Chapter Five
Miss Tilney’s refusal to speak of their connection discouraged Jonathan Darcy, but only briefly.
The look in her eyes, the tone of her voice suggested that her sentiments were much the same as his.
A few years prior, he would not have trusted his judgment in this matter, but that had changed—partly because of Miss Tilney, and the greater experience and confidence he had gained from their investigations.
The difference between word and feeling both tantalized and tormented him.
Most young persons in similar straits would have been rendered nigh unintelligible with suspense.
However, Jonathan had learned that he had a superior ability to set aside such upset for a moment—as though placing it in a box, to save for later—and to attend to more important matters, such as the precise circumstances of Mr. Hurst’s death.
“It happened here, in the breakfast room,” he said to Miss Tilney as he showed her in. “The room has not been set for breakfast since, as you can well imagine.”
“Indeed. I should suppose all would insist on taking their morning meal elsewhere for months to come.”
“To the contrary—now that you are come, Aunt Jane has ordered that normal dining is to resume. With two investigators at hand, I believe she feels safer.” Jonathan hoped his aunt’s faith was justified.
He stepped farther into the room, gesturing to the oaken sideboards.
“On this longer wall, the breakfast is set out to be taken whenever guests choose. Over here, opposite the window, are set out china cups and an urn of coffee. Those who prefer tea instead obtain this, freshly brewed, from the servants.”
He was unsurprised when Miss Tilney immediately understood the importance of this. “Was Mr. Hurst known to drink coffee at breakfast instead of tea?”
How proud Jonathan was of the notes he had taken! “Yes, invariably, but he was not unique in doing so. My uncle and the Loftons both take coffee in the mornings as well. My aunt Jane drinks only tea. Apparently Mrs. Hurst’s choice varies from morning to morning.”
Miss Tilney had walked to the coffee stain on the rug, which had gone uncleaned at Jonathan’s request. “Was Mr. Hurst the first to enter the breakfast room that day, besides the servants?”
“Yes, so far as is known. Yet it would not have been difficult for anyone to slip in after the room had been made ready, for the door would have been open, and the servants are required to enter and remain only after the first guest arrives.” This was generous of his aunt and uncle, for many fine houses required servants to stand at the ready for hours before guests appeared for breakfast, if indeed they appeared at all.
“The servants are of course alert for the guests’ arrival, but anyone familiar with the patterns and schedules of the household would have known when an opportune moment was likely to arise. ”
“Which indicates that the poisoner was indeed a longtime guest of the household or a servant.” Miss Tilney frowned.
“Often magistrates and constables are too eager to believe that a servant must be the villain, rather than a member of the gentry, a prejudice most unjust. And yet we have learned that the staff cannot be excluded from our considerations…”
“Indeed not,” Jonathan said. “Though the generous wages of this household strongly suggest that none of the servants would strike out at random in any attempt to discredit the Bingleys.”
“So if our killer is a servant, it would be one with a grievance against Mr. Hurst alone.” Miss Tilney’s mental energies appeared to be fully awakened, as she proved by asking, “He was overtaken by the poison swiftly?”
“Very much so—after perhaps half an hour’s time, perhaps more, according to the servant girl. He died as rapidly as did the late Mrs. Willoughby.”
Miss Tilney grimaced at the reminder of that unfortunate woman’s gruesome demise. “Were the coffee cups aligned in such a way as to make it clear which cup was to be first chosen?”
“Indeed they were. In a sort of triangle, one cup in front, two behind, so on and so forth. The arsenic was placed in the foremost cup. That would not make it absolutely certain to be the first used, but highly likely.”
“Nonetheless, it suggests a disturbing nonchalance on the part of the poisoner. One would think that any chance of killing the wrong person would discourage most. But then, anyone willing to commit murder is already careless of human life.” Miss Tilney tapped her fingers on the sideboard, an unexpected gesture, informal, the sort of thing genteel people reserved for their family and intimates.
Jonathan was therefore encouraged. She turned to him, eyes alight with realization.
“Was Mr. Hurst always the first to rise in the morning?”
Jonathan had known she would ask. “Indeed, no. In fact, he was almost always the last to rise, probably due to his overindulgence in drink. In other words, we cannot be certain Mr. Hurst was the intended victim.”
