Happy Halloween, dear Sunday friends! Thank you for wonderful comments. I'm sorry that there is no relief for Elizabeth. Darcy is still very stubborn. Happy reading and commenting!
Chapter Six
Several months earlier
"You asked me to meet with you, ma'am?" asked the man, who climbed into a carriage on a deserted road. The woman, who had sent away her driver while she spoke with the man, looked at him earnestly.
"It seems that I have exhausted all existing options regarding the… situation we discussed earlier," said the woman who was gowned ornately.
"Yes, ma'am. How may I be of further assistance?" the man asked.
"I have come to the realisation that the only way to relieve this pressure is to eliminate her completely," she said, in complete seriousness.
"I see," the man said, thinking. He had not expected this from her.
"I assume you have dealt with this type of situation before, yes?"
"Yes, I have," he said carefully. "There are many ways we can take care of the woman, ma'am."
"Excellent. What is the best way to take care of this particular problem?" the woman asked.
"We could wait for her to be walking amongst the woods and dispose of her then," the man offered.
The woman considered carefully. "Perhaps. Do not forget, this is a woman who will stop at nothing. I need this to be carefully planned so that no questioning eyes will point toward us."
"What if we slip her a poison? We could pay off a servant to leave and then replace them with a hired man under a pseudonym. The hired man could slip an untraceable poison into her food. This way, no one could trace it back to you, ma'am."
The woman nodded. "I knew there was a reason I hired you. However, that might take too long to accomplish. What else might we do?
"You said she travels to London from time to time. What if I follow her carriage on a trip and dispose of her then? I could perhaps stage it to look like an accident."
"Perfect. I expect you to take care of this with the utmost discretion," the woman said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Of course, ma'am. You needn't worry," said the lackey, standing to take his leave.
The woman watched her little minion depart, smiling to herself as she thought, Soon I shall be rid of this money-hungry wench.
1808
Mrs. Bennet finally achieved some happiness. The past year brought her increased wealth and connections. She was not living in Pemberley. However, she continued to employ her lover, Mr. Morris, whom she regularly met in Derby to discuss her schemes to increase her wealth.
"Has Mr. Kingsway retreated yet?" Mrs. Bennet asked during one such meeting.
"Not yet, Fanny," Morris said.
"I presume you are exhausting all options?" she asked, somewhat irritated with the lack of success.
"We will continue to contest George Darcy's will, my sweet. You will live in Oxford Park by the end of the year," Mr. Morris—ever the flatterer—said with a smile. Oxford Park was one of the more prosperous Darcy estates. Mr. Morris learned that it yielded four thousand a year. While the income fell short of Fanny's expectation, the proximity to London would make up for it. Mrs. Bennet could take Jane and Lydia to town more often. He had convinced Fanny to demand that from the Darcys. Mrs. Bennet had not given James a surname yet. Still, she was able to pester young Fitzwilliam over several weeks. The silly young lad then instructed the abominable Mr. Kingsway to increase her allowance substantially.
"Christmas in Oxford," Mrs. Bennet said with a smile. "How lovely. Do you think that the rest of the county will attend if I throw a ball?"
"I do, indeed. Everyone will be pleased to see you and your stunning Jane. You could even make it a country house visit so you can show off Master James," Morris thought of the little boy, who was now a year old. He did not believe the boy was his, but yet…
Mrs. Bennet beamed. "Yes, I do quite look forward to seeing him grow up there."
"In the meantime, I think you should enjoy your temporary sojourn in Derbyshire." asked Mr. Morris.
"Of course, I've become acquainted with many of the local gentry. I shall meet with Lord Radbourne at the week's end, in fact. He is the father of the Lady Matlock, whose estate is nearby, as you know," Mrs. Bennet said.
"I see Derbyshire suits you, for now," Mr. Morris said with a smile. "There is another matter I must mention, however." Mr. Morris wanted to have her in a favourable mood before revealing this.
"There are words of certain… questions being asked; about Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy's carriage accident. Do you think that the dagger I brought to you shortly after the accident might have to do with anything untoward?"
