Chapter Thirteen
The Bingleys scarcely had time to hurry out of their home before the coach had come to a halt and one of the liveried footmen had opened its door to reveal Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Mr. Bingley, holding out his hands to his old friend. “How excellent to see you!—but why did you not tell us you were coming?”
“I believe he wished to surprise us,” said Mrs. Bingley, who instantly sensed that her letter had done the work of summoning Mr. Darcy hence.
Despite the inevitable dust and weariness of travel, Mr. Darcy maintained his usual correctness.
“When we learned of the shocking deaths here, Mrs. Darcy and I felt one of us should be near to support Jonathan in his endeavors. She has remained with Georgiana. Given the grave circumstances, I trust you will forgive me this impetuosity.”
“You need never ask forgiveness for visiting us,” Mr. Bingley said, “though I must prove a poor host on this occasion, for every bedroom at Netherfield is currently occupied. I fear you shall be obliged to stay at Longbourn.”
Only someone who knew Mr. Darcy very intimately would have recognized how he absorbed this blow. “Ah. Then I shall send notice to the Bennets immediately. They will then have at least one afternoon’s notice, which is more than I offered to you.”
“Come in, come in,” urged Mrs. Bingley. “You will wish to refresh yourself.”
As she had feared he would, Mr. Darcy replied, “First of all, I must speak with my son.”
One moment, Jonathan had been as happily engaged as it was possible to be, both in the sense of being secretly affianced and in expending all his mental energies in the worthy service of investigating a murder.
In the next, he had been snatched from these endeavors and delivered to the study to face his newly arrived, and very much aggrieved, father.
“Jonathan, we must talk,” said Mr. Darcy, though he then hesitated. “You are feeling—you are well? Your wound does not—?”
“I am fully recovered, as I have been for some time, Father,” Jonathan replied.
He knew what was coming, knew the justice of his own position, and yet the suddenness of it all, and its extremity, threatened to overwhelm him.
Already his heart beat faster, stray noises seemed louder, and his eyes would not fix upon his parent.
Reassured of his son’s fitness to be castigated, Mr. Darcy began.
“Given the circumstances, I do not intend to chastise you for not informing us of the murders here at Netherfield. Although I would have been well able to hear it, your mother’s fear for your well-being—heightened as it has been these many months—would have been unendurable. You no doubt wished to protect her.”
“Of course,” Jonathan said, though the words were but a way to fill the brief pause. He could not collect himself. For Miss Tilney’s sake, he must, but everything was happening so very quickly!
Mr. Darcy clasped his hands behind his back, a sign that a lengthy lecture was forthcoming.
“What troubles me far more is that your silence has also been the concealment of Miss Tilney’s presence.
Knowing our objections, knowing the impossibility of any further connection between you, you have nonetheless brought the girl back into a situation that can only add to her infamy. ”
Though Jonathan remained much overwhelmed, he found his tongue.
“You know that we conduct these investigations together. Her thoughts, her observations, add greatly to the understanding of such mysteries as we attempt to unravel. Furthermore, many questions must be asked of ladies that I could never presume to speak aloud. Without Miss Tilney’s assistance in these matters, I do not know whether the truth should ever be known.
Would you deny my uncle and aunt the best help they could be given? ”
Mr. Darcy tilted his head, acknowledging the point without softening his stance.
“Miss Tilney’s ability in such matters has never been in question.
The salient point is that the connection, though an assistance to the Bingleys, is not beneficial to the young lady’s reputation, which has been damaged enough already.
Nor can it be conducive to your own peace of mind. ”
How Jonathan wished he could loosen his cravat. “If I wish to risk my peace of mind, and Miss Tilney does not consider this a blemish upon her honor—which I would not think likely for any person of worth—then that is the end of the matter, is it not?”
“No, for gravest of all is the fact that you have been dishonest,” said Mr. Darcy.
“You have kept a secret from me and your mother, knowing that we would wish to have this information, solely because you did not want to hear what we would then have to say. This secrecy is beneath you, Jonathan. To lie by omission, to be so dishonest with your parents, is a sin against your filial duty.”
All of this was true, and its truth silenced all else that Jonathan wished to say, even that which was most important—for he knew he now kept another secret, one far greater, and thus the even more serious sin.
