Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Part 11
Mrs. Bennet was clad in black and she was clutching a handkerchief for dramatic effect.
"My condolences, Mrs. Bennet," said the Colonel and he bowed. Mrs. Bennet sniffed. She is better than Mrs. Wickham, he thought, but he was not prepared to accommodate her theatricals. "I understand that you spent most of yesterday in your room."
"That odious man has absolutely no feelings whatsoever. Gloating! Turning a poor widow out of her house with a smile. I have nowhere to go! And they rejoice in it. What is to become of my girls, I ask you? Will they ever marry well if they live in a mere cottage? Nobody will want them! No compassion! No compassion at all! Those vultures. Mr. Bennet would turn in his grave if he knew what was going on here. Oh Mr. Bennet! And poor Wickham! Nobody thinks of me!"
It was useless trying to get Mrs. Bennet to make a coherent statement. Because it was unlikely that she would have allowed anyone to leave her alone, she could not possibly have done it. Enjoys it all thoroughly, Colonel Fitzwilliam noted down while she ranted on.
After he dismissed Mrs. Bennet he had a brief word with the servants, but they had all been busy in the kitchen or elsewhere in the house, and they had no opinion on Wickham either. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Drury. "What do you say to going back to Meryton?" he asked.
"Excellent suggestion, Colonel," said Drury, still a bit worried about the Colonel's reaction to his nickname.
"Perhaps we could speak with your friend Polly."
"If she is still here," Drury said doubtfully.
"If she is not, I am going to send you to London to find her."
"I need some tea," said Fitzwilliam when they entered Meryton. They dismounted in front of a little bakery and went in to have some tea.
"Have you found out who did it yet?" asked the woman behind the counter, who seemed to know exactly who they were.
"No, Madam."
The woman clicked her tongue. "I say it was a tramp."
"That is possible," the Colonel replied.
"Or his wife."
"His wife?"
"Because he saw another woman. He was the type, you know, attractive to women and he took advantage of that. When his regiment was stationed here in Meryton, many a lady liked him. Very charming, he was."
"Did anyone dislike him?"
"I daresay the Bennets disliked him for eloping with Miss Lydia."
"But would they kill him?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
"Sadly enough for you, we in Meryton do not do such things."
"Perhaps it was an outsider. Have there been many strangers the past few days, apart from the two of us?"
"A few. A woman, a bit on the cheap side, and a few men, who were mostly business travellers. There are never many strangers staying here, because it is not far to London and we are not on any route."
"What time does the London coach arrive?" Colonel Fitzwilliam was awaiting his extra clothes. Though he did not expect Miss Bingley to stay away, he could not be certain that she would have done as he had asked.
"At five, sir."
Five o'clock was still a while away, and after tea he and Drury had a few drinks at the inn, not seeing the mysterious Polly anywhere, until a sudden bustle of activity indicated the arrival of the coach from London. Together with various other curious individuals, Colonel Fitzwilliam rose and went to observe the unloading in the courtyard.
"Colonel!" a lady's imperious voice sounded, and many heads turned in his direction.
Part 12
Colonel Fitzwilliam kept his expression stern as he looked at the person who had called him. If he smiled -- and it was not impossible that the corners of his mouth would curl up -- he would perhaps get the same sort of reputation as Wickham. There were too many people looking on. He did not know exactly what sort of news they would spread, but having some very gossipy subordinates, he could guess. This is an investigation. What are you doing trying not to smile at that uncivil, arrogant Miss Bingley? Are you glad she returned? He tried to examine his feelings, but decided that he was glad that he would have clean clothes. He examined her appearance. It was not as bad as the first time he had met her, but it was certainly nothing like she could look. "You look tired," he commented, not loud enough for the curious townspeople to overhear. The departure, and a day later the arrival of Miss Bingley on a mail coach would be enough to start people talking. Not to mention the fact that she had obviously been sent away by Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Caroline rolled her eyes. "That is your trunk," she indicated, and walked into the inn.
The Colonel identified his trunk and had it carried upstairs by a servant. He followed and wondered where Miss Bingley had gone to. He was followed at a discreet distance by Drury, who wondered why Miss Bingley was taking the Colonel upstairs. Drury had preferred to finish his ale rather than to stare at the new arrivals, and he had only seen the lady go up the stairs, shortly afterwards followed by a servant with a trunk, and then the Colonel.
Colonel Fitzwilliam found Miss Bingley sitting in a chair near his room. He said nothing to her, but tipped the servant. When the servant had left, he looked at her from his doorway. "Thank you," he said formally.
