Chapter 7



In spite of the tragedy that occurred the previous night and the little appetite that the family and its guests had, breakfast was served with the usual punctuality. The gentlemen of the house did not attend; they were in conference with the staff explaining to them the latest events and establishing the terms in which house would function until the new mistress was ready to take charge and telling them of the restrictions they were to suffer until the Constable could be brought to the island. 

When they were done with the morning formalities, the guests moved to the sitting room where a large hearth had been lit up to warm and dry the room. No one was certain how long the storm would last, the wind had been howling and the rain falling for an entire day with no evidence of stopping so, giving the island's current state of isolation and the impossibility of going to the village for supplies (even though it was said that Rosings was stocked to survive a month), it was determined that the house's resources of coal and wood would be regulated until it was safe enough to exit the manor. 

"I am so sorry, Lizzy," Charlotte told her friend with regret, "that you are suffering all this because of me. Had I known that your stay at Rosings would be so unpleasant, so …" she shook her head, unable to find the appropriate word to describe the horrors that they were now experiencing, "I would have never have asked you nor Maria to come."

"Oh, Charlotte," Elizabeth tried to put her mind at ease. "You cannot blame yourself! You were not aware of Lady Catherine's evils when you invited me and you certainly are not at fault for what happened last night!"

"I knew of her unkindness, but I never thought she could be capable of so much malice nor that she would end her days so violently." Charlotte pressed her handkerchief to her nose. "Oh, I wish I had never married Mr. Collins!"

Charlotte began to cry in earnest and Elizabeth observed her with sympathy but not without puzzlement. Her friend was not someone to allow herself to be overwhelmed by the circumstances, Charlotte usually faced matters with a calmness of thought and an equanimity that would be uncommon in other people but this time she looked more troubled than Elizabeth would have ever imagined her to be. But then, considering what had happened, Elizabeth thought Charlotte's discomposure to be justified, for the murder of her patroness not three doors away from her room had been a shocking event that had put at stake the permanence of the Collinses in the Hunsford Parsonage.

"Do not distress yourself, Charlotte," Elizabeth offered kindly, "I am most certain that Miss de Bourgh will keep Mr. Collins' living. She is exceedingly fond of you."

Charlotte shook her head. "Perhaps she will but I am the one who is not certain of remaining in this place for much longer. Truly Lizzy, if it would be in my power to decide, I would quit Rosings this very moment to never come back."

The vehemence with which Charlotte had said those words shocked Elizabeth, even when she supposed them to be the consequence of a long, stressful night. Charlotte's distress was acquiring enormous proportions. She looked at Maria in an attempt to find an ally that would help her convince Charlotte that everything would be better soon, that there was no reason for concern, but the young girl had flushed so crimson and was securing her sister's hand so tightly that she was dissuaded from counting on her as source of balance for her sister. Since Lady Catherine's dead body was found, Maria Lucas had been a bundle of nerves.

Soon they were joined by the gentlemen and their entrance had a profound effect in ladies' behaviour. Elizabeth was barely able to conceal the discomfiture she felt for being in Mr. Darcy's company and for the sudden uneasiness she could now sense in Charlotte and Maria upon the gentleman's appearance, she could guess that she was not the only one in the house that suspected that he might be the murderer. If it would be wise to share those preoccupations with her friends, she was not sure yet. 

"Pray, Col. Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth began, "How is Miss de Bourgh doing?" 

"She is much better, thank you. Mrs. Jenkinson informed us thus this morning."

"I would like to pay my respects to her, if you think it would not be an inconvenience."

"It is not, I assure you. I am certain that she will very grateful to receive your comfort at this moment."

Elizabeth nodded at the gentleman and rose from her seat.

"I will go with, you, Lizzy," Charlotte quickly stood, "I would like to pay my respects, too."

"So do I," Maria bolted to her feet. And the three left the room.

"It seems that the ladies have deserted us, uh Darcy?" said the Colonel, surprised by their hastiness. "Would you like to play billiards?"

Darcy, who was standing in front of the window, staring out with his hands clasped behind his back, did not reply, merely glanced over his shoulder and resumed his previous attitude.

"Well, Mr. Collins," Fitzwilliam shrugged at his cousin's foul mood. "We are the only ones left. I suppose you do not play billiards, do you?"

"I am afraid I do not, sir."

"Chess?"

"That I play, though I must warn you, I may not be a worthy opponent."

The Colonel's eyes were still on his cousin's back. "Do not worry, Collins, any player will do."

---

Miss de Bourgh received her visitors in her private sitting room. Albeit her eyes were red from crying, the perfect composure with which she addressed them and easiness of manners told them that she was much recovered from the shock suffered on the previous night. 