How this information struck her! For the first time since her arrival at Netherfield Park, Miss Tilney smiled—not the expression of happiness but of astonishment and wonder, of eagerness to learn more.
Though the great injustice she had suffered had left its mark, her character and courage remained the same.
“Then who was generally first to appear?”
“My aunt Jane, but as she invariably drinks tea in the mornings, the poisoner would have known her to be safe from it.”
“You must realize this would also give her opportunity.”
“Miss Tilney, I must say again: Let us investigate thoroughly, but I am entirely certain the culprit is not Aunt Jane.” Grateful for evidence to support this assertion, Jonathan added, “Besides, it was her cry of alarm upon discovering Mr. Hurst’s body that drew me and others to the breakfast room.
Were she guilty of the deed, would she not have delayed until she could hide or clean the offending cup?
Why alert others before removing all evidence? ”
“You make an excellent point, Mr. Darcy. It is not conclusive of her innocence but highly suggestive of it.” With every minute that passed, with every question she asked, Miss Tilney’s spirits and color seemed to improve.
“Next we must learn whether anyone would’ve had reason to expect Mr. Hurst to be up early that morning, or whether that person believed someone else would rise even earlier. ”
Jane Bingley had been told by her nephew that questioning must occur, that this was a critical part of every investigation, a key to finding the truth.
Though still she found it difficult to believe that any of her guests could be a murderer, she was determined to cooperate in every possible way, so that the truth might be known beyond any doubt.
Alone among her family, Jane had never considered Jonathan’s temperament anything so out of the ordinary as to be worthy of comment, and since his majority she had always put much faith in his judgment.
If he determined that questioning was necessary, then she would comply, and as hostess encourage all others to do so.
Such encouragement took the form of offering to answer questions first.
“How very strange it all is,” Jane said, looking at Jonathan and Miss Tilney, each of whom sat in a chair opposite her in Charles’s study.
She thought only how kind it was of them to allow her the pretty view from the window, never realizing that they wished to watch her expressions in the best light possible.
“To think that anyone would be so unkind to Mr. Hurst!”
“Did you ever find him to be a difficult guest?” Miss Tilney asked.
Ever tactful, Jane chose her words carefully.
“Mr. Hurst was clear about which pursuits did and did not interest him. As his hostess, I made certain that his every visit would contain a shooting party if weather allowed, card playing in the evening, and handsome meals and drink. With this he was ever content.”
Jonathan asked, more boldly than was his wont, “Mr. Hurst often drank to excess, did he not?”
“I do not care to sit in judgment,” Jane said, “but I did sometimes think that it would have been much better for his health had he been more moderate.”
Her nephew would of course have known this for himself, as he proved by then asking, “In my recollection, when Mr. Hurst had drunk too much, he became quiet and inattentive. Was this invariably so? Or did he ever become agitated, perhaps argumentative?”
How awful to think on it, and how much worse to have to tell it!
Yet Jane would not fail to do her duty. “On occasion, yes. But his pronouncements were always—oh, which horse was likely to win at the races, or his opinion of which were the best shoemakers in London, that sort of thing. He could be forceful in such matters, and sometimes it seemed to me he wished conflict for its own sake. Yet the subjects involved were not the sort that cause any lasting ill feeling. Certainly I cannot imagine them inspiring anyone to so grievous an act as murder.”
Miss Tilney’s bloom had returned. Jane saw this with relief; how wan the girl had looked this morning! Tea and a nap had done the trick. With confidence, Miss Tilney asked, “Forgive me, Mrs. Bingley, but was there truly no one with whom you felt Mr. Hurst did not get on with well?”
Jane considered this. “On the rare occasions he became difficult, he could be very challenging toward the men in the party, regardless of who they were. Women, he did not take so much account of.”
Jonathan was taking notes, which seemed to Jane admirably purposeful if not entirely genteel. “Did he ever challenge Uncle Charles?”
“Oh, at times.” Jane’s face felt hot. “Shortly after they arrived for this visit, there was some manner of discord between them—I know not what. To Charles, I know, the difficulty was of no great account, but Mr. Hurst could be single-minded on occasion.”