Chapter 11
Lunch would have passed uneventfully -no dead bodies were found- if it weren't for the little scene performed by Miss de Bourgh during dessert upon learning that Colonel Fitzwilliam was leaving for the mainland as soon as the tides allowed it. The vessel was ready and only the difficulty of navigating it out of the port had prevented the captain from sailing to Aberaeron at that precise moment."But why you? Why don't you send someone else?" cried Ann on hearing the news, "tis too dangerous!"
"We decided it that way," the colonel spoke soothingly.
"I do not recall being consulted on this matter."
"Fitzwilliam and I decided this, Ann," Darcy interjected, "we cannot let another day pass without reporting your mother's death."
"Then you go if it is so urgent." Ann snapped. "Why does it always have to be Richard? I don't want him to go. I don't want him to die because of her!"
"Dearest," the colonel attempted to convince her, "nothing will happen to me. The weather is improving and there is no danger …"
"Improving? Look at the sky! It is getting dark again! You know how dangerous the tides are. Nothing will happen if we wait for another day. She is already dead!"
"Ann, Darcy is right, we must report this incident as soon as may be."
To everyone's surprise, Ann rose to her feet, pushing noisily the chair on which she was sitting. "Then go, and drown in the sea if that is your wish. Even dead she is controlling our lives!"
She ran out of the room, and after exchanging a frustrated glance with his other cousin, Fitzwilliam went after her.
There was a deafening silence at the table, as those who remained did not dare to comment on what they had just witnessed. It was Charlotte who broke the silence when, as a sort of distraction, she commented on how remarkably well cooked their meal was and the inconveniences that the cook must have gone through to produce such an excellent stew when there was so little chance to obtain fresh ingredients because of the weather. Even Maria, whose voice was hardly heard when in the presence of the gentlemen, seconded her sister's statement with a brief 'indeed, that must have been a lot of trouble'. A few minutes later, when they finished taking their nourishment, Darcy escorted the ladies to the sitting room, where they would spend the rest of the afternoon.
"Miss Bennet," said Darcy as they walked down the corridor, "please do not leave the room if not absolutely necessary. Try to convince your friends to do the same. You will be much safer if you remain together."
"Are you leaving, sir?" there was a hint of fear in her voice.
"No, but I must attend some matters before my cousin departs. But do not feel uneasy." Darcy noticed her distress, "I do not think there is much cause for alarm, yet, I would prefer that you and your friends remain in each other's company."
"All right, sir."
"In case you need me, you can send word to my manservant and he will find me."
They had reached the sitting room and Darcy remained with them only for a moment, seeing that the ladies were comfortable and that all their needs were attended. He was quite pleased that Elizabeth had not vacated his side the entire time he stayed there and felt a very rewarding sensation when she accompanied him to the door when he left.
"Please be careful, sir," Elizabeth bid him good-bye.
"I will."
"Shall we see you at suppertime?"
"I hope so."
She bestowed on him a brilliant smile which Darcy returned with equal delight. He looked at Charlotte and Maria for one last bow and only then he realized that there was something that had escaped his notice during the entire day.
"Where's Collins?" he asked.
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose in surprise, and looked around, also noticing for the very first time that the parson had not been seen since the previous evening. "I do not know. The last time I have seen him was yesterday, during supper."
Darcy frowned. "So have I."
"Do you think something has happened to him?" Elizabeth enquired with concern.
"I cannot say, though it will be better if I search for him."
"I will ask Mrs. Collins if she knows of his whereabouts."
"Be discreet, try not to alarm her."
Elizabeth nodded and Darcy bowed his head in farewell. Once he was gone, Elizabeth returned to her friends and took the lead in the tiresome task of making idle conversation. It did not take long until Charlotte directed the discussion towards a certain subject she was very interested in learning more.
"I see you have forgotten about your prejudices against Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. You two appear to be developing a pleasant friendship."
Her friend looked down. "I have realized that I was wrong about him. He is an honourable man."
