Chapter 87

When they arrive home, everyone goes straight to bed. Georgiana pulls Eric into a little nook in the hall and kisses him goodnight with fervour. That'll cost him at least an hour to wind down from, maybe he should talk to her and explain how a man experiences these little tokens of affection. Though it's less than a month until their wedding, maybe he can cope with the sleepless nights a little longer. Or he can play a few scales to unwind, no-one will hear if he sneaks into the drawing-room for half an hour.

Preferring sneaking downstairs to lying awake doing battle with his urges, Eric does indeed make his silent way down the stairs after the house has quieted down. Half-expecting to meet Simon or Mr Manners in the hallway, he is not surprised to hear a small sound in the direction of the servants' quarters downstairs. To prevent embarrassment, he steps back into the shadow to let whoever is about at this hour pass him by undisturbed.

But no-one does, and when he continues towards the drawing-room he can pinpoint the noises to Darcy's study. If there is someone downstairs he can forget about playing the piano in the middle of the night, but that does raise the question: why would Darcy be in his office at night? He is almost certain to not be in there right now, he values his time alone with his wife. That leaves the possibility of an intruder, or a servant snooping, which endangers two very good friends of Eric's likely to be caught at their own sneaking about. Or Georgiana, if it's a burglar. Better take a very careful look, and if it is Darcy after all he can ask permission to play the piano for half an hour, to unwind. Darcy'll think it's from the stress of the concert.

Excited now in a different way, Eric moves towards the study very, very quietly. It's kind of reckless to try and catch out a possible burglar, but if he rouses the house and it's Darcy after all, he'll make a nice kind of fool of himself.

Fortunately the door is left slightly ajar, and there is a light in the study. A burglar would not use a lamp, and with a little more daring Eric opens the door entirely, to find a nervous, dark figure rifling through the drawers of Darcy's desk. It's smaller than Darcy, and his patron would never rifle through anything in this room, he knows exactly what is where. Feeling a need for a witness, Eric quickly withdraws and enters the servants' part of the house, hoping to find Manners in Simon's room. A soft knock proves enough to get a reaction, but since Manners is not exactly supposed to be here, there is no reply. Someone is moving towards the door, though, and when Eric expects that person to have reached the door he says softly, 'It's Eric, there is someone in Darcy's study.'

The door opens and Manners comes out, still dressed, he must also have waited for the house to quiet down before moving downstairs.

'Simon's already asleep, we can handle it by ourselves.'

He sounds grim, as if he knows who it is in Mr Darcy's study. Once on their way, Manners moves much more quietly than one would expect of such a powerful man, and Eric is happy to fall in line beside him. No careful probing for his companion, Manners merely pushes the door open with force, then enters the room.

'Stay right where you are, Mr Collins!' Manners bellows.

Mr Collins? What could he be looking for in Darcy's office?

The tubby little fellow is now easily recognisable, staring at the two of them in guilt and fear.

Manners closes the distance between them in three long strides, grabs him by the collar of his coat, and orders, 'Fielding, check his pockets. And his clothes. Very thoroughly.'

'I was just looking for a few stamps! I didn't do anything! I'm a man of the cloth, I'm above your suspicion, how dare you imply that I would steal anything!'

Valuables then, or plain hard cash. Trusting Manners to know how far one can go with the cousin of one's host, even if he is so only by marriage, Eric starts with Mr Collins' coat, finding all the pockets and turning them inside out. A wad of bills falls out, and the man colours, then calls out defensively, 'That's mine! I already had that before I came in here!'

Eric picks up the roll, then walks to a certain cabinet, taking the lamp. He opens the third drawer from below, then a little box inside. It contains several neat envelopes, still sealed shut, and nothing else. With a heavy feeling, he marches back to Manners and hands him the roll of bills.

'That's your payment for the concert yesterday, I recognise the way it's bound together.'

'The girl was so proud of the pretty bow she'd tied in the ribbon. Said even money could be made to look nice. We just put it in the money box yesterday, there was no time to seal it away.'

'Better count the envelopes then, Eric. But first we turn the rest of his pockets as well.'

That seems to really upset Mr Collins, and he dares to struggle. In vain, of course, Manners is much stronger and in no mood to be lenient. Eric thinks he knows why, the very idea of this creep roaming the house at night must make his friend's blood run cold.

But hidden in one of the helpless man's garters is another item, it feels like paper rolled up, and at Manners' imperious gesture to get on with it, Eric loosens the man's trousers and retrieves what turns out to be exactly what it felt like.