Mrs. Bennet thought about the gilded dagger Morris found near her late husband's body. She also tried to think of who might have been asking questions about it.
"No, not at all," she said, feigning concern, "I suppose it might have been Darcy's or something of the sort."
"Well, you needn't worry. They are only rumours." Mr. Morris placed his hand upon the woman's, staring at her handsome face.
Mrs. Bennet sniffled, "Morris, whatever would I do without you?"
Mr. Morris gave a loyal smile. "I am happy to be in your service," he said.
Mrs. Bennet had kept Morris wrapped around her finger for the past months. He convinced himself that she loved him and thus was happy to do anything she asked, so long as she gave him what he desired on occasion.
"Do you think that Fitzwilliam and Lady Anne could be behind these rumours?" Mrs. Bennet asked.
"Perhaps, but I would think no more about it, my dear Fanny. We must focus on the matter at hand—installing you at Oxford," Mr. Morris said. He then wrapped his hands around her waist and enjoyed Fanny's sumptuous form for nearly an hour.
Later that week, Mrs. Bennet had tea with Lord Radbourne. He had a fortune of seven thousand pounds a year and owned the beautiful Wigston Hall in Leicester. The elderly Lord was presently staying at Pemberley, where his heir, Richard Fitzwilliam, visited his cousin who was on holiday from Cambridge. Young Mr. Darcy had decided to go to university earlier in the year. Mrs. Bennet was gleeful of his move and wished he would fall in with the wrong crowd and get himself killed in one way or another. Perhaps then her James would be able to find ways to obtain the Darcys fortune. In the meantime, Mrs. Bennet was not lying idle. She met Lord Radbourne in a dinner two weeks ago and found the gentleman of interest to her. Despite the protests of Lady Anne, he had chosen to call on the young widow.
"Mrs. Bennet," said Lord Radbourne, "It is so lovely to see you again."
"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Radbourne," Mrs. Bennet said. The man was handsome for his advanced age. "Please, call me Fanny."
"How do you fare here at the Dowager House, Fanny?" He asked as they settled into the sitting room.
"We fare well. Of course, we must be frugal," Mrs. Bennet said, trying to convey innocence. "I cannot complain about the generosity of the Darcys."
"What a brave woman you are! Surely, there must be a line of suitors at your door," Lord Radbourne said flirtatiously.
"Perhaps for my sweet Jane, who is nearing the majority, but none so much for myself," Mrs. Bennet said demurely.
Lord Radbourne studied the middle-aged woman. He found her figure womanlier and more to his taste than Jane, who could be his granddaughter. His wife was no longer a beauty and had not allowed him into her bedchamber for several decades. He was used to sampling the courtesans in London, but if such a tasty morsel was available nearby, he was all the more happier. He would certainly be calling on Mrs. Bennet again, despite his family's protestations.
"I expect in time you will find yourself married?" Lord Radbourne asked.
"Marriage? Perhaps not. I am pleased here amongst my children," Mrs. Bennet said.
She was not lying, either. Mrs. Bennet had spent the last few months here contented with James who had brought her so much wealth and her beautiful Jane, who was likely to get her more.
Mrs. Bennet had also expanded her social circle here in Derbyshire. Being a widow suited her well. She narrowed her eyes at the wrinkled Lord. He was near seventy and old enough to be her father. But he was right, as Pemberley was beyond her reach and Oxford Park not bestowed to her soon, she should cast her net further. Mrs. Bennet sat up and pushed her bosom tighter against the delicate silk dress. She could see him swallow hard.
"Yes, indeed," said Lord Radbourne, smiling at the woman.
Mrs. Bennet continued to chat with Lord Radbourne, all the while making mental notes to remain on good terms with the man. One never knew when someone like him might come in handy.
~P&P~P&P~P&P~
"Look at those spectacles!" George Wickham yelled at Mary Bennet, who was tossing pebbles into a pond in the estate. Darcy laughed loudly, encouraging him.
"How far do you think she can see?" asked Darcy.
"I'd say clear to London!" George said, continuing to laugh. Poor Mary did her best to ignore them, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Stop it, you two! You have no business picking on her!" shouted Elizabeth, who had come to see what was going on.
