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“You realise, of course, what these facts suggest when considered collectively,” he said finally, turning to face them.

“The blood trail alone indicates that Miss Bingley was injured near her brother’s chambers before being found at the bottom of the stairs.

Combined with the altercation the previous evening and Bingley’s subsequent behaviour. ..”

“We understand the implications,” Darcy confirmed, finding the words difficult to speak aloud. “Yet it seems almost incomprehensible that Bingley, a good and decent man I have known for years, could be capable of such an act.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s expression softened slightly at his cousin’s evident distress. “Men are capable of remarkable extremes when pushed beyond their capacity for restraint, Darcy. Even the most amiable disposition may harbour depths of passion or rage that circumstances can unlock.”

“That is what troubles me most,” Darcy admitted. “That I might have so fundamentally misjudged his character.”

“Not misjudged, perhaps,” Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested, resuming his seat.

“Rather, you observed what Bingley allowed to be seen under ordinary circumstances. Few of us reveal our fullest capacity for either virtue or vice until tested by extraordinary pressure. As the three of us discovered in the wake of Wickham’s death earlier this year, I should point out. ”

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Elizabeth rose to answer it, finding her personal maid, Helen, standing in the corridor with an expression of nervous determination.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Helen said, her voice lowered. “I wished to speak with you privately, but if this is an inconvenient time...”

“Not at all, Helen,” Elizabeth assured her, opening the door wider. “Please come in. Whatever you wish to say may be shared with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as well.”

The maid entered hesitantly, her hands clasped tightly before her as she curtsied to the gentlemen.

Darcy observed her with interest, noting the unusual tension in her typically composed demeanour.

Helen had proven herself a reliable personal servant since Mrs. Reynolds assigned her, her discretion and efficiency having earned Elizabeth’s trust completely.

“What is it you wished to discuss, Helen?” Elizabeth prompted gently when the maid remained silent.

“It’s about the night of the ball, ma’am,” Helen began, her voice steady despite her evident discomfort. “After I helped you prepare for bed, I was returning to the servants’ quarters when I heard raised voices near the main staircase.”

Darcy straightened in his chair, exchanging a significant glance with Colonel Fitzwilliam before returning his attention to the maid. “At what hour was this, precisely?”

“It must have been near four o’clock, sir,” Helen replied. “I believe all the guests had departed by then, and Mrs. Darcy let me go after I helped her undress.”

“And these voices you heard,” Colonel Fitzwilliam interjected. “Could you identify to whom they belonged?”

Helen’s gaze flickered nervously between the three of them. “One was certainly Miss Bingley, sir. Her voice is... was... quite distinctive. The other...” She hesitated, swallowing visibly. “The other was Mr. Bingley, sir. I am certain of it.”

“Have you mentioned this to the magistrate?” Darcy asked.

Helen’s cheeks flushed slightly. “No, sir. He hasn’t asked to interview me, as I’m not one of the Netherfield servants, and I... I wasn’t certain what I heard was important. Siblings do quarrel, and it didn’t seem proper to mention it without being specifically asked.”

“That is quite understandable,” Elizabeth assured her. “But it may indeed be relevant to understanding what occurred that night. Can you recall what was said during this exchange?”

“Not word for word, ma’am,” Helen admitted.

“I didn’t wish to be caught eavesdropping, so I moved past quickly.

But Miss Bingley’s tone was... mocking, perhaps?

She mentioned something about ‘public humiliation’ and ‘better off without her.’ Mr. Bingley’s response was harder to distinguish, but he sounded very angry.

Not loud, exactly, but intense. I remember thinking I’d never heard him speak that way before. ”

Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward slightly. “And this exchange took place near the staircase, you say?”

“Well, not far from the top of the stairs, sir,” Helen confirmed. “I glimpsed them as I turned the corner. They were close to the door to Mr. Bingley’s rooms, which is only a few steps from there.”

“Did you observe anything further?” Darcy asked, beginning to feel quite nauseous. The implications of this testimony were growing increasingly clear and disturbing.

“No, sir. As I said, I passed by quickly. It wasn’t my place to linger.”

“Quite right,” Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. “And most commendable that you have come forward now with this information.”

“Thank you, Helen,” Elizabeth said warmly. “You have been most helpful. I would ask, however, that you keep this matter to yourself for the present. It would not do to have speculation spreading through the household.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Helen replied with another respectful curtsy. “I understand completely.”

Once the maid had been dismissed, the three of them sat in weighted silence. Darcy stared into the fire, his thoughts uncharacteristically tumultuous as he attempted to reconcile this new information with his long-established understanding of his friend’s character.

“This confirms what the physical evidence already suggested,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said finally, breaking the silence. “Miss Bingley and her brother quarrelled following the ball, at a time when most of the household was asleep.”

“The reference to ‘public humiliation’ aligns with Caroline’s behaviour during the ball,” Elizabeth observed quietly. “Her comments regarding Jane’s apparent preference for you, Richard, were clearly designed to wound her brother’s pride.”

“And the phrase ‘better off without her’ suggests Caroline may have been referring to Jane,” Darcy added reluctantly. “Perhaps implying that Bingley would benefit from abandoning his attachment.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded slowly. “A sentiment that, coming after the public evidence of Miss Bennet’s preference for another, might have struck Bingley as particularly cruel. If he had been drinking heavily, as you observed...”

“His capacity for restraint would have been diminished,” Darcy concluded. “Yet to move from angry words to physical violence... it remains difficult to reconcile with his character.”

