Chapter 16
Mrs. Jenkinson’s reply was so uninflected that for a moment Elizabeth wondered if she had anticipated every word, every accusation, every step of the inevitable progression that brought them here.
She spoke not to the coroner, but to the fountain—the curve of marble in front of her, the basin’s cold lip catching her voice and sending it back into the circle, unburdened by emotion.
“There is no need for a trial,” she stated.
“All that Miss Bennet has reported is accurate—the cosmetics, the paper, and the note—all from Rosings. All from me. The method was exactly as she described. Though, regarding motive—” Her eyes briefly glanced at Miss de Bourgh before settling again on the fountain. “I did not act for my own sake.”
She folded her hands over the embroidery hoop, her fingertips steady on the taut linen.
“Mrs. Blackstone was not what she seemed. During her time here last year, she developed an attachment to Mr. Haldridge. When she returned this year, I realized it was more than infatuation. It had become an ambition. She knew that I often come to the hedge maze very early in the morning. At times, she would meet me here, where she shared her hopes with me, as she did with very few others. Mr. Haldridge,” she said, turning her gaze to the man, whose face was pale and tense, “encouraged her when it suited him and dismissed her when it did not. The previous morning, she had confided that later in the day, he would meet her here on Rosings’ grounds.
I knew such a meeting would intensify her hopes beyond what they had ever been before. ”
Mr. Haldridge’s jaw twitched, but he made no reply.
“If they had married,” Mrs. Jenkinson said, “Miss Anne’s future would have been destroyed.
Willow Grange is the only estate within fifty miles that is suitable to Miss Anne’s rank.
Mr. Haldridge was the only one left which Lady Catherine would accept as a match.
With Mrs. Blackstone as its mistress, Miss Anne would have had no prospects at all.
None.” Her voice, which had carried a gentle, almost hypnotic certainty until now, grew harder.
“I was tasked to protect Miss Anne. That is what companions are for. It is why we exist.”
Miss de Bourgh made a sound—not a word, but a sharp, indrawn breath, as if she had been struck. She did not look at Mrs. Jenkinson. She turned her head aside, chin trembling, hands pressed white-knuckled around the hem of her shawl.
Elizabeth felt a strange, cold sorrow on behalf of both women. There was nothing false in the devotion, nor anything triumphant in the confession. If anything, Mrs. Jenkinson appeared relieved finally to speak the truth aloud.
Lady Catherine brought her cane down upon the flagstone with a sharp crack. “Enough!”
The word echoed through the maze.
“Mrs. Jenkinson, you have disgraced yourself. You have betrayed my household. From this moment forward, you will have no further communication with Anne.”
The coroner nodded to his clerk, who finished his note and, with a flourish, blotted the page. Securing his writing desk within his satchel, he then said to Mrs. Jenkinson, “You will come with me, madam. The authorities will arrange your accommodations until this matter is brought before a judge.”
The footman, who had until now blended into the yew shadow, advanced with an awkward deference, as if uncertain whether to offer his arm or to follow.
Mrs. Jenkinson surprised everyone by standing before anyone could help her.
She placed her embroidery hoop on the edge of the fountain—not flung or cast aside, but set with care, as though she meant for Miss de Bourgh to pick it up before leaving.
She smoothed her gray skirt, looked once more at the little marble cherub, and then at her former charge—and, finally, at Elizabeth.
“You are an exceptionally clever young woman, Miss Bennet,” she said gently. “And I believe you are also kind. I hope you will make good use of your talents.”
Elizabeth found she could not speak. She only nodded.
Mrs. Jenkinson turned and allowed herself to be led from the circle, her steps unhurried, her posture straight.
When she passed Lady Catherine, there was no change of expression on either face.
When she passed Miss de Bourgh, there was the faintest pause, but Miss de Bourgh did not look up.
It was only as Mrs. Jenkinson reached the first turn of the maze, shadow enveloping her, that Elizabeth saw Miss de Bourgh bring her hand to her face, pressing it hard against her mouth to keep from crying out.
The group remained, for a time, exactly as they had been—as if held in amber by the aftermath.
The coroner conferred briefly with his clerk, then with Mr. Darcy, then departed with a stiff bow to Lady Catherine.
Mr. Haldridge left next, after a stilted apology for Lady Catherine, a bowed head to Miss de Bourgh, and an unreadable look to Elizabeth—something halfway between gratitude and fear.
The colonel offered his arm to Charlotte, murmured something about strong drink and the virtues of a long walk, and steered her out of the maze.
Mr. Collins, still dumbstruck, was gently propelled by Charlotte’s movement and followed in their wake.
Lady Catherine stood. She remained near the bench, cane planted in front of her, hands tight on its silver head. She stared at the fountain, at her daughter, at nothing. After a full minute, she addressed her daughter without turning. “Come, child. It is over.”
Miss de Bourgh obeyed, gathering her shawl and following her mother, her steps uncertain but her head held high.
In the sudden hush, Elizabeth realized she had scarcely breathed.
She let out a slow breath.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
She turned.
Mr. Darcy looked upon her with a gentleness she had never seen in him. Without a word, he offered his arm.
She took it.
They walked out of the maze together, unhurried, her hand resting lightly on his sleeve. Their steps fell into an easy rhythm.
Beyond the yew hedges, the lawn stretched before them, washed in the last pale gold of the evening sun.
Elizabeth drew a long breath, the air fresh after the closeness of the hedge maze.
Mr. Darcy’s hand came to rest over hers for the briefest moment.
She looked up.
He smiled, saying nothing.
She smiled in return.
And together, they walked on.