Page 13 of Love Among the Shadows
I trust this letter finds you in good health and spirits. It has been a while since I wrote, but things have taken a worse turn since then. It is with the utmost urgency that I therefore write to you, for matters here in Meryton have taken a most peculiar and troubling turn.
Since my arrival, two men have met untimely deaths under circumstances that, while not yet definitively proven to be foul play, have nonetheless given rise to rumours that are as damaging as they are absurd. In each instance, the unfortunate individuals had engaged in disputes with me on the preceding day, leading to the most unfortunate conjectures among the townspeople.
You will not be surprised to hear that such rumours have tarnished my reputation here. Locals avoid me as though I were the very plague itself. The parish constable has questioned me twice, and the magistrate has called upon me once, albeit without finding sufficient cause for accusation. Despite this, whispers of a so-called “Darcy curse” now abound.
You, as well as I, know the absurdity of such a notion. I have scolded men and engaged in disputes before without their lives coming to an abrupt and mysterious end. Thus, I am left to conclude that there is a killer in Meryton—a person who, for reasons unknown, targets those with whom I have quarrelled.
If this is indeed the case, then the true vendetta lies not with the deceased but with me. I cannot ignore the possibility that someone is seeking to cast suspicion upon me, or worse, to unsettle me entirely.
Richard, I need your assistance. Your rank and expertise within the militia grant you access to avenues of inquiry denied to me. You could ask questions and investigate without arousing undue suspicion. Moreover, your presence would lend me both the support and clarity I sorely lack.
I confess that I have a suspect in mind. George Wickham is here in Meryton, and you recall, as well as I, the extent of his grievances and the lengths to which he has gone to wreak mischief in the past. If there is anyone capable of such a scheme, it is he. However, I do not yet have any evidence against him, and I hope to find some with your help to clear my name once and for all.
I have, however, discreetly asked Colonel Forster, a commander in the militia, and he confirmed that Wickham arrived in town about the same time I did. It cannot be a coincidence that he just happens to be here, has a grudge against me, and suddenly people I have issues with are dying. He has tried to soil my name in different circles before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is yet another of his ruses. But it is beginning to go too far. People are dying, and it has to stop. Wickham must be brought to justice.
Please, Richard, come at once. I cannot in good conscience allow this matter to escalate further without taking decisive action.
Yours faithfully,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Satisfied with the missive, Darcy set down his pen, the faint scrape of the nib against paper lingering in the silent room. He folded the letter carefully, sealing it with his crest. Rising from his seat, he resolved to send it to London immediately, placing it in the hands of the most reliable courier available.
Darcy straightened his cravat and donned his coat, the brisk air awaiting him outside matching the chill of unease that had settled within him. If Richard could not help unravel this mystery, Darcy feared the consequences would stretch far beyond his own reputation.
***
Elizabeth entered Longbourn with a lightness in her step, her thoughts still occupied by the unexpected encounter with Mr Darcy. A smile played at the corners of her lips as she anticipated recounting the peculiar conversation to Jane. Yet, no sooner had she crossed the threshold than Mrs. Bennet’s voice arrested her progress.
“Elizabeth! Where have you been?” Mrs. Bennet’s tone was one of mingled alarm and reproach as she emerged from the parlour.
Elizabeth hesitated, but only briefly. “I have been on my morning walk, Mama. The air is particularly invigorating today.”
Mrs. Bennet threw her hands into the air, her expression one of exasperation. “Walking, walking! What sense is there in such aimless wandering, especially with the talk of that dreadful Darcy curse going about? You will have the whole neighbourhood whispering about how careless you are, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud. If only her mother knew that she had just encountered the supposed bearer of that curse himself—and, moreover, had argued with him. No curse had come upon her, unless it took the form of Mr Darcy himself. But she dared not say so. “I assure you, Mama, I am perfectly safe,” she replied lightly.
Mrs. Bennet gave a dramatic sigh, her hand fluttering to her chest as though to steady her nerves. “That is how you will squander your days, Lizzy. Mark my words, you shall walk right past your opportunity for a good match. Speaking of which—Mr Collins has something to say to you.”
Elizabeth’s brows knitted in confusion. “Mr Collins?”
Only then did she notice him standing by the window, his broad form silhouetted against the morning light. His posture was stiff, his hands clasped before him as though to lend weight to the gravity of his presence. The peculiar smile on his face—a mix of self-satisfaction and anticipation—sent an inexplicable shiver down Elizabeth’s spine.
Mrs. Bennet beamed at Mr Collins as though presenting him as a prize. “Yes, Lizzy. Mr Collins has sought my permission to speak with you on a matter of great importance. I have given it, of course.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank as a dawning horror crept upon her. Mrs. Bennet, with an air of self-satisfaction, turned to leave, smoothing the folds of her dress with deliberate precision. “Well then, I shall leave you to it, Mr Collins. It is not my place to intrude upon such a moment. But I shall remain close by, of course,” she declared, her tone brimming with smug contentment.
“Why must you leave, Mama?” Elizabeth, her suspicion sharpening, immediately protested. “Surely, if Mr Collins hassomething of importance to say, he can say it in your presence. There can be no need for secrecy.”
Mrs. Bennet flushed, clearly caught off guard. “It is not proper for me to stay, Lizzy. This is a private matter.”
Elizabeth considered protesting further but decided against it. Whatever scheme her mother and Mr Collins had concocted, she was certain they could not compel her into compliance. She resolved to hear him out and deliver a response befitting the absurdity of the situation.
As if sensing her determination, Mrs. Bennet pressed her lips into a thin line. “I shall be nearby,” she said at last, her voice tight with irritation, before retreating with a final huff.
Before Elizabeth could gather her thoughts, Kitty entered the room with her usual energy, her bright expression dimming as she noticed the charged atmosphere. She hesitated, opening her mouth as though to speak, but Mrs. Bennet silenced her with a sharp wave of the hand. “Kitty, this is no time for chatter. Off with you.”
Kitty pouted but retreated as instructed, leaving Elizabeth to her fate. Elizabeth swallowed hard as Mr Collins approached.
