Page 41 of The Mercy of Chance

T he return journey to Netherfield passed in thoughtful silence.

Elizabeth pulled out her notebook again, reviewing their findings to keep her mind focused on the practical matter at hand.

“Whoever did this was familiar with the grounds well enough to target the precise points that would cause the most damage.”

“Indeed.”

Darcy’s gaze was fixed on some distant point beyond the window.

“The technical knowledge required narrows our list of suspects considerably.”

The carriage wheels crunched to a halt on Netherfield’s frozen gravel drive.

As they descended, Caroline Bingley’s voice carried from the entrance.

“Charles! We have had an express from Lord Matthews.”

Elizabeth watched Darcy’s posture sharpened at the name.

Before she could ponder his reaction, Miss Bingley swept down the steps, a letter extended toward her brother.

Her eyes widened at Elizabeth’s appearance.

“Miss Elizabeth! Miss Bennet! I had no idea you would be…”

She paused, taking in Elizabeth’s practical attire and mud-splattered boots.

“…joining us today.”

“Miss Bingley.”

Elizabeth inclined her head, suddenly quite aware of her dishevelled state.

“We have been examining some concerning alterations to the land around the water channels.”

“Estate business on such a bitter morning?”

Miss Bingley’s smile was sharp as frost.

“How… dedicated you are.”

“The weather actually proved advantageous,”

Darcy interjected, his words clipped.

“The frozen ground preserved evidence we might otherwise have missed.

Miss Elizabeth’s expertise was invaluable.”

He turned to Bingley, who was scanning Lord Matthews’s letter with a furrowed brow.

“Charles, shall we review those documents now? The light is still good.”

“Yes, of course.”

Bingley looked up, his usual cheerful expression oddly strained.

“Although I am afraid there is a matter I must discuss with you first.” His eyes darted to his sister, then back to the letter.

“In private.”

Elizabeth felt Jane’s hand slip into hers, a silent gesture of support.

Whatever news Lord Matthews’s letter contained, it had disturbed both gentlemen.

She squeezed her sister’s fingers in return, even as her mind raced through the implications.

Lord Matthews’s estate, Dunbar Court, bordered both Netherfield and their new Lodge property.

If he had observed any suspicious activity…

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy’s voice drew her from her thoughts.

“Would you be willing to wait in the library? There are estate surveys there that might help us better understand these findings in relation to the original plans.”

“Of course.”

Elizabeth nodded, recognising the dismissal for what it was, even as questions burned on her tongue.

She followed a footman toward the library, Jane at her side, leaving the gentlemen to their private conference.

The library door closed behind them with a solid thud.

Jane moved to stir the banked fire, whilst Elizabeth paced the length of the room, her mind churning.

“We found what we sought this morning,”

Jane said, arranging herself gracefully in a chair near the growing warmth.

“Evidence of deliberate interference, yes.”

Elizabeth pulled Darcy’s gloves from her hands, setting them aside.

“Although I fear we have only begun to uncover the scope of this particular scheme.”

She glanced at the door, wondering at Darcy and Bingley disappearing into the study, their expressions grave.

What connection could Lord Matthews have to their drainage troubles? And why had the mere mention of his name caused such tension?

The library’s warmth began to thaw her chilled fingers but did nothing to ease the cold knot of worry in her stomach.

They had proof of tampering now—but proof alone would not secure their position.

Elizabeth turned to survey the library’s collection.

Elizabeth turned, the fire crackling behind her, to survey the library’s collection.

“We should begin with the estate surveys.

Mr Darcy was most particular about comparing our measurements.”

Before Jane could form a suitable reply, the library door opened.

But instead of either gentleman, Caroline Bingley swept into the room, her expression sharp with poorly concealed interest.

“I thought I might find you here,”

she said, settling herself onto a settee.

“How fascinating that you should spend your morning examining the flooded gardens.

