3. Chapter 3
Charles’s men jumped into action, creating a perimeter around the door to the breakfast room so nobody could get in.
I tried to get around them to see if I recognized the victim, but they quickly closed off the area before I could see anything except a glimpse of black satin. Charles was at my side in seconds.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
“When you were seven, what secret did you swear you’d never tell another soul?”
“That you broke into the Woodsdale’s house and stole their dog after you saw them beating it.”
His posture relaxed, though his brow was still creased with worry.
“Charles, Why are you verifying my identity? Was someone really killed?”
“Yes, a woman is dead.”
A jolt of shock and sorrow ran through me. “Tell me what happened.”
“It appears that she was hit on the back of the head. I promise I’ll catch you up on everything, but right now I need to secure the area. You go salvage your party.”
Seeing Charles’s worry amplified mine, but my voice was steady when I said, “Okay. I’ll help keep everyone calm while we wait for the police.”
He looked me over one last time as though making sure I really was okay, then hurried off as Lady Catherine approached me with steely eyes.
“This is the worst, most poorly executed party I have ever seen. And to think, your brother is charged with protecting my nephew, the prince. I’ve never been so outraged. ”
I drew a breath, not knowing what I could possibly say when Sydney stepped right in front of me.
“Caroline, you’re needed over there.” She gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Lady Catherine,” Sydney said, guiding her to a leather wingback chair, “your comfort and security is our highest priority. I’ll remain with you while you are here at Netherfield.
” The house conjured a steaming mug, which Sydney handed to Lady Catherine.
Grateful to Sydney for giving me an escape, I hurried over to the other side of the room. How could this have happened? I hadn’t even thought to arrange security measures, assuming that Charles would take care of it like he usually did. I should have done more.
“Maybe Caroline was the one who did it.” A woman a few feet from me spoke to a group of ladies. She spoke softly, but my fae ears picked up each word. “Did you know that her sister tried to kill a witch? It was a pathetic attempt to get the crown prince to fall in love with Caroline.”
I froze, feeling numb and utterly disconnected from my body. Like my spirit was no longer attached to it and I could just float away and disappear.
Another woman laughed. “No, but I heard that since she was disinherited she’s been leeching off her brother.”
Not daring to meet anyone’s eye, I studied the floor. The numb feeling continued through my body even as a weight sank into my chest so forcefully my breaths came out shallow. I had failed, spectacularly and publicly, and someone had died.
A warm hand touched my shoulder, and with effort, I focused on Jack’s handsome face.
“Breathe,” he said, his voice softer and gentler than down-filled velvet.
Several deep breaths later, the feeling returned to my limbs.
Jack slowly placed a hand under my chin and tilted it up.
He leaned in, his breath warming the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Come on, Vixen, keep your chin up. These people are looking to you for reassurance. Show them that Caroline Bingley can handle anything.”
The weight pressing on my chest dissipated, leaving an audacious hope that I could still salvage this. I shot Jack a grateful smile, squared my shoulders, and approached the group of women who were so critical of me.
“The area is secure and the police are on their way,” I told them, relieved when my voice came out sounding calm and steady. I met each of their eyes, unflinchingly. I would not be afraid of them or their judgment.
I found Mrs. Ponvale sitting by herself in a small armchair next to a fireplace that hadn’t been there this morning.
Apparently Netherfield felt she might be chilly.
Her short legs dangled a few inches above the ground.
Maybe I should purchase some furniture more appropriately sized for gnomes.
I placed my hand gently on her shoulder. “Can I get you anything, Gladys?”
“No, thank you dear, I’m all right. Just a little melancholy. It is a shame when a young life goes to waste.”
I patted her shoulder, unsure what to say but wanting to give her some measure of comfort.
The police came swiftly and spoke with Charles. I made my way through the guests, answering questions like “No, we don’t know who the victim was,” and “Yes, the police have asked that you all stay until they clear you to leave.”
Elizabeth stood in one corner, scratching words into a notebook.
I clenched my fists. No doubt she was planning the article she was going to write in the paper about this.
Though I knew Charles didn’t feel the same, as far as I was concerned, the sooner Jane recovered and the Bennet sisters went home, the better.
Hours dragged on as the police interviewed the guests and the room gradually emptied as people were excused. Finally, only myself, Sydney, and Charles remained.
“You’re a hero for sticking with Lady Catherine that whole time,” I told Sydney.
“I know how important working for her is to you. I don’t know why though, she really is quite pompous and self-aggrandizing.”
“You’re right about all those things. But she’s also very influential. Her approval would go a long way toward restoring my reputation and building a name for myself. She’s the path to independence, Sydney.”
Charles strode up to me and gave me a quick hug. “Hey, I’m sorry that took so long. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. I’ve spoken with the pilot, he’s able to take off within the hour. Will that give you enough time to get all packed? I’m sending you to Paris.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not going to Paris.”
“Then choose somewhere else, but you can’t stay here.”
I drew a breath, preparing to fight him on it but he shook his head. “Carl, you don’t understand. The woman who died—she’d been glamoured to look exactly like you.” He rested both of his hands on my shoulders. “Somebody tried to kill you . And they may try to strike again.”