The meeting had raised Miss de Bourgh's spirits enough as to consider herself fit enough to leave her chambers and join the others in the sitting room. There she was met with great enthusiasm by the Colonel, who could not conceal his delight for seeing her so improved. Still, there was a sort of tension in the room that Elizabeth attributed to what had occurred on the previous night. With the exception of Miss de Bourgh and Col. Fitzwilliam, who chatted animatedly, there was a clear separation between the ladies and the gentlemen in the room. The fair sex, conforming a solid, uncommunicative group, seemed almost intimidated by the others' presence, while the gentlemen appeared puzzled by their detachment. Slightly apart from the rest, quiet like a piece of furniture, Mrs. Jenkinson did not partake in the conversation.

Elizabeth did not waste this opportunity to study the cousins now that the constant threat that Lady Catherine's presence inflicted on them was gone forever. Both the colonel and Ann were at ease, and it became more evident to the common observer that their sentiments for each other went beyond those of familial affection. The one who had not recovered his composure entirely yet was Mr. Darcy, his demeanour was serious, his countenance reflective, remaining apart almost the entire afternoon, always scrutinizing the horizon in spite of the poor visibility they had of the exterior. The sky was grey because of the tempest, the rain had not yielded and the wind continued to lash the house with the same force since the storm unleashed its fury upon the island. 

There was not much they could do to entertain themselves, general amusements were left aside in respect of Lady Catherine's memory so the residents of the manor had to find other ways to help them pass the time. Books, conversation and an occasional song that Elizabeth played on the piano at her friend's request were their amusements. But as darkness fell upon the house once again, the activities of the day came to an end. They parted after supper, Charlotte and Maria choosing to retire to their chambers, Darcy and the Colonel heading for the study to converse in private while Elizabeth and Ann remained in the sitting room, practicing on the piano a song from Miss de Bourgh's collections of sheets. Mr. Collins excused himself from their company a moment later, claiming that he needed to consult one of the religious books he had seen in the chapel and was followed by Mrs. Jenkinson after requesting her mistress' permission to retire.

"I wish they would have allowed me to see my mother one last time," sighed Ann as her fingers danced over the keyboard.

"Your cousins were doing what they thought was best for you," replied Elizabeth.

"I know, but still …" Ann shook her head. 

"You will overcome the grief soon. In a few weeks you will become the mistress of the island and that will keep your mind occupied."

Ann bit her lower lip as a small smile appeared on her face. "I must confess I had not imagined that I would be assuming such position at such young age. My mother's administration was so efficient that I did not think it necessary to learn more about Rosings affairs before what was stipulated in my father's will. But this has changed all, I believe."

"The will?"

"Yes. I was to become fully in charge Rosings at the age of five and twenty. Until I reached that age, my mother had the entire control of my life and the estate."

The revelation somehow shocked Elizabeth, for she had not imagined that Lady Catherine's premature death would have such an impact on Miss de Bourgh's life. "And you are now …"

"Three and twenty. Though I should not be concerned about becoming the mistress of Rosings a bit sooner. My mother had an excellent steward and I am sure that my cousins will be of great help when I start running the estate."

Elizabeth did not know what to do with this information. Could her Ladyship's demise be in any way connected to this circumstance? Perhaps that was why she was so insistent that her daughter would marry Mr Darcy as soon as may be. In little more than a year, Miss de Bourgh would be free to marry where she chose and Lady Catherine's expectations about a union that would join Pemberley's and Rosings' fortunes would have been for naught. If the gentleman was aware of this situation, and Elizabeth was almost certain that he was, it was another reason to believe him anxious to get rid of his aunt.

"It is getting late," said Miss de Bourgh. "I must retire."

Elizabeth nodded. "May I borrow a book from your library? Reading always helps me to find sleep."

"Of course, good night."

Miss de Bourgh left and Elizabeth remained alone with her thoughts. Everything had turned so confusing that she did not know what to believe anymore. While, in her mind, Mr. Darcy was still the principal suspect, the one in possession of more substantial reasons to commit such a crime, there were other people who would obtain great benefit from Lady Catherine's death. Col. Fitzwilliam, for example, was one of them, though Elizabeth thought improbable given the officer's amiable temper, but also were those who, in one way, would end their tormented existence with the arrival of a new mistress. 

With this preoccupation in mind, Elizabeth headed towards the library to find a book that would help her keep these unpleasant thoughts off her mind. What she did not know was that what awaited for her there would make her understanding about the murder completely changed.

---

Elizabeth found herself in the cold solitude of Rosings library, scanning the shelves for a good book that would help her find some sleep. The room was dim, illuminated by the sole candle she brought with her and the only sounds she heard were those of that came from the windows that had been enduring the constant batter of wind and rain against the glass panes. Rosings manor was scary, but this room, so humid and dark, excited her most dreadful fantasies. Therefore she made haste in accomplishing the task and decided for herself the most appropriate book -a romantic novel- that would, hopefully, help her find sleep in her second horrendous night at Rosings.

