Chapter Twelve #2
Miss Bingley said firmly, “I must return to Netherfield to ensure all is in order for the breakfast.”
“You need to come here right now and explain this.” A previously unheard iron underscored Bingley’s voice.
Darcy realized from where he knew the handwriting. Tallies for card games. The occasional list or glimpsed letter being composed. The handwriting was Miss Bingley’s.
“I must go,” Miss Bingley reiterated.
“No. You will explain. Here. Now,” Bingley said. “Do I have to drag you from the carriage?”
Miss Bingley’s head disappeared from the window, but a moment later, the carriage door opened.
When she exited the carriage, Darcy followed her, Captain Carter joining them.
The whole of the assemblage, priest and all, parted to give the trio passage.
Darcy felt as if he and Carter were guards escorting a prisoner.
Miss Bingley walked between the gathering, mostly the Bennets’ friends and relations, head high.
Everyone stared, murmuring. When she drew near Elizabeth, Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes to glare.
She reached her brother and new sister where they stood with Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth, who still trembled. Darcy noticed she cradled her hand, as well, her attacker’s sack tucked under one arm. A fresh wave of worry went through him and he had to tamp down the desire to go to her.
Not an ounce of compassion in his voice, Bingley said, “Caroline, explain. How could you sign someone else’s name?”
Miss Bingley swallowed but kept her haughty expression. “I’ve never seen that letter before.”
“It is clearly your handwriting, and your stationery.”
She shrugged. “Someone must have stolen my stationery and copied my handwriting.”
“Who is Mrs. Clegg?” Mrs. Bennet asked from where she stood with her younger daughters. “I recognize the name.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “As well you should. Mrs. Clegg is Mr. Collins’ sister. If you remember, I called your attention to the announcement of her marriage. I can’t remember how long ago. Maybe a dozen years?”
Frowning, Mrs. Hurst tugged the letter from Bingley’s hand. “Caroline, it is your writing.”
“I didn’t write it,” Miss Bingley mulishly repeated.
“Perhaps we should look in her room to see if there are more correspondence,” Mr. Hurst suggested.
Miss Bingley gasped, going pale. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s an excellent idea, if Mr. Bingley will permit it?” Captain Carter said.
“I won’t let you,” Miss Bingley cried.
“But I will,” Bingley said. “Furthermore, you are not to enter your room before a search is made. Jane and Louisa will supervise, but Captain Carter will make the search.” He turned to Mr. Bennet. “Unless you wish to, Mr. Bennet?”
“No. I believe I should return Elizabeth to Goldfinch Cottage.”
Captain Carter nodded. “An investigation might run smoother if Elizabeth isn’t present.”
Jealousy shot through Darcy, hearing Captain Carter use Elizabeth’s Christian name, but logic quickly triumphed over the reaction. Carter would soon be family to the Bennets.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured. “That is, if you do not mind, Jane?”
Mrs. Bingley shook her head, her smile trembling slightly. “You should rest.”
Mrs. Bennet looked about at the gathering “What about the wedding breakfast?”
“We’ll still have it,” Mrs. Bingley said quickly.
“In fact, everyone is to enjoy it. You’ll have to host, Mama.
We’ll be as quick as possible.” She raised her voice, addressing the assemblage.
“Please, everyone, head to Netherfield. We’ll join you all at the breakfast shortly. The staff can show you where to go.”
In animated conversation, the wedding guests began to disperse to their carriages, except for the tableau at the heart of the attack, in which Darcy stood.
Miss Kitty came forward and handed Elizabeth her bonnet, saying softly, “Your hairpins are inside. Don’t spill them.”
Elizabeth nodded.
Mrs. Bennet and the three younger Bennet sisters left for Netherfield.
Bingley insisted on Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst riding with him and his new wife, apparently unwilling to let his younger sister from his sight.
Darcy took Captain Carter and Hurst, wishing he could go with Elizabeth and her father instead.
He still hadn’t ascertained if Elizabeth had injured her arm or hand, and he didn’t like the shadow of fear in her eyes.
His carriage reached the top of the drive last, immediately following Bingley’s.
In an unplanned accord, no one from their two carriages disembarked, giving the guests time to enter and disappear deeper into the house.
Finally, when they deemed the wedding guests must be in the large back parlor, they alighted and went in, and straight up to Miss Bingley’s room.
Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst proceeded the gentlemen on the chance anything to compromise Miss Bingley’s dignity was present, while Darcy, Captain Carter and Bingley waited without.
They stood as a strange sort of guard over Miss Bingley as the other two women made a quick survey of the room, though Darcy hardly felt a glimpse of a chemise could harm her dignity any more than forgery could.
