Chapter 34
The next few hours pulled Darcy in all directions. Thank goodness for the Bingleys. They consoled and calmed while he ensured Wickham was secured in the gaol to await the arrival of his regiment’s envoy.
Mr. Collins crept away, no doubt to inform Her Ladyship of their deception and the woes to have befallen his cousins of late.
Darcy prayed they would all depart now for Rosings, for he had every intention of marrying Elizabeth on the morrow.
Scheming saboteurs and murderous mates would not stop him nor alter what he set into motion after a brief call at the parish, upon which he continued to Longbourn.
Mr. Bennet held Lydia to his side protectively, and the way Mrs. Bennet looked upon her spouse with bold-faced admiration satisfied Darcy that the Bennet household would remain a calmer environment even after the machine’s battery was exhausted.
He could even imagine them staying at Pemberley without cringing and seeking ways to avoid their company.
The Bingleys returned to Netherfield Park, vowing to return shortly for dinner. Mrs. Bennet made certain to include Darcy in her dinner plans, an invitation which he gladly accepted for the excuse it gave him to linger in Elizabeth’s presence.
Pulling her to the side, he relayed the details of his trip into the village and Wickham’s conversation with the constable.
She worried her bottom lip. “He insisted he had nothing to do with the carriage?”
“But he admitted to the other offenses,” Darcy countered.
“Yes, and rightly so. But not the carriage,” she mumbled more to herself than to him.
“What troubles you?” He wondered if it was the same sore that bothered him.
She met his gaze fully. “I believe him. I do not want to, but I do.”
Yes, that was it. As tempting as it was to blame all the troubles of the world on Wickham, Darcy could not in good conscience make potentially false claims against him. Wickham would face the consequences of his crimes. Nothing more.
The carriage did not fit. Wickham had the means, but he lacked motive.
“If Wickham did not cut the axle, who did?” he asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know. But I suspect Lady Catherine knows more than she is letting on. I cannot help but suspect her continued presence in Meryton is more involved than an attempt to force you into a marriage with Miss de Bourgh. Especially when she has made so little progress on that front.”
Darcy took a deep breath. He had hoped to avoid a confrontation with his aunt until Richard returned. That had been the plan. But something was keeping Richard away longer than expected, and Darcy wanted to end this sordid business as much as Elizabeth did.
“The hour is late, and I am spent, but I want to be done with this. Do you wish to accompany me to the inn?” he asked.
“Not this same evening! I am not so desperate nor improper as to call so late on a lady of the peerage,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy cocked his eyebrow. Elizabeth clearly did not remember how that same lady had behaved indecorously toward her and the entire Bennet family, so that she might make her undue demands.
Elizabeth sat across from Fitzwilliam, entertaining a conversation all their own with naught but gestures and glances.
Dinner was a joyous occasion, rife with laughter and discussion. The morrow would be difficult enough with Lady Catherine, but for now, they were merry.
Until a pounding at the door silenced their colloquy, and everyone sitting around the table looked at each other for answers nobody had.
Elizabeth’s heartbeat pounded out to her fingertips, a sense of foreboding raising the hair at the back of her neck.
A scuffle, and then a tap step preceding an imposing figure swathed in stiff silks. Lady Catherine charged into the dining room with Mrs. Hill chasing behind her.
Something stirred within Elizabeth, but she could not put her finger on it. She had a sense she was reliving an event.
“I will have a word with you,” Lady Catherine ordered, as though she were the Queen, and Elizabeth a chambermaid.
Again, that sense of previous experience for which Elizabeth could not account.
She had little inclination to acquiesce to Her Ladyship’s demands, and especially less so when she saw the tall gentleman with sharp cheekbones and head-to-toe black watching her with hawkish eyes.
He had yet to be presented — nor was he likely to be, given the rudeness with which Lady Catherine had interrupted their dinner — but his appearance and watchful bearing presented enough clues.
He represented Bedlam. He was here for her.
Fear trembled through Elizabeth, but she squared her shoulders. She had nothing to fear. She was not going insane. What was more, she was in her home and surrounded by defenders who would not allow her to be carried away and committed.
Lifting her chin and arching her brow, Elizabeth set her napkin on top of her plate and rose from the table slowly, calmly.
Turning to Her Ladyship, Elizabeth assumed her iciest tone.
