Carrie Bebris - Pride and Prescience

Mont Joyau (“Mount Jewel”), Parrish’s alleged estate, does not exist. The painting in his drawing room is a copy of one commonly for sale in the French Quarter; the artist tells me it is inspired by several nearby plantations but depicts none in particular.

As for Mr. Parrish’s associate, Julian Randolph, I have learned little. He did hold a legitimate university post at one time but was dismissed for unspecified reasons. He is known to frequent pawnbrokers’ shops. I will endeavor to learn more of him before returning to England. I have booked passage on the Seahawk, which sets sail one fortnight hence.

I am, sir, your most obedient servant—

By the time he finished reading, Darcy gripped the letter so tightly it crumpled on one side. Parrish — or Diamond, or whatever the scoundrel’s name was — had deceived them all. All except Kendall, who had been smart enough to have his daughter’s suitor investigated. Would that he and Bingley had been so wise! Distracted by their own marital preparations, they had accepted the “gentleman” at his word and allowed Caroline to marry a dangerous fortune hunter.

Kendall, meanwhile, had reveled in their ignorance. In fact, he’d been so full of his own superiority at knowing what they did not, that he was unable to completely contain himself. He’d dropped smug hints about Parrish’s character — at dinner, during the billiards game — which they’d all interpreted as mere sour grapes over the broken courtship.

He glanced to Miss Kendall. “Did you know any of this?”

She shook her head. “When my father forced Mr. Parrish to end our courtship, he implied that he had disparaging information about Frederick. I tried to hint as much to Caroline. That’s why I asked her to go riding that day — I started thinking about the times we’d played together as girls and felt I owed her that much. But I never imagined this. Merciful heavens! Thievery, seduction, murder — what crime has he not committed?”

They could probably add involvement in Kendall’s death to the list. Given Kendall’s goading comments to Parrish and the hints he dropped to everyone else, Parrish must have known Juliet’s father possessed this information. Kendall’s continued presence at Netherfield therefore posed a threat to whatever plans Parrish had for Caroline, and the risk of exposure would be too great for Parrish to tolerate long. Kendall could even have been blackmailing Parrish. Given the businessman’s dealings with Hurst, it would come as little surprise, and would explain why he had brought the letter along with him to Netherfield.

Was Parrish responsible for other events as well? The carriage accident? The fire? Darcy would have to reconsider all of his previous theories. But now he hadn’t the time. He had to warn the others of Parrish’s duplicity. He shoved the letter back into Miss Kendall’s hands. “Show this to Mr. Bingley.”

“Where are you going?”

He hurried out the door, his heart hammering. Frederick Parrish was capable of anything, and he held the trust of the entire household.

Including Elizabeth.

For the second time that morning, Elizabeth knocked at the Parrishes’ chamber. This time it was Mr. Parrish who answered. He had removed his coat and cravat; the top buttons of his shirt were open. He appeared dour, as if his earlier displeasure yet lingered.

“I am glad to find you still here,” she said. He held the door open but a little, so that she could not see inside. “Is Mrs. Parrish within?”

“She is resting.”

Elizabeth hesitated to disturb her, but thought the errand should not wait. “I believe I may have important intelligence to share with you both.”

His brows rose. “Indeed?” He studied her face for a moment before opening the door wider and stepping back a pace. “Come in.”

She noticed as she passed him that he wore some sort of medallion around his neck beneath his shirt. It appeared to be fashioned of braided hair, in several hues, knotted together. She recalled the amulet he had proposed making for Caroline and wondered if he wore a similar article.

Caroline was abed, sitting up with pillows propped behind her. Though she opened her eyes upon Elizabeth’s entrance, they stared vacantly, as if not recognizing the visitor. Her hands lay motionless in her lap.

Elizabeth shivered. It was cold in here; the fire sputtered in the grate. Outside, heavy flakes of snow had begun to fall rapidly, casting the room in dimness. She wondered that Mr. Parrish hadn’t asked a servant to bank up the fire.

She walked toward the bed and greeted Caroline, but received no response. The wedding ring remained on Mrs. Parrish’s left hand. It looked innocuous enough. But as Elizabeth neared the ring, the skin on the back of her neck prickled, and a sense of foreboding settled upon her.

Parrish closed the door. “What is this news?”

“I think I know what ails Mrs. Parrish.”

He started in surprise, then recovered himself. “Truly? I am all attention.”

She took a deep breath, anticipating the incredulous reaction she’d received from Darcy. If her own husband didn’t believe her, what chance did she have of convincing Parrish that the very ring he’d given his wife as a symbol of his affection was the source of all her problems? But the longer she stood in proximity to the ring, the more certain she became that her intuition was correct.

“Please do not accuse me of reading too many novels,” she said, “but I believe the ring you gave Mrs. Parrish bears some sort of curse.”

He laughed. But it was not a merry sound, nor one of casual dismissal. It was a sinister cackle. His countenance changed, the characteristic openness suddenly replaced by a hardened mask. “Why, Mrs. Darcy, you are more intelligent than even I gave you credit for.”

Dread swept her. He knew. The ring was cursed, and he already knew.

“Too smart for your own preservation.”

In an eyeblink, he had a knife in hand, pulled from his boot before she realized he’d reached for it. The blade glittered in the weak firelight.

She instinctively retreated a step, evoking more laughter from him.

“That’s right — back up. Closer to my helpless wife.”

She glanced at Caroline, who lethargically observed them as if watching a theatrical. “What have you done to her?”

“Improved her disposition. Don’t you agree?”

“I concur with Mr. Kendall. Marriage does not seem to agree with her.”

“Take care, Mrs. Darcy. Or you’ll meet the same fate he did.” He spun the knife in his hand. “Only Kendall never saw it coming.”

The knife — Kendall had died of a knife wound. Parrish must have been involved in Randolph’s ritual. “You killed Mr. Kendall?”

“Does anyone else in this house have the guts?”

“Why?”

“The greedy bastard was trying to blackmail me. I told him to go to hell. Then I sent him there.”

Still gripping the knife in his right hand, Parrish brought his left forward. He grasped his own wedding ring between thumb and forefinger, and twisted it round. “Caroline, help Mrs. Darcy find a seat while I decide what to do with her.”

Caroline rose easily from the bed, in full possession of her physical faculties. She grabbed Elizabeth with surprising strength, forced her into a chair, and held her arms immobile.

“Mrs. Parrish— Caroline ? How can you help him do this?”