Chapter 25

"How vile!" cried Caroline before holding a handkerchief to her mouth and hurrying from the room.

Elizabeth's eyes sparked with fury, "Mother, how could you!" She grabbed the bloody sheet and also rushed out.

"Elizabeth, come back here at once!" called out Mrs. Bennet. "Bring back my sheet. I have not yet shown it to your my brother and Mrs. Gardiner and their acquaintances."

Darcy gave Mrs. Bennet a look of incredulity before dashing after Elizabeth.

Lady Catherine beckoned over a footman, "Tell cook that I am feeling quite unwell after that spectacle. Tell her to fry some chanterelle mushrooms for me. They are such a wonderful pick me up. Oh and Priggs, is the burgundy uncorked?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, now pour it out. The more air that gets to it the better."

Darcy caught up with Elizabeth as she headed towards the kitchen.

"Elizabeth!" From behind he placed a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. "Elizabeth, stop!" he commended.

She stopped, he turned her to face him, "You told me you had been true."

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his, "Had not you better not see what ails your pregnant wife?"

"The child is not mine and well you know it. Now tell me, what happened? Did Collins force himself upon you? For if he did I will see to it that he pays..."

"No...he did not force me."

"Oh, so you consented...perhaps you were curious or there is an attraction between the two of you?"

"No!" cried Elizabeth. "How could you even think such a thing? If you could but smell his feet!"

"I'm sorry?" Darcy frowned uncertainly.

"Look, look at the sheet more closely." She proffered the sheet to him. He took hold of it gingerly.

"Look at the fur on it."

"Fur? Is that what you call it? Well, let's see, it's short, fine, fluffy, incredibly soft and white with a grey tip. How very curious, but very sensual." He gave her a mischievous smile, "I say, do you dye yourself...down below?"

Elizabeth's eyes flared, "I do no such thing! What I am trying to tell you is that the fur is not mine."

A look of horror crossed his face, "You mean...it's Collins's?" He dropped the sheet with a shudder.

"No! It belongs to a rabbit."

"What? But that is even worse! To share carnal knowledge with a...beast of the field!"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" cried Elizabeth, "I am trying to tell you that it is not my blood. It is rabbit blood. I am still a maiden."

For a moment Darcy's horror melted into relief, "I am so very relieved to hear it," then his face clouded over, "But I still don't understand what the rabbit was doing in bed with you in the first place."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, snatched the sheet from the floor and stalked into the kitchen. The servants looked on in surprise as Elizabeth barged in, walked up to and opened the door to the range and shoved the offending sheet into the flames.

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Caroline hid behind the Japanese lacquered screen hiding the chamber pot and observed the burgundy being poured out. As soon as the last glass was filled the footman left the dining room and Caroline skipped out from being the screen. According to his name card Darcy was seated on Lady Catherine's right and Caroline was seated next to him. She surveyed the table, every red wine glass was one third full of burgundy, an increasingly precious commodity since the start of the war with France. After a furtive look towards the door she opened the ring given to her by Isabella de Medici and tipped a white powder into Darcy's glass. She then snapped her ring shut and smiling, slowly walked back towards the drawing room.

Back in the drawing room Mrs. Bennet was lamenting her daughter's behaviour, "Well, Lizzie is such a modest girl, which must be why she ran out so indecorously. But I do hope she returns my sheet for I would now be quite lost without it. It certainly causes a stir when I bring it out at my sister's whist evenings."

"Well, I never!" Lady Catherine fanned herself vigorously, "Jenkinson, fetch my snuff!"

Mrs. Jenkinson bobbed a quick curtsey before scurrying from the room.

Anne weakly rose from the sofa and said in a faint voice, "I need some fresh air, mama."

"Wait until Jenkinson gets back."

"I need the privy, mama. The sight of blood has made me feel unwell."

"Well, be sure to cover yourself with your shawl. Do not catch cold."

"No, mama," Anne's petit figure drifted from the room.

"Such a sickly little dry bone of a thing," observed Mrs. Bennet.

"I beg your pardon?" bellowed Lady Catherine.

"Oh, I mean no offence, Lady Catherine. It's just that the way Mr. Collins oh'ed and ah'ed about your daughter I was expecting a lot more. Now you describe her as a beauty and well you should, for you are her mother. But in reality she is a plain, insipid little thing. Shame, but at least she as a fortune so she will no doubt find a husband but, for how long she will keep his affections is less certain. Now, Lady Catherine, wish you could see my Jane, though I am her mother and duty bound to say she is a beauty, it is not just I who says it. My Jane is considered one of the great beauties of Hertfordshire. But then so was I. Oh yes, in my youth I could have had my pick of red coats. Mr. Bennet says that there are still red coats out there today who would have me, if only he could but find them. Well, do my eyes not still sparkle? And I still have my retrousse nose and sweet dimpled chin. So, you see, my dear Jane had my base of beauty from which to build but your Anne did not. Oh, your gowns are fine and your posture correct but you must own that your features are strong and a rather heavy and, after a certain age, that can make you look a little masculine which, I think you will agree, is not becoming."

Mrs. Bennet smiled serenely as she fluttered her fan. Everybody, even Lady Catherine, must come to understand that her Jane was the fairest lady of their acquaintance. Lady Catherine could do no more than huff as she was speechless with rage.

Instead of going directly to Lady Catherine's apartments Mrs. Jenkinson hurried down to the kitchen. She did not notice Elizabeth and Darcy embracing in one of the dark corridors she passed. Once in the kitchen she spoke to the cook, "Are Lady Catherine's chanterelle mushrooms ready?"

"Just ready, Mrs. Jenkinson. They only take a moment to fry."

Cook pointed towards a small lidded porcelain terrine. With her back to the servants Mrs. Jenkinson surreptitiously looked round before slowly lifting the lid off the terrine. She reached into the top of her stays and pulled out a small drawstring pouch which she unloosened and sprinkled the contents, the finely grated white root of the white Helebore, over the mushrooms. She gave the mushrooms a quick stir before deftly replacing the lid and discreetly throwing the pouch in the kitchen waste.

"They will do nicely."

Instead of heading for the garden Anne made her way to her apartments. Mrs Jenkinson had thought her asleep that afternoon but Anne had been slyly able to observe her companion as she finely grating the root of a plant on to a sheet of paper and then placed it in a little pouch. Instinct told Anne that the root was poisonous, probably White Helebore. Anne kneeled down and rooted through the waste basket until she found the scrunched up sheet of paper which she carefully unfolded and, using a quill, added the remnants of the grated root to her snuff box. With the tip of the quill she stirred the contents of her snuff box well before snapping it shut and throwing the sheet of paper back in the waste bin.

Anne glided back into the drawing room at the same time as Caroline, Darcy, Elizabeth and Mrs. Jenkinson. All avoided eye contact with each other and all hoped that the direction from which they had approached the drawing room had not be observed.

Higgs, the butler, appeared, "Dinner is served."

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