Carrie Bebris - North by Northanger

With Elizabeth in Mrs. Godwin’s care for the present, Darcy went in pursuit of more information about Jenny. His foremost concern was whether she had been found, but he also intended to learn everything Mrs. Reynolds could tell him about her, from her work habits to her parish of origin.

He berated himself for his blindness. He should have dismissed her the day he discovered her in the library with Wickham. Now God only knew the extremes to which her perfidy reached. They had not anticipated the child’s arrival for another fortnight at least. He prayed Mrs. Godwin’s diagnosis was accurate, that it was merely labor that incapacitated Elizabeth, with no complications caused by malice.

He rarely went belowstairs, but he wanted to speak to Mrs. Reynolds without delay, and also to search Jenny’s room. He hoped to determine as much as he could as quickly as he could, so that he might return to Elizabeth. Mrs. Godwin had said that her pains were infrequent enough that the birth was still many hours off. He grew impatient for Dr. Severn’s arrival. He would not be easy until the entire ordeal was over, but his anxiety would lessen with the physician in the house.

He found Mrs. Reynolds in the main servants’ hall, and they moved to a spot just inside the exterior door where they could talk without danger of being overheard. Yes, Mr. Clarke had come and coordinated efforts with her. No, Jenny had not been found yet. Yes, the search was widespread but discreet. No, they did not believe she had escaped the house. Yes, several men swept the park even now.

As he talked to the housekeeper, an unfamiliar chaise and four stopped at the servants’ entrance. He watched to see who emerged, but no one did. Instead, a thin figure darted toward the carriage from the hedges. Jenny.

He ran outside, reaching her just as she was about to climb into the carriage door. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the vehicle, but not before she managed to thrust a small object to one of the passengers within. He looked into the gentleman’s face.

“Wickham!”

Panic flashed across Wickham’s countenance. The driver slapped the horses, and the carriage sped off. Gripping Jenny tightly by the shoulders, Darcy tried to get a glimpse of the other passenger, but he — or she — wore a hooded cloak that obscured the face.

A servant began closing Pemberley’s gate. But the vehicle barreled through and continued at breakneck speed out of the park.

Impulse urged him to pursue — catching the conspirators meant clearing his name. But Elizabeth needed him within. And as far as his wife was concerned, he held the most important villain in his grasp.

Once the carriage disappeared from view, Jenny ceased struggling. He turned her around to look into her face. Her eyes were wide with fright.

He fought to maintain his calm, to remain composed when he wanted to shout. “Answer my questions truthfully and it will go easier for you.”

She nodded shakily.

“Did you adulterate Mrs. Darcy’s tea this afternoon?”

She swallowed. “No — no, sir.”

He studied her so intensely for signs of prevarication that she looked as if his gaze alone might knock her down. “Did you today, or at any time, administer anything to her without her knowledge? Any substance that could harm her or make her ill?”

“No, sir — nothing like that!”

“Has anyone else done so?”

“No! At least, not that anybody told me about. No one wants to hurt Mrs. Darcy.”

“God help you if you are lying to me.”

Her shoulders trembled. “I swear to you, I am not.”

She appeared so rattled that he tended to believe her. Though she might practice duplicity when nobody watched, he doubted she could gather enough composure at present to deliver a falsehood convincingly. He relaxed his grip, but not his stance or expression.

“What did you give Mr. Wickham just now?”

“A statuette.”

“That you stole from Pemberley.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Truly—”

“ Sorry? Do you know the value of that ivory? How long it has been in my family?”

“Please don’t send me to gaol, sir!” She began to cry. “My sisters and I — we’ve got no one since our father died, and they said they would pay me well. All I had to do was keep my ears open and borrow a few things from time to time.”

Gaol was the least of the evils she faced. Though the statuette’s history rendered it priceless to him and Elizabeth, its monetary worth made its theft a transport or hanging offense for Jenny.

“What else have you taken?”

“N-Nothing, sir. Nothing I kept. I always returned the letters and such after they were finished looking at them.”

So Jenny was responsible for all the misplaced correspondence. Elizabeth would be relieved to know their son had not deprived her of her wits after all.

“Who are ‘they’?”

“Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Stanford.”

That much he had surmised. But who was the third conspirator, the one who had posed as Frederick Tilney? “Does anyone else work for or with them?”

“I do not know all their business, sir. I only do what they tell me.”

“How did you come to work for them?”

“My father owned an inn at Newcastle — the Boar’s Head. I used to help with the serving — two of my sisters still do, working for the new owner, but he couldn’t afford to keep all of us. Anyway, Mr. Wickham dines there frequently, and so did Mrs. Stanford’s captain. One night Mr. Wickham and Captain Tilney got to talking, like gentlemen do after they’ve first got to drinking. Mr. Wickham mentions that he grew up at a place called Pemberley and brags about his connections to the Darcy family. The captain says he has heard of Pemberley and the Darcys from his father, and asks all sorts of questions about the late mistress and some statuettes she might have had. I kept my mouth shut and the tankards full, but Mr. Wickham, he can’t be in a room without having his eyes on three girls at once and he noticed me listening.

“Well, then my father died and our money ran out, and after the captain’s accident Mr. Wickham comes to me and asks do I remember that conversation, and I say yes. He says he can get me a position at Pemberley if I’m willing to help with some business the captain left unfinished. I ask what kind of business and he says the statuettes are hidden someplace at Pemberley and you and Mrs. Darcy are looking for them but if we find them first I shan’t ever have to worry about money again. I say that sounds like stealing and he says the ivories really belonged to Captain Tilney, who wanted to give them to his lady except he got killed first. Nell was sick and the two littlest ones had no shoes and our landlord was at the door every day looking for his rent, so I agreed. Mr. Wickham brought me here and got me a position as a housemaid, just like he said.”

Darcy would speak to Mrs. Reynolds later to learn how Jenny had come to be hired. The housekeeper knew Wickham was not to be trusted, so some intermediary sympathetic to the former steward’s son must have brought Jenny to her attention.

“What instructions did you receive?”

“To use my access as a household servant to learn all I could about the ivories.”

“In other words, you were to spy on Mrs. Darcy and me.”

She dropped her gaze. “Yes, sir. Whenever I had news, I sent word to Mr. Wickham or Mrs. Stanford, and one of them would meet me. About a fortnight ago, Mrs. Stanford came to Lambton and has been there ever since. Mr. Wickham is there now, too.”