Drury had been observing it from around the corner and he shook his head in dismay. He descended the stairs again. The poor Colonel would never get himself a woman if he handled them all like that. The lady had been a few paces from his door, and instead of inviting her in, he thanked her for Drury did not know what, and in a not very inviting tone either.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had been unaware of Drury's head poking around the corner, but Caroline had seen him. Only she misinterpreted it. She thought he was keeping an eye on her because she was still suspect. "I returned," she protested to Fitzwilliam, to make known that she had nothing to do with the crime. "Surely that must be enough of an indication for you. You do not know how horrible it was. Is my room still available?"
"No."
"Get me one."
"If you want one, you must get it yourself."
"I am dreadfully tired and sore. Please lend me your room." Caroline made it sound like an order.
"Whatever you wish, Madam, but I shall not leave. This is my room."
"I shall pull the curtains around the bed," she announced.
Colonel Fitzwilliam closed the door and opened his trunk. It smelled rather oddly, of perfume. Everything in it was neatly folded, but the items of clothing on top did not look familiar at all. The fabric was too soft. He ran his hands over it. No, this was not his. He unfolded and examined it. It was far too long to be a shirt. It looked like Miss Bingley's night gown. "Miss Bingley?"
"Yes?" Caroline appeared between the curtains.
The Colonel held out the gown. "Did you buy me a new night gown or did you accidentally place your belongings in my trunk?"
"Neither," she replied. "I placed my belongings in your trunk, but not by accident. It was done on purpose. It is called efficiency, but perhaps you do not know what that is."
He threw her the gown and stared at her for a while, repressing thoughts and words on efficiency that were perhaps not very suitable for the occasion.
"Did I say something odd?" she challenged.
Suddenly he felt dizzy and his head throbbed. If he did not sit down soon, he would fall. The Colonel pushed the curtains aside and sat down on the bed, his head in his hands.
"Colonel?" she asked, a trifle worried. "You lent me the bed."
"Miss Bingley, would you please, please stop distracting me from my investigation?" He was losing his coolness. He felt it slip away from him every time he saw or heard her.
"Colonel, you are not investigating anything at the moment. You are unpacking a trunk."
He took a deep breath and wrung his hands.
"You are looking very silly like that," she commented. "Not at all like a confident investigator."
"I do not know what to say," he answered.
"I did not mean to be disparaging. I only meant that you looked more human, I think," Caroline apologised. "I suppose you are a good investigator, though I cannot say I know anything about it. I only know that --"
"Human?" he interrupted. "Tell my subordinates. They call me Colonel Coolness."
Caroline laid her hand on his shoulder, but barely touching him. What am I doing? she screamed inwardly. "Does it bother you? From one cool person to another --"
"Excuse me, Miss Bingley," he interrupted mockingly. "But you are by no means cool." I am cool. I swear I am. If I can survive this touch, then I shall know for sure.
"I am!"
"Not at all." If she had been so cool, she would never have laid her hand on my shoulder, even if I can barely feel it. I never would have dared to do the same. That would prove I am cool, would it not?
"But that is what they always tell me," Caroline sounded puzzled. She had been accused of being cold and unfeeling.
"I do not think you are cool," he said seriously. Perhaps I am not so cool either. I do feel rather -- no, let us not go there. Investigation! Investigation!
"And I do not think you are cool either," she replied, looking at him. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and though she could still feel it, it felt strangely detached and uncontrollable when it began to move very slowly.
Part 13
Drury had seen neither the Colonel nor Miss Bingley return, and he was getting rather hungry. To interrupt their idyllic rendez-vous was something that even he would not do, and to dine alone for the second time was not very appealing, so he decided to go to Longbourn to have himself invited to dinner there. After all, he had never worked on a case with so many good-looking females.
He was in luck. Mrs. Bennet, always fond of red coats, asked him to dinner before he could even state the purpose of his visit, and his vague reason for coming was never inquired after. With a broad grin Drury seated himself at the table between Miss Mary and Mrs. Wickham, and across from Miss Kitty.
"Lieutenant," Mrs. Bennet began. "Why did you not bring the Colonel?"
"He was cross-examining a suspect, Madam," Drury answered politely, with a mischievous chuckle.
"Should we fear for the suspect?" Mrs. Collins asked. "You say it in such a foreboding tone."
"Well, he is usually very thorough."
"It is a pity that he cannot be here," said Lydia. "I like the Colonel. He is quite handsome. And young. Pray, how young is he?"
"Oh," said Drury. "I do not know that."
"He must be Mr. Darcy's age," said Kitty. "For Lizzy said they were good friends."
Mr. Collins had been remarkably silent up till then, but that was because he could not quite hear all of the conversation, and his pride was slightly wounded because Mrs. Bennet had invited a guest without consulting him on the matter. But now he felt called upon to chastise Lydia. "Cousin Lydia, it is not appropriate that a widow should be displaying such interest in other gentlemen."
Lydia pulled a face and pouted. "He is jealous," said Drury in a whispered aside and Lydia burst out in hiccuping laughter, at which only Mary and Kitty looked with slight disapproval.