"And such a good prospect. I feared that you would drive him away with your impertinence, but fortunately the gentleman's admiration for you had not been affected by the few confrontations you two had in the past."
Elizabeth smiled nervously at her friend's remark. "You are mistaken, Charlotte. Mr. Darcy is not attracted to me in the least. If we appear to be much closer now it is only because the latest circumstances have thrown us together, that is all."
Charlotte could only laugh at her Elizabeth's inability to see what was obvious to her. "You are indeed a simpleton, Lizzy. I cannot understand why is that you still deny that he is completely besotted with you."
This time Elizabeth did not reply, fearing that her words would give away the growing attraction she was feeling for the gentleman. She too had noticed that Darcy had been particularly attentive to her in the latest hours, but given the uncertainty of their current situations, she could not dare to hope of being the recipient of his affection. To her fortune, Charlotte dropped the matter of Darcy's supposed admiration for her and the discussion took another turn.
"Poor Miss de Bourgh," said Mrs. Collins, "she became so altered to learn of the Colonel's departure."
Elizabeth assented quietly and Maria did not say a word; only chewed her lower lip.
"Surely she is still much affected by her mother's death," Charlotte proceeded. "No matter how malicious Lady Catherine was, she was still her mother. Fortunately, her cousins are here to take care of her. I am impressed with how very protective they are of her, specially the Colonel."
To the ladies astonishment, Maria covered her face with her hands and broke in anguished sobs.
"Maria, what's wrong?" cried Charlotte.
It took the girl a moment to regain her composure enough to speak, and when she finally did, her words shocked the other two. "He killed her!"
"What?" they cried in astonishment.
"The Colonel killed Lady Catherine!"
"Maria," Elizabeth said, "that is a heavy accusation, indeed. Are you certain?"
"Yes! I heard him say he would kill Lady Catherine if she insisted on her idea of marrying Miss de Bourgh to Mr. Darcy."
"What? When?"
"On Sunday, after playing Blind man's buff. I was walking by the maze and I saw him kissing Miss de Bourgh behind the bushes. They are lovers!"
Miss Lucas proceeded to tell the scene she had witnessed with great detail, some of which were not exactly faithful to the real facts, and especially exaggerating the part in which the Colonel 'implied' that he would use his sword to terminate Lady Catherine's life if she dared to separate him from Miss de Bourgh. The other two recognized the dramatic effect that the young girl was adding to the tale and tried not to be driven by Maria's impressionable mind.
"I think he is trying to escape before the constable arrives. That is why he is so eager to leave the island in the middle of the storm."
"Maria," said Charlotte, "Colonel Fitzwilliam comes from a noble, respectable family. He would never do that."
"I agree with Charlotte, I am sure that he did not mean what you heard, at least not the way you heard it," said Elizabeth, recognizing in Maria's words the same quickness of judgement she had had when condemning Darcy for the same crime. Still, Darcy too had voiced similar concerns regarding his cousin's possible participation in Lady Catherine's demise, so Maria's suspicions were not completely unfounded.
"We should not precipitate our judgements without proof" Charlotte stated. "I am sure the Colonel was just carried away by the circumstances."
"Carried away indeed," Maria recalled the ardent embrace the couple shared right before her eyes, "though I still think there is something about him that is not right. Sometimes, I feel that the affection that he appears to profess for Miss de Bourgh is not completely sincere."
"Do not forget that until two days ago, they had to keep their love in secrecy because Lady Catherine would never have consented to an alliance between the two of them. She was determined to marry Miss de Bourgh to Mr. Darcy."
Maria looked down. "I do not trust him either. Maybe all three of them are responsible for this crime."
"Mr. Darcy is not a murderer, that I can assure you."
Miss Lucas assented, but still looked unconvinced of Darcy's or the Colonel's innocence. The conversation died away and some time later Charlotte asked her sister to sit at the pianoforte to work on her scales. Now with the background noise produced by Maria, the conversation proceeded as follows,
"You are so dull lately, Charlotte," observed Elizabeth, "are you unwell?"