'Let me do the rest, Eric. I'm afraid you may be too nice to thoroughly search a man. You check out that parchment, it looks official. If it's still sealed, do not break the seal.'

'It was sealed, but the wax has been broken.'

Manners really knows how to search a man from top to bottom, Eric isn't squeamish, but he is afraid his tall friend will include the preacher's private space in his search. He must have shown his disgust, for Manners laughs heartily, and observes, 'Eric, I didn't know you were so worldly-wise!'

Forgetting the seriousness of the situation for a moment, Eric cannot help joining his friend, his laughter is so infectious.

'I went to school, too, you know.'

That sets them off again, and Manners suggests, 'If that is the case, I may have to check the ultimate hiding place after all; this fellow went to school, too. Though I guess he never had friends who needed to smuggle certain items in and out of the building. Or friends of any kind. I guess he may have had quite a rough time at school, with the other guys amusing themselves at his expense.

Anyway, I don't think he expected to be caught, so I suppose it's safe to assume this is all he took. I guess Darcy will draw the line somewhere with what we can do to his house guest, even is he is a thief.'

Eric doesn't dare open the parchment he is holding, but Manners doesn't hesitate for a moment. He takes a few moments to read, then swallows hard.

'I'm going to retract that last statement. Darcy will have his hide for lunch. He's only a cousin by marriage, you see, and he stands to inherit Mr Bennet's estate through entail. They're not very attached to him or anything. You go get Darcy, I'm keeping an eye on this deplorable fellow. He'll be very, very sorry you caught him, for a very long time. What were you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?'

Ignoring Mr Collins, Eric answers truthfully.

'I was going to play scales on the drawing-room piano for half an hour. My fiancée doesn't realise that it's difficult to find sleep after she has kissed me with a certain fervour, and I haven't the heart to tell her. Playing scales always calms me down instantly.'

'So that's what saved your virtue on that excursion to Grenfell's house. I did wonder at your self-control.'

Eric ignores that, it is not a night he cares to remember too well.

'When I got down here, I heard noises and went to investigate. That's about it.'

'I'm glad Georgiana did that to you, Eric. Now hurry up and get Darcy before he's asleep.'

This is a right mess to find going on in a good man's home. If Eric hadn't caught the creep, who would have been blamed for the theft? Johnson, the butler, is still a bit of a suspect in the house. And what is in that paper that caused even Manners to blanch at the thought of it being stolen?

It must be past one by now, but there is nothing for it, Eric needs to knock.

'Who's there?' a sleepy female voice asks.

'It's Eric, Elizabeth, we need Darcy. There's a situation downstairs. With your cousin.'

Fortunately she does not ask for an explanation.

'I'll see if I can wake him up.'

He's already asleep? Oh my, now they can only hope he isn't one of those people who wake up ill-humoured.

After a short while, and some mumbling behind the door, it opens, and Darcy comes out in a dressing-gown.

'You may want to dress for this, Darcy,' Eric dares suggest. That wakes him up nicely, he looks worried, but he doesn't ask for an explanation either and merely goes back in, to return almost immediately, dressed in a pair of his usual tight trousers, and shirtsleeves.

'No coat?'

'I don't need a coat to deal with the likes of him. Will you tell me what has happened, or do you prefer that I wring it out of him?'

'You know what he has done?'

Eric can hardly believe it.

'I suspect he has been snooping to find stuff to damage Elizabeth's reputation. He will regret it. Mr Collins fears my aunt Catherine, but even after a rather overbearing warning yesterday, he doesn't yet fear me. Or my cousin Fitzwilliam. Or my uncle.'

'Well, for the moment he is dealing with Manners, and I suspect that gentleman has already installed some fear of you in him. Besides, I suppose I'd rather cross the lot of you than Manners. You can have him defrocked for what he has done, but I suspect Manners may have the King's ear.'

'Defrocked? It's that bad?'

Darcy's voice sounds bleak, but that may be fatigue. The poor man was fast asleep after all.

By now they have reached the study and Darcy barges in, much like Manners did earlier.

Mr Collins is in a chair, miserable and small, Manners towering over him.

'All right, I'm here. Fielding told me very little but I can make an educated guess. He caught you rifling through my papers, looking for documents to discredit your cousin, my wife, in the eyes of the world. Did you succeed?'