Drury noticed after one course that everyone seemed to dislike and ignore Mr. Collins, and he agreed. He would do the same if he lived here.
After dinner all young ladies seemed to have transferred their affections from Colonel Fitzwilliam to him, for the simple reason that he was there and the Colonel was not, but that did not bother Drury. He had been forced to spend half an hour alone with Mr. Collins, and it had been an ordeal he did not wish to repeat, so he was glad to be in the young ladies' company again. Mary entertained them with some music when they rejoined the ladies.
His attentions were immediately monopolised by Mrs. Bennet, who would not do very badly at all when it came to close questioning. In a very short period of time she knew all about his parents, connections, and preferences. After that, she started complaining about Mr. Collins. "I am sure it was a mistake," she said fervently. "Nobody could have wanted to kill dear Wickham, but everybody wants that odious man dead."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Do you not think Mary plays well, Lieutenant?"
"I think she is very accomplished." In fact, he had no ear for music, so he really could not tell whether she was good or not.
"And Lydia and Kitty are very pretty. I have been very fortunate with my girls. It is a pity that no one shall want them anymore now."
Drury chose not to comment. If he did, Mrs. Bennet would expect him to marry one.
It was very late when he returned to the inn, not much wiser, but that was not what he had gone for. He had gone to spend an evening in company, and he had succeeded. The Colonel was still nowhere to be seen. Drury was extremely curious. It was not like his superior to do this sort of thing, and he did not even know if it was really that sort of thing that was keeping Fitzwilliam occupied. After all, he had not seen them anymore. Perhaps they had gone to dine at Netherfield and nothing had happened, and here he was, conjuring up all sorts of romantic entanglements between the Colonel and Miss Bingley. He felt a little remorseful.
"Uhh," said Colonel Fitzwilliam at some point. He had no idea what time it was. There was no answer and his companion's steady breathing told him that she was sleeping. He could not recall that he had fallen asleep, but it must have happened, because it was getting light outside, and he vaguely recalled that it had been getting dark when he had last paid attention. He contemplated his situation. It was wrong, and yet it was not wrong at all.
Part 14
When Drury awoke the next morning -- rather late -- he discovered a note that had been pushed under his door. I have succumbed to the greater comfort of Netherfield. The rooms have been paid for. Join me there as soon as possible. "Succumbed to the greater comfort?" he repeated. "To the greater charms of Miss Bingley, perhaps. But, whatever the Colonel wants, he will get. I shall not complain about trading this inn for a comfortable house."
An hour later he joined Colonel Fitzwilliam in Netherfield's library. "Good day, Drury. Was it late for you last night? I had expected you here shortly after breakfast and not just before tea," said the Colonel.
"Was it not late for you, sir?" Drury dared to ask.
"No, it was rather early."
Drury breathed a little easier now that he was not admonished, but he was still curious. "To what, may I ask, do we owe this relocation, sir?"
"To Miss Bingley's hospitality."
"I suppose I ought to thank Miss Bingley then."
"You may do so if you wish. Miss Bingley will assist us."
"Assist us? How?" Drury asked.
"I have officially cleared her, so she is fit to be of use."
"Of use? How?"
"You know what sort of illegible scribble you have, Drury, and surely you cannot object to my employing somebody with a neat handwriting to take and copy notes, while you can do other things?"
"I wonder that the lady did not object," Drury remarked.
"She probably will," the Colonel agreed. "But I know the exact way to hand -- handle her. I shall disguise the question --"
"Order, sir."
"I shall disguise the order -- thank you, Drury -- and say that the case might benefit from a woman's point of view, because a woman might see something we overlook."
"Sly, Colonel," Drury said appreciatively. "But you cannot mean it, surely? That a woman might see something we have overlooked?"
"Why not?"
"Uhh well..."
"Exactly. Oh, there she is."
Miss Bingley entered with Bingley, and he greeted his newest guests cheerfully. "Caroline has been telling me that the circumstances in the inn were just too dreadful for men of your standing, and that I really could not leave you thus lodged, and I am very willing to oblige my sister. Please be welcome to Netherfield."
"Thank you, Bingley," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He looked at Caroline, who looked very innocent.
"And thank you, Fitzwilliam, for being so kind as to even arrange lodgings for her in London."
The Colonel could barely keep his countenance. I did not arrange lodgings for her. Where did she stay? Why did she lie? To keep her brother from worrying?" "Ahh, yes," he stammered.
"Are we still under suspicion?" Bingley asked.
"I am sorry to say that you are." Fitzwilliam saw that Caroline looked alarmed. "Except for Miss Bingley," he bowed in her direction and she looked reassured. "She has been officially cleared because she is left-handed. I have something to say to you, Miss Bingley, on the account of your hand."