As she picked the novel, she heard the door of the adjoining room opening and then closing again. It was a small study that connected to the library by a door that was usually left unlocked. Tonight it was ajar and by some design of fate, the room provided little privacy for the conversations that occurred in that study could be clearly heard from where she was. She tiptoed to the door and through the thin aperture, she saw Mr. Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam entering the room. Their voices were easily discernible.

"Fancy a glass of port, Darcy?"

"I did not ask you to come for a drink, Fitzwilliam."

The colonel smirked. "Then why did you, if I may ask? You appear to be concerned by something."

"My concern is that you do not appear concerned about the tragedy that had occurred in the house. Our aunt has been murdered and you act as if nothing has happened."

Fitzwilliam sipped his port. "If you want to accuse me of being happy for Catherine's demise, then I am guilty as charged. Yes, I celebrate that her tyrannical existence is over, that we finally got rid of the old bat, but if you, by chance, are implying that I am somehow connected with her death then you do not know me. I am not a murderer."

"I know of the benefits that you are to obtain with her passing on, Richard, as I am aware of the love that had so conveniently blossomed between you and Ann these past months. I think that is encouragement enough to want to eliminate the obstacles that she had positioned between you and your search of a rich heiress."

"That is a serious accusation, indeed, Darcy." the Colonel's demeanour turned from ease to one of visible tension, "I did not know you were one to precipitate your judgement without being certain of the facts. You seem too eager to determinate that I am the killer. Maybe it is because, by accusing me, you can be declared free of guilt yourself?"

"I know not what you are saying."

"You, like myself, will obtain benefits with her death, too. Perhaps not monetarily, but you will earn fortunes in tranquillity. Do not think me unaware of Lady Catherine's insistence on producing a marriage between you and Ann. And knowing my aunt the way I do, I am most certain that she was using every evil knowledge she had of you to force you into a proposal."

"And that would have been the end of your hopes, would it not?" snapped Darcy. "With Ann married to me, your expectations about becoming the master of Rosings would have been ruined. That is why you planned this, to have Ann free to marry you before it was too late!"

The colonel strode towards his cousin and Elizabeth thought they might start a fight right then and there. But they didn't, they stood before each other, barely a few feet apart, ready to jump on each other, both unyielding, holding the other's stare in full support of their assertions. It was the colonel who first looked away.

"For Heaven's sake, Darcy," said he, running his hand through his hair, "even dead, she is making us miserable. I cannot believe we are accusing each other of her demise."

"As you said earlier today, it could have been anyone. When the Bailiff arrives, we both will be facing a similar questioning, I assure you."

"But I did not kill her, Darcy, you must believe me."

Darcy sighed and shook his head. "I know not what to think any more."

Fitzwilliam went to the table and served himself and his cousin a glass of brandy. "Do you really believe me so mercenary as to want to marry Ann just for her fortune?"

Darcy accepted the goblet and gave his drink a long gulp. "I know what I see, Richard. For years, Ann has followed you like a lost puppy without you giving much consequence to her existence, but now that she is about to inherit Rosings, your interest in her has grown noticeably."

The colonel smirked. "I concede you that point. Perhaps I wouldn't love her so much if she weren't so rich, but be certain that killing my aunt in order to marry her had never crossed my mind. Why would I do that? For years, you have been successfully avoiding Lady Catherine's insinuations about marrying Ann. I was merely counting on your ability to escape the obligation a little longer, until Ann became of age to inherit."

Darcy looked down. "I would like to believe that that was the case." 

"You <I>would like</I> to believe? Pray tell, what does that mean?"

"As you said before, every body is a suspect."

"And that includes me."

Darcy did not respond.

"We have known each other since we were children! Do you believe me capable of that?" cried, the colonel, incredulous at his cousin's insinuations.

Again, Darcy's silence were a confirmation of his assertions. Indignant, the Colonel strode towards his cousin with an infuriated look in his eyes. "Swear to me that you never flirted with the idea of killing her, Darcy, swear to me!" When his cousin did not reply, Fitzwilliam laughed. "I thought that was the case. Believe me, if I am to be accused of this murder, I will see that you will suffer the same fate."

With that last affirmation, the colonel stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth was astonished as she never had been. She was rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes from Mr. Darcy's figure, who stood proud and unmoved by his cousin's rapture. The gentleman then sighed and turned towards her direction and, against everything Elizabeth could imagine possible, he caught Elizabeth's eyes spying on him behind the door.

Without an instant to lose, Elizabeth ran away. Blinded by her fear and her own hastiness to escape, she hit a table and knocked over a vase that crashed noisily on the floor. And like in her nightmare, she felt his presence behind her, the heavy footsteps approaching her and she felt her arms being grabbed by strong hands and spun around. 

"What are you doing here?"

Chapter 8

Return to Belén's page
Return to Austen Interlude
e-mail Belén - authors love feedback!