Darcy is really frightening, icy cold, and the chubby clergyman cannot do more than gape at him in abject fear. Of course Manners is not impressed, he's very self-assured, but Eric does feel a bit intimidated by his patron's attitude. Mr Zumpe got off lightly, that's a certainty.

A roll with a broken seal is handed over the table. Darcy doesn't even open it, he knows exactly what it is.

'You gave up your connection to one of the most respected families in England for this? Elizabeth doesn't even know about it! It's useless to you, it proves nothing!'

'It proves you are an even better husband than I thought I knew. I salute you, Darcy.'

Manners bows to his friend, with profound respect. Eric almost wishes he knew what is in that little sealed roll of paper.

'I want you out of my house before breakfast. I will write my aunt to tell her what her ludicrous prejudice against my beloved will cost you. Be glad I will not sue you for damages.'

He looks at Manners, who is trying to catch his attention.

'There is more? More private documents?'

'No, Darcy. Plain theft. He had his paws in Eric's money box. I guess you'd better search Mr Collins' room, too, and count your petty cash. Jewellery, too.'

Darcy sits down on his desk, face in his palm.

'Now I understand the defrocking, Eric. Spying for my petty aunt is one thing. Stealing from you is another. You worked very hard for those fees. Imagine discovering it gone tomorrow. We might even have blamed Johnson, or one of the hired maids. And you caught him at it together?'

'We did, Darcy. And the birthday-girl made a pretty gift of the bills, it was unmistakeably Eric's.'

Shaking his head, Darcy looks at the miserable round-faced clergyman.

'Why? Why steal Eric's money? You've seen him work for it, all day and all evening. You're a man of God! How can you live with yourself? Can you imagine what Lady Catherine will do when she finds out?'

The coldness is gone, now. Somehow Darcy takes this a lot more seriously than the document.

And Mr Collins does, too. He whispers something, Manners bending over to hear it.

'He says he needed the money, and he didn't know it was Eric's or he wouldn't have taken it.'

Manners' sarcasm may be even scarier than Darcy's rage, he knows everyone who matters, he can truly break a man. Voice dripping contempt, he addresses Mr Collins.

'Well, at least it wasn't personal, I'm sure your patroness will see the difference between stealing from a gentleman and robbing an artist.'

Another whisper.

'He says there were some irregularities in the way he gained his University title, and someone found out and wanted money to keep quiet about it.'

'You are in deep trouble, Mr Collins.'

The way Darcy says the honorific it speaks of distance rather than respect.

'Out of respect for my beloved's friendship with your wife I would merely have severed all contact between you and my family. But if Lady Catherine finds out you have been stealing, or that your competence may be in doubt, you will lose your patronage and run a serious risk of becoming destitute. You will be thrown on the mercy of Sir Lucas, who has enough mouths to feed as it is. You will never find another situation, no-one will hire you, not even as a clerk.

Have you stolen other things in this house? I advise you to speak the truth, for we will search your room, tonight. And I will request Simon to count the petty cash tomorrow. Elizabeth can check her own jewellery. Now tell us, quickly.'

Surprisingly, now that all seems lost, Mr Collins does not grovel. Does he realise this would most likely agitate Darcy even further?

'I have not. I decided to nose around tonight because we were set to leave tomorrow. I never intended to take money until I saw it lying there. Lady Catherine didn't even ask me to do it, I was overzealous, please don't write to her! Our little baby, she will grow up destitute, my poor Charlotte, please don't punish them for my weakness!'

'Why, Mr Collins, why target Elizabeth?'

'She refused me! And not just that, she looked at me as if I was a worm, beneath her notice. When she had nothing! She should have thanked me on her bare knees, but she scorned me. And then she caught you. The way you look at her, the way you worship her, it's just not right. A woman should know her place, not be rewarded for despising her betters.'

'You are not Elizabeth's better, believe me! Eric, do you want satisfaction for the theft of your earnings? It's your choice, you can wreck his life with a single letter to my aunt.'

Who would have thought that in the throes of fear and remorse, Mr Collins would sound just like any other man? But Eric believes the man is sincere, though his apparent hatred for Elizabeth is despicable. Reducing him to less than nothing will not improve him, though, nor will it help his wife and baby.

'I do not want to see him fall that deep. But I do want him brought down a peg or two. He is not better than others, especially not Mrs Darcy. She deserves our love and respect, not petty jealousy. I say let her decide on his fate, since this was aimed at her. She will show him that she is a better person than he is. Mrs Collins has done nothing wrong, she should not suffer for her husband's crimes.'

