The library's peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of two women having a heated argument from another part of the house. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged a wondering look, before setting down their books and rising to investigate what was causing the commotion. As they made their way through the corridor, the voices grew louder and clearer, and they both soon realised that the voices belonged to Sarah and another maid arguing in a nearby sitting room. The moment they entered the room, they were met with a bizarre sight. Sarah was standing in the centre, her face flushed with emotion, while a Netherfield maid stood across from her, looking both annoyed and amused at the same time.
"You are a liar!" Sarah cried out, her voice carrying through the room.
"I ain't," spat the other maid, her dark eyes flashing defiantly. "You just don't like that he's ill and you wish to take it out on me," the other spat back, her voice rising in volume.
Sarah's face flushed with anger, and she took a step closer, her fists balled up tight. "You left him, prolly so you could go see that footman at Lucas Lodge, I dare say. The one that Hannah saw you rolling about with!" she shouted, her eyes blazing.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged a concerned look, both curious about the situation. Elizabeth could see that Sarah was overwrought, and she tried to calm her down. "Perhaps we should speak to Mrs. Nicholls about this," she suggested gently, hoping to diffuse the tension in the air. Sarah nodded, still glaring at Abigail, and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy escorted the maids out of the room and towards the servants' quarters.
"He was left alone?" asked Elizabeth in a whisper that the maids couldn't hear.
Mr. Darcy had heard nothing of this previously. "I heard the account of it from a footman, but there was no mention of him being left alone. All he said was that Mr. Witting had a fit in the middle of the night."
"You did not speak with the doctor?"
"Only momentarily, but he was occupied with tending to Witting, and I did not wish to interrupt his tasks."
When they reached the servants' dining room, Mr. Darcy requested that Mrs. Nicholls be sent for. Mrs. Nicholls arrived shortly after, and upon being questioned, she revealed that Abigail had been assigned to sit up with him that night, but instead had left him alone for a few moments to fetch something to eat. Mrs. Nicholls was apologetic of Abigail's behaviour and was quick to assure Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy that such behaviour was not acceptable at Netherfield, and thus Abigail had been demoted to under chambermaid. Mrs. Nicholls had been in the middle of talking to Mr. Bingley about the matter when she had been summoned to the servants' dining room. She expressed her deep concern for Mr. Witting's well-being and assured Mr. Darcy that nothing of the sort would occur again.
In order to figure out his next steps, Mr Darcy knew he needed to speak with Abigail alone. Mrs. Nicholls was hesitant to allow this, but eventually agreed when Mr. Darcy suggested that Miss Elizabeth Bennet accompany him in order to ensure that the conversation remained appropriate.
"If you wish to stay below-stairs while you speak with her, sir and miss, you may use my sitting room," offered Mrs. Nicholls.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy accepted Mrs. Nicholls' offer, and she led them into the sitting room. Although the furniture was a decade or more out of date, all of it was finely made and in good condition, likely cast offs from the main house. Nevertheless, it was comfortable and inviting, and they settled in. Mrs. Nicholls asked if they would like some tea or something else to drink, but they both declined. She smiled, then excused herself, leaving them alone to discuss their business with Abigail in private.
"Abigail," began Elizabeth, "you must tell us the truth. Why did you leave Mr. Witting alone? Was it truly just because you were hungry?"
She nervously bit her lip, her heart racing with anxiety as the silence stretched on. She didn't want to speak up, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep her composure if she did. She took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes.. She didn't speak; instead she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, praying for this moment to end.
"Abigail," said Mr. Darcy sharply. "It will be much worse for you if we find out that you are hiding something and you did not tell us yourself. It cannot be emphasised enough how vital it is that you are truthful with us. If there is something you need to tell us, now is the time. Don't make the mistake of thinking that we won't find out."
"No, sir," Abigail said, her voice trembling. "It wasn't just because I was hungry. I had been told to leave him alone for ten minutes - I was paid to do it. I feared what might happen if I was caught, but it was so much money." She paused; her eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry for what I did, sir. I know it was wrong,"
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged a look of disbelief, eyebrows raised in confusion. "Paid? By whom?" Mr. Darcy demanded, his voice rising in disbelief. Elizabeth shook her head in confusion, feeling her own disbelief grow.
"A man named Mr. Henry," Abigail replied, her eyes still fixed on the ground. "He gave me two pounds and told me to leave Mr. Witting alone for ten minutes at four in the morning. He said he would give me eight pounds later, after it was done."
Mr. Darcy's face turned red with anger. "This is outrageous! Who is this Mr. Henry? Do you know him personally?"
Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. His anger subsided slightly at her touch. "Abigail, please tell us who this Mr. Henry is," she said.
Abigail shook her head. "No, sir and miss. I do not know him personally, but I know he works at the mill. He just approached me and offered me the money."
Elizabeth's mind was racing. She had heard the name Henry before, when she had been listening to Sarah and Arthur that night, which now seemed so long ago. She thought about all of the events that had happened since then, how everything had changed so much in such a short time. She realised that she needed to find out more about this Mr. Henry and his connection to Mr. Witting's illness and abandonment.
She turned to Abigail. "I believe you," she said. "I thank you for telling the truth. Is there anything else that you can tell us? Can you describe Mr. Henry?"
Abigail shook her head. "I only saw him briefly, Miss. He had dark hair, but that's all I recall. He looks rather ordinary, He was wearing a long, dark coat, and it looked as if he had a cane in his hand. He was tall too, but not as tall as Mr. Darcy. Others might know him though, as he is sometimes spoken of about Meryton and Mill Hill."
