Page 26 of Infamous Relations

“Mrs. Collins!” startled by her sudden movement, he reached out, put a hand on her arm.

“Do you not see, doctor?” she turned towards him, her eyes bright with tears. “If it is in the Parsonage, then that is where she was attacked. In my home.”

Shocked, he let her go.

Charlotte hurried back to the Parsonage, entering by the kitchen door. “Mrs. Shandy,” she addressed her cook, ignoring Mrs. Soward, the assistant housekeeper from Rosings who stood by with pursed lips, “might I ask if you or Agnes happened to find Miss Elizabeth’s grey spencer about anywhere yesterday?”

“No, ma’am,” Mrs. Shandy shook her head, “I didn’t, and Agnes would have brought it to you to take back to Miss Elizabeth, I think?”

“Yes, indeed,” Charlotte murmured, leaving the two women and going out into the hall. “Yes, she would.” Stopping, she looked about, thinking. “Where could it be?” She went into the parlour. “Lizzy would have come in here, probably — taken it off in front of the fire.” Looking about, she checked everywhere, but there was no sign of the spencer. Puzzled, she went back out into the hall and opened the hall closet, without any real expectation of finding the spencer, because the ridiculous closet had shelves, as decreed by Lady Catherine, instead of pegs to hang things.

But there, shoved to the back of a shelf, was a wadded ball of grey fabric.

Horrified, Charlotte reached out and grabbed the cloth, pulling it out. It was still wet, but as she shook it out, she saw that it was quite undamaged. Bursting into tears, she ran into the parlour and sat down on the couch, clutching the wet spencer in her hands.

“Charlotte?” a soft voice said uncertainly. “Whatever is the matter?”

She looked up to find Jane just come into the room, coming to sit down beside her, placing a gentle, comforting arm around her.

“Oh Jane,” Charlotte sobbed in utter despair, “oh Jane, it is all just too awful for words!”

Little by little, Charlotte managed to get across to Jane what she’d discovered.

“It must have been some tradesman,” she sobbed, “but I can’t bear to think of it, Jane, in my own home!”

“Hush,” Jane soothed, stroking her hair. “Hush, Charlotte, you’ve been wonderful, a real-life detective. The Bow Street Runners should wish for someone half so clever.”

Charlotte hiccoughed a little chuckle, before sitting back and wiping at her eyes, drying away her tears, determined that she would not feel sorry for herself any longer. “Well, but the job is only half done,” she said decisively. “Now, we must find out who came to the house.”

“Who came to the house when, my dear?” a voice said, and they both looked up, startled, to see Mr. Collins standing in the doorway.

Charlotte was just about to answer when Jane squeezed her hand warningly.

“A call we missed the other day, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said quickly. “Agnes didn’t get the caller’s name, the silly girl.”

“Indeed, indeed. Well. And when might we expect to dine today, Mrs. Collins? Yesterday’s dinner left much to be desired, I assure you.”

Charlotte suspected that she was looking at her husband with just as much distaste as Jane at that moment.

“Shortly, Mr. Collins, I was just in the kitchen and Mrs. Shandy has things well in hand. Why don’t you go and wash up? Is Maria with you?”

“Just gone above stairs herself, my dear Charlotte,” Mr. Collins inclined his head to her, favoured Jane with an unctuous smile, and departed.

“He cannot know,” Charlotte whispered to Jane fiercely. “If he even suspects, he will tell Lady Catherine, and she will tell the whole world! She’s already been quite dreadful because she suspects Lizzy of seeking to entrap Mr. Darcy…”

Jane clutched at her head. “What in the world has been going on between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy?” she exclaimed plaintively. “When last I heard, she hated the very sight of him, and he looked at her only to find fault! Now Colonel Fitzwilliam tells me that Darcy has been infatuated with her all along, and Lizzy… what has she been doing, Charlotte?”

“Being wilfully blind, as usual!” Charlotte sighed. “I tried to tell her, really I did, but all she could say is that he is more proud and arrogant than ever.”

“However will this all turn out, I wonder?” Jane said, shaking her head.

“He knows, Jane,” Charlotte said bleakly. “He would never marry her now, in any case.”

The two friends looked sadly at each other, wondering if there was any possible way that this disaster might come out all right.

Jane convinced Mr. Bennet to go downstairs and eat dinner, while she sat with Elizabeth. Elizabeth felt able to take a little clear soup, which was all Dr. Trent recommended she have for now, but afterwards felt quite exhausted and took no convincing at all to lie down and close her eyes. She fell asleep in mere moments, leaving Jane to stare silently out of the window and wonder what the morrow might bring.

Chapter Nineteen