Page 22 of Dishonorable Gentlemen (Bennet Gang #1)

Evil is Afoot

Elizabeth studied Jane from the corner of her eye as they walked down the main street in Meryton, seeking their uncle’s law office. Jane was keeping something from her. Elizabeth felt certain of that. What, she’d no idea, for what secret could Jane possibly have that she would not willingly share with her dearest sister?

“What is the matter?” Jane asked, though Elizabeth knew her sister had not so much as glanced at her.

Elizabeth snapped her gaze forward. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do not for a moment believe that I cannot feel you watching me, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. For all Jane’s general sweetness, her sister held not one ounce of weakness or give at her core. If Jane wanted to keep a secret, she would keep it. “I sought you yesterday afternoon. In the garden, and our cave. You were nowhere to be found and Robin was in his stall, yet somehow you discovered when Mr. Bingley and Mr. Collins will duel.” Jane had informed Elizabeth and Mary. She had not volunteered who told her. Only that she’d promised to keep the information private.

Jane answered the question implicit in Elizabeth’s statements with silence.

Elizabeth pressed with, “This morning when I asked Lucy if she knew where you’d been, she went pale, shook her head, and hurried away.”

“There you have it, then.”

“There I have what?” Elizabeth asked in mild exasperation.

“All the proof you require to ascertain that I have no intention of you knowing where I was.”

A burst of laughter escaped Elizabeth at that. “I imagine I must be content with that, so long as you can assure me that you are well.”

“Perfectly.”

They reached the building occupied by their Aunt and Uncle Phillips, the upper living space and small garden the source of happy memories, but did not enter either. Instead, they went into their uncle’s office, where his clerk, Mr. Smith, sat as sentry before Mr. Phillips’ door.

Fortunately, a sentry amenable to them. As they approached, Mr. Smith rose to bow. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, how may I assist you?”

“We hoped to speak with our uncle,” Elizabeth answered promptly.

“May I ask regarding what?”

She exchanged a look with Jane, then uttered the not-quite-a-lie they’d agreed on. “My sister and I wish to inquire about our dowries.”

That earned a knowing look from Smith. “Very well. I will check that he is available.”

Smith disappeared through the door, then reappeared with alacrity, followed by their uncle.

“Jane, Elizabeth, what a pleasure,” he said with such genuine happiness that a pang of remorse sped through Elizabeth. Uncle Phillps gestured to his office. “Do come in. Do you require anything? Smith will fetch it.”

Elizabeth shook her head saying, “No thank you,” and vowed that she would make more of an effort to visit the aunt and uncle who’d sheltered them in their time of need, no matter what Mama said.

Once they were inside and seated on the couches near the front of the room, the formality of Uncle Phillips’ desk waiting beyond and the door closed behind them, Jane turned immediately to Mr. Phillips. Her expression earnest, she said, “I am so sorry, Uncle. We have misled you. We have an inquiry other than about our dowries.”

“Although I would not mind knowing about them,” Elizabeth added.

Uncle Phillips frowned. To Elizabeth, he said, “They are in order, the funds invested just as your stepfather required and awaiting your need of them.” He then turned to Jane. “What do you mean, you have misled me?”

As intriguing as Uncle Phillips’ answer was, because Elizabeth had been uncertain until that moment that they even had dowries, she took in how wretched Jane looked and answered for her. “We know that you and Mayor Lucas were arguing about the duel Papa Arthur fought, and we want to know why.”

Color drained from their uncle’s face.

Spurred by that confirmation that a dire secret waited, Elizabeth leaned forward.

Before she could speak, Jane said with soft earnestness, “Please tell us. I believe that I am in love with Mr. Bingley, and I cannot bear the notion of him ending up like Papa Arthur. ”

A shock went through Elizabeth to hear her sister say aloud what they all suspected.

Uncle Phillips pushed a hand through his hair, disarraying the thinning mass, but still didn’t speak.

“Please?” Elizabeth studied his face, seeking anything useful. “We have a right to know what transpired that day.”

He sighed, dropping his palms to his knees. “I have always vowed to tell Thomas once he is of age.”

“We do not have eight years,” Elizabeth countered. “We need to know now. They duel tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Uncle Phillips reiterated, even as Jane cast Elizabeth a quelling look.

Elizabeth shrugged. Jane had promised to keep the time of the duel from becoming public. Elizabeth had not.

“Perhaps it can be stopped,” Uncle Phillips said eagerly. “We could inform Colonel Forster. Rouse the militia.”

Jane turned to Elizabeth, hope in her eyes.

Elizabeth shook her head. “They will simply select a new day. Mr. Collins is intent on issuing insults to Jane, and Mr. Bingley will not forgo defending her honor.”

Uncle Phillips’ clamped his jaws together so hard that Elizabeth could hear his teeth meet, then opened his mouth to mutter, “I have heard some of his slander. Collins is a cad. Were I a younger man…” He trailed off, deflating, likely uncertain of the truth behind his boast.

