Chapter 9
Nine
“What did you say to him?” Jane inquired, her voice soft yet unmistakably curious. They were in Jane’s room, and Elizabeth had just finished recounting the details of Mr Collins’ proposal.
Elizabeth sighed, a wry smile curling at the corners of her lips. “What else could I say?” she replied. “I told him, ‘No,’ of course.”
Jane’s eyes widened in surprise, her hands clasped together as she sat up straighter. “No? But—Mr Collins is such a gentleman,” she faltered, her voice betraying the astonishment she felt. “And what did Mother say—?”
Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively, cutting off her sister’s question. “Oh, Mother will complain, as always,” she said with a light shrug. “But she’ll get used to it. I spoke to Papa as well. He said he would have thought me quite mad had I accepted such a proposal.”
Jane smiled at this, her thoughts clearly turning to their father’s usual straightforwardness.
“Papa said, and I quote, ‘I would have doubted if you were truly my daughter had you accepted such a man.’”
Jane paused for a moment, her lips curving into a small, affectionate smile. “Papa is always so... so direct.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied, a fondness in her voice. “But I do believe he speaks the truth.”
“But what of Mr Collins?” Jane asked, still incredulous. “How did he take it?”
“How did he take it?” Elizabeth repeated, raising an eyebrow. “He walked out, and he hasn’t returned since. I imagine when he does, he’ll go straight to Mother, and I shall hear from her exactly how he feels. But I am quite certain he was not pleased.”
Jane’s gaze softened with a mixture of sympathy and concern. “Oh, Lizzy,” she began, her voice trailing off, but Elizabeth, quick with a reply, smiled and interrupted.
“Oh, Jane,” she said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I am quite certain Mr Collins would make a better match for you than for me. You are the more agreeable one.”
“Me?” Jane looked stunned. “But Lizzy, he does seem to have some admiration for you! You could have been the first Bennet daughter to be engaged.”
Elizabeth’s smile widened as she shook her head. “Not in this lifetime would I ever consent to marry Mr Collins. A man who has no thoughts of his own and only parrots the words of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. As if her advice is the final decree of wisdom.”
“Lady Catherine!” Jane laughed softly, though her brow remained slightly furrowed. “Yes, he does that, but you do have a way of making things sound quite... alarming.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, the teasing in her voice clear.
“Alarming, Jane? I should think it more alarming if I ever married such a timid man. And as for engagements, fear not. Mr Bingley will not take long before he proposes to you.” She grinned knowingly.
“After all, he has been quite—how shall I put it?—taken with you. You two have been promenading together for weeks.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed an unmistakable shade of pink. “Lizzy, that’s not fair,” she whispered, her gaze darting away. “We have simply enjoyed the company of each other. There is no need for you to think—”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, cutting her off. “Oh, don’t deny it, Jane. You’ve even been to Netherfield under the guise of visiting his sisters. But we both know it’s not simply sisterly affection you’ve been sharing.”
She smirked playfully. “Isn’t it obvious? Mr Bingley is in love with you.”
Jane hesitated, her expression softening as if caught in some tender thought. “I do care for him, Lizzy,” she confessed quietly. “But sometimes… sometimes he seems to admire me, but does not quite love me. He is so kind, but there are moments when I wonder…”
“That’s impossible. If he doesn’t love you, then he is blind indeed. You, Jane Bennet, are the most beautiful and kind-hearted woman in Hertfordshire. Any man who fails to see that is simply not worth your consideration. Mr Bingley will come around—of that, I am certain.”
Jane looked away, her lips trembling slightly, the hint of a smile on them. “I hope so,” she murmured, more to herself than to her sister.
They spoke for a while on the subject, but the conversation soon shifted, as it often did, to another subject of Elizabeth’s concern. Mr Darcy.
“Forget Mr Collins’s offer,” Elizabeth said, “I ran into Mr Darcy today. We had a brief conversation.”
Jane looked up at her, eyes wide with concern. “What was it about? What did you say to him?”
Elizabeth’s face darkened as the memory came rushing back. “I told him exactly what I thought. I believe he’s the key, Jane. If I can find the proof, I will expose him. He must be involved in these deaths. It’s far too much of a coincidence otherwise.”
Jane’s hand stilled, her expression turning serious. “Lizzy, you cannot be serious. You said those words to Mr Darcy?”
“Not does exact words. But I told him I didn’t believe in curses and that if there was a killer, I’d play my community role of helping in finding the killer.”
Jane studied her face for a while, as if she had seen a mad person. “You know I have told you not to jump to conclusions without proof. You mustn’t make accusations without evidence. What if it’s just a coincidence? What if—”
“No, Jane,” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice firm with conviction. “It is not. I am certain of it. The deaths are connected to him. He—” She stopped, looking down at her hands, her words choking off as the weight of her certainty settled over her. “But I must find the proof.”
Jane sat up straighter, a look of genuine concern clouding her features.
“Elizabeth, I implore you to be careful. If Mr Darcy is involved in something terrible like murder – and I am not saying that he is -, then I promise you, he would not be the kind of man to let someone pry into his affairs. The killer wouldn’t want you to.