Yes, I suppose such practical concerns must occupy much of your attention, given your… unique situation.

I trust you have quite recovered from your morning’s exertions?”

“Recovered?”

Jane looked up with perfect innocence.

“Oh, but it was such a pleasant morning.

The frost made everything sparkle so beautifully.”

Elizabeth traced a line on the map, hiding her smile at Jane’s masterful deflection.

Miss Bingley shifted, the silk rustling again.

“Indeed.

Although I was most surprised to see Mr Darcy venture out in such weather.

He generally reserves his morning hours for correspondence.”

Miss Bingley paused delicately.

“Particularly when expecting important communications.”

“Does he?”

Elizabeth murmured, turning a page.

“How attentive you are to Mr Darcy’s habits, Miss Bingley.

Jane, would you hand me that volume of field surveys? The leather-bound one.”

Miss Bingley’s fingers tapped against her fan before stilling.

“I simply thought it unusual, given Lord Matthews’ connections to the neighbourhood.

One would think any gentleman would be eager to receive such a letter.”

“Oh, but Mr Darcy seemed most interested in the ice formations,”

Jane offered unhelpfully.

“He had such fascinating observations about the way water flows in winter.

Did he not, Lizzy?”

“Hmm?”

Elizabeth looked up as if barely attending the conversation.

“I was rather focused on these elevation markers.

Speaking of water flow, Miss Bingley, do you find the drainage near the kitchen gardens satisfactory? I noticed some interesting patterns there this morning.”

Miss Bingley’s fan snapped open, then closed.

“The kitchen gardens? I hardly concern myself with such matters.”

A pause.

“Although I understand there have been some… difficulties with the neighbouring properties?”

“Have there?”

Elizabeth spoke with polite interest as she made a small notation on the survey.

“Jane, does this drawing remind you of that lovely sketch you made of the north field?”

“I believe that sketch is in my portfolio at home,”

Jane replied evenly.

“Along with several others of the surrounding properties.

One can learn so much about an estate through careful observation.”

Miss Bingley’s fan opened again, more slowly this time.

“How comprehensive your studies are.

Are not such matters better left to more experienced hands? I understand Lord Matthews has extensive knowledge of local estate governance.

Do you see him often in the neighbourhood?”

“Does he?”

Elizabeth looked up with bright interest.

“How fascinating.

Tell me, Miss Bingley, does the Viscount also take uncommon appreciation for drainage? I find the subject quite absorbing.”

The fan stilled.

Miss Bingley rose with practised grace.

“I fear I cannot speak to such specific aspects of estate management.

Although I am sure my brother will have much to discuss with Mr Darcy on the subject.”

She moved toward the door, then paused.

“I do not suppose either of you noticed if the letter bore a particular seal?”

“I was too captivated by the survey markings to notice,”

Elizabeth replied.

“Although speaking of markings, Miss Bingley, have you ever observed how ice can preserve the most interesting evidence of--”

“You must excuse me,”

Miss Bingley interrupted smoothly.

“I believe I hear my brother returning.”

The door closed behind her with just a bit more force than strictly necessary.

“Lizzy, you are wicked.

Poor Miss Bingley.”

“Poor Miss Bingley indeed,”

Elizabeth replied, her eyes dancing.

“You were not above playing your own part in her frustration.”

Jane’s cheeks coloured.

“I am sure I do not know what you mean.

I merely wished to discuss the morning’s observations.”

“Just as Miss Bingley merely wished to enquire after our health,”

Elizabeth said dryly.

She turned back to the surveys, her expression growing more serious.

“Although I wonder what news that letter truly contained.

Did you notice how Mr Bingley’s countenance changed upon reading it?”

Darcy followed Bingley back toward the library, his mind still churning over Matthews’ letter.

The livestock inquiry seemed innocuous enough—a few prize sheep allegedly forgotten in the estate sale—but something in the timing nagged at him.

“You are certain you wish to maintain this secrecy?”