"I am not ill, if that is your concern, Lizzy, though I am not feeling well either. I do not feel comfortable here."
"Once you are in Hunsford, with your husband, you will be able to achieve some peace. I am of the impression that Miss de Bourgh will be a much better patroness than Lady Catherine ever was."
"I can't return to Hunsford, Lizzy. I am going to Meryton with you and Maria."
Elizabeth was surprised by her friend's determination to leave the island. "Do you think it is appropriate to leave Rosings so soon after Lady Catherine's death? I am certain that your husband will not deny you the right to visit your family, though I still think you should stay and support Miss de Bourgh's when assuming her duties as mistress of Rosings."
Charlotte could not contain her anguish anymore. "I can't stay here any longer. I am so scared."
"Scared? There is nothing to fear, Charlotte, you will be safe at home …"
"I have been trying to tell you this since yesterday morning but I did not find the chance to speak to you in private. Maria is always close to us, listening to everything I say so I couldn't tell you this sooner."
"What?"
"I know who killed Lady Catherine."
"Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow? The sea is too choppy."
"No, Darcy, this has to be done. If everything comes out all right, I will be back tomorrow afternoon, or on the following day, at the very least." The Colonel adjusted his cape around his neck to protect himself from the misty wind.
Darcy assented and introduced his hand inside his great coat from where he retrieved some letters. After instructing his cousin to deliver those for him, he wished him god-speed.
"Take care of Ann and the others. I leave them in your capable hands," Fitzwilliam said as he placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder.
"I will," Darcy imitated the gesture. "Take good care of yourself."
The Colonel climbed into the coach and once the door was closed, it began the slow, serpentine descent to the manor's private dock. Darcy remained on the road, observing it until it disappeared from sight, his mind occupied in all the contradictions and intricacies of this affair.
"I hope you come back, Richard," he muttered to himself. "If not, I swear I'll chase you around the world and make you pay for this."
A gush of cold air reminded him that he was out in the storm, and of all the things he still had to do. He glanced up at the southern wing of the manor, dark stone rising against the turbulent skies, firm in his determination of going to the end of this.
For a moment, Elizabeth was speechless. On seeing her friend's incredulous expression, Charlotte insisted. "I know who killed her."
Though almost afraid to ask, Elizabeth enquired all the same. "Who?"
"My husband," Charlotte said in between sobs. "Mr. Collins did it."
Elizabeth gasped. "Charlotte! It cannot be! He … he is a parson!"
"I can prove it, Lizzy. The night of Lady Catherine's death, when I returned to my room after our conversation, he was not there. I did not find anything strange about this, he told me he was going to the servant quarters to see after the injured footman, so I went directly to bed. He came back later and said something about being hungry and staying in the kitchen, I can't recall precisely, I was too sleepy, so I fell asleep again. Not much after we were awakened by the maid's screams."
"That is not enough to condemn him. Most of us were wandering the halls that night."
"When I returned to our room after comforting Miss de Bourgh, Mr. Collins was not there. But I saw his clothes on the chair. They were partially covered with one of the blankets, as if he were trying to hide them from me, but I saw them." Charlotte made sure that her sister was still playing before speaking. "The sleeves of his shirt were blotted with blood."
"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth.
"Fresh blood. You know how Lady Catherine used to mistreat him in front of everyone. On several occasions I heard him say he was tired of suffering such humiliations from her, that he would put an end to it. He even mentioned once that he would kill her if she continued to abuse him. I never believed he would do it, at the time I thought he was only saying this out of anger and frustration, but … when she was found dead … I knew it was him. He killed her."
Elizabeth could not deny that there was logic in Charlotte's reasoning, and recalling hearing a similar statement herself, she thought that her friend's conclusion did not appear to be so ill founded. Frowning, she tried to remember the last time she saw the parson. It was after supper, on the previous night. Charlotte and Maria retired early, followed by the parson, who left together with Mrs. Jenkinson.
