Page 39 of Conundrums & Coincidences

“Etta was questioned by Mr Monroe,” said Rachel, “but Alfred didn’t stay in the room, so I can’t tell you what transpired there. All I know is she has been dismissed.”

It was not the news Elizabeth had anticipated, but she would not allow anger to damp down her fire to win the tournament. With cheerful predictions about securing Oakwood Manor for her family, she eagerly anticipated the day ahead.

The maid poured warm water into a basin and set out a cake of soap, a cloth, and a towel. “The magistrate and a constable came this morning. Now they, too, are gone.” Rummaging round in the wardrobe, she called out in a muffled voice, “Sprigged muslin, was it?”

“Yes!” Elizabeth dried her hands and longed to sit quietly with her puzzle.

“I hear both of your gentlemen admirers are beside themselves with outrage due to the cruel treatment you endured.”

Elizabeth firmly denied she had two admirers.

“Pish, I beg to differ.” Rachel crossed the room with the muslin over an arm. “Even Mr Monroe and my Alfred are as cross as two sticks about your maltreatment at Etta’s hands.” She gasped, then covered her mouth with both palms.

“Oh! Your Alfred, is he?” Elizabeth smiled as a fine blush overspread the maid’s face. “Come now, Rachel. He is a fine young man. There is no need for embarrassment.”

As the muslin was slipped over her head and buttoned, both women remained silent. Elizabeth was thinking ahead. No one knew what the future would bring; but if circumstances were favourable and she was granted the deed to Oakwood, she hoped Rachel, Alfred, Christopher, Mrs Vincent, and Mr Atwater would remain as part of the household, if they so wished it.

In the sunlit gardens three-quarters of an hour later, Elizabeth sat alone with pencil and paper in her hand and aspirations of owning Oakwood in her head.

In that reverie, a sweet melody flowed from an open window in the music room, where Mary sat at the pianoforte. On the lawn, Kitty and Lydia giddily laughed while playing pall-mall without proper understanding or any degree of seriousness. Jane Bingley, of course, was at Netherfield with her loving husband, Charles; and Elizabeth’s mother lived with the Bingleys because she would not hear of leaving her friends in Meryton.

But how was it all to work? If Mrs Bennet was at Netherfield and if Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were at Oakwood, that meant Elizabeth’s dear papa was no longer alive, for that was the only reason her family would leave Longbourn.

Where do I fit into this picture? She did not. In her dream, Elizabeth resided with her own husband at a place called Pemberley.

“I thought I might find you here.”

For an instant, reverie and reality became one, and Elizabeth stared stupidly at Mr Darcy. The smile on his face made him more handsome than ever as he advanced towards her. But she must have looked quite insensible to him, for the gentleman’s smile disappeared as quickly as had the reverie, its permanence as fleeting as a bubble’s. He asked whether she was well.

“Yes, thank you, I am.”

“Did you sleep well?”

No. Hence my stupor. “Well enough. And you?” Elizabeth noticed a nick on his chin and supposed it had happened while shaving or being shaved. Nick! Yes! Smiling widely but wanting to laugh and dance a jig and, perhaps, kiss Mr Darcy, she schooled her features into something that hopefully resembled indifference.

“Hardly a wink. Yet I”—he gave her a pointed look, seemingly concerned about her odd state of mind—“feel no repercussions from lack of sleep.”

“Forgive me. I was wool-gathering but should be working on this puzzle.” Elizabeth indicated the pencil in her hand and the foolscap upon her lap. I now know both words! She could not help but grin again. Belatedly, she turned downwards both the paper and the satisfied smirk upon her face. In her head, she attempted to rearrange eight letters but needed to see them on paper.

“Ah. Then I should intrude no further upon your contemplation.”

“No, please stay.” After placing her pencil, the foolscap, and a bowl of cherries upon the ground, Elizabeth made room for him on the bench beside her. The gloves she had discarded earlier while working on her puzzle were quickly tugged onto their proper places.

Seated as indicated, Mr Darcy asked Elizabeth whether she might care to hear about the morning’s proceedings. She nodded, and he half turned towards her, slinging an arm across the back of the bench. A whiff of juniper mingled with floral fragrances of the garden, and the air Elizabeth breathed was suddenly infused with a glorious, heady perfume.

“Due to your ordeal,” he said, “Henrietta has been dismissed without reference.”

Not for a moment did Elizabeth wish to rescind her entreaty to keep the maid out of the priest hole. Still, hearing Henrietta had got away with a mere dismissal was rather provoking.

“I know what you are thinking, Miss Bennet. However, she committed no punishable crime.”

“No crime? She assaulted me and held me captive! And what of the missing vase and the tampering with your wine? Was Henrietta responsible for those offences? Then there is the housekeeper’s missing key and the note I received. Although I abhor the very thought of capital punishment, I confess myself not at all satisfied with her penalty.”

In a tone of gentleness and commiseration, Darcy said he understood and agreed. “I make no plea for mercy on Henrietta’s behalf, and there can be no excuse for her cruelty towards you. However, her family’s situation is deplorable. Her father, a widower, is deathly ill and unable to work, and like many other unemployed people, Henrietta’s two brothers were forced into a life of crime to survive. When she was hired at Oakwood for the tournament, her menfolk were well pleased with the honest income she would bring home.”

“I still do not understand. Why did Henrietta single me out? What did she gain by attacking and confining me?”

“She has been in Fordham’s unscrupulous employ off and on for some time. His wife taught Henrietta to read and write and forged references so she could be hired here. They tasked her, as a maid, with finding a master list of the tournament’s puzzles and answers, but Mr Monroe apparently keeps that on his person. When that plan failed, they attempted to obstruct Fordham’s competitors instead. Henrietta stole the opium Fordham put in my wine, then she was ordered to detain you awhile. It was her idea to remove the key from under Mrs Vincent’s ever-watchful eye using the sleight of hand her brothers taught her, write the note, and put you in the hide, but she maintains she did not assault you.”