If you push too far, he will not show mercy. ”
Elizabeth’s lips curled into a slight, bitter smile. “You sound just like him,” she muttered, eyes flashing. “That is exactly what he said.”
“Lizzy, I am not trying to sound like Mr Darcy. I just... I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t know what is true about him, but please, do not be hasty. You are not an investigator, and this could be dangerous.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, leaning back. “I’m not a na?ve girl, Jane. I will be careful. But I…we must find the truth.”
"I’m not saying you’re na?ve, Lizzy, but you cannot rush into something without understanding what you’re facing. If Mr Darcy is guilty, he is a man of power, and you are only a young woman. You mustn't make a foolish enemy."
Elizabeth sighed, her mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. She looked down at their intertwined hands, the weight of Jane’s concern settling heavily upon her chest. "I won’t do anything rash, Jane. But I will find a way. I must," she added with quiet determination.
The room fell into silence, both sisters lost in their own reflections. Elizabeth lay down beside Jane, her thoughts tumbling in a storm of uncertainty and suspicion. Her sister’s breathing, soft and steady beside her, did little to calm the turmoil within.
Mr Darcy. His image plagued her thoughts with a persistence that she could not shake.
His piercing eyes, his impenetrable manner—it was as though everything about him held some dark, unspoken truth.
And the deaths. The deaths in Meryton, so neatly tied to his presence, to his quarrels.
She could not ignore the sense that somehow, he was the key to it all.
The pattern was too obvious, too deliberate.
But even as her mind turned over the evidence, doubt crept in. Could she really trust her own conclusions? Was Mr Darcy truly the monster she believed him to be, or was there more to him than met the eye?
Her thoughts, restless and uncertain, turned again to Jane's words. In the midst of her contemplation, she spoke aloud, though the words were more to herself than to Jane. "I shall find the truth, Jane. Whatever it may be."
Jane stirred beside her, and Elizabeth felt her sister’s gaze on her. Jane hesitated, then spoke, her voice a touch hesitant. "Lizzy, if I didn’t know you better, I’d almost think you were...obsessed with Mr Darcy."
Elizabeth straightened slightly at her sister’s words, her heart giving an odd flutter. "I’m not obsessed with him, Jane," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with a faint, defensive edge. "I simply want to know the truth."
"Oh, you’re not? But then why do you seem to be thinking of him at every turn? Fate does seem to be setting the two of you on the same path, doesn’t it? First at Meryton ball, then at the market with Mr Wickham, and now—"
Elizabeth cut her off, feeling a twinge of irritation as she shifted uncomfortably. "No, Jane. Not fate. Not in the least."
Jane smiled, though her brow furrowed with gentle teasing.
"Well, perhaps not fate," she said, "but you cannot deny there’s something there.
" She paused, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face, as if a sudden thought had struck her. "Think about it, Lizzy. If Mr Darcy had danced with you at the ball—if people weren’t dying after fighting with him—if Mr Wickham hadn’t spoken of him the way he did.
.." She paused again, her gaze searching Elizabeth's face.
"Wouldn’t you consider him a man admirable? "
Elizabeth hesitated, her thoughts tangled.
The question hung in the air, and she felt her breath catch for a moment.
Would she? Would she consider him admirable if the circumstances were different?
If she had only seen him in a better light, without the darkness of suspicion hanging over him?
After a beat, she gave a reluctant, almost bitter smile.
"Mr Darcy could indeed be admirable," she admitted, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue. "If he weren’t so aloof, so wicked, and if he weren’t so clearly involved in these deaths. What is there not to admire, Jane? He is the most eligible bachelor in the vicinity—handsome, wealthy—he has everything. But alas, what is the point of all that when he is so unagreeable, when he has ruined Mr Wickham’s life and when people around him are dying like flies? I am sure he is involved."
Jane sighed, clearly resigned to the futility of arguing further. “I suppose I shall take my nap now,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with the exhaustion of their discussion. Elizabeth nodded, though her mind was far from the rest Jane sought.
“I’ll take a nap as well,” Elizabeth replied, though she didn’t think she would find much peace. She lay beside Jane, but sleep was elusive, her thoughts haunted by Mr Darcy. She could not dismiss the troubling suspicions that clung to him.
Her mind returned to one singular purpose: finding the truth. She must discover the proof, whatever it may be. Yet, a nagging doubt lingered—was it truly Darcy’s fault, or was there something more?
Elizabeth’s thoughts turned inward, and, for a brief moment, she wondered—if Darcy were a better man, could she be drawn to him?
She quickly dismissed the idea. No, she would not think of him in such a light.
But the comparison lingered. She would certainly choose Mr Wickham over Mr Collins, but what of Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy?
She reprimanded herself for even considering such things. Darcy was involved in these deaths, she was certain of it. She would find the proof. Proof, Lizzy, she repeated to herself. That was all that mattered now.
With that resolve, Elizabeth finally closed her eyes, though her mind remained troubled, her thoughts on the truth she was determined to uncover.