Abigail looked frightened still. She had already revealed all she knew, so she was bracing herself for the worst. After all, what she had done was quite unforgivable, and she was sure she would be turned out of Netherfield without reference.
"Thank you, Abigail," said Mr. Darcy, his voice full of authority. He motioned for her to leave, but reminded her to keep the door slightly open. As she bowed her head and made her way out of the room, she could feel tears welling in her eyes once again.
With Abigail gone, Elizabeth turned her gaze towards Mr. Darcy, her eyes sparkling with intelligence. "I've heard that name before, sir!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her intrigue. "I overheard Sarah and Arthur mentioning the name a few nights ago. I don't know if it's the same person, or if he's even a Mr. Henry, but the name has been on my mind since then."
Mr. Darcy's eyes widened in surprise. "I did not recall that! How clever you are, Elizabeth!" He smiled and shook his head, astonished by the lady before him.
Elizabeth's heart raced with urgency as she rose from her seat and rang the bell. She knew that time was of the essence and that she needed to speak to Sarah immediately. As soon as Mrs. Nicholls answered the bell, Elizabeth wasted no time in summoning Sarah. The maid entered the room, looking visibly uneasy and bracing herself for what she knew would be a difficult conversation.
"Sarah, you must tell me everything you know about a man named Mr. Henry," Elizabeth spoke in a calm but firm voice.
"Mr. Henry?" asked Sarah. "You mean Mr. Henry Frodsham?"
"I do not know, Sarah. Mr. Henry. Abigail spoke of him, and I heard you and your brother speak of a Henry one evening, when you went out at night," revealed Elizabeth.
"You followed me, Miss?" Sarah sounded horrified.
"I was trying to figure out what happened to Mr. Witting," said Elizabeth unapologetically. "Pray, tell me about his Henry Frodsham."
Sarah hesitated at first, her face betraying her unease, but she eventually gave in after pondering for a few moments. "He was Arthur's friend, before all of this business with the Luddites. He was the person Arthur borrowed money from. I think he was trying to get Arthur involved in his schemes, from the beginning, but Arthur refused until he had no choice. He couldn't pay back the money. I don't know much more except that he is not kind anymore. He's become mean of late, and threatens Arthur sometimes with debtor's prison."
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged a worried glance, realising the potential danger that this man could have posed to Mr. Witting. They expressed gratitude to Sarah for the information and then let her go, having extracted a promise that she wouldn't disclose the conversation's content.
"Arthur, then?" asked Mr. Darcy of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose that we must speak with him."
Mr. Darcy pulled the bell and asked for Arthur Ravencroft to be summoned to them.
When Arthur arrived, his hands were shaking, and he looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded to know who Mr. Henry Frodsham was.
"Yes," he whispered. "I know who he is." Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth leaned in, their ears perked up with anticipation. Before he spoke, Arthur took a moment to gather his thoughts. "He was once a good man. Our acquaintance dates back to our childhood. We attended the village school together and then he worked at the mill with me. He had more responsibility, being over half of the men who worked there, but he was not my superior. The introduction of machines came with the promise of reduced workload for a brief period, after which we were told that production would increase, and we'd earn more. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. With falling wages, life became a struggle for everyone. When I needed a loan, my mind immediately went to Henry, who had a higher income than any of us. With a smile, he gave it to me and I agreed to pay him back once wages improved."
Elizabeth and Darcy remained silent, hoping their silence would encourage him into further disclosure. They had not expected him to be so honest or to reveal such a personal story. Just as Elizabeth was about to speak, he started talking once more.
"But it never did. Borrowing money from him became a regular occurrence for me. I attempted to compensate him by doing other jobs like chopping wood, but I could never fully repay him. His family started to suffer as well, and he became angry when I couldn't pay him back. He became a member of the Luddites, just like many others, as they believed that the machines caused the problem and had to be eliminated. As time passed, his anger increased, and with the machines' proliferation, more individuals joined the movement. He was determined to make a difference and restore the balance of power between man and machine."
He halted and gazed into the distance, as if he was searching for something from the past. "Since I couldn't repay him, he instructed me to work for the cause. It made a sort of sense to me. I owed him because of the machines, so I had to assist him in getting rid of them. So at night, we would go and break machines. Since it was only machines, I didn't consider it to be very wrong. No one was hurt and the rich men had plenty of money already."
"Sometimes he had me help with the pamphlets, too. We took some paper from the mill, which could be considered stealing, but we didn't give it much thought. Henry was cautious to not involve anyone who would talk, and we ensured that the inventory was written in a way that wouldn't seem unusual to the owner. From there, I told you everything the other night. The plans grew increasingly violent. I didn't know what to do. The danger I was in only became clear to me when I was tasked with getting rid of Mr Witting. By then, Henry was high up in the Luddite organisation, and his thinking was becoming more and more twisted by them. He thought nothing of violence then, and he was threatening to send me to debtor's prison. He also had evidence of my involvement in destroying several machines and used it to intimidate me into silence. I believe he has similar proof that he holds over others."
"Do you know where Henry lives?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"Not anymore," said Arthur. "He used to be in Mill Hill with the rest of us, but now he is often in London, and I do not know where."
"Thank you, Arthur," said Mr. Darcy. "You may go."
When Arthur left the room, Mr. Darcy looked at Elizabeth with an expression she had never seen before. "I believe we must speak to Mr. Reed, as I think someone is trying to do Mr. Witting an injury. I do not know if he and Arthur are safe here."