Page 8 of Chasing Shadows
Elizabeth Bennet walked with her sisters among the crowd, her arm linked with Kitty’s, while Lydia flitted ahead, darting like a swallow between stalls. Mary followed behind, lips pursed and eyes fixed upon the list she carried. Elizabeth, whose errand was less defined, allowed herself to be drawn toward a milliner’s table where a bolt of ribbon in the softest blue caught her eye.
She had just lifted it for Jane, thinking how well it might set off her sister’s fair complexion, when the first words of trouble pierced the hum of the market.
“Found him, they did—out on the lane near the Green,” cried a voice, shrill and eager. “Laid out like a sack of meal, poor fellow. Tobias Hatch, gone to his Maker, and not by any natural means, I’ll be bound.”
Elizabeth’s head turned at once. Mrs. Harper, the butcher’s wife, stood planted before a cluster of neighbours, her broad cap trembling with the energy of her speech.
The words spread quick. One stall-keeper repeated them to another; a girl with a basket whispered them to her mother; within moments, the ripple became a tide. TobiasHatch’s name rolled across the market until every ear had caught it.
“Another murder?” Kitty whispered, her fingers tightening upon Elizabeth’s arm.
Elizabeth’s heart gave a throb. She had known Mr. Hatch only in passing—his quiet nod in the street, his mild manner when exchanging greetings with Mr. Bennet—but the idea of such a man found lifeless in the road filled her with dismay.
Mary, at her side, muttered something about providence and the vanity of earthly pursuits, but her words were drowned by Lydia’s eager cry: “Murder? Do you suppose the officers will search every house? Shall they come to Longbourn, Lizzy, and ask us questions?”
“Hush, Lydia,” Elizabeth said firmly, though her own pulse was uneven.
Mrs. Harper, pleased with the attention, leaned forward, lowering her voice in a stage whisper that carried all the more for its pretended secrecy.
“And do you know who was said to be seen near the Green not a night past? Mr. Darcy. Who else could it be? Mark my words, the gentleman is not what he seems. Wherever misfortune comes, there he is to follow. Three murders before, and now Mr. Hatch. One cannot think it mere chance.”
Kitty gasped. Lydia’s eyes widened with scandalous delight. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “They’d surely blame it on Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth felt the flush rise to her cheek, hot and indignant. She stepped nearer.
“Mrs. Harper,” she said, her voice loud and clear, “you speak with dangerous certainty on little more than hearsay. Mr. Darcy may keep to himself a lot, but he is not a man of violence.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursed in satisfaction at being opposed. “Ah, Miss Bennet, you are soft-hearted. But it is always the grave ones—the ones who keep their thoughts close. Who can say what a man may do in secret?”
Elizabeth did not falter. “Then let us not say at all until proof compels it. Idle accusation serves no justice, least of all to Mr. Hatch’s memory.”
The murmur amongst the company swelled, some nodding their approbation whilst others whispered behind gloved hands. Elizabeth, striving for composure, turned her attention back to the ribbon on the counter, though her fingers trembled in the act. The injustice of the charge pressed upon her more than she wished to own, and she was on the point of drawing her sisters away when the sound of hooves rang sharply upon the cobbles.
The crowd, so intent upon its gossip, scarcely heeded until the riders were upon them. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy came abreast at a measured pace, their horses scattering the throng into a broken line along the street. They had arrived in time to hear all.
Darcy’s gaze swept over the group, passing swiftly from face to face until it met Elizabeth’s. For one instant, it rested there, searching, before moving on with studied indifference. His expression betrayed nothing, yet she felt her colour rise hotly, as if she had been discovered in some act too intimate for witness.
Mr. Bingley, quick and eager, dismounted as they came near. “Miss Elizabeth! Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty, Miss Mary—what a happy fortune to meet you here. Darcy and I were bound for Longbourn, but chance has been kinder still to happen upon you all.”
Lydia and Kitty curtseyed prettily, while Mary inclined her head with solemnity. Elizabeth forced composure into her voice.
“You are kind, sir. We had but errands to complete.”
“Then allow us to accompany you,” Bingley said, his reins in hand. “Darcy and I may walk the horses. It will do us no harm to stretch our legs.”
Without further ceremony, he fell in beside them. “Is Miss Bennet not with you today?”
“She is at home,” Elizabeth replied, noting the eagerness in his face. “Jane isn’t one for long walks unless necessary.”
“Excellent,” he said, brightening at once. “Then she may be surprised when we arrive.”
Lydia and Kitty curtseyed prettily, while Mary inclined her head with solemnity. Elizabeth forced composure into her voice.
“You are kind, sir. We had but errands to complete.”
“Then allow us to accompany you,” Bingley said, his reins in hand. “Darcy and I may walk the horses. It will do us no harm to stretch our legs.”
Without further ceremony, he fell in beside them. “Is Miss Bennet not with you today?”