He hoped Mrs. Bingley, trusting as she was, still kept an eye on Mrs. Hurst. He didn’t believe her a part of whatever Miss Bingley had done but wouldn’t put it past her to hide evidence to aid her sister.
The two women reappeared, opening the bedroom door wide.
“You can’t go in there,” Miss Bingley cried. “Charles, please, this is ridiculous.”
Ignoring her, except for Bingley’s hold on her arm, they marched inside.
Darcy had never thought he’d see the inside of Miss Bingley’s bedroom.
Had, in truth, dreaded the idea, but now that he stood in it, he could see that the space suited her.
Above the knowledge that she’d caused Elizabeth to be attacked, her room seemed cold.
Nothing about the neat, orderly space spoke much to personality.
Possessions were all neatly stored. He did note the size, second only to Bingley’s chambers, but then, Miss Bingley had been, until today, the lady of the house.
“Her desk is there,” Mrs. Bingley said calmly, pointing across the room. “I believe Louisa and I should search the dresser and wardrobe, under your supervision, Charles, while Mr. Hurst, Captain Carter and Mr. Darcy see to the desk and, possibly, check under the bed.”
“As if I would hide anything under a bed,” Miss Bingley snapped. “Get down on the floor, indeed.”
Captain Carter immediately dropped to the floor to look under the bed. He came back up with a writing box. “Then someone else must have left this.”
Miss Bingley scowled, but her thin lips trembled.
Carter set the box on the bed and opened it. The expected accoutrements rested inside, along with four letters. As a neat stack of correspondence rested on the desk, Darcy found the hidden four already damning. Carter handed Bingley the letters.
Over Miss Bingley’s protests, Bingley unfolded and read aloud all four letters.
The first came from Lady Catherine, addressed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, care of Mr. Darcy, and said that Lady Catherine had Mr. Collins’ will, and that Elizabeth had inherited everything.
The letter also added that Mrs. Clegg, Mr. Collins’ sister, had been specifically mentioned as being allotted nothing, and demanded to know why.
A second letter from Lady Catherine repeating the information about Elizabeth inheriting even more tersely and ordered her to respond.
The third letter was from Mrs. Clegg to Elizabeth, requesting a picture of her mother.
The last, even more terse than Lady Catherine’s second missive, came from Mrs. Clegg again, and stated that if Elizabeth wouldn’t be civil, neither would she.
When Bingley finished reading, he replaced the letters in the box, and everyone turned to face Miss Bingley.
“I don’t regret it,” she cried.
“You will,” Bingley snapped. He looked across to Mrs. Hurst. “I think it’s time Caroline left Netherfield.”
Mrs. Hurst, face crimped in anger, nodded. “We’ll take her back to London after the wedding breakfast.”
“And do you know?” Mr. Hurst added, “I believe I would like to save for a time.” He nodded firmly. “Yes. We should engage in a quiet life. No callers. No outings. In fact, I see no reason why you should leave our townhome at all, Miss Bingley. Not for some time.”
“Not go out at all?” Miss Bingley stammered.
“For at least a month,” Mrs. Hurst said.
“But, Louisa,” Miss Bingley wailed.
“We’ve all been far too lenient with you, giving you most of the responsibilities and freedoms of a married woman. It’s obviously gone to your head. It’s time we rectify that.”
Miss Bingley looked at the writing box, still open on the bed. She turned to each of them, entreating. Even Mrs. Bingley wore a hard, unyielding look.
Miss Bingley burst into tears and crumpled against her brother.
Bingley disengaged her as one might pull off a clinging sea creature, looking disgusted, and sat her in a chair. He then turned to his new wife and offered his arm. “Shall we join our wedding breakfast, Mrs. Bingley?”
All unhappiness vanished from Mrs. Bingley’s face, replaced by a radiant smile.
She accepted Bingley’s arm and they left the room, the others filing out after them.
Captain Carter picked up the box and took it with him.
Mrs. Hurst locked the bedroom door from the outside and pocketed the key.
Darcy assumed they could all hear Miss Bingley’s sobs through the door, but no one remarked on them as they headed away from the room.
The others made their way down to the breakfast, but Darcy went to his room.
He’d no desire for frivolity, even on behalf of his closest friend outside of his cousin Richard.
Especially not when he still hadn’t assessed how Elizabeth fared.
And while he had no real right to check up on her, he did have the very real desire to impart news of what they’d discovered in Miss Bingley’s room.
But before he could go to her, he needed to write his aunt. He ordered his horse saddled, then penned a missive for Lady Catherine, telling his man to see it sent express. As soon as he handed over the hastily scrawled letter, Darcy set out for Goldfinch Cottage.