Caroline looked alarmed again. "Here?"
"Your handwriting," he clarified with a cough.
"Oh."
"Shall I leave you then?" Bingley asked. "Yes, I shall. Somebody's handwriting is not an interesting subject. I shall see you at tea." He left the room.
"Your handwriting," the Colonel repeated. "Is very neat. It could be very useful."
"In what way?"
"You could write things for us."
"The case could benefit from a woman's point of view," Drury parroted helpfully.
"Why, Lieutenant Drury, how good of you," Caroline said appreciatively. "I had not expected such cleverness from you."
Drury grinned at Miss Bingley and the Colonel did not like it, he saw. Well, it was his own fault if he missed so many opportunities with the lady. He could tease the Colonel a little by charming Miss Bingley. He would not be serious, for he liked Lydia, Kitty and Mary as well. "Will you be our assistant, Miss Bingley?" he asked. "No skills required, just an elegant hand."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was baffled. He did not know what Drury was up to, but he did not like it. "May I have a word in private, Drury?"
"It cannot be anything our assistant cannot hear, sir."
Part 15
Before Colonel Fitzwilliam could say anything about Drury's impertinence, a footman brought him a note. He folded it open and his expression became grim. "We must leave for Longbourn at once," he said. "If Bingley does not object, we shall take a carriage."
Caroline stared at him. "What am I to do?"
The Colonel handed her and Drury the note. "Let us go," he urged. He gave her a small notebook and a pencil.
"Do you mean I should come with you?" she asked.
"Yes."
Fitzwilliam had ordered Bingley and the carriage, and Bingley appeared two minutes later. "What is the matter?"
"We shall be late for dinner. The case calls us away."
"What? All three of you? Are you taking Caroline?"
"I am. Before we go," said the Colonel. "Please tell me what you did this morning before we arrived."
"We had breakfast."
Colonel Fitzwilliam had come in the middle of their breakfast. He knew they had not had any opportunity to get into mischief afterwards. "Were you ever alone before breakfast?"
"No."
"Did you write that down?" he asked Caroline.
"No."
"You can do that in the carriage," Fitzwilliam decided. "Come, we must leave."
Drury sat next to the coachman, and he told himself that he was being a truly nice person by giving this opportunity to his superior.
"Why do I have to come?" Caroline asked after she had written down what her brother had said.
"Because you are my assistant."
"Why?" She liked it, but she still wanted to know why.
"Because..."
"That is not a good reason."
"Well, I have no good reason."
"You do, but you are keeping everything to yourself again." It was just like the night before, when he had also been remarkably reticent.
Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed. "It is difficult." He was silent for a while. "Why did you tell Bingley I arranged lodgings for you in London? I did not."
"Somehow I think it would have shocked him to know that I spent the night in your house."
He looked incredulous. "You spent the night in my house?" He had thought she would take a room in a hotel.
"Where else? It was certainly the lesser of two evils," Caroline said. "I do not understand why you have to live in such a house."
"It is because I cannot afford a bigger one."
"Do not look at me like that, Caroline," he snapped when he felt her eyes upon him. "You are weakening my resolve."
"Which resolve would that be?" she asked.
"My resolve to forget last night."
"I support your resolve. I agree. It would not at all do for me to marry someone who lives in a house like that. I cannot do it." Since she had fallen asleep in his arms, she was apparently quite fond of him, and if she was fond of him, she ought to marry him. But that was impossible.
"I do not even want to marry you if you do not want to marry me because of my house."
"Well, fine!" Caroline shrugged and looked out of the window. After a few minutes she turned back to face him. "May I still call you Richard when we are alone? I am terribly sorry, but you did call me Caroline just now."
"Would you call Drury by his first name?"
"Are you jealous?" she inquired.
"No," he lied and looked at her with a cool, resolved look.
Part 16
"Oh, there is Drury. And Colonel Fitzwilliam," said Mary with a relieved look. She and Kitty had been on the look-out while Lydia stayed with their mother, who was nearly euphoric and therefore should be kept out of the way. "And Miss Bingley?" she raised her eyebrows when she saw the Colonel assist Miss Bingley out of the carriage. "What is she doing here?"
"Perhaps she did it," Kitty suggested. "Perhaps he has taken her into custody." They went out into the hall to meet the officers. "I am glad you came directly," she said.
"Where is the body, Miss Bennet?" the Colonel asked.
"Through here," Mary showed. She opened the door to the library. Mary and Kitty stayed behind as the two men went inside. They looked at Caroline, who was reluctant to see her first corpse, and who did not make any move to go inside the library.
"Is something the matter?" Caroline snapped. She stared down her nose at the two girls, feeling rather foolish for standing there without having anything to do or to say. They must be wondering why she had come along.
"Yes, something certainly is the matter!" Mary said. "Did you not know that we have another dead body on our hands?"