'Good, I like to see justice done quickly,' Manners observes. 'Let's get on with it, I'm getting tired. You count your envelopes, Eric, and then we'll take this fellow to his room and turn it upside down. The petty cash can wait until morning, can't it, Darcy? Let's not wake the servants.'

But with the four of them stumbling across the hall in the dark, and Manners thoroughly searching every piece of furniture in the clergyman's room and every bit of clothing Mr Collins has with him, they do make a bit of noise on the first floor. They find nothing, not by the light of several candles, and Darcy admonishes his unwelcome guest to stay in his room until he is fetched in the morning.

'I have a deja-vu, Manners, of a certain evening at Netherfield. Shall we meet in the little confidence-room at ten? The three of us and Elizabeth?'

'An excellent idea. And now I'm going to my very own room to catch up on some sleep. Good night, gentlemen.'

Eric retreats, too. He will not need to practise scales to wind down, his ardour has left him some time ago, and he is so tired he can hardly find the way to his own apartment.

Darcy, on the other hand, doesn't expect to be able to sleep for at least an hour, yet. He needs to tell his beloved exactly what happened, and then she will have to decide what to do with her cousin. And consequently with her friend. Elizabeth will not be pleased.

But before he has time to do more than sit on the bed and remove his shirt, there is another knock on the door. Barely suppressing a really nasty profanity, he puts the shirt back on and opens the door without asking who is standing behind it.

'Oh Mr Darcy, I'm so sorry to disturb you but so glad you're still up! I didn't want to make a fuss, but since everybody was making a lot of noise anyway I thought I'd feel safer..'

It's Mrs Collins, in a dressing gown that is at least two sizes too small for her current proportion, and she stops talking mid-sentence with her face drawn in pain and her hands clutching her distended belly. Darcy can no longer stop the profanity from entering his thoughts, though he manages to clamp his lips on it.

Oh my God. She's having the baby. Right here in his house, from which he has barred her husband not even an hour ago.

'Elizabeth, I think you'd better put on a dress, quickly.'

By now, Mrs Collins has righted herself and is able to finish her sentence.

'Will you please get me a doctor? I think I'm in labour.'

Mrs Collins looks ready to faint, and Darcy catches her and takes her into their bedroom, to sit in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace.

'I'm not going to ring the bell, Elizabeth, that'll have everyone in a panic in the servants' quarters. I'll fetch Fanny, she'll know what to do. You give your friend a glass of water. Do you want me to fetch your husband, Mrs Collins?'

He is the last person Darcy wants in his bedroom with his beloved dressed in a rush and looking a tad dishevelled, but the poor woman deserves any support she needs.

'No, please! Leave him be. Please, Mr Darcy, he will not be of any help. Frankly, I can't stand the sight of him, but I knew what I was getting into when I married him and I'm not sorry. Though I fear his influence on our children, he will try to make them into little copies of himself.'

Pain sure has made Mrs Collins open-hearted, Darcy is afraid she will be sorry tomorrow for what she is blurting out now. Fortunately Elizabeth is done dressing, and she signals him to go fetch Fanny, just when Mrs Collins has another one of those pains. Elizabeth doesn't look very much at ease, but there is nothing they can do but find an expert.

Darcy decides not to walk quietly, that will only alert Manners and Fielding and rouse them from their beds again thinking he's Mr Collins back at his snooping. So he just descends the stairs as he always does and enters the servants' part of the house. He is glad Fanny no longer goes home at night, or they'd be in real trouble now. Fortunately she agreed to live with them once her engagement to Bob was official. They're set to get married in March, too, two weeks before Georgie and Fielding, better have Simon pick them a nice gift.

Starting with a soft knock, he soon gets a reaction.

'Is it Mrs Collins? I'm coming, please give me two minutes to get dressed.'

Just incredible. Such a young girl, and so observant. When she comes out of her room, the girl is dressed in a loose kind of gown that doesn't look very flattering, though it is very decent.

'Oh, it's you, Mr Darcy. Thank you for waiting. I just slipped on something comfortable, and not too fine, this may get messy, and it may take a very long time.'

She does not stand around to talk but is moving steadily, talking quietly, and her obvious calm makes Darcy a little less edgy.

'Mrs Collins didn't look very comfortable when you returned from the concert, so I counted on being disturbed. I also took the liberty of looking up the address of my mum's midwife, in case Mrs Collins needs her. I don't think so, though. But we'll see.'