Before he could collect himself, his father simply inclined his head and left the study, so that Jonathan stood alone.
For her part, Juliet felt all aflutter—worried for Jonathan, worried that the investigation should be interrupted, worried even that Mr. Darcy would upbraid her for her impudence.
Given the secret engagement between herself and Mr. Jonathan Darcy, his father’s opinion meant a great deal to her, and she feared this sudden appearance meant that his disapproval was more severe than she had feared—and she had feared much.
However, when Mr. Darcy emerged from the study, he came immediately to greet her. “Miss Tilney. I trust you are well?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She was proud that her voice did not tremble. “Thank you. I trust you and Mrs. Darcy keep well also?”
“Indeed. Thank you for your assistance to the Bingleys in this matter. I am certain it is much appreciated.” With that, Mr. Darcy walked away, the conversation ended. He had been entirely civil—no less, but also no more. Juliet resolved to be content with this for the time being.
When Jonathan Darcy came forth, however, he looked so pale, so overcome, that she was reminded of his pallor after the shooting. As he came toward her, she said, “And now, Mr. Darcy?”
“And now—” He swallowed hard, then collected himself. “Now let us return to our investigations.” All else, she realized, must wait. This alone would clarify their thoughts, steady their purpose, and ease some small measure of the suspense occasioned by his father’s arrival.
Given their mutual state of mind, Juliet thought it wisest that they should begin by questioning the two persons who had been seen near the stable on the day of the dyeing, for they seemed likeliest to have good reason to have been there.
“Yes, Miss Tilney, I did travel into Meryton that day, as I have on some other occasions since we arrived at Netherfield,” said Mr. Lofton.
Juliet and Jonathan had reclaimed the study as their own, though the open door felt more intrusive than it had before.
“Mrs. Lofton wished for a few trifles, so I visited the shop of Mrs. Mount. My wife would have happily gone herself, but like as not would have purchased half its contents. Furthermore, I wished to ride. One should relish the fine days of autumn.” He smiled as though remembering the scent of fresh air.
“All these particulars can be confirmed by Mrs. Lofton, Mrs. Mount, and the stableboy, if need be.”
This forthrightness was, rather unexpectedly, not echoed by Mr. Bingley, who submitted to their questions afterward. “Ah. Yes. Well. I needed to speak with the head groom, and with Mr. Burton. On matters of estate business, you know.”
Jonathan Darcy asked, “Would you not normally meet with them in your study?”
“Of course, but on that day, well. Given everything going on.” Mr. Bingley appeared positively sheepish.
Juliet had never thought of her host as a likely suspect in either of the murders, but his failure to be forthcoming she found both displeasing and ominous. “Will you not tell us what you met with them about?”
“A new horse, of course.” Mr. Bingley then leaned forward and whispered, “You must both understand that there are certain secrets a gentleman must keep from his wife. Let us not discuss that further. But of course none of this had aught to do with the fate of poor Becky.”
After Mr. Bingley had gone, Juliet said, “I must confess I am…disappointed in Mr. Bingley.”
“I cannot believe he conceals anything so wicked,” said Mr. Darcy, “though I admit there is no reason he could not discuss the acquisition of a horse in front of my aunt.”
“Still,” she said, “that, too, can be confirmed with the groom or the steward.”
Juliet further considered that even with such errands as these two gentlemen had described, it would have been but the work of an instant to step toward the dyeing area and steal the sash.
But seeing Jonathan so forlorn—still so very uncertain after the terrible interaction with his father—she felt the point could be raised later.
For now, she simply laid her hand on his arm for a moment, so that they might find some brief measure of peace together.
Never let it be said that the appearance of Fitzwilliam Darcy failed to delight Caroline Allerdyce.
Though her aspirations now rested upon her younger daughter rather than herself, her zeal remained unabated; and where this was the case, she tended to fall back into unfortunate conversational habits.
“Mr. Darcy! How fortunate for us all that you have joined our party!” Caroline gestured toward the chair near her and her husband. “We have become a very sad lot, and the honor of your company is just the thing to cheer us.”
“I should imagine cheer to be very far from possible for the bereaved at present,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Good afternoon, Mr. Allerdyce.”