Suddenly, everything became clear. Both Mr. Collins and Mrs. Jenkinson were behaving very strangely on the day that followed Lady Catherine's death. At the time Elizabeth did not pay much attention to them, she was too preoccupied with her own doubts about Mr. Darcy, but she did notice that both of them were not themselves. Mrs. Jenkinson was pale, apparently concerned, and Mr. Collins was nervous and always finding excuses to stay away from the party. What if Charlotte's theory was right? What if the parson killed Lady Catherine and, after being discovered by Mrs. Jenkinson, murdered the other lady, too? If she could only connect both deaths, prove that Mr. Collins was acquainted with the service area, that he could be the one who pushed Mrs. Jenkinson down the stairs, then she would have solved the crime.
"When did you last see him?"
"Last night, after supper. I decided I would sleep in Maria's room, I could not share the room with him, I was too afraid, so I left him a note, telling that I would spend the night with my sister. He knocked at our door later in the night, I thought he would ask me to return to our chambers, but he was very understanding of my choice. He even said it was a wise decision, claiming that I should not leave my sister alone and mentioned something about going to the kitchen, where he was to meet Mrs. Jenkinson. That was the last time I saw him."
"Mrs. Jenkinson?"
"Yes, that is what he said. I think he said that she asked him to meet her in the kitchen, I cannot recall precisely." Charlotte noticed that her friend had grown pale. "What, Lizzy? Why are you so concerned?"
"Oh, Charlotte," Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, "you don't know what happened."
"What?"
"Mrs. Jenkinson, she is dead."
The dark passages of Rosings had always incited Darcy's sense of adventure in the past but now, more than a decade since the last time he had crossed them, the excitement produced by those youthful games between cousins was now shadowed by the sombre circumstances that were now surrounding him. These stones on which he was stepping had been the escape route of a murderer and he was determined to go to the end of this to resolve this crime.
As he had imagined when he inspected the stairs from the landing, near the kitchen, the entire wing was poorly lit. During the day, the sunlight filtered through the narrow windows that were cut against the stone, but at night, without a torch or a lantern to illuminate it, the circular staircase was more like a dark abyss than an access to the master chambers.
The corridor passed behind Lady Catherine's dressing room, Ann's, the colonel's, his own, and the room Sir Lewis used to occupy when he was still alive. More than once he had played hide and seek with Richard and Edward and he recalled having snuck down through this stairs to steal a midnight snack in the kitchen while he was still a young lad. Tonight his ramblings were far less enjoyable.
After inspecting the doors that connected to the master chambers, all of them locked from the inside, with the exception of his and Richard's, Darcy walked towards the perilous stairs. A candle was his sole illumination, and trying to emulate Mrs. Jenkinson's route, he took the steps careful not to slip or tumble on the uneven stone until, almost one floor beneath, he found the first traces of Mrs. Jenkison's fateful fall.
Despite the darkness, it was clear that it had been at that point where the old lady lost her footing and tumbled down. He saw a teacup, a small basket and a several steps below, a broken candle. From there, she must have rolled a few more steps and at some point, her body must have hit the rail, breaking it, making her fall down the deep hole. Darcy shuddered at the thought of a similar accident happening at Pemberley but then Rosings was built more than three centuries before his own house, therefore lacking the architectural benefits of a much modern and practical design. Pemberley's service staircase was ample, with wide landings in between flights, making the servant's transit much safer and effortless.
His only doubt was now if Mrs. Jenkinson fell or was pushed. The railing appeared to be unsteady, it was old and rotten at some points and it was not improbable that a body, even as light as Mrs. Jenkinson's, would break it if it hit the wood hard enough. There was no evidence of struggle or that a second person had been here with her, but that did not mean she was not surprised in her descent and thrown down the stairs. And if she was, who did it? And why?
There were not many answers to those questions. Ann, Richard and himself had free access to this staircase. And two dozen servants, not all of them capable of murdering, but many of them desirous to get rid of their mistress.