"Aw, there's her nursemaid, always fussing over little Mary," George said, mocking. "Have you come to join the fun, Mad Elizabeth?"
"I say, have you heard her ranting and raving?" asked Darcy, joining in. They were with Richard Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam's cousin, who joined in, laughing.
"Mad Elizabeth?" Richard asked in amusement. Darcy could see how angry Elizabeth was, but he could not resist. His annoyance of the Bennets continued, encouraged by his mother and his friend Wickham. To their endless entertainment, Darcy and George would taunt the Bennets every chance they could get.
"Mad Elizabeth and her little Four-Eyes!" Darcy bellowed at them. "Get out of here! It's not your land!"
Elizabeth took Mary's hand and walked back with her to the Dowager House without looking at the young men. Darcy sometimes felt guilt at the teasing. Then he recalled her inane persistence at their father's accident and her greedy mother; his remorse would turn into annoyance.
The young men whooped and yelled at the girls until they could no longer see their small frames. George Wickham was doubled over in laughter with Richard.
"Did you see the look on their faces?" Wickham said.
"Do you think madwoman will be back?" Richard asked Darcy, who shook his head.
"Not a chance."
"Why do those lots insist on traipsing about as if they own the place?" asked George.
"I know not," said Darcy. "But it is entirely irritating. I despise walking around my own woodland and running into her."
"I would not mind getting her behind a tree in the woods," said Wickham. "She has all the right curves for me."
Darcy whipped his head around and glared at Wickham, suddenly infuriated. "Do not speak of Elizabeth in that way."
Richard and George looked at each other with suppressed laughter. "Does someone fancy Mad Elizabeth?" Richard said.
"Not a chance." Darcy said quickly, "It is simply improper to speak of a woman in such a way."
"Right, says you," George said, laughing. Darcy ignored him.
"Why do you sneer at them so, Darcy? It is amusing, no doubt, but I am curious," asked Richard.
"I am sure you've heard of Mrs. Bennet and her machinations. Elizabeth is just as conniving, hell-bent on trying to see if there is foul play regarding our father's deaths," Darcy said.
"Are you sure there is not?" Richard asked.
"No!" Darcy said sharply. "I am eternally exhausted of the notion. It has driven the girl to madness."
"I see," said Richard.
"It does not matter anyway," said Darcy, "They are dead. There is no use in stirring up old ghosts."
"Let's get on then," said George, presenting a bottle of whiskey, "That's enough talking about the Bennets. Shall we go play a game of whist and open this lovely lass?"
Darcy smiled, agreeing. That was undoubtedly enough about those godforsaken Bennets.
~P&P~P&P~P&P~
"I am not mad," Elizabeth murmured to herself, eyes stinging as she walked away from the taunts of Darcy and his friends. Though she had been called so many names throughout the last year, being called mad seemed to be the worst.
"Why is Fitzwilliam so mean to us now?" asked Mary with innocent eyes that were filled with tears. The young men had gotten to her this time, as Mary was particularly sensitive about her new spectacles.
"I suppose Mr. Darcy has nothing better to do, on vacation here from university. Wickham is a bad influence on him. Luckily he is not educated enough to go to Cambridge with Mr. Darcy. And boys are prone to ill behaviour when they are bored," Elizabeth said.
"He wasn't always like that," Mary said quietly. They stopped in the middle of the woodland between their house and the pond. Elizabeth took hold of Mary's shoulders.
"No, he was not. But death can change things. You mustn't let their tormenting get to you," Elizabeth said sternly.
"It makes me feel so ashamed," said Mary.
"I know, but the stronger you are, the more they will leave you alone, do you hear?"
"Yes," Mary said. "But Lizzy?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Why do they call you mad?" Mary asked.
"Because they will call anyone who is smarter than they are mad," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Now, let's get back home. It is almost time for supper."
When she arrived home, Elizabeth found that her mother, Jane, and baby James had taken the coach to visit a neighbour. Her mother spent all of her time with Jane and James, leaving the rest of them to their own devices. She could take care of Kitty, but she had no idea what to do with Lydia. The young girl was either alone or unsuccessfully trying to tag along with their mother and Jane or young Wickham.