"Miss Bingley?" Drury stuck his head around the door. "The Colonel ordered me to summon you in."
Mary and Kitty's eyes were huge and they tried to imagine what use Miss Bingley could have at the scene of the crime.
"What am I supposed to do?" Caroline asked reluctantly.
"Miss Bingley?" Colonel Fitzwilliam called in a commanding voice from inside. "Come here."
Caroline looked pleadingly at Drury, who shrugged apologetically. She went inside and hesitated, looking at the floor, lest her eyes should fall upon the corpse.
"Miss Bingley?" Fitzwilliam approached. He saw two pairs of eyes looking at him curiously from the hall, and another from the door opening, so he pushed Drury out. "Get the doctor." He kicked the door shut with his foot. "Where is your notebook?"
"In my pocket." Caroline was still looking at the floor.
"There is nothing atrocious to see."
"You are used to it."
"You cannot take notes for me when you are looking at the floor," he said.
"I did not volunteer."
"Yes, you did." He lifted up her chin, but she kept her eyes closed. "Open your eyes."
"The man was ugly enough when he was alive. Why do you want me to view him as a corpse?" she asked stubbornly.
"It looks as if he is sleeping. You cannot even see his face."
"It gives me the shudders nevertheless."
Colonel Fitzwilliam placed his hands on her shoulders. "Please? There is nobody whose way of thinking I trust as much as yours."
"Go rinse your mouth, you liar," Caroline said, but she opened her eyes. "I do not recall having said anything thoughtful in the past few days."
"But you have an inquisitive and sceptic disposition, always asking me why and never believing anything. Exactly what I need to assist me."
"Hmph."
"There you go! Now, get out your notebook."
Caroline lifted her hand. "It is here."
He kissed her hand. "Excellent. Can you draw?"
"I have never drawn a dead body before," she replied evenly, letting her eyes wander across the room. It was as the Colonel had said. It looked as if Mr. Collins had fallen asleep at the desk.
"Feel free to make drawings if you find that necessary."
Caroline scribbled something down. She felt very business-like now, with hardly any traces of uneasiness. The dead man was an object. She was alright. The dead body would not harm her. Richard would see to that.
"How did he die?"
"My guess is poison."
"Poison?" Caroline echoed, her pencil poised above the notebook.
"There is no wound."
"Some kind of poison that caused a heart attack or slight spasmodic movements," she said as she wrote, and she became aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam looking at her oddly. "You do not agree? Look at those things on the floor. I think he must have pushed them off the table accidentally."
"I had not noticed that yet."
Caroline smiled indulgently as she circled the desk to look at it from another angle. "Of course not, Richard. Your whole floor is strewn with objects. For you it is hardly out of the ordinary to see something on the floor and you would not rack your brains trying to come up with an explanation of how it got there."
Colonel Fitzwilliam felt a little dizzy again and his head throbbed as he looked at her taking notes. He remembered what he was doing and snapped back to attention. He looked around and held out his hand for the notebook when he saw something he wanted to write down, but Caroline was not as conditioned as Drury and she did not understand the gesture. She gave him her hand. He frowned at the warm touch in confusion.
"What do you want with my hand?" she asked. "Holding hands is coming suspiciously close to a repetition of the night you were resolved to forget."
"I wanted the notebook."
"Why do you not ask for it then!"
"Drury knows what I want when I do this," he gestured.
"I am not Drury."
"I know all too well that you are not," Colonel Fitzwilliam answered. He felt a little uneasy. "You write it down, then. There are some very odd stains in that tea cup."
Caroline freed her hand reluctantly and wrote it down.
"The poison might have been administered in the cup."
She looked up. "In the cup? I suppose he did not put it in himself?"
"I think we can safely rule that out," said the Colonel dryly.
"So it was a servant?"
"We cannot automatically assume that. There happen to be three cups in this room. It looks like Mr. Collins drank tea -- or poison -- with two other people."
"Who did not die," Caroline remarked. "Because they are not here. Why did they not die?"
"Because they had no poisoned tea?"
She thought for a minute. "That means that one of them poisoned him, or the servant who prepared the tea tray knew exactly which cup Mr. Collins would drink from --"
"And they are all the same," Fitzwilliam added after a quick examination.
"-- or he drank more tea after his visitors had left and someone had been in here in the meantime."
"Interesting," Colonel Fitzwilliam mused. "Very interesting. And so many suspects."
Part 17
After Colonel Fitzwilliam had examined the scene of the crime, he took Caroline into the breakfast parlour. "We shall set ourselves up in here again."
"Again? I have never been here before," she protested.
"You have not?" He looked surprised. "There is a first for everything. Come, I shall order you to summon the first suspect."
"You shall order me to summon people?"
"Yes. Please find me Mrs. Bennet."