Yet, neither a revengeful servant nor an unscrupulous relative would have reasons to kill Ann's companion. If Mrs. Jenkinson was pushed, it was because she knew something she should not, therefore she was silenced before she could tell anyone about it. Still, several facts escaped Darcy's understanding. If Mrs. Jenkinson knew who killed Lady Catherine, why didn't she come to him, or Richard for instance, or someone she could trust? Did she think that they were involved in the crime too? Could the murderer be a member of the family or one of the guests?
While Richard had been his first suspect, at this point, Darcy could not dismiss Ann either where Lady Catherine's demise was concerned. Or the cook, or the servant that was injured during the storm, or the servile parson, who had suffered Lady Catherine's abuse uninterruptedly for the past weeks and whose disappearance was making Darcy doubt of his innocence. They all had reason to kill. The question was, who had had the guts to murder Lady Catherine and then commit a second crime?
"I shall give my cousins the benefit of the doubt in this one," Darcy muttered, "Ann was too fond of her companion and Richard … I cannot believe him capable of killing a defenceless lady in this manner."
"Mr. Darcy? Are you there?"
Darcy looked up at the sound of his manservant's voice calling him from the upper floors. "Ferguson, what is the matter?"
"Miss Bennet is here to see you."
His legs could not carry him fast enough.
"Dead? I never imagined she was so badly ill!"
"She was not ill, Charlotte. The truth is that she fell down the stairs. She was found dead last night, just before I knocked at your door."
"But the Colonel said that …"
Elizabeth assented seriously. "He only said that to spare Miss de Bourgh from the pain of learning about of her companion's death so soon after her mother's."
"She fell down the stairs? Where? Why did we not hear anything?"
"Near the kitchen, in a part of the house that is only for the use of the servants. But it is not merely that, Charlotte. I have reasons to believe that she was pushed. Mr. Darcy shares my suspicions, too."
"For heaven's sake, Lizzy, what kind of house is this? First Lady Catherine, and now Mrs. Jenkinson. Who would want to kill them both?"
"I cannot imagine a reason for someone to kill Mrs. Jenkinson, unless she knew who Lady Catherine's murderer was and the killer, when he found himself discovered, threw her down the stairs, making it appear as an accident."
"And the last person with whom she was last seen was …" Charlotte's voice faltered.
"Mr. Collins." Elizabeth finished for her. "But we must not precipitate our judgement. How would your husband be acquainted with those stairs?"
"Oh, no, Lizzy," Charlotte's eyes clouded with tears, "he knows them perfectly well. When he first arrived at Rosings, the roof of the parsonage was being repaired, so he stayed for a few weeks in the manor. He is a murderer! He killed them both!"
Charlotte could not contain herself anymore and broke into sobs. Maria, on hearing her sister crying, left the pianoforte and joined them on the sofa.
"Charlotte! What happened?"
Elizabeth found herself in a crossroad, stay and comfort her friend, or run to tell Mr. Darcy what she had just learned. "Maria, stay with your sister and do not leave the room, for any reason."
"Lizzy!" cried Miss Lucas, but her friend was already walking away.
"Do not leave it, do you understand?" said Elizabeth from the door.
Elizabeth ran down the halls in search of a servant that would tell her where she could find Mr. Darcy. First she happened upon a maid who was not of much help and then she ran into a footman that told her that the gentleman was last seen heading towards the stables, together with his cousin. Following the directions of a chambermaid, Elizabeth found her way out of the house and without a coat on, she folded her arms over her chest to protect herself from the damp wind while she ran down the long lane towards the stables. Great was her disappointment to learn that Mr. Darcy had quitted the premises nearly an hour earlier.
Without an instant to lose, Elizabeth hurried back to the house, this time heading directly to the main staircase, which she climbed hastily, and ran towards Darcy's chambers with the hope of finding him there. The house was already darkening and several servants were lighting candles through halls and corridors.
Now in front of Darcy's door, Elizabeth hesitated. It was utterly improper to knock at a gentleman's door while he was still in his chambers, but Elizabeth knew that the gravity of the situation demanded desperate measures. She knocked softly, three times, but no one answered. She knocked again, with more urgency and was about to give up in the task and start her search elsewhere when Mr. Darcy's manservant opened the door.