“Consider the circumstances in their entirety,” Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested.

“Bingley had already suffered the pain of separation from Miss Bennet once before, believing her indifferent to him. He returns, encouraged by your revised assessment, only for her affections to become engaged elsewhere despite his best efforts. His sister then publicly highlights this rejection, adding humiliation to disappointment. Later, in private, she continues this line of criticism when his emotions are already raw. A momentary loss of control in such circumstances, while inexcusable, is not entirely incomprehensible.”

“You suggest that he never intended to kill her,” Elizabeth said softly. “That it was an impulsive action rather than premeditated.”

“It seems the most probable explanation,” Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. “A push or shove delivered in anger, without consideration of her position near the stairs.”

Darcy rose abruptly, moving to stand before the window as he struggled to master his emotions.

The rational part of his mind acknowledged the coherence of this interpretation, yet accepting it meant also accepting that he had fundamentally misjudged Bingley’s nature.

For years, he had viewed his friend as essentially good-natured if sometimes weak-willed, a man whose amiability might become compliance but never violence. How deeply had he been mistaken?

“If what we suspect is indeed what occurred,” he said finally, turning back to face them, “then Bingley’s subsequent actions suggest a calculated attempt to conceal his responsibility.

The pretence of genuine grief while focusing on financial arrangements, the insistence that the magistrate’s investigation is unnecessary.

.. these are not the actions of a man overwhelmed by accidental tragedy but of one attempting to escape the consequences of his actions. ”

“He would have had little time to consider his options,” Colonel Fitzwilliam observed.

“If the altercation occurred around four o’clock, as Helen indicated, and the body was discovered shortly after dawn, Bingley faced a choice between confessing to causing his sister’s death, however accidentally, or attempting to create the appearance of a tragic mishap. ”

“He chose deception,” Elizabeth said quietly. “A choice that reveals more about his character than perhaps all our previous acquaintance combined.”

Darcy nodded slowly, the weight of this realisation settling upon him with grim finality. “The question now becomes what course we must take with this information. As witnesses to evidence suggesting that Caroline’s death was not accidental, we bear a responsibility that cannot be ignored.”

“The magistrate must be informed,” Colonel Fitzwilliam stated firmly.

“Mr. Burnley already harbours suspicions, evidenced by his return today and the nature of his questioning. Our observations regarding the blood trail and Helen’s testimony regarding the quarrel would provide substantial support for a formal investigation. ”

“Bingley is my friend,” Darcy said, the words heavy with the conflict between loyalty and principle that had troubled him since their discoveries began. “Or was, at least. I cannot reconcile the man I believed him to be with these actions.”

“Perhaps you need not reconcile them entirely,” Elizabeth suggested gently.

“People are complex, Fitzwilliam. A man may possess genuine amiability and still be capable of terrible actions when pushed beyond his limits. Bingley’s ordinary character may be exactly as you perceived it, while still containing this capacity for darker impulses under extreme provocation. ”

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded in agreement. “Few of us are truly known to others in our fullest capacity for both good and ill. The circumstances that reveal our deepest nature are, thankfully, rare for most.”

Darcy accepted this perspective with a slight nod, though the comfort it offered was minimal.

Whatever complexities might explain Bingley’s actions, the fact remained that he had apparently caused his sister’s death and then deliberately attempted to conceal his responsibility.

No understanding of human frailty could entirely mitigate the gravity of those choices.

“I shall speak with Mr. Burnley privately,” he decided finally. “The blood trail remains visible, and it may soon be noticed by others. Helen’s testimony should be presented directly rather than passing through multiple accounts. The magistrate will determine what formal proceedings must follow.”

“A wise approach,” Colonel Fitzwilliam approved. “Direct and discreet, allowing the proper authorities to proceed as the law requires.”

“And Bingley?” Elizabeth asked quietly. “Will you speak with him before approaching the magistrate?”

Darcy considered this question carefully, weighing the claims of friendship against the demands of justice and truth. “Yes,” he said finally. “I believe I should offer him the opportunity to explain, before I take what are only at this stage suspicions and surmises, to Mr. Burnley.”

“Generous of you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “but I do not disagree with your decision. I only hope that there may indeed be some reasonable explanation, Darcy. Despite our rivalry for Miss Bennet’s hand, I wish Bingley no ill.”

“Thank you, Richard. As always, your counsel is wise and valuable.” Darcy shook the colonel’s hand.

“I shall go and keep Georgiana company,” the colonel said, on his way out of the room. “She is practicing some very quiet and melancholy tunes, in deference to the occasion, and I think would not mind an audience. Pray, send for me if you need me.”

“And I shall go to Mrs. Hurst.” Elizabeth reached for Darcy’s hand and squeezed it. “To offer what comfort I may… especially if your conversation with Bingley goes awry.”

Louisa Hurst might be about to lose her brother as well as her sister, Darcy realised bleakly as Elizabeth exited quietly, leaving him alone with his thoughts, looking into the fire.

His friend, whom he had often guided and sometimes judged but always believed fundamentally decent, could be capable of actions Darcy could scarcely comprehend.

The weight of this knowledge pressed upon him with physical force, yet he found within himself the resolve to act as principle demanded.

Whatever pain this revelation might bring, whatever consequences might follow for all concerned, the truth must be acknowledged and justice pursued without fear or favour.

In this, at least, he could remain true to the standards he had always believed himself to uphold, even as other certainties crumbled around him.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy straightened his spine, turned away from the fire, and strode toward the door.

The conversation with Bingley could wait no longer.