Chapter Sixteen #2
Juliet had considered this. If Becky had truly known who killed Mr. Hurst, and had been willing to keep that secret for the sake of money, then it could not be denied that this was sinful.
Yet, in her newly disowned state, Juliet could better appreciate how someone might jump at a comfortable living that would otherwise be forever denied her.
However, that had been a matter of not speaking. “Poking one’s nose in” would refer to action rather than inaction, would it not? “Where did they think she was poking her nose in, exactly?” Juliet asked. “If you don’t mind telling me.”
Kate shrugged. “She was talking with upstairs folk too much of late. It’s one thing to exchange a friendly word now and again, like you and me here, but over and over? Just asking for trouble, I say.”
“Who, exactly, was Becky speaking with? Do you know?”
“Well, she was delivering messages for Mrs. Hurst. Why Mrs. Hurst had so much to say she couldn’t say in the post, I could not begin to guess, but Becky carried notes for her at least three times. I know she delivered at least one message to Mr. Lofton.”
Is this more evidence of a connection between Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Brooks? Juliet wondered. But who should be attempting to contact Mr. Lofton in secret?
Kate, having warmed to her subject, continued as she buttoned the back of Juliet’s dress.
“Seems as Mrs. Lofton must have found whatever note it was, because Stewart and I saw her giving Becky a piece of her mind once, maybe the day before Mr. Hurst died.” She paused as she finished, then added, “Of course, Becky talked to Mr. Bingley for a bit the day before she died, but that’s not so unusual, I would suppose. ”
“Thank you, Kate,” Juliet said. She had been given much to think upon, and her mind, weary of its own troubles, was eager to return to the investigation at hand.
No sooner had she descended to breakfast than Jonathan Darcy arrived at Netherfield.
Juliet’s first response was joy at seeing her beloved—then an eagerness to talk through much of what she had just learned—but as he sat at the table near her, she saw how very much downcast he was.
“Mr. Darcy?” Juliet said. “I trust you slept well?”
“I do not think I slept a single hour, Miss Tilney.” This was not mere wit, she realized; something weighed heavily on his heart, even more heavily than anything of which she had already heard.
They should have to absent themselves very shortly, she realized. Her first impulse was not merely to hear Jonathan’s troubles but also to share her own. Could they not console each other, find greater strength together than either could alone?
Yet Juliet feared that perhaps they could not.
Jonathan could become overwhelmed so very easily, and if a surfeit of sound and movement could undo him, how much more difficult must it be for him to bear troubles that would strain any person to extremity?
So she resolved to carry her own burden alone for a time longer, the better to aid he whom she loved.
Jonathan was grateful for the speed and tact with which Juliet hastened their retreat into the study, for his spirits were too low for much pretense at normality.
How glad he was that he had long ago told Juliet the whole truth regarding Susannah!
He did not think he could’ve borne recounting it all again.
“You are not to blame,” Juliet insisted gently. “Your mistake was made in innocence.”
“No, I did not know how angry Mr. Wickham would be, but I ought to have known.”
“Many would have suspected he would be displeased to hear of his daughter’s change of affections, all the more because he would have known that change to be justified.
But I can scarcely believe that anyone would believe a father to risk his daughter’s life for that alone.
The extremity of Mr. Wickham’s response, the unfeeling selfishness he then displayed—that, I do not think any person would have expected. ”
“My father does not see it so,” Jonathan said. “He turned from me as though he never again wished to see me. Perhaps he does not. Perhaps he will always and forever think of me first as the person who caused Susannah’s death.”
Juliet shook her head. “You are his beloved son. He will know that again. In truth, I am sure he knows it even now. You must give him a chance to reckon with the grief he must still feel for your poor cousin.”
“I hope you are right. You usually are.”
She reached out her hand, giving Jonathan the choice of whether or not to take it.
He found that he did wish for physical contact—that he would find such comforting, rather than distressing—but felt as though he were on the precipice of being overcome.
So he moved very slowly to take her hand in his, to raise it toward his face, and then, very gradually and gently, to press it against his cheek.
In that moment, for the first and last time in some while, Jonathan felt some measure of true peace.
—
Once he had calmed himself, Juliet told him of her conversation with the maid that morning. “The delivering and receiving of messages, we ought to have guessed at before,” she said. “It would, for instance, explain why Mrs. Hurst sometimes ventured out of doors early in the mornings.”
“I saw her once returning in a carriage, also early in the day,” Jonathan replied. “Perhaps that, too, was a day on which she had important information to convey—most likely to Mr. Brooks—but Becky was caught up in her duties and unable to help.”
“We should speak to everyone about their conversations with Becky, to learn more about what sorts of messages she carried.”
Jonathan saw the sense in this immediately, but found he could not abide the thought of remaining in Netherfield throughout the day.
The previous night’s turmoil had rendered him both weary and restless.
Worse, his father was likely to come to Netherfield no later than afternoon.
They had avoided each other this morning, and Jonathan felt sure the desire to continue such avoidance was mutual.
When he explained as much to Juliet, she reflected for a few moments before saying, “You cannot forever delay meeting your father again, but perhaps it is best that you both have some time to gain calm.”
“I should go into Meryton,” Jonathan suggested.
“We have not done so thus far, but I could confirm that those who have claimed to be at that town on certain days were in fact there.” Already they had confirmed goings and comings with the groom, but it did not follow that because a person had left Netherfield, they had necessarily gone to Meryton; other destinations were possible, and could prove enlightening.
Juliet agreed immediately. “You must also find out more of this Mrs. Mount. If she is the ‘Nancy’ of which your uncle and aunt have both referred—”
“It could have nothing to do with the murders,” Jonathan said. The mere thought of duplicity from his uncle unnerved him.
Understanding this, Juliet replied, “Then more investigation of it is for the better, so that Mr. Bingley’s innocence could be proved.”
So it was that by midmorning, Jonathan had ridden into Meryton.
In his boyhood, he remembered the place as bustling and lively, and his mother had often said that during the militia’s stay there, Meryton had very nearly become a city.
Yet it seemed quiet to him now, almost sleepy.
Was this merely because he had more basis for comparison?
Or were more people leaving Meryton than being born into it?
This demographical question, though mildly interesting to Jonathan, was a matter for another day.
He went from inn to pub to stable yard, asking those in employ there about persons from Netherfield who had been seen about of late.
Mr. Burton, the steward, had indeed come through on business for Mr. Bingley, though no one knew for what.
Both Mr. Lofton and Mrs. Hurst had been seen traveling through town on the western road that led toward the church.
Next to the church was the vicarage inhabited by his aunt Kitty and Mr. Brooks.
I believe the Brookses have played a bigger role in this than Juliet and I had yet reckoned with, Jonathan thought.
Finally he resolved to stop at the shop operated by Mrs. Mount, to determine whether Mr. Lofton had in truth purchased items there on the day he claimed…and to see whether this “Nancy” could possibly be the one who might have come between his uncle Bingley and aunt Jane.