"Madam?" the puzzled valet asked.
"I must speak to Mr. Darcy about a very important matter. Do you know where can I find him?" Elizabeth was breathless.
"I will fetch him for you in an instant."
The valet opened the door for her and mentioned her to stay close to the hearth to warm up while he went for his master, disappearing then through the door that connected to the dressing room. She waited, pacing in front of the fireplace, her teeth chattering from the cold and preoccupation.
"Miss Bennet!" Darcy finally came. "Is anything the matter?"
"Mr. Darcy, thank God I found you. I must tell you something of great importance."
"You are wet," Darcy noticed with concern and held her arms, which were extremely cold. He immediately went for the blanket that lay at the end of his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. "What brings you here?"
"Mr. Collins killed Lady Catherine."
Darcy was too stunned to make an immediate answer but soon after he overcame his astonishment, he enquired after how she had come up with this understanding and why she was so certain that that the parson was the murderer. Elizabeth repeated the conversation she had with Charlotte and how she had arrived to the conclusion that the parson was the one who murdered both Lady Catherine and Mrs. Jenkinson.
"We cannot accuse him. If we are wrong we would be inflicting a great pain on an innocent. Do you know where he is at this very moment? I must speak to him."
"No, no one has seen him since yesterday."
"I will accompany you downstairs." Darcy rested his hand on her cheek. "Stay with the others. I will start a search."
Elizabeth blushed and looked down, not uncomfortable with the gentleman's gesture, but puzzled that he took such liberty, wondering what his intention might have been. Darcy must have felt her discomfiture and withdrew his hand quickly while clearing his throat in an attempt to distract her and himself for his impulsiveness. Together they descended the stairs and Darcy escorted her to the sitting room where Charlotte and Maria were still waiting.
"Pray, stay in this room," he told the ladies. "Here you will be safe. I will instruct a servant to guard this door with his life." Darcy was gone in an instant, and headed towards the kitchen, where he gathered several servants. There he organized a search party and instructed the men to track the entire island in search of Mr. Collins.
"I don't know why they are making such noise," said one of the maids, when the party was dismissed, "the parson is in the manor."
"What do you know, Sarah?" the housekeeper asked. "If Mr. Darcy had started a search party is because he is missing."
"He is not" said the girl, "I saw him earlier in the day: He asked me if Miss de Bourgh was still in her chambers."
"Silly girl," the housekeeper gathered her skirts and trotted out of the kitchen, "they are turning the island upside down in search of that man and you did not say you have seen him. I am going to tell Mr. Darcy about this."
The girl shrugged and continued to peel the potatoes.
Col. Fitzwilliam clutched the wood firmly for support. He had sailed on turbulent seas before but the shores of Rosings were known for their unreliable tides and sharp rocks and this storm was making the short trip even more dangerous. The wind was battering the small ship mercilessly and he prayed for the helmsman's ability to sail this vessel to the other shore.
Once out of the dangerous coasts of Rosings, Fitzwilliam concentrated in the task he was about to face and the possible consequences of informing the authorities of his aunt's death. It was obvious that she had been murdered brutally, surely the constable would want to find the murderer, but alas, who wouldn't wish to see the old bat dead? He could not recall a single person on this earth that was fond of his aunt or that respected her, not even her own daughter. She was hated all over the land of Rosings, neighbouring islands and nearest towns. The person who killed her should have a monument erected for sparing this world from Lady Catherine's torment instead of being punished for committing a crime.
"Sir! Sir!"
Fitzwilliam turned his head at the call of one of the sailors.
"Sir," the young man pointed at the island. "There is something happening at Rosings. Look at the manor."
The colonel looked at the house, tall against the darkening skies and saw a bright, yellowish light coming from several windows of the eastern wing.
"Good Lord!" he cried. "Fire! Rosings is on fire! Turn the ship around!"
Chapter 12
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