“I never said that,” Martha squawked, glaring at Mrs. Bingleysignificantly. “Benjamin Bingley wanted to eliminate Mr. John Darcy, but it wasn’t me who did the deed.”
Mrs. Amelia Bingley’s cup rattled against its saucer. “My husband was a businessman, not a murderer.”
“And yet,” Elizabeth said, her voice carrying in the sudden silence, “you knew enough about his arrangements with Martha Wickham to threaten her with exposure last night, did you not?”
Mrs. Bingley’s lips tightened, but she did not deny the accusation.
“Fess up, Amelia,” Mrs. Wickham snapped with a snarl. “You cannot hide from the facts.”
“The facts being that you accused a gentleman, not my husband, but another one of the killing.” Amelia rose on her shaky feet, propped up by Charles. “Mr. William Darcy paid you for your services. Twenty years. The ledgers prove it.”
Darcy’s face paled as the assembly gasped, turning their attention to him. Beside her, Georgiana seemed to shrink, her shoulders sagging as she looked at Elizabeth with troubled eyes.
“Show us the ledgers,” someone shouted.
“Payment for services is not proof of murder,” someone else intervened.
“Mrs. Wickham, you have no credibility,” Caroline spoke, pointing a thin finger at Mrs. Wickham. “No one believes a word from your mouth, and any accusation you make is suspect.”
“Mr. Bennet might know,” Elizabeth said. “He claims that Mrs. Wickham warned him that there are those who might seek my life. He didn’t tell me who, but he’s not here to testify.”
“Wait! I know!” Lydia’s voice suddenly pierced the tension. “I have the note. The one in this book.”
All eyes turned to Elizabeth’s youngest sister, who had risen to her feet, brandishing a leather-bound volume that Elizabeth recognized as one of the Gothic novels Mr. Bennet claimed to despise.
“I found it in Papa’s library,” Lydia explained, her voice suddenlyserious. “It was stuck between pages 108 and 109, where the heroine discovers her true identity as the long-lost daughter of a duke.”
She approached Sir Thomas, presenting both the book and a folded piece of yellowed paper. “I brought it because I thought it might be important, and Lizzy always says Papa hides important things in books he pretends not to read.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of unexpected affection for her impulsive sister, whose frivolity occasionally gave way to surprising moments of insight.
Sir Thomas unfolded the paper carefully, his bushy eyebrows rising as he read its contents aloud: “William Darcy threatens the life of this infant. Hide her well.”
“That proves nothing,” Darcy spoke coldly. “Only that Martha Wickham attempted to implicate William Darcy in a crime she committed.”
Still, murmurs rose, and Sir Thomas was forced to bang his gavel on the hardwood table.
“We are only here to determine grounds to detain the three involved in last night’s abduction of Elizabeth Bennet and the attempted poisoning of Mrs. Amelia Bingley. Any additional evidence will be considered by the courts.”
“How about Rose’s locket?” Elizabeth asked, pointing to Blythewood. “It was left with me, around my neck, when my parents found me in the basket.”
“Mr. Blythewood,” Sir Thomas said, “please present the locket evidence.”
Blythewood rose, producing the ornate family locket from a silk pouch. “This locket, bearing miniatures of John and Rose Darcy, was discovered in Mrs. Bennet’s possession. She claims it accompanied the infant Elizabeth when she was brought to Longbourn. The question is, who placed it in the basket?”
Mrs. Bingley observed the proceedings with cold calculation. “It was Mrs. Wickham, obviously. Her accusations against my latehusband are slanderous nonsense designed to deflect attention from her own crimes.”
“You dare!” Martha snarled.
“I dare speak truth,” Mrs. Bingley replied with icy dignity. “You poisoned John and Rose Darcy and set the fire to conceal your crime. You took that locket from poor Rose’s body.”
“Mrs. Bingley,” Sir Thomas said carefully, “you observed Mrs. Wickham remove this locket from the deceased?”
Mrs. Bingley’s composure flickered as she realized her slip. “Who else could it be? Mrs. Wickham admitted to saving the baby.”
“However, not the detail that the locket had been around my mother’s neck when she died.” Elizabeth’s voice carried clearly even though it broke with a sob. “Which means… you, Mrs. Bingley, were there.”
“I… I only know what was told to me.” Mrs. Bingley blinked, looking around the assembly for support. “The servants gossip… Isn’t it clear? Martha Wickham orchestrated the entire situation. She committed the murders, covered up the crime with a fire, abducted the baby, and last night, she tried to poison me when I decided to testify on Miss Bennet’s behalf.”