"Augh. Why can you not do it yourself? I am not your servant."
"I can do it myself, yes, but it is better to remain mysterious."
"I do not agree. The suspects might tell you more if you are friendly and confiding," said Caroline, who did not necessarily mean that with regard to herself.
"Is that so? Prove it then. This is your opportunity," Colonel Fitzwilliam said laconically. The look he received was as poisonous as the tea that had killed Mr. Collins, and he snickered inwardly.
"Where may I find Mrs. Bennet?" Caroline inquired of Mrs. Hill in a voice that did not feel like it belonged to her.
"Mrs. Bennet is in her parlour, Miss."
"Where may I find her parlour?"
"Up the stairs and to your right, Miss."
Caroline wrinkled her nose and climbed the stairs, gathering her skirts up high because she did not trust the stairs to be dust-free. She knocked on the parlour door. It was opened by one of the girls. Caroline could never tell them apart, or rather she did not want to be able to do that, but she thought it was Kitty. "Good day, Miss Bennet. Colonel Fitzwilliam would like to speak to Mrs. Bennet." She caught a glimpse of the room and she nearly gasped. It was so completely Mrs. Bennet that she would never last more than a minute in such a room.
"Who is it?" Mrs. Bennet called out rather superfluously, for she had been listening attentively. "Is it the Colonel?" His title was pronounced with the utmost reverence.
"It is Miss Bingley, Mama," said Kitty.
"Oh, her. What has she come for? Show her in."
Kitty opened the door wider and Caroline had no choice but to step into the room, however disagreeable it was to her eyes and sense of fashion.
"Miss Bingley," said Mrs. Bennet, fanning herself in her extreme happiness. "Have you heard the good news yet?"
Caroline only knew the bad news. Bad news for the Bennets' reputation, at least. "No, I have not."
"That odious man has died!" Mrs. Bennet said triumphantly. "We may not always have got along, you and I, but today we must celebrate and I am prepared to greet you with affection. Kitty, pour Miss Bingley a cup of tea."
Kitty obeyed and Caroline felt obliged to take a seat. She sat rather rigid as she observed the assembled Bennets -- Mary, Kitty and Lydia -- and Mrs. Collins, who had been accepted into the family circle again now that she was no longer a threat. None of them looked guilty. Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Wickham -- the three widows -- looked downright happy, and Kitty and Mary looked alternately embarrassed and worried.
"Charlotte will not disagree with me when I say..." and Mrs. Bennet held a long monologue about the shortcomings of the late Mr. Collins.
"His death is not unfortunate, I should think?" Caroline asked tentatively, and the whole business of the entail was explained to her in a confused manner by three people at the same time.
"And it was indeed most convenient that he chose to have an apoplexy at this particular time," Mrs. Bennet said with satisfaction.
The only one who would probably not agree with her was Mrs. Collins, whom Caroline suspected of having wished for an apoplexy ever since her wedding day. It did not seem very likely that Mrs. Collins would have waited to poison her husband until she was in the middle of murder investigation, and thereby draw much more attention to the deed than it would otherwise have received. She dismissed Mrs. Collins as a likely suspect for the time being. And apparently Mrs. Bennet did not know the cause of death. "An apoplexy?" Caroline echoed.
"Yes, it was very sudden. Sudden deaths are nearly always apoplexies, and as you know, Mr. Collins tended towards heaviness."
"You must be so relieved," Caroline said confidentially. "That it was an apoplexy and not murder, for I am sure that sly Colonel would have suspected you all. I am sure he would even suspect people of causing the apoplexy." She had no idea if such tactics would work, but it was worth a try. Nobody had batted an eyelid when Caroline had been speaking. Nobody had looked afraid or guilty. Nobody seemed to know that it was indeed murder and not a mere apoplexy. Unless they were terrific actresses.
"Oh, he is indeed sly!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "He questioned me most mercilessly about Wickham."
"He did?" she asked sympathetically. Perhaps it was not such a bad idea to have an all-female round of gossip here in Mrs. Bennet's hideous parlour. The presence of the Colonel would only be disturbing.
"He interrogated us all," Lydia complained. "He seemed to think I knew exactly what I had done the day before, as if I remember such things!"
"He thought I was unprincipled enough to kill!" Mary said indignantly.
"He did not ask me first," said Mrs. Bennet.
Shared confidences, true or untrue, usually brought on more confidences. Caroline knew this from London society, in which scandals and secrets came to light in the same way. She was not an unscrupulous liar, so she did not excel in extracting information like some of her acquaintance, but she thought she could at least attempt it. The only thing that she needed now was a confidence for bait, and she wondered if she had one ready, or if she had to invent one.
Part 18
"The Colonel refused to let me go to London because he thought I was guilty," said Caroline. "When I think that murdering a cad is a most unladylike thing to do, and then he let me go to London anyway. He really is undependable."