Bingley asked quietly as they approached the library.

“It seems unnecessarily complex.”

“For now,”

Darcy replied.

The fewer who knew he had purchased Matthews’ Dunbar Court estate, the better.

Particularly given the morning’s discoveries.

If Matthews had any connection to the sabotage…

Miss Bingley was hovering near the library entrance.

“Charles, there you are.

I was about to send a servant to search for you.”

“Were you?”

Bingley’s attempt at nonchalance was poor.

“No need for concern.

Just some estate business.

Some sheep which were to be sold.”

“Sheep?”

Miss Bingley’s voice was rich with scepticism.

“You spent nearly an hour discussing sheep?”

“Prize-winning merinos,”

Bingley offered quickly.

Too quickly.

“Quite valuable.

The new owner is… quite particular about maintaining accurate records.”

“Charles,”

Miss Bingley interjected, “will you not tell me more about Lord Matthews’… involvement?

“Nothing of consequence,”

Bingley said, with all the conviction of a schoolboy caught in a fib.

“Merely… sheep.

And weather.

Vexing poor weather for sheep, apparently.”

“Indeed, and I suppose those Bennet women are here to discuss the weather,”

she snapped.

“Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet are here on estate business,”

Darcy cut in.

The words emerged more sharply than intended.

Miss Bingley’s eyebrows rose.

“Estate business? How… novel.

Still, Charles, it is nearly the dinner hour, are you expecting me to manage unexpected guests for the meal? I require some notice if you wish to entertain.”

Miss Bingley added with a scolding expression.

“You know my feelings about impromptu gatherings.” The sour expression marred features that might otherwise have passed for handsome.

Two sharp lines formed between her brows, and her lips turned down at the corners.

Had she consulted her looking glass, she would be horrified.

“I had no intention of offering entertainment.

I must beg your pardon.

We will need a short time to review some documents.”

Bingley glanced between his sister and Darcy.

“I shall send them home directly in the carriage.”

“I look forward to a proper dinner later, Mr Darcy.

When it can be correctly arranged.”

Miss Bingley swept away, triumph in every step.

“Bingley.”

Darcy’s voice was low.

“You cannot dismiss the Miss Bennets like hired help.

That would be unconscionably uncivil.”

“Caroline says--”

Bingley began.

“I am indifferent to her wishes.

It is not the behaviour of a gentleman.

I will escort them back to Longbourn myself.”

Darcy turned toward the library, his jaw tight.

The sooner he could resolve this matter and escape Miss Bingley’s questionable hospitality, the better.

Darcy caught Elizabeth’s curious glance as they entered the library.

She had spread the surveys across the large table, his gloves lying nearby.

The sight stirred something in his chest that he firmly pushed aside.

“Were you able to locate the relevant surveys?”

he asked, moving to examine the maps.

Safer ground, this.

“Indeed.”

Elizabeth’s face was neutral.

“Although I wonder if Lord Matthews’ letter might shed any additional light on our morning’s discoveries?”

Darcy kept his eyes fixed on the surveys.

“The letter was concerned with some livestock matters.

A few sheep that were meant to be included in the original sale to the new owner.”

Elizabeth frowned.

She was far too intelligent not to sense the weakness in their story.

Why should Bingley be involved in such a transaction? Her eyes met his for a moment, and he longed to tell her everything—about the property purchase, his plans, his growing suspicions about what was afoot.

Instead, he turned back to the surveys.

“Shall we examine what we discovered? Might I see your notes from this morning?”

Elizabeth passed him her notebook.

“The alterations seem to have been made with some technical knowledge,”

she said.

“Although I wonder why anyone would take such interest in Netherfield’s water flow.”

Or who might benefit from disrupting them, Darcy thought, recalling Viscount Eastbridge’s careful inquiries about the neighbouring property’s situation just before the sale.

