Chapter 2
Two
Mr Edwin Harper had but three great indulgences in life: counting money, ingratiating himself with those who possessed it, and imbibing copious quantities of rum.
That night, as he departed the Meryton Assembly, Sir William Lucas, ever the obliging neighbour, assisted him in mounting his horse and could not resist commenting, with good-natured amusement, on the enormous quantity of drink Mr Harper had evidently consumed that evening.
But Mr Harper was not a man to brook such observations lightly, particularly when they implied restraint.
He prided himself on being the master of his own whims—or so he fancied.
Thus, upon arriving home, the very first thing Mr Harper did was reach for one of his private reserves of rum.
Unmarried by choice, as he often jested, and committed to "sowing his wild oats" for as long as the mood struck him, he lived alone and answered to no one.
This solitude, however, left him entirely unaware of the shadowy figure concealed behind the heavy curtains of his parlour.
Perhaps if he had noticed the intruder, he might have questioned his presence, or at the very least refrained from indulging so freely in his usual vice.
Settling into his chair with a glass of rum in hand, Mr Harper allowed his thoughts to drift back to the events of the assembly.
Mr Darcy had proven a difficult conversationalist, but Harper was undeterred.
He resolved to adopt a more forthright manner at the next ball and to press the gentleman toward a friendship—one that might, in due course, lead to Darcy’s investment in his business ventures.
Pouring himself a second glass, he raised it to his lips, only to pause as an unpleasant tightness in his throat interrupted his thoughts.
He coughed, once, then again, his chest heaving as if struggling against an invisible weight.
His breath grew ragged, his attempts to clear his throat futile.
Alarmed, he reached for the table to steady himself, but his trembling hand sent the glass tumbling, its contents spilling across the floor.
Panic mounting, he staggered toward the curtains, his mind grasping for the illogical hope that fresh air might relieve his suffocation.
He yanked the fabric aside—and froze. Two cold, unblinking eyes stared back at him from the shadows.
His own eyes widened in shock as his legs buckled beneath him, sending him collapsing to the floor.
He tried to speak, to cry out for help, but no sound emerged save for a choking gasp.
No one was around—not his cook nor the servant—both of whom were day servants and had already departed for the evening.
His vision dimmed, but not before he registered the detached expression of the man before him—if it could even be called an expression. The stranger stood motionless, watching, as though counting the seconds until Harper’s breath finally ceased.
Desperate for one last gasp of air, Harper’s mind raced.
He had seen those eyes before—of that, he was certain.
Tonight, perhaps? Yes, surely it had been this very evening.
Or maybe he was mistaking. He couldn’t tell which it was.
But before he could summon the strength to recall where or when he had seen those eyes, his thoughts splintered into darkness.
And so it was that Edwin Harper, a man who had lived for his appetites, met his untimely end in his own parlour, the empty glass lying shattered at his side.
***
It was not yet noon when the shocking news of Mr Edwin Harper’s untimely demise spread through Meryton and its environs. Elizabeth and her family were gathered in the parlour when Kitty and Lydia burst in, breathless from their morning visit to their aunt, Mrs Philips, eager to share the tidings.
Mrs Philips, a sister to their mother, resided conveniently close to the militia's quarters and was well-regarded as an inexhaustible fountain of gossip, particularly concerning the regiment and its activities.
It was from her that Kitty and Lydia had gleaned the startling information, and they relayed it with all the fervour of messengers carrying royal decrees.
“He was a man given more to the bottle than anything else,” Mrs Bennet remarked dismissively once the girls had finished their tale. “No surprise that he met his end because of it.”
Mr Bennet grimaced at her pronouncement. “If people perished from indulging their vices, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kitty and Lydia succumbed during a particularly vigorous gossip session.”
Elizabeth swallowed a laugh threatening to escape her lips, while Kitty and Lydia pouted indignantly. Jane and Mary exchanged glances, struggling to keep their amusement at bay.
“Oh, Mr Bennet!” Mrs Bennet scolded, her voice tinged with reproach. “You cannot be so unkind as to jest about the death of your own children.”
“Certainly not, my dear. But I wonder how one can deem a man deserving of death simply because he enjoyed a glass too many.”
“That isn’t exactly what I meant…” Mrs Bennet began, but her husband interrupted her smoothly.
“Edwin Harper was a young man—not yet forty, I believe. Alcohol may do harm, but I doubt it acts so decisively. Did you not say last night that he stood his ground when Mr Darcy confronted him?”
The Bennet family had returned from the assembly with a lively account of Mr Harper’s ill-advised attempt to engage Mr Darcy in conversation and the latter’s curt response.
The conversation had also included the tale of Mr Darcy’s slight against Elizabeth, which, to her family’s surprise, Mr Bennet had later tempered by remarking that anyone who failed to see Elizabeth’s handsomeness must be blind.
Mr Bennet had, however, remarked that Mr Darcy seemed a man unsuited to society, much like himself.
“Yes, Papa,” Mary said. “He appeared quite well last night, though I must confess he drank too much.”
“I couldn’t tell who drank more,” Kitty giggled, “Mr Harper or Mr Hurst.”
“Kitty!” Jane frowned, her disapproval evident. “You ought not to speak of such matters.”
When the chatter subsided, Mr Bennet turned his attention to the girls. “Since you appear so well-informed, did your aunt expressly state that drunkenness was the cause of his death?”
Lydia, clearly relishing her moment of importance, wiggled her shoulders. “They are saying it was alcohol poisoning.”
Mrs Bennet gasped audibly. “Oh, how dreadful!”
Lydia continued, unfazed by the interruption. “Mr Jones, the apothecary, was called when Mr Harper’s servants found his body. He examined him and declared that he was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “Who would do such a thing?”
“It could have been himself,” Mary suggested, like she was the voice of reason. “He lived alone, after all. Perhaps it was accidental.”
“Did you even know Mr Harper?” Kitty countered, her tone sceptical. “He wasn’t rich, but he enjoyed his life with wine and women. I doubt he would have done such a thing intentionally.”
Elizabeth, who had been listening quietly, suddenly sat upright, a spark of realisation lighting her face. “Then someone did it to him.”
Lydia, sensing her sister’s growing conviction, scoffed. “Don’t be so clever, Lizzy. That’s hardly news. The rumours are already circulating that it might have been Mr Harper’s servants, or Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy?” Jane whispered, startled.
“Yes,” Lydia confirmed confidently. “He is the only one who had a disagreement with Mr Harper recently. Aunt said the magistrate has asked the parish constables to question him.”
“Isn’t that a bit severe?” Jane asked. “To question a man merely because of an argument?”
Elizabeth shook her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.
It makes sense for them to think of Mr Darcy.
Consider this—when was the last time someone in Meryton died of poisoning?
Before September, no such thing had occurred.
It stands to reason that it might have been one of the new tenants, and of them, who had a quarrel with Mr Harper, except Mr Darcy? ”
“Very clever, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet remarked, his tone wry.
“But we must not rush to conclusions. Coincidences do happen, after all. And it is not our place to decide guilt or innocence. Whatever the magistrate determines, I am confident that, with Kitty and Lydia in this house, we shall hear the news soon enough.”
Elizabeth nodded, though her mind remained fixed on her theory.
The conversation shifted to the subject of Mr Harper’s life and character, with speculations on whether Mr Darcy could truly be implicated in such a crime.
Later, Kitty and Lydia eagerly launched into a new discussion about the regiment of militia that, according to their aunt, had arrived in Meryton only two days prior.
Though the conversation moved on, Elizabeth couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that something unsettling lingered in the air, its presence impossible to ignore.