"What did you have to go to London for?" asked the intrigued Kitty, who would have loved to be sent to London. "Did he take you there?"
"No, no," Caroline explained. "He sent me on a secret mission." It was possible to sit in this room for longer than a minute, she discovered, if one would only keep one's attention fixed on the faces of the other people and not on the objects on the mantelpiece.
"Oh! To do what?"
"I cannot say. It was secret. Perhaps he would apprehend me if I were to reveal anything. I suspect that it was to test my innocence."
"Are you innocent?" Mary asked. "We are."
"I am, but it is very difficult to convince him of it. Do you not think he should let the matter of Wickham's death be? It was good riddance." Caroline hoped that the murderess would identify herself by agreeing.
"The scandal would be greater in such a case, for our name would forever be tainted," Mary answered.
"I wish -- no, perhaps I do not wish to know," said Mrs. Bennet upon reflection. "Suppose it was Kitty."
"Mama!" cried Kitty, highly indignant.
"I am sure Kitty would have done it in a more elegant way," Caroline remarked. Stabbing was rather savage.
"Kitty would not have done it at all," was Mary's opinion.
"Ha!" Kitty agreed. "And Mary would not have gone for something as base as stabbing. She would have been cleverer."
Caroline looked at Mary with renewed interest. Poisoning was clever, was it not?
"No," said Mary. "It goes against my principles."
Perhaps she ought to look at the books Mary had, Caroline thought, to see if there were any on herbs and natural medicines. It would be a good idea to check the library for them also. Colonel Fitzwilliam had been waiting in vain for Caroline to return with Mrs. Bennet and he now appeared to fetch them himself. "A word, Colonel," Caroline rose and nearly pushed him out of the room. She lowered her voice. "I think your presence cannot do any good at this moment. It would be better if you checked Mary Bennet's books and the books in the library."
He looked at her a little stupidly. "Are you taking over my investigation?"
"Yes," she said impertinently. "Do you mind?"
"It makes me feel rather superfluous."
"Check the books."
"Just this once," he grumbled, berating himself forever having appointed Caroline as his assistant. He should have known that she would not settle for the role of a mere clerk.
Caroline closed the door and returned to her seat.
"What was that?" asked Mrs. Bennet.
"The Colonel wished to make sure that I had not yet murdered any of you. Who shall inherit Longbourn now?" She was suddenly struck by the idea that Charles would perhaps not have to take in Mrs. Bennet.
The ladies stared at each other in wonder. They had obviously not given that any thought. "I have no sons," said Mrs. Collins. "Only daughters."
Caroline willed her face to keep its undisgusted look. How awful to be a daughter of Mr. Collins. "Despite Longbourn's small size, it might be quite a catch for some people," she said condescendingly. "It does not compare with Pemberley or Netherfield, but perhaps it is possible that some people would be happy to inherit it, or perhaps even kill for it. Perhaps Mr. Collins had a jealous brother who is now destitute."
"He did not have many relatives."
"Who is to inherit then?" Kitty asked.
"Would Uncle Philips not know?" Mary suggested.
"Perhaps we can keep on living here," Mrs. Bennet rejoiced. "We can unpack."
"Madam, please do not jump to conclusions," warned Mary, who foresaw that her mother's imagination would lead her to believe whatever she thought up. Before they knew it, Mrs. Bennet would be telling Lady Lucas that Mr. Collins had left the estate to Kitty and herself, which could never be the case. Mary made up her mind to ask Mr. Farmer, a clerk in her uncle's office, who had impressed her before with his erudition.
"Indeed Mama, let us wait for Uncle Philips' arrival," Kitty urged.
"Is that the man who read the will?" Caroline could not possible keep track of all those relatives and their precise connection to the Bennet family, or rather she would not be caught aware of those connections.
"It is."
"I am sure it would have been cheaper if they had died at the same time." Mrs. Bennet's mind had gone where no one could follow and consequently nobody tried, but they just sat in silence.
Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared again. He had searched Mary's room, but he had found nothing. "I should hate to interrupt this friendly chat, ladies, but I had wanted to ask Mrs. Bennet a few questions."
"Here, Colonel?" Mrs. Bennet could always be counted upon to lend her assistance to redcoats in want of it.
"No, downstairs, Madam." He tried to gauge if Caroline had discovered anything, but she was not meeting his eyes. He took Mrs. Bennet to the breakfast room. "Who discovered the body?"
"Mary did, of course. She is the only one who uses the library."
"What time was that?"
"It was about half past twelve. Kitty said we should send for you, though I thought we were more in need of an undertaker to remove that ugly thing."
"What do you think happened to Mr. Collins?" he asked.
"He died of an apoplexy. How else do people die so suddenly?"
"Well, they might be murdered, like Mr. Wickham."