"Lydia!" Elizabeth called, trying to see where she was. As expected, she was nowhere to be found.
"Oh, Papa, I wish you were here to help us," said Elizabeth under her breath.
Elizabeth swore she could almost feel his hand on her cheek. Almost.
~P&P~P&P~P&P~
Later that night, Elizabeth could not sleep. She put a thick cloak on over her night gown and walked down to the pond, lost in her thoughts. The water was beautiful in the bright moonlight.
"You won't find anything in there," Darcy's voice suddenly said behind her.
Elizabeth was startled, not hearing him walk up behind her through the fog of her mind.
"Mr. Darcy, I apologise. I could not sleep." She turned to walk away at once.
"Wait," Darcy blurted out, stumbling forward. He was thoroughly drunk from his night of whisky and card-playing.
"What is it?" Elizabeth asked.
"You may stay," he said, unsteady on his feet. "I shall leave."
"Why do you hate me so? Truly?" Elizabeth asked abruptly.
Drunkenness compelled him to answer. "I do not hate you."
"Perhaps not now, but you will tomorrow. I have been no less than a friend to you, Fitzwilliam. Surely the actions of my mother cannot damn me so completely," Elizabeth said, frustrated.
"It is your obsession that reviles me. That and your mother's preoccupation with scheming and bettering her status," Fitzwilliam said plainly.
Elizabeth replied bitterly. "I suppose I am to put up with your abuse, then."
"If you wish to live on my land, yes," he said, closing his eyes as he lay down on the grass.
"I cannot believe I ever considered you family," Elizabeth said.
"Well, I cannot believe I ever considered that one day you might be more than that," Fitzwilliam murmured under his breath.
"What did you say?" asked Elizabeth, coming over to look at him, realising that he was much unlike his normal self. "Have you taken to drink?"
"Yes," Darcy said with a laugh. Elizabeth shook her head.
"I no longer recognise you," she said.
"Nor do I," Darcy said. "Do you continue your research with Kingsway?" He did not bother to tell her that he had been paying Mr. Kingsway for whatever investigation Elizabeth wanted.
"I do," Elizabeth said firmly.
"You're still mad. Mad Elizabeth," Darcy said, laughing to himself. Elizabeth turned away from him, furious.
"Mad for wanting to know why my father is dead? Mad to wonder if there could be justice to serve? Mad for wanting to know why I left my previous life and now live in this hellscape with you as my torturer?" Elizabeth yelled at him, turning back to glare.
That declaration set Darcy off. "Me? A torturer? Have you any idea what you and your mother has put me through?"
"I scarcely know. You have not done much more than scream at me since that day at Mr. Kingsway's office."
"You know what your mother said," Darcy retorted.
"I do! I know that those words did not come from my mouth either!" she said.
Darcy could not deny that his anger at her was misplaced. But he would not admit it.
"I do not know the truth, nor shall I ever."
"I understand your anger, Fitzwilliam. I feel it too," Elizabeth said simply. He understood her meaning but could not reconcile rationale with his resentment.
"Then you understand why I can no longer befriend you," he replied. Darcy was growing tired.
"I suppose I do," Elizabeth said.
Fitzwilliam wanted to sleep there, unable to move from the soft grass.
"Then it is settled. You may leave now, Miss Bennet," he said, closing his eyes.
Elizabeth stared at him in sadness. She wished that to have her dear friend back, not understanding the stranger who took his place. Elizabeth left without a goodbye, her footsteps growing fainter as she walked the woodland path towards her home.
Darcy thought he could feel his father looking at him, shame and disappointment covering him like a blanket.
"What else am I to do, Papa?" he said, yawning. There was, of course, no answer. Darcy tried to settle into sleep, wanting to forget the image of Elizabeth's pained face before him.
Suddenly, he heard a scream in the distance, rousing him at once.
"Elizabeth!" Darcy shouted as he ran toward the sound, forgetting all animosity.