“Yes, now I remember.Sheis the head of your family!Sheis the master of your leased estate! Oh, and lest I forget, she isalwayspolite and truthful!”
Bingley hung his head. “It gets worse.”
“I cannot see how.”
“Caroline turned the servants out without pay or reference. She did not even pay them for the time they worked, let alone the quarter. They went to the magistrate for relief, and he would not even write to me.”
Darcy made a frustrated attempt to throw his glass in the fire before he recalled he had already shattered it and let out a growl.
“Thisis your doing, Bingley.Youare the master of the estate.Youare the head of the family.Youcontrol the purse strings. Frankly, I am tired of cleaning up your messes.”
Bingley looked as dejected as could be, but Darcy was out of patience.
Bingley hung his head with no notion of what to think next, let alone attempt.
Darcy fumed for some time. “This appears to be revenge. Simple, cold-blooded, well-crafted, well-deserved revenge.”
“Yes, but who?”
“Servants would be my guess. They are the most injured party.”
Darcy thought a few more minutes until it all began to make sense.
“It would be easy enough for servants to spread rumours, but they are usually too cautious about their current positions, especially after your sister turned them out. You or I would do the same. Those she injured could easily begin it in one or twoplaces, but if it spread through the city so quickly, I suspect they would have required others to do it—dozens, I imagine.”
“What others?”
Darcy thought about it for a while.
“It is easy enough to make the servants’ gossip tell the story. Anyone with ten pounds to spread around could manage it, though that is a year’s wages for a lower servant, so they are not likely to be the masterminds. You spread the story bottom up with downstairs servants, and top down from ladies’ maids. Most of the women of thetonsearch for gossip and spread it with glee, and their maids are one of their greatest assets. Five or ten pounds spread among some carefully selected ladies’ maids and lower servants, and the deed would be done, so long as the mastermind was clever about which maids to use.”
“You suspect someone was willing to spend a YEAR’s wages on revenge?” Bingley said with a screech that made him sound far too much like his sister.
“Not a year—a quarter, or even a month perhaps.”
“Meaning?”
“That would be about a quarter’s allowance for one of the Bennet sisters or their peers, and a month if two of them pooled their resources.”
“Not Jane!” Bingley squeaked in panic.
Darcy thought about it for some time but finally agreed.
“Probably not. She did not strike me as the vengeful sort, and I have no evidence she is clever or ruthless enough. If I suspected anyone,” he said, then stared hard at Bingley to emphasise the point; “I amnotaccusing anyone, mind you—”
“Of course not,” Bingley said, knowing full well casting accusations could lead to a morning walk. There was no guarantee that Mr Bennet was the ladies’onlyprotector.
“If you combine Miss Elizabeth’s intelligence with Mrs Bennet’s ruthlessness, and a quarter’s allowance, or even amonth for two of the sisters… added to how universally detested your sisters are—it could be done… carefully.”
Both men sat in silence for a few minutes, and both eyed the brandy but refrained.
Darcy said, “It is fitting in a way… perhaps… divine retribution. Your sister used rumour and innuendo to harm her opponents for years. I suppose she deserved it. I suspect her enemies would have been only too happy to fan the flames. It would seem that Miss Bingley is reaping what she has sown.”
“I suppose it does not matter who the culprit is. What matters is what we will do about it.”
“Who iswe?” Darcy asked with a grumble.
“You and me. Your name is attached to this debacle as well as mine. You will not leave me high and dry, would you? More importantly, would you allow your own reputation to suffer?”