"But he was stabbed, I heard. Mr. Collins was not stabbed. Where is Lieutenant Drury?"
"I sent him away to get the doctor and the undertaker so we can rid your library of its unpleasant contents."
"Good," said Mrs. Bennet with satisfaction.
Part 19
"Mrs. Bennet," Colonel Fitzwilliam resumed his inquiries. "Did Mr. Collins receive any visitors?"
"He did! And he did not bother to tell me about it," she said indignantly. "I believe the mistress of the house should be made aware of such things, do you not? Only suppose that the visitors had come to see me! But the only time I saw that there had been any body in the house was when Hill informed of it."
"Who were they?"
"I do not know. Hill said they came to see Mr. Collins on private business."
The Colonel rang for Hill. "Mrs. Hill, could you tell me anything about Mr. Collins's visitors?"
"It was a woman and a young man, sir."
"Mrs. Peel and her son?" Mrs. Bennet suggested. "But they do not know Mr. Collins. Traitors! To ingratiate themselves to him behind my back!"
"It was not Mrs. Peel, Madam. It was a woman I had never seen before," said Hill.
Mrs. Bennet huffed. "Mrs. Peel would! Even if she was not here this time."
"How long did they stay, Mrs. Hill?" the Colonel asked.
"They had one cup of tea and then they left. I think it was about half an hour. Not longer, certainly."
"What did the lady look like? Did she give her name?"
"I believe it was a Mrs. Nebbet, Colonel. She looked to be about Mrs. Bennet's age."
"I do not look any age, Hill," Mrs. Bennet corrected severely.
"She looked the age Mrs. Bennet would have looked if she had looked an age," Hill corrected herself smoothly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam said nothing, but wrote down Middle-aged woman. Forties? Contestant of will. "And her son?"
"He was a young man of perhaps sixteen. He was tall but not yet fully grown."
The Colonel noted it down also. "Thank you, ladies. You have been most helpful. Where is Miss Bingley?"
"What do you want with Miss Bingley, Colonel?" Mrs. Bennet asked, a little piqued, for Kitty was still not married yet.
"I should like to ask her a few questions," he said with an impassive face.
"I had never thought I would say this, Colonel," Mrs. Bennet said confidentially. "Because Miss Bingley always feels herself to be above everyone else and I never quite liked her, but she is a sister of dear Bingley, and she is talking to my girls now, and perhaps she can do something for them in the way of an introduction to London society or a ball, perhaps, and therefore it might not be such a convenient thing to interrupt them right now."
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not care for society or balls in the midst of an inquiry, and the argument made no impression on him whatsoever. "Mrs. Hill? Would you call Miss Bingley for me?"
"What for?" asked Caroline, who appeared that instant.
He wondered if she had heard Mrs. Bennet's remark and if there would be a new stream of 'everybody dislikes me' and other things to that effect, but if that was to come, it would come later and privately and not this minute. "And there is Drury too," he said, hearing new voices in the hall. "Excellent." He got up and folded a piece of paper on which he had written down his findings and handed it to his subordinate. "Can you handle it here on your own, Lieutenant?"
"Not again," Drury complained with a half eye at Caroline.
"Rest assured. I must check out a lead. Now I could waste my time here, supervising you, but I am sure you are proficient enough to do this alone."
"Are you taking your assistant, Colonel?"
"I am."
"Am I allowed to appoint an assistant of my own?" Drury asked impertinently, remembering that there were two more young ladies in the house, and that he could easily do what the Colonel did.
"A word in private, Drury," the Colonel beckoned him to a corner. "I understand your wish, but, Lieutenant, there is a big difference between your situation and mine."
"And that is, sir?"
"My assistant has been proven innocent and your prospective ones are still under suspicion."
"Oh, Colonel! Your lady could have stabbed Wickham with her right arm, just like I can do things with my left arm."
"But she could not have murdered Collins, and he was most certainly murdered."
"Are the cases related?"
"Unless it is a very unlikely coincidence, they are related."
"So...?"
"So, that means you are not allowed to appoint an assistant whose last name is Bennet, nor one of the servants, nor Mrs. Collins."
"The General would perhaps not be too thrilled to hear that you appointed..." Drury began.
"Are you blackmailing me, Drury?" Colonel Fitzwilliam was not afraid. He himself could point at too many instances of Drury's misbehaving himself for his lieutenant to attempt any more than to tease him.
"Goodness, sir. I should never dare to carry it out."
"You are altogether too juvenile for a promotion."
Drury pulled a face and saluted. "Sir! I know you have given me this chance to prove myself by working here alone, and I shall take it most seriously."
"Please! You go from one extreme to the other." Fitzwilliam turned away and suppressed a smile. "Shall we go?" he suggested to Caroline, much to Mrs. Bennet's consternation.