But he gave a brief nod, forcing his attention to the precise measurements in Elizabeth’s neat hand

Darcy caught another sharp look from Elizabeth.

Yes, they were handling this poorly.

But until he understood Matthews’s game—if indeed he was playing one—he could not risk revealing his hand.

“Miss Elizabeth,”

he said, perhaps too abruptly.

“These measurements suggest the tampering extends further than we initially thought.

Perhaps we should examine the western boundary tomorrow, if you are willing?”

Her eyes narrowed at his obvious attempt to change the subject, but she nodded.

“Weather permitting.

Though I hope by then we might have a clearer understanding of all the… factors involved.”

The emphasis was subtle but clear.

Darcy bent over the surveys again, acutely aware that their deception was unlikely to satisfy Elizabeth Bennet’s sharp intelligence for long.

But for now, the truth about Dunbar Court—and his own role in its purchase—must remain hidden.

“Another court filing.”

Elizabeth spread the legal papers across the library table, where Jane and Uncle Phillips examined them.

“Collins claims the recent damage to Netherfield’s gardens demonstrates our incompetence extends beyond Longbourn’s boundaries.”

“Unfortunate timing for him,”

Mr Phillips observed dryly, “given Mr Darcy’s recent submission to the court.”

He produced a thick sheaf of documents.

Elizabeth recognised Darcy’s precise hand in the detailed survey measurements they had taken, accompanied by sworn statements from Bingley’s steward regarding the costs of repair.

“More significantly,”

Phillips continued, “I paid an interesting visit to Mr Stevens, the ironmonger in Meryton.

It seems Mr Collins purchased an unusual quantity of earth moving tools last month.

Paid in coin rather than taking credit, which attracted notice.”

“The same week as those peddlers Kitty mentioned,”

Jane said quietly.

“Indeed.

And Mr Darcy’s men found something rather telling when they examined the damaged sections.”

Mr Phillips produced a mud-stained tool from a bag.

“This spade was buried in one of the filled-in channels.

The maker’s mark matches Stevens’s stock exactly.”

Elizabeth studied the tool.

“Could Collins not claim it was used by the estate workers?”

“He might,”

Mr Phillips allowed, “were it not for young Tobias Carter’s statement.

It seems Collins approached him first about doing some ‘landscape work’ at Netherfield.

The boy refused, having worked for you on the original improvements.

He recognised the proposed alterations would cause flooding.”

“Young Carter’s testimony alone will not be enough,”

Elizabeth said, “And I fear for him if Collins learns of it.”.

“No.

But combined with the purchase records, the tool evidence, and most importantly,”

Phillips produced another document with a flourish, “--this draft of a letter found among Collins’s papers when magistrate Freeman ordered a search of his lodgings at the inn.

It appears to be instructions he obtained for those ‘peddlers’ regarding exactly which drainage channels to alter.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she read.

The instructions were detailed, revealing both knowledge of the Longbourn land and water and clear intent to cause damage.

“Collins was foolish enough to keep such evidence?”

“Pride,”

Phillips said simply.

“He could not resist documenting his clever scheme.

And now that he has brought the matter before the court himself--”

“If all of this becomes admissible evidence,”

Elizabeth finished.

“It has weight not just regarding the damage but speaking to his character and fitness to manage any estate.”

“Precisely.”

Phillips began gathering the papers.

“A hearing is set for Tuesday.

Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley will present the full accounting of damages then.

Given the extent of repairs needed and the lost productivity of the kitchen gardens…”

He named a figure that made Jane pale.

“Collins cannot possibly pay such a sum,”

Elizabeth said.

“No,”

Phillips agreed.

“He cannot.

Which puts him in a rather desperate position regarding his future interests, does it not?”

Through the library window, Elizabeth could see repair work already beginning on the damaged fields.

Collins had meant to prove their incompetence.

Instead, he had demonstrated his own—and at a cost that might well force him to relinquish his claim to Longbourn entirely.