“Our cousin is a cad,” Elizabeth agreed. “Which is why you must tell us what took place.”

“I cannot ascertain what good it will do you,” their uncle protested, but the fight had left his voice.

“You must permit us to decide that,” Jane said in her quiet, sure way.

As many a man’s had, his will crumbled in the face of Jane’s sweet calm. He drew in a deep breath, slapped his palms down on his knees, and blurted, “Collins did not shoot Arthur.”

Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “He did not?”

Uncle Phillips shook his head. “He hired a man to hide in the forest and take the shot if he missed.”

Elizabeth stared at her uncle, horrified. “Mr. Collins paid someone to kill our father?”

“Who?” Jane asked, that single word choked.

“It matters not.” When they opened their mouths to protest, Uncle Phillips hurried on with, “A local farmer who is dead now. He was always a bad sort, and he took the money Mr. Collins’ father paid him and drank himself to death with it.”

Elizabeth sat back in her chair, trying to understand what her uncle was saying.

“And you?” Jane asked softly.

Uncle Phillips bowed his head. “You must understand, honor had been served, and justice. Collins was dead. The shadow of impropriety was lifted from you, Jane. It was…honor was served,” he reiterated in the desperate voice of a man trying to convince himself.

“You did nothing.” Jane said it flatly.

Uncle Phillips raised haunted eyes. “No one would have cared about the testimony of that old drunk, even if I could have brought him to tell the truth. It was my word to Robinson’s, and he threatened to ruin me. Maybe if Arthur had woken up, or if Robinson had not been appointed magistrate…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Elizabeth frowned. She didn’t recall Mr. Robinson ever being magistrate. Only tax collector.

“And now, Collins holds it over me,” Uncle Phillips continued, wretched. “Whenever I attempt to defy him, he swears that he will tell everyone that I stood by while his father had Arthur killed. He says he will say I was in on it, and that everyone will believe him.”

“But was not Mr. Jones there?” Elizabeth asked, dredging up her memories of that day. Recollections she usually sought to keep from her thoughts. “He returned in the carriage with Papa Arthur. Surely, he would have vouched for the truth of your words.”

“Mr. Jones waited in the carriage at the end of the valley in which they fought. He did not witness the duel. When Robinson summoned him, he found only the four of us, Collins already dead. I did blurt out the truth. I even pointed out that Arthur had obviously been shot from the wrong angle, but Robinson cast down my words as lies immediately.” Uncle Phillips passed a hand over his face. “You must understand, it was all very shocking and chaotic. I am not a man bred for battle. I—I am afraid I faltered.”

Jane studied their uncle with sorrowful eyes. “I see.”

“Robinson took me aside while Jones worked on Arthur,” Uncle Phillips continued. “He told me he was certain to be named magistrate with Collins gone, and that he would see me ruined if I attempted to disseminate the truth.”

“Mr. Robinson was magistrate?” Elizabeth asked, still unable to recall him ever holding the post. Her mind whirling, anger mounting as she fought to reorder all she knew of what had happened seven years ago. “Mr. Robinson the tax collector?”

“Old Mr. Robinson, his father,” Uncle Phillips clarified. “He held the position until your cousin William came of age. The Collins, Robinsons, and Gouldings have worked hard to keep Meryton under their thumbs.”

“And to raise taxes, to bleed local businessmen and tenants dry while making landholders rich,” Elizabeth snapped. “And all this time, you have known a key piece of information that could have—”

“Could have what?” Uncle Phillips cut in. “Seen them all turn on me? When I am the only one left to protect your family until Thomas is of age? I cannot risk their retribution.”

Elizabeth clamped her mouth closed, exchanging a look with Jane. She had a good idea from whom Uncle Phillips meant to protect them, and the list did not include only local gentlemen. Now, however, was not the time to delve into the Hargreaves and the letter they’d found in Papa Arthur’s desk.

Defiance bled from their uncle. He hung his head, murmuring, “The truth would not have brought Arthur back.”

A harsh silence fell between them, only the crackle of the fire in the grate sounding in the stillness of that fact.

“Thank you for telling us,” Jane finally said, softly. “And thank you for doing your best, and for looking out for us. Your decisions could not have been easy ones. To make, or to live with.”

Elizabeth didn’t allow any words to leave her lips, for they would not be so kind nor so forgiving as Jane’s. The extraordinary thing about her sister was that Jane meant what she said. She had heard Uncle Phillips, been angry and disappointed, of that Elizabeth felt certain, and then forgiven him. Perhaps she’d imagined herself in his place, and come to understand his choices. Elizabeth did not know how her sister came by her grace, only that Jane possessed enough for the both of them.

“I am sorry,” Uncle Phillips said wretchedly.

“You are doing the best you can,” Jane assured him. “It is a difficult predicament.”

Elizabeth imagined it was, but that did not excuse her uncle for not doing what was right. “You said you told no one, but Mayor Lucas knows.”