“I am surprised to see you here, and in this manner, Lady Catherine. Might I convince you to join me in the front parlor where our discussion will be less likely to upset my family?”
Fitzwilliam was at her side. “You do not have to meet her demands. She cannot expect you to receive her politely after such a ghastly display of vulgarity.”
Elizabeth mumbled, “It would not be the first time.”
Her breath caught in her throat, her mind catching up with her tongue as the realization of what she had impulsively said dawned. Something about Lady Catherine’s unexpected, unannounced, unwelcome call had shuffled the missing pieces in Elizabeth’s mind.
She felt Fitzwilliam tense, felt his gaze. He must have gathered that something significant had happened, but Elizabeth dared not admit to any weakness of mind before the asylum doctor nor encourage Fitzwilliam’s hopes lest they lead to nothing more than one insufficient observation.
Still, there was no denying that Lady Catherine had jogged something in her mind into place, and Elizabeth was determined to take full advantage of the lady’s call if it meant restoring her memories.
“Mrs. Hill, please show our guests into the front parlor. I will be along shortly.”
Lady Catherine made it clear she did not approve of the delay, but Elizabeth did not concern herself with the grand lady’s opinion when Fitzwilliam and her family needed to be appeased.
Once she ascertained that the doctor was out of hearing, she turned to them.
Fitzwilliam whispered, “Did you remember?”
Elizabeth grinned widely, her happiness far greater than her apprehension.
She had a feeling she had triumphed over Lady Catherine once before …
if she could only remember how. But it was enough encouragement to continue.
“A flicker, nothing more. Pray, do not get your hopes up, but I have every intention of seeing if Lady Catherine will fan the flames until our past is fully illuminated.”
Papa warned her, “Take care not to show any signs of amnesia. I will not allow you to be taken away from Longbourn, but neither do I wish for Her Ladyship and the doctor to begin a campaign against you in the village. They could stir up fear and take the matter out of my hands, and I cannot allow it.”
Elizabeth nodded. She was very well aware of what could happen if she were presumed dangerous and her family incapable.
She and Fitzwilliam paused before the door Mrs. Hill had had the good sense to close, taking steeling breaths when a gentler knock tapped the entrance door.
Elizabeth looked at Fitzwilliam. Who could that be? At this hour?
Hill looked at Elizabeth, reluctant.
Elizabeth shrugged, “By all means, see whoever it is in.” Why not?
It was Miss de Bourgh along with Mr. Collins.
Supposing their appearance had something to do with Lady Catherine, Elizabeth said, “We are glad you could join us, Miss de Bourgh. Will you join us in the front parlor?” Of her cousin, she said nothing, for Elizabeth was not at all pleased to see him.
Miss de Bourgh clasped her hands together, peeking up at Fitzwilliam. “You will not let my mother harm Miss Elizabeth, I know it. Had I known you were here, I would have been more at ease, but I will lend what little support I may. If you permit me to help.”
Her gentle strength made Elizabeth happy she had interfered on Miss de Bourgh’s behalf, though she feared that the delay in a reply bode ill for her scheme.
“Of course, you may help, Anne,” Fitzwilliam reassured his cousin. “Your willingness to do so speaks well of you.”
Mr. Collins bowed. “As Miss de Bourgh so elegantly stated, I, too, am here to offer consolation and guidance where I may.”
If he had hoped for equal praise, he was soon disappointed. Fitzwilliam glared at Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth pushed the door open before the clergyman was put in his place. A proper set down would take too much time when Elizabeth’s memories tickled the edges of her consciousness.
Later, Mr. Collins. Later. You will get what is coming to you.
The four of them entered the front parlor.
“Anne, you are supposed to be in your rooms.” Lady Catherine rose to her full height, towering over her own daughter, both hands grasping her cane like a scepter.
“Mother, I cannot allow you to continue in this heartless course. It is unlike you.”
Elizabeth motioned to the chairs, but nobody sat.
Lady Catherine hissed. “Unlike me to protect the interests of my only child? An heiress?”
Fitzwilliam interjected, “Unlike you to undermine my happiness and Anne’s prospects. I have defended you against any involvement in the carriage accident—”
Pointing her finger at Elizabeth, Lady Catherine spat, “An accusation made by that girl, no doubt.”
“Your own stubborn spite accuses you,” he said.