Page 21 of Love Among the Shadows
"You should see your face," Fitzwilliam teased, though there was little humour in his voice. "I wonder what Georgiana would say if she saw you like this."
Darcy’s shoulders slumped even further. His sister had gone through a lot already. First was their parents’ death, then an incident too shameful, Darcy forced himself not to even think of it. To imagine her seeing him in this mood was not something he could allow either.
"I wouldn’t want her to see me like this. If a killer is targeting me, I wouldn’t want her near me. Who knows what might happen next? If this person is willing to harm those close to me..." His voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.
Fitzwilliam’s expression softened, his lips curving into a slight, teasing smile. “Yet,” he remarked, with a lift of his brow, “you seem perfectly fine withmebeing around.”
"You’re an officer, Richard," Darcy replied. "You’re trained for this. You can take care of yourself." He paused, then added more urgently, "Please, speak to Colonel Forster. Bingley has hired more men to watch the house, but having some militia on hand would be a great help. I owe it to the people I care about to keep them safe. Bingley and his family are at risk as well."
Fitzwilliam nodded, his expression now serious. "I’ll see what I can do."
The two men fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation pressing heavily upon them. Darcy looked at the list again, his mind still swirling with unanswered questions.
"So what next?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration.
Fitzwilliam met his gaze with a steady smile. "We cannot call these men in to ask questions. Not yet, at least. If the killer is among them, he will only deny it and he will get more careful. We do not want that. More importantly, it may be mere coincidence. One person may have killed Mr Edwin Harper, and another, with a grudge against Thomas Granger, might have capitalized on the suspicion that fell on you to execute that murder as well."
Darcy’s brow furrowed. "That would make two separate killers."
"Yes," Fitzwilliam agreed. "It’s a possibility. I suspect if the there are two killers, then the second person might be someone close to Netherfield. A member of the household, most likely a servant. I’ve spoken to all the staff, but I intend to speak with them again. I want to see if their stories have changed."
"And then what do we do?" Darcy asked, his impatience clear.
Fitzwilliam smiled, his expression confident. "When is the next ball in Meryton?"
***
Two mornings after his proposal to Charlotte, Mr Collins departed from Longbourn with all the pomp and circumstance of a man engaged in a most important errand. His manner was as deliberate and ceremonious as ever, for he was bound for Kent, there to make preparations for his imminent marriage. He spoke of obtaining a special license, eager to hasten the ceremony, as though his very livelihood depended upon its swift completion.
He also declared his intention to inform his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of his good fortune in securing a wife, and to request her most gracious consent and blessing upon the union.
As Mr Collins drove off, the household fell into an awkward silence, which was soon filled by Mrs. Bennet's persistent complaints. She harangued Elizabeth without mercy, lamenting her daughter's refusal to accept such a suitor, so clearly devoted and of such an advantageous position. "You will never find a husband with such an attitude, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet declared, as though it were a tragic certainty. "You must learn to appreciate the kindness of men like Mr Collins. You are far too particular, too picky! And now look what you've done—he's gone off to Kent and engaged to your best friend. You, my dear, may never have another chance at such a match."
Elizabeth was not the least bit perturbed by her mother's tirade. She had grown accustomed to these criticisms, and the sting had long since dulled. Her thoughts were elsewhere, and the complaints of her mother seemed distant, almost inconsequential. She had resolved, in her heart, that Mr Collins was a man she could never marry, regardless of his devotion or his connections. She felt no regret at having rejected him, nor did she feel any inclination to entertain the idea of a match so impractical.
In fact, Elizabeth was no longer preoccupied with matters of marriage—not for herself, at least. Her mind had turned to matters far more pressing. Mr Darcy. She had sworn to find proof of his involvement in the deaths that had plagued the village, and now, she had devised a plan.
Sir William Lucas was to host a ball in two days' time, and Elizabeth, sensing an opportunity, made up her mind. The ball would be the perfect occasion to observe Mr Darcy more closely and, with any luck, it was there that she could hatch her plan.
Thirteen
Sir William Lucas, a man of modest fortune, rarely had cause to indulge in extravagance. Yet, upon the occasion of his daughter Charlotte's engagement to Mr Collins, he spared no effort in celebrating the event with an unprecedented display of hospitality. Charlotte, at seven-and-twenty, was fast approaching that delicate age at which gentlemen often ceased to regard a lady with matrimonial intent. Therefore, it seemed only fitting that her engagement should be commemorated with a ball—a rare and indeed singular opportunity. Sir William, determined to make the most of the occasion, ensured that every aspect of the evening was marked by an air of occasion and abundance.
As Elizabeth and her family arrived at Lucas Lodge, it was evident that no expense had been spared. The lavish spread of food and drink, the lively strains of music filling the air, and the meticulous arrangement of the drawing room bespoke an effort that transcended the ordinary. The house was transformed, as though to match the celebratory mood, into a scene of utter cheerfulness. Even Mr Bennet, who generally held such gatherings in little esteem, had been persuaded to make an appearance—partly out of respect for Sir William, a man he deemed a friend, and partly to show that no ill will lingered on his part regarding Charlotte’s acceptance of Mr Collins’s suit.
The room buzzed with animated conversation, the sound of clinking glasses, and the light swish of dancing slippers as the guests mingled and sought their respective circles. Every member of the Bennet’s family dispersed to what pleasure them.Elizabeth, as was her habit, cast a quick glance around the room, catching sight of her mother engaged in a spirited conversation with Mrs. Lucas, and her younger sisters absorbed in lively chatter with some of the other young ladies.
Making her way through the crowd, Elizabeth found Charlotte standing near the entrance, conversing with her mother. Upon seeing her, Elizabeth’s countenance brightened, and, unable to contain her pleasure, she hurried toward her friend and embraced her warmly.
“Charlotte, how glad I am for you!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with affection. “You look positively radiant this evening.”
Charlotte returned the smile, though a touch of nervousness betrayed her otherwise composed exterior. “Thank you, Lizzy,” she replied. “You, too, look exceedingly well.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I hope you no longer harbour no ill thoughts toward me for accepting Mr Collins’s proposal. I am aware that it was not entirely to your liking.”
Elizabeth gave her a gentle smile, squeezing Charlotte's hand in reassurance. “Not at all, Charlotte. I wish you nothing but happiness, and I am confident you will make the best of your situation.”
Just then, the door opened, and Elizabeth’s heart gave an unexpected leap at the sound of the approaching militia men. She turned with renewed interest, her gaze narrowing when she saw Mr Wickham entering the room with them. He was unmistakable in his militia uniform, his manner confident, even familiar. Upon spotting her, he made a beeline for Elizabeth, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. She could not help but return the smile as he reached her side.
“Miss Bennet,” he greeted, his voice warm and low, “Miss Lucas,” he added with a polite nod toward Charlotte.
