Chapter 9
Murderous Tendencies
Both looked askance and Mary said, “I am not entirely certain I can bring myself to speak of murderous tendencies.”
Elizabeth said, “I would prefer to know what you mean as well.”
“My apologies; I exaggerate. I will not murder anyone—just ensure that they know the standards of conduct for our profession. That man did not just inconvenience you and your laundry maid. He put your lives at risk! He put his employer’s life and reputation at risk.
Given enough rope, he will eventually harm someone. He cannot be allowed to continue.”
He took a pensive breath. “I will tell you one more thing about our profession, if you are of a mind.”
“We are listening,” Mary said shakily.
“We do not have a guild per se, but we do have professional standards among coachmen, and the elders are responsible for instructing the younger in our ways. For example, Kep would never do what that boy did, no matter what his employer demanded. He would give up his position first, or more likely drive at a safe speed and accept the consequences.”
Elizabeth asked, “And your instruction?”
“Our trade, like many professions, must bring young men into its ranks. A certain percentage of young men are best defined as hotheads—that driver included. I sheepishly admit I was one in my youth. I cannot estimate the overall percentage, but it is fairly high. I will simply instruct this young man by the time-honoured technique used on me when I was young.”
“Do I want to know?”
“For most young ladies, probably not. For you, I will offer a choice. The young man will be brought to heel, one way or another. One method involves a brief period of intense discomfort. The other involves more suffering over a much longer time, but it is never so intense.”
“Is there no way that does not involve suffering?”
“If there is, I do not know it.”
“What do you want from us?”
“Simple confirmation of his identity. I will assume it is the Bingley coach unless you contradict me.”
The sisters exchanged a glance.
Mary said, “Tell me the details of the two methods of instruction.”
“The first involves a good thrashing. I believe it is Kep’s turn to learn this part of the trade.
We never break bones, so the boy will heal in a few weeks, and he will either take safety seriously or he will not.
If he does not, we repeat the procedure until it sinks in, or he finds another profession. ”
The ladies gasped.
“And the second alternative?” Elizabeth asked.
“I will tell Mr Bingley what happened, and he will discharge the man without reference, or accost his sister which will accomplish the same thing.”
“Is he married?”
“Yes, with a young son.”
“So, the second option would punish a wife and child for the father’s transgressions—even though those amount to following instruction.”
Mr Newton and Kep nodded.
“Do as you must, but I vote for the short and painful approach. It was, in fact, the Bingley coach. Mary saw Miss Bingley and the Hursts inside. Miss Bingley saw us clearly and started laughing as they went past. I have no idea whether the coachman saw us.”
Both drivers nodded, and Mr Newton asked, “May I convey that information to Mr Bingley?”
Elizabeth considered and glanced at Mary, in case she wished to add anything.
“I will ask you not to. I approve of your traditional training methods, while not implying that you need my approval. It seems sensible. Mary and I will be clean and dry in an hour, and I prefer your methods of educating the coachman to penury. My experience with men suggests little short of a beating ever makes lasting change.”
“It worked on me. I will give the boy the same opportunity.”
Mary nodded. “I concur, much as it pains me.”
“Miss Elizabeth, you asked me not to tell Mr Bingley about the incident. Why not, if I may ask?”
Elizabeth sighed, resigned and afraid to think of the answer, let alone convey it. “May I ask a few qualifying questions? I ask you to decline to answer anything that your personal ethics would forbid.”
“Of course. I am at your disposal.”
“Is Netherfield closed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr Darcy left 2 hours ago. Miss Bingley asked me to start preparing 2 days ago.”
Elizabeth grimaced at Mary. “2 days, you say. Did Mr Bingley take part in these plans?”
“I know not. He was not involved with Kep or me directly.”
“Is it your understanding that nobody in the party is to return?”
“I am not privy to such information.”
“But you would agree that, with the house closed and you hauling a wagonload of furniture, Mr Bingley’s imminent return seems… unlikely?”
“Logic would dictate so.”
“We shall know very soon. Mr Bingley said he was going to town for a few days, a term whose ambiguity falls in a fairly narrow range. I hypothesise his sisters will try to dissuade him, and possibly Mr Darcy as well, though that is pure conjecture.”
“What about Mr Darcy leads you to suspect that, if I am not prying too much?”
“Not at all. Mr Darcy never liked it here—neither the place nor the people. He publicly slighted me within my hearing on the first evening of his stay, after refusing to be introduced to anyone. He spent most of the last 6 weeks looking at everyone and everything with disdain. He never danced more than the absolute minimum, and rarely spoke with anyone outside his party. The only surprise is that he took this long to leave.”
Mary smirked. “He danced 1 more than the absolute minimum, Lizzy.”
“Mr Newton, can you account for a man disdaining a woman for 6 weeks, then abruptly asking her to dance?”
“How did this disdain manifest itself?”
“The first time he saw me, he said publicly that I was not handsome enough to dance with—nay, even to tempt him to dance. After that, he stared at me a great deal, which was unnerving. I stayed a few days at Netherfield, and we spent most of the time arguing.”
“If your disdain hypothesis is correct, the dance might have been a wager. Young men are prone to such flights of fancy, and it would not be the first time, nor even close to the most outlandish bet I ever saw. Or perhaps he thought Bingley might form an attachment to your sister, and decided to be less… ah… confrontational with her family. Both explanations have merit, though both disregard Occam’s Razor[ix]. ”
“Finally, a man with some sense. You see the same simple explanation that I do, do you not?” Mary asked.
“Probably,” Newton said with a chuckle. “I shall leave the revelation in your capable hands.”
“What revelation is that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Perhaps he admires you,” Mary said blithely.
Elizabeth started laughing and could not stop for half a minute; but when she noticed Mary and the Newtons were not joining her, she stopped abruptly. “You are not serious!”
“I am completely serious,” Mary said, giggling.
“I see. He admires me, so naturally the next step is to run from the county as if it were infested. You are not making much of a case.”
Mary sighed but did not stir from the warmth of her greatcoat. “Even that makes sense, Lizzy.”
“How so?”
“Mr Newton? Kep?”
“It makes perfect sense, Miss Elizabeth. Mr Darcy is a member of the first circles. He is master of an estate more than 4 times the size of Netherfield, and his family has held it for centuries. He is grandson and nephew to an earl. He could marry into the highest circles with no great difficulty. He may have found himself attracted to a country miss who does not match the stature expected of the Mistress of Pemberley, and left to avoid any… ah… entanglements.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily. “So, your best theory is that he left because he is afraid of me?”
“It is only a suggestion, but it does make a certain type of sense.”
“It beats your wilful penance theory,” Mary added.
Elizabeth considered it for a minute. “Afraid of poor little old me… who would even entertain the possibility?”
“I have seen men do much sillier things on far less provocation, particularly where women are concerned,” Newton observed. “In fact, if said women are as handsome as you, there is no telling!”
Elizabeth laughed gaily, still thinking they were half-mad—as were most men in her limited experience—but they had exhausted the subject.
“Unless Mr Bingley returns to court Jane or take his leave, I imagine I shall never see Mr Darcy again; so, it is all a moot point.”
“Moot but highly entertaining,” Mary said with a shrug.
“Perhaps to you, Mary… perhaps to you.”