By now they are close to Darcy's bedroom, and he gestures Fanny that her patient is in there.

'She's in your bedroom, sir? That doesn't seem right, I'll take her to her own room first thing, what if she wants to see her husband? I guess the mistress wouldn't like that. There we are.

Good night, Mrs Collins!'

If Mrs Collins hadn't been in the throes of one of those pains, she would have sighed with relief on beholding Fanny. As it is, she cannot hold back a cry of pain, and Fanny quickly takes the hand Elizabeth isn't holding, and lifts the pregnant lady to her feet. Shouldn't she at least wait until the poor woman is over this cramp? As brisk as her actions are, however, her voice is calm and very gentle as she addresses Mrs Collins once more.

'Let me get you back to your own bed, and we'll check how the baby is doing. My mother's midwife taught me how to do that, she thought it a useful thing for every girl to learn how to do.

Steady now, you're doing well. Will you come along, Mrs Darcy? I think Mrs Collins will appreciate that. We may need to send someone over to town, Mr Darcy, Bob can do it.

Now, Mrs Darcy, have you noticed whether those pains came regularly?'

Well, that's it, Fanny has taken charge. What a relief. Darcy considers picking up a book, but he is just too tired to read. He'll bring a chair and stay with the ladies to fetch and carry, maybe take a nap. Just outside the door will be the perfect place to sit waiting.

Waiting would definitely be less boring with a book, but nodding a bit is also quite pleasant. From the room, Fanny's voice still sounds capable and calm.

'So your water didn't break, and the pains are not regular, you say? That is good, for I suppose you'd rather have the baby at home. May I feel your belly, Mrs Collins?'

Before Darcy can get drift away, Fanny says, 'I think your baby is finding the right position, ma'am, it used to be a big high up but it isn't now. I think that caused the pains, they seem to be getting less frequent and less intense.'

'I do think you're right, Fanny,' Mrs Collins observes, no longer in a panic. 'I think I'd like to go back to sleep now, I'm sorry I made such a fuss.'

'Nonsense, Charlotte,' Elizabeth's voice breaks in.

'You were in real pain, it could have been the baby arriving early. I still think we should send for the doctor to be sure. What if it starts again in an hour or so?'

'Begging your pardon, Mrs Darcy,' Fanny dares to gainsay to her very own mistress.

'Yes, Fanny, what is it? No need to excuse yourself, Fanny, you have more experience with babies than both of us put together, so please tell me.'

'Well, ma'am, a midwife would be of more help to Mrs Collins, there are only a few doctors who know about delivering babies and I think they only come when something is not right. Mrs Collins' baby seems fine, and a midwife would be able to find out if that is true.'

'A midwife it is then, Fanny,' Elizabeth says with humour.

'Do you have objections if we have the one who helped Fanny's mother, Charlotte? She won't be a lady, you know.'

'But your brothers and sisters were all healthy, weren't they, Fanny?'

'Yes, ma'am, and Mrs Dales delivered me, and my mum, and most of the children in our street as well. She's very good, even with twins and breeches. Do you want me to send Bob to get her?'

'I feel fine again, actually. But I'd like to see her anyway. Can we send for her tomorrow, Eliza? Or if the pain comes back?'

'If that is what you want, Charlotte, of course.'

'If something happens, you can ring the bell, ma'am. There is one right outside my door, and I'll muffle the other ones so you'll only wake me. Then you don't have to worry about making a fuss. Shall I help you get comfortable now?'

This is Darcy's cue to remove himself, Mrs Collins doesn't need to have a doctor fetched, so he can go back to bed and wait for his beloved there. Right after he has put the chair back in its place, Elizabeth comes back and they snuggle under their blanket. Despite his fatigue, Darcy tells her all about Mr Collins. She doesn't use profanities, but she is angry.

'Can I decide tomorrow?'

'Certainly. You don't mind Fielding leaving it up to you?'

'I think he is totally right. This was aimed at me, so it's right I should be the one to pass the sentence. We can sue him, or we can write to Lady Catherine. I'd like to see him disgraced, I really dislike him.

But it would ruin Charlotte and she deserves better. I have an idea, but I need to think about it a little longer. And this does remind me of Grenfell, and my objecting to Manners' clique dealing out their own justice. Is it wrong, my love? Should we let the law deal with this? I'm too tired to think right, let's go to sleep and decide tomorrow. Poor Charlotte.'