Uncle Phillips nodded, already appearing somewhat recovered, likely due to Jane’s kindness. “When I heard that Mr. Collins challenged Mr. Bingley, I went to Lucas for advice.”

“You fear Mr. Collins will do the same as his father,” Jane said on a gasp, her serenity shattered. “You believe he will pay someone to shoot Mr. Bingley.”

“The fear haunts me,” Uncle Phillips admitted.

“Mr. Bingley should be told,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You must go to Netherfield Park immediately.”

“If you do not, I will go and I will demand to speak with him,” Jane said with quiet surety. “It will be a new stain on my reputation, to arrive there without Mama and insist on a private word, but I will do so.”

Elizabeth turned to her sister in surprise. Not due to her determination, but to words that amounted to coercion.

As if reading her thoughts, Jane continued, “I do not mean that as a threat. I merely seek to inform you of what will take place if you refuse to speak with Mr. Bingley.”

Uncle Phillips wilted. “You are correct, certainly. Mr. Bingley must know, and I will be the one to tell him. Lucas argued the same.” He drew his shoulders back. “If the two of you can hear my sins and still look upon me kindly, forgive me, even, I imagine Mr. Bingley can as well.”

Elizabeth forwent pointing out that only Jane had forgiven him. Uncle Phillips was under enough strain.

“Will you go now?” Jane asked.

“I will.” He rose.

They bade their uncle farewell, Jane with more grace than Elizabeth could muster, and left him as he called for his horse before going to seek his cloak and hat.

Leading the way back out into the street, Elizabeth turned to Jane to voice her anger over what they’d learned, but halted her words as she took in Mr. Denny and a tall, fair-faced gentleman walking in their direction. Struck by the stranger’s air, and mindful of Uncle Phillips’ revelations, Elizabeth went still, assessing the newcomer.

Mr. Denny sighted them and adopted a pleasant smile, gesturing their way to his companion. Both men lengthened their strides, long legs carrying them quickly up the street.

Reaching them, Mr. Denny bowed. “Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth, what a happy coincidence. I have been telling my new acquaintance how lovely the ladies are hereabouts.” He gestured to the other man. “May I have leave to introduce Mr. Wickham? He has returned with me from Town and, I am happy to say, has accepted a commission in our humble troop.”

Along with her sister, Elizabeth offered a curtsy. For his part, this Mr. Wickham bowed with perfect grace. Studying him, Elizabeth took in a fine countenance, a good figure, and a very pleasing address. He appeared everything a gentleman should be, and suspicion roiled through her.

“Mr. Wickham, it is our pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Jane spoke with her usual conviviality and yet, somehow, Elizabeth felt that her sister was as mistrustful of Mr. Wickham as she.

“And I yours, for Denny here neither exaggerated nor lied in his description of the beauties to be found here.”

His smile was too easy. Too wide, Elizabeth decided.

“Are any of your other sisters about?” Mr. Denny asked. “I would like to further my point. Perhaps Miss Kitty is in a shop nearby?”

“I am afraid our sisters are at home,” Elizabeth worked to keep her manner easy, her eyes as devoid of thought as many a young miss she’d observed gazing on a handsome gentleman.

“Sisters?” Mr. Wickham repeated. “How many fine Bennet ladies grace this region?”

“There are five of us,” Jane said, smiling.

“But our youngest sister is not yet out,” Elizabeth couldn’t help adding, though she resisted the urge to pin Mr. Denny with her gaze as she spoke. Like as not he did not even recall that he’d flirted with, and cheated half pennies from, a girl still in the schoolroom.

“I am certain four of you are enough to enliven any occasion.”

Mr. Wickham obviously thought himself charming, but his sugary words made Elizabeth queasy. Had he been summoned from London to make an attempt on Mr. Bingley’s life? Did he know who they were?

Mr. Denny looked back down the street. “As pleasant as it is to see you both, I am afraid we must be going. We have an appointment.”

“An appointment?” Jane repeated.

“One I would beg off if I could, in order to stroll the streets with two ladies as lovely as you.” Mr. Wickham added another of his smiles to those words.

Apparently, he had no thought that they wouldn’t care to stroll the streets with him, and did not realize that they stood on Meryton’s lone street upon which one might stroll. Elizabeth decided she would rather take the opportunity to bid Mr. Wickham farewell than correct him.

Politely taking their leave, the two gentlemen carried on down the street. While it did not surprise Elizabeth to see them enter the magistrate’s office, it did cause a cold ball of fear to coalesce in her gut. As one, she and Jane turned and set a quick pace out of Meryton.

Once they were alone on the lane leading to Dovemark, striding through cold November air, Jane said softly, “Unless we get word that Uncle Phillips has succeeded in dissuading Mr. Bingley, we will rise before dawn tomorrow and go to the hilltop overlooking Netherfield park. When Mr. Bingley leaves for the duel, we will follow him.”

Elizabeth nodded. They had no other choice that she could see. If Mr. Bingley proved determined to face their despicable, treacherous cousin, Azile and Enaj would be there to keep him safe.