Page 13 of Chasing Shadows
The past three weeks had been a weary trial for Darcy. True, the louder voices that once branded him a murderer had softened somewhat, but suspicion still dogged his steps. Some spoke behind cupped hands as he passed; others let their whispers fall scarcely above a murmur, yet with eyes fixed upon him. Worst of all, there was no word of progress. The killer remained free.
Colonel Forster, despite the magistrate’s reluctance, had permitted Darcy to attend with Fitzwilliam when Tobias Hatch’s small house was searched. The only item of note had been a red-bound book, wherein Hatch had written in his precise hand:Mr. Doughty — three o’clock. Purpose of ether? Alibi night of Granger?
Fitzwilliam recognised the name at once: Richard Doughty, one of the men upon the colonel’s shortlist of potential suspects. Yet the meaning puzzled them. Why ether? And what alibi was Hatch set upon testing?
Richard Doughty had been summoned and questioned. He denied all knowledge of ether, and when pressed regarding the night of Tom Granger’s death, his alibi at the public house held firm. The landlord confirmed it; two others vouched the same. Fitzwilliam even asked after his movements on the day of Hatch’s own murder. Again, the man produced witnesses to account for his hours. There was nothing more to be gained.
Darcy bore the disappointment heavily. Each dead end seemed to tighten the snare about his own reputation. As if this were not enough, Lady Catherine had written in a hand sharp with indignation, commanding him to quit Hertfordshireat once, warning that if he did not obey, she would come and fetch him herself. Evidently, Mr. Collins had furnished her with a dramatic report of events. Darcy had allowed himself a grim smile at her presumption. Did she truly imagine he had not strength of his own to manage his affairs? He was master of Pemberley, of the Darcy name and fortune; Lady Catherine’s commands were nothing more than the noise of an overzealous aunt.
And now, here he stood at the coaching stop outside Barnet, awaiting his sister’s arrival. He had resolved, after long thought, to bring Georgiana into Hertfordshire. The risk was undeniable, yet leaving her in London seemed greater still. If the killer’s quarrel was with him, better she be where he could guard her. Silence for three weeks did not persuade him to relax; rather, it persuaded him that the killer lay in wait.
Mrs. Hurst, wrapped in her fine shawl, gave a nervous glance about the coaching yard. “Should she truly be here at such a time? I cannot feel at ease, not with this dreadful murderer still abroad.”
Bingley’s countenance darkened. “Louisa, I have already asked you not to speak of the affair so freely. You do no good by raising alarm where there is none.”
Darcy remained silent, though inwardly he marked again how often the Bingley sisters urged retreat to London. Bingley alone had shown forbearance, refusing to abandon Hertfordshire while the neighbourhood remained in unease.
Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy lightly upon the shoulder. “Take heart. She will be here directly. No one knew of her coming save ourselves. You kept the matter close, cousin, and wisely so. She is safe. From the moment she steps down, we are here to meet her.”
At last, the sound of wheels carried over the yard, and the post-chaise drew up, its horses spattered from the rain-sodden roads. Darcy’s breath eased only when the door was opened and Georgiana emerged, a little pale from travel, but smiling with relief.
“Brother!” she exclaimed, her voice soft but full of gladness as she came into his embrace.
Darcy clasped her hands, searching her face as though to reassure himself of her safety. “I was beginning to worry. You are well?”
“The ground was so marshy after the rains,” Georgiana explained, her cheeks colouring faintly as she smiled at him. “The carriage could scarcely keep pace. That is why we were delayed.”
Her governess, Mrs. Annesley, followed her out, offering a courteous curtsey to the gentlemen.
Darcy drew a steadying breath, then turned to Bingley and the Hursts. “My cousin and I will accompany my sister in her carriage. You may ride ahead.”
Bingley nodded at once.
Once within the carriage, Georgiana sat close beside her brother, her eyes bright though tired. “Your letters, Fitzwilliam—they were wonderful, but they troubled me as well. What is this I read of killings in Hertfordshire? You spoke of them as if—” She broke off, glancing at Mrs. Annesley, whose brow furrowed with concern.
Darcy met his sister’s anxious gaze, then deliberately softened his own. He smiled, though it cost him. “I will tell you all, dearest. Soon. You have had a long journey, and I will not burden you until you are rested. Soon, I promise.”
She pressed his hand, trusting him as she always had. The wheels turned, carrying them on toward Netherfield, and though the shadow of danger lingered, Darcy found his heart steadier for having her near.
***
Elizabeth sat quietly by Jane’s side, listening to the steady tick of the clock on the mantel. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the faint rumble of carriage wheels upon the drive. She did not rise to the window. Whoever it might be, her sister’s condition held her fast.
Not long after, the door opened and Mrs. Hurst swept in, Miss Bingley gliding close behind. Mrs. Hurst, with a languid air, observed that Elizabeth need not have troubled herself to come. “We would have taken the utmost care of your sister, Miss Bennet,” she said.
Elizabeth replied evenly, “I thought it necessary to assess the severity of her illness, that I might inform our parents with proper assurance.”
Her answer drew little more than a perfunctory smile from Mrs. Hurst, but before any sharper remark could be offered, a servant appeared to announce the apothecary’s arrival.
Mr. Jones was soon ushered in. He bent over Jane, took her pulse, and after a few moments declared, “A simple fever. With the right draught, she will be well in a day or two. I shall send the medicine tomorrow. For tonight, let her take this to ease her rest.” He placed a small vial upon the table and added an ointment for her cold before taking his leave.
Relief eased Elizabeth’s heart. She remained by Jane until her sister began drifting once more into sleep, then at last rose, smoothing her skirts. “I will begin going,” she said softly, though her reluctance showed in her face.
Though still dizzy, Jane’s hand reached for hers. “No—pray stay, Lizzy. It comforts me to have you near.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Before she could answer, Miss Bingley interposed with a smile that cost her some effort.“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, it is only fitting. For Jane’s sake, you must remain. A carriage shall be sent to Longbourn at once, to fetch what things you and your sister may require. I shall add a note myself, assuring your family that both of you are quite safe with us at Netherfield.”
At that moment, another knock sounded at the door, and Mr. Bingley entered. His expression softened at once upon seeing Jane, though he kept a respectful distance from her bedside.
