a dog. That would be ridiculous. That would be mad. Nevertheless, someone ought to want to cuddle me and if it cannot be my indifferent husband at the very least it could be that odoriferous curmudgeon of a dog.
I am going mad, am I not?
Not only am I mad I am about to be discovered. I hear footsteps headed this way and it will be Mama because that is the sort of day this is.
The footsteps came to a sudden halt. She was right outside my hiding place now. I braced myself for discovery. My time is up. She will have checked everywhere else by now.
"There you are!" an exuberant voice cried as the door flew open. The words were expected, but they were not spoken by the person I dreaded.
"Were you playing the hiding game?" Belinda asked clearly perplexed to find me crouched down in a corner of the linen closet.
"Yes, with my mother."
"You're so lucky. My mother never wants to play the hiding game with me," she said, then turning away from me she shouted down the hall, "Henri, I found Lizzy."
"Shhhhhh!" I hushed her, "I'm still winning."
"Sorry," she whispered, "I wanted to give you a report on the investigation."
It was now my turn to be perplexed. "The investigation?"
"We are searching for Lady Whisperton's spy."
Ah, yes. Another concern I had completely forgotten about. I still needed to uncover the culprit but it hardly seemed pertinent compared to more pressing matters. However I tried to look encouraging as I asked, "Indeed, and have you discovered the traitor?"
"No, but we have eliminated several suspects," said Henrietta, appearing in the closet doorway beside her sister.
Belinda bursting with enthusiasm continued, "Yes, we know isn't the housekeeper. I went through all her things—she had nothing incriminating."
"You did what?" I asked, forgetting my own desire for subdued speech. I stood suddenly banging my head on the shelf above.
"It isn't Saunders either," Belinda said heedless of my look of horror.
"You cannot go into people's rooms! How would you feel if someone went through your things?" I scolded.
Belinda shrugged. "Miss Hopkins does it all the time."
"She just did it the once. Because of Tidbit. Bel was keeping a rat in her room as a pet," Henrietta explained.
"Tidbit was a mouse, not a rat!"
"You mustn't go through any more rooms. Servants are entitled to their privacy."
"Oh, we investigated everyone, not just the servants. You will never believe what Cousin Will has in his bedchamber."
"What did you find?" I asked urgently, thinking of my husband's collection of illicit literature.
"He has a box of stones! Is that not ludicrous?"
"It is a mineral and rock collection," said Henrietta primly.
"He has them labeled!"
"Well, they would hardly be useful if they were not labeled." Why I was defending Darcy's fastidiousness I did not know. Not two weeks ago I had found that aspect of his personality rather tiresome.
Belinda rolled her eyes as if I was rather tiresome. "You both are in love with him so you can hardly be expected to be sensible about it, but anyone else would think it odd."
"I am not in love with him!"
This was spoken by Henrietta. Not me. Though there is a slight chance the outburst that might have followed the indignant breath I had drawn would have been just as vehement and completely unconvincing as Henrietta's had been had she not delivered it before me.
"I collect rocks as well," Belinda continued on, ignoring her sister's denial, "but I don't label mine. I just keep them because they are pretty or interesting or they taste good."
"Taste good?"
"I have one rock that is salty and another that is sort of tangy and bitter, but in a good way."
"I have lived with her for nine years," said Henrietta with a beleaguered expression.
"Perhaps you should not lick your minerals," I said, hoping she would take my advice seriously and ignore the fact that I was hiding in a closet and thus probably should not be giving advice to anyone.
"I also collect feathers."
"You do not lick those, do you?" asked Henrietta tauntingly.
"Of course not!" replied Belinda hotly.
"Did your investigations uncover anything else?" I asked before an argument could erupt.
"Georgie had nothing suspicious. Mama has rouge and face powder even though she said such things are only for hussies. We would have searched Dora's room, but Henri wouldn't go in because she was frightened."
"She has beetles everywhere," Henrietta argued.
"They are dead."
"You just wanted to lick them."
"I do not lick everything, just the rocks!"
"Did you invade the privacy of anyone else?" I asked.
"I did not check your parents' or your sisters' rooms because they weren't here when it all began so they are unlikely to be involved.
We went through your chambers though. I read some of your letters until Henri made me stop.
I like your friend Miss Lucas, she is most amusing. You should invite her to stay."
"Why were you investigating me?"
"You are the least likely to be suspected thus the most likely to be able to get away with it," replied Belinda.
"I suppose that is true, but why would I spread gossip about myself?"
"You might have some unhealthy predilection—an obsession with notoriety. Some people enjoy being talked about no matter the reason," said Henrietta wisely.
She was certainly correct; there were such people. Sir Sebastian Seymour came to mind.
"So what were your conclusions about me? Am I guilty?"
Belinda answered, "We think it unlikely, but we are not ready to present our final findings at this time."
"Well, thank you for this information," I said, preparing to crawl back into the closet and close the door. Suddenly I reconsidered. "Where is my mother, do you know?"
"In the drawing room with our mother."
Add the drawing room to my Places I Have No Desire To Visit list.
"Mrs. Bennet didn't seem to be looking for you. I think it's possible she may have forgotten you were playing the hiding game. Henri does that to me sometimes, too. It is quite annoying. One time I hid for hours."
"Yes, that is exactly what happens, I forget," said Henrietta with a sly smile.
Belinda cast her sister a suspicious glance.
"Come, Bel, let us continue our investigations in the kitchen." I suspected this to be code for, "Let us go beg Cook for sweets."
Just as they were about to round the corner Henrietta turned back and said, "You know, you ought to have someone investigate us, just to be sure. Our investigations might be a clever ruse to cover our own perfidy."
"But whom could I trust with such a task?"
"That is a dilemma," replied Henrietta seriously before disappearing down the hall.
Well, what darling little sneaks. I will have to remember to hide my private papers thoroughly and warn Darcy to do so as well.
Darcy. I really should speak with him. But I am afraid to find out if all the progress we had made in our marriage has been erased. If we have returned to painfully stilted conversations or, heaven forbid, outright arguing again I do not think I can bear it.
"Madam?"
I only screamed a little. A quiet scream, hardly noticeable. The butler really must be complimented for his lightness of foot, he is positively cat-like.