Page 8 of Chasing Shadows

When the gentlemen had departed, the household soon broke into fresh discussion of the dreadful news of Mr. Hatch’s murder.

It appeared that word had already reached Longbourn earlier in the day, so that the family had been acquainted with the particulars even before the girls and their companions returned from the market.

Mrs. Bennet bewailed the danger of having such violence so near, Lydia and Kitty speculated in eager whispers as to the culprit’s potential identity.

Elizabeth, however, lingered at the window.

She watched the dust rise and scatter from the departing horses, her thoughts lingering not upon the clamour of the household but upon Mr. Darcy’s words—upon the quiet earnestness with which he had spoken, and the softened timbre of his voice when he thanked her.

***

Darcy had not yet removed his coat when Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to Netherfield.

The clock had scarcely struck the hour of four, but the house was settled into a quiet.

Darcy was in the library, standing by the window, his thoughts still caught between the tumult of the marketplace and the measured words of Mr. Bennet.

The door opened briskly.

“You are returned earlier than expected,” Fitzwilliam said, setting aside his gloves. “I heard from the servants that you and Bingley just came back from town.”

Darcy inclined his head, a faint smile curving his mouth though it did not reach his eyes.

“Yes. It was better to go out and be seen before society brands me a murderer yet again.” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, his tone dry.

“It was no surprise to hear them saying I had killed the parish constable before I even reached the market. If Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not spoken up, I wonder how far the tale would have been pressed by now.”

Fitzwilliam’s brows rose. “Miss Elizabeth? She was in the market?”

“She was,” Darcy answered evenly. “We were on our way to Longbourn to inform Mr. Bennet of the event, as I had promised to keep him apprised, when we came upon Miss. Elizabeth and her sisters.” His voice softened a shade, though he masked it quickly. “Her fairness was timely.”

The colonel studied him a moment with the hint of a knowing smile before he turned to pour a glass of claret. “Well, I saw Sir Fairchild not two hours past.”

Darcy’s head lifted. “What did the Magistrate say?”

“He spoke at some length of the matter. He is still greatly disturbed, and—let me be plain—he still believes the deaths connected to you. He does not think you wielded the knife or killed Mr. Hatch, but he is convinced it has everything to do with you. From the way he spoke, he might have ordered you out of the county altogether, had it not been for your standing in society.”

Darcy’s jaw tightened. “So I am tolerated for my name, and no more.”

His cousin exhaled, spreading a hand. “For the present, yes. However, he granted me access to the body. I was there with Colonel Forster at the mortician’s.”

Darcy leaned forward, all indolence gone. “And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” Fitzwilliam’s mouth tightened with frustration. “If he carried anything of value, it was taken. Whoever killed him was thorough. Still, we intend to search his house. Hopefully, we’d find something of use.”

The two men sat in silence for a while before Darcy broke the silence.

“Do we know where he was headed or what he was doing when his body was found?”

“He was headed somewhere. That’s all we know. Where? No one can actually tell.”

Darcy frowned, his gaze distant. “Why would the killer strike at him now?”

“I cannot say with certainty. Yet I have a suspicion. Do you recall the night of Wickham’s death? Remember, Mr. Hatch said he’d chased after the killer?”

Darcy nodded affirmatively to both questions.

“My guess is simple: he must have seen something—or at least the killer believed he had. Why else strike now? Why break his pattern? Until now, he killed only those who had quarrelled or spat with you. All the murders were contrived beneath the cover of night. This was different. He went after a man in broad daylight, risking exposure. No eye saw him—or at least, none has yet come forward. Yet, it suggests haste, as though he feared something might be revealed, and dared not delay.”

The silence that followed stretched, heavy with unspoken conclusions.

Darcy rose, restless, and moved to the mantel in the room. “If you are right, then Mr. Hatch must have died for what he knew.”

“Which means he may have left something behind. Some scrap, some word, some clue he thought to pursue. We must find it.”

Darcy gave a single, short nod. “Then we search. Whatever enmity this county bears me, I will not shrink from the truth. For Hatch’s sake—and for all the others—we must discover it.”

The colonel regarded him gravely. “Agreed. But we tread a dangerous path, cousin. Whoever did this is not finished.”

“Nor am I.” Darcy’s gaze met his, steady, unflinching. “It's time we caught him and ended this madness once and for all.”