Charlotte sniffed. “No, Lizzy. I was well aware of her unkindness, but I never imagined she could be capable of such malicious behaviour towards you—or that she would meet such a violent end. I know not what will become of us. . . Of me!”
Maria, on the verge of tears, leaned in and grasped Charlotte’s hand to offer comfort. They had Elizabeth’s sympathy, but they also sparked a touch of confusion within her. Their discomfiture was understandable, but it seemed a bit disproportionate, especially in Charlotte’s case. Always the pragmatic one, perhaps her friend’sconcern could be more about her uncertain future than about Lady Catherine’s brutal demise.
“Do not distress yourself.” She offered her friend a reassuring smile. “I am certain Miss de Bourgh will keep Mr. Collins’s living secure. She is exceedingly fond of you.”
Charlotte sobered. “Yes, undoubtedly. Yet I, for one, do not wish to remain in this place any longer. Upon my word, Lizzy, if it were in my power, I would leave Rosings this very moment and never return!”
The forcefulness in Charlotte’s tone astonished Elizabeth. What could trouble her so deeply? Lady Catherine’s death should have lifted a burden, yet Charlotte seemed only more afflicted. Elizabeth’s eyes sought Maria’s in hope that she might help soothe her sister’s alarm, but the girl was every bit as distraught. Was there something unspoken between them—or merely the contagion of nerves, one sister feeding the other’s agitation?
More than an hour later, Colonel Fitzwilliam joined the ladies in the drawing room. Nothing was said about the gentlemen’s interview with the magistrate, and silence settled over the group. The parson, they were told, was attending the burial of the stable boy who died the previous day. Elizabeth was relieved that Mr. Darcy did not come. She would have felt too much discomfort sharing the room with the man she now suspected guilty of an unspeakable crime.
“Pray, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, “how is Miss de Bourgh? Does she feel any better?”
“Very much so, thank you. Mrs. Jenkinson informed us of her improvement. She remains grief stricken, understandably, but is coming to terms with her new situation.”
“I would like to sit by her, should you be agreeable,” Elizabeth added.
“Yes, of course. Your company is most welcome.”
Elizabeth nodded and rose. Charlotte and Maria followed her, leaving the colonel alone.
***
The visit of the Hunsford ladies lifted Miss de Bourgh’s spirits enough for her to leave her chambers and join them for tea. Everyone greeted her warmly: Colonel Fitzwilliam with gallantry, Mr. Darcy with cousinly kindness. Elizabeth, however, was too waryof the gentleman to feel at ease, yet she stay put, for the young lady’s sake. In the corner, Mrs. Jenkinson sat slightly apart, her silence as steady as her gaze, which seldom strayed from her charge.
With Miss de Bourgh the centre of everyone’s attention, Elizabeth found herself conveniently relegated to the role of listener. It suited her well, for she could now study the Rosings family without the shadow of Lady Catherine looming over them. Both the colonel and Miss de Bourgh appeared more at ease than she had ever seen them, and between them a tenderness was notable that hinted at more than mere familial affection. Miss de Bourgh, in particular, whenever she had his attention, seemed lighter, as though the weight of recent events had, for a moment, slipped from her thoughts. Perhaps the attachment had always existed, but now they seemed unafraid to display it.
Mr. Darcy was another matter. His furrowed brow and reflective silence betrayed a far more troubled mind. Why brood now, when the storm that had threatened him most was past? Elizabeth could not account for such persistent bitterness. The effect he had on her was distracting; his nearness unsettled her stomach, her palms grew damp whenever his gaze fell upon her—which it did with unnerving frequency, as though their encounter in the gallery still stood between them. Relief came only when he rose and quit the room. Whatever business had carried him elsewhere, she rejoiced in his diversion, for she preferred the tranquillity of his absence to the torment of his company.
Outside, the sky remained grey as the storm lingered. The wind battered the house with the same force that had unleashed its fury upon the island. With little else to do, the guests passed the time with books and idle conversation, and relief came when dinner was announced. However, Mr. Darcy chose not to join the others at the table; he requested his meal be brought to the library instead. Again, he had sequestered himself. Elizabeth heaved a sigh at the information.
As darkness enveloped the manor, the day’s activities drew to a close. Colonel Fitzwilliam had joined Mr. Darcy in the library and Charlotte and Maria retired, leaving Elizabeth alone with Miss de Bourgh and her companion. She would have preferred to follow her friends, but the young lady seemed eager for company and asked herto remain a while. To abandon her at such a time of need would be uncharitable.
At that moment Mr. Collins appeared, enquiring after his wife; yet upon finding the new mistress of the house unoccupied, he seized the opportunity—untimely as it was—to discuss the details of Lady Catherine’s funeral.
“Mr. Collins, it would be more appropriate for you to discuss these matters with her cousins.” Elizabeth said, mindful of Miss de Bourgh’s fragile state.
The parson nodded eagerly. “Of course! How thoughtless of me. I shall speak with Mr. Darcy and the colonel. If it is convenient, I will ask Lady Catherine’s maid to take the necessary measurements for a casket elegant enough—”
“Pray do,” Elizabeth said. “I am sure the gentlemen will address all your concerns. You can find them in the library, I believe.”
Undeterred, he went on despite Elizabeth’s warning glance. “If I am permitted a suggestion, I would submit that the family chapel might serve as a most fitting source of consolation in these trying days. Perhaps tomorrow I might read aloud passages recounting the noble deeds of the de Bourghs as an inspiration to us all.”
Miss de Bourgh stiffened and inclined her head, while Elizabeth exhaled in relief when the parson finally withdrew with a bow. Mrs. Jenkinson was likewise dismissed, leaving the two ladies alone. The young mistress fell silent for a moment, her fingers twisting the edge of her shawl as though searching for the right words. “I wish I could see my mother one last time.” her voice was laden with emotion. “I asked my cousins, but they said it would be best if I did not.”
Elizabeth met her gaze with sympathy. “Your cousins are only trying to do what they believe is best for you.”
Miss de Bourgh’s face flushed. “Why would anyone kill her? What kind of monster would do such a thing? I know she was not the most. . . tractable, but she was my mother.”
“I cannot claim to know what led to such a tragic event, but I do know that grief is never easy. You will overcome this, Miss de Bourgh.” Elizabeth reached for her hand. “Perhaps a change of air—a visit to your relatives in Derbyshire—might ease your mind. Then, when you are ready, you can return to Rosings with renewed strength and plan your life as you see fit.”
“No. I must wait two years,” Miss de Bourgh shook her head as new tears glistered in her eyes. “I shall not inherit until I am twenty-five. My father stipulated it in his Last Will and Testament.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh. Then who will manage Rosings until that time?”
The young woman looked down, her expression dimming. “A guardian. My father appointed my mother as the sole custodian of my life and fortune until I came of age. I believe my uncle, the earl, is next in line, though I cannot say for certain. She. . . they never tell me anything. My opinion never mattered. It is of no consequence to them.Iam of no consequence to them.”
Pity stirred in her. Always the obedient daughter, the lady spoke as though she had no choice but to yield, even in matters that touched her own fortune. “I am certain that whoever it is will have your best interests at heart.”
