North by Northanger

Nine

Thunder rumbled in the distance as they left Northanger Abbey, passed through the gate, and started a slow ascent up the steep, woody hills. The mist seemed to swallow the house almost directly they left it, so they soon had nothing upon which to fix their gazes save those trees close enough to the road to stand out from the fog. The rest of the outside world was naught but a grey haze, creating the surreal sense that they had entered a realm where time and movement were suspended.

It was a protracted, arduous journey. Though the rain abated, it had fallen so hard and so long that it had littered the ground with fallen branches and piles of dead leaves, and turned the roads to muck. The horses struggled to keep a steady pace, and the carriage seemed in perpetual danger of becoming permanently stuck in the mire.

Darcy looked at the ever-darkening sky. They had set out from Northanger much later than he had intended, and what little light penetrated the murkiness would not last much longer.

“How far do you estimate we have traveled?” Elizabeth asked him.

“I thought we would have passed through Cheltenham before now. It cannot lie too far distant.” He endeavored to withhold frustration from his voice. Not even to Cheltenham, and the day already nearly gone. “We will stop for the night at the next inn.”

She put a hand to her back and stretched as much as she could in the close space. “I am just as content to avoid Cheltenham. I had enough of spas in Bath.”

Despite his vexation, her response wrested a slight smile from him. “You do not wish to sample the waters for comparison?”

“I would sooner drink hemlock.”

Just as the waning light failed, the inn presented itself. Though the ostler of the Golden Crown informed them that the next post stop would indeed bring them to Cheltenham, where all the luxuries of a spa town might be enjoyed, Darcy believed it unwise to proceed any farther. In fact, he secured lodging for two nights, to give the roads a chance to improve before they continued home.

Exhausted from the day’s journey, they retired early and awoke to bright light streaming through the windows. Apparently, the gloom that had pervaded Gloucestershire from the moment they entered it had at last relinquished its hold, and now the sun’s rays warmed and restored the landscape.

Having already committed to postponing their travel, they enjoyed an unhurried breakfast and were just discussing how to employ the day when they heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, a loud knock sounded on their chamber door. Darcy opened it to discover a short, barrel-chested gentleman with a sword at his side. Sharp eyes peered from beneath the bushy grey eyebrows that dominated his ruddy face. Two other men, also carrying swords, accompanied him.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

Darcy bowed.

“I am Mr. Chase, constable of this region. An unfortunate situation has come to my attention, about which I believe you possess information. Might I have a word with you?”

“Of course.” Darcy admitted the constable and his companions. He moved one of the chairs away from the table, which still held the remains of their breakfast, and invited Mr. Chase to sit. Despite Darcy’s gesture toward other chairs, the constable’s associates remained standing. Darcy took a seat beside Elizabeth.

“I understand you reside in Derbyshire,” Mr. Chase said. “What business brings you to Gloucestershire at present?”

“My wife and I are returning home from Bath.”

“Upon which day did you depart Bath?”

“Tuesday.”

“And when did you arrive at this inn?”

“Yester eve.”

“Yesterday was Wednesday. Where did you pass Tuesday night?”

“At Northanger Abbey.”

Although of substantial girth, Mr. Chase bore himself with the air of a little man with a lot of authority. It was a trait Darcy had encountered before.

“I am familiar with Northanger. It is remotely situated — certainly off the main roads for a traveler headed from Bath to Derbyshire. What business took you there?”

“We were the guests of Captain Frederick Tilney.”

“Indeed? And what is your connection with Captain Tilney? How long have you been acquainted with him?”

Darcy disliked the tenor of Mr. Chase’s enquiries. “Might I ask to what this interrogation pertains?”

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Darcy, I shall ask the questions.”

Darcy did mind, but saw little to be gained by antagonizing the local lawman. “We met Captain Tilney in person for the first time on Tuesday, but our families have a longer association.”

“I see.” The constable reclined against the back of his chair and folded his arms across his ample belly. “So, passing through Gloucestershire, you decided to call upon him?”

“He invited us.”

“Had you ever visited Northanger Abbey before?”

“Never.”

“It is a large house, and your stay was rather brief. Where did you pass most of your time?”

“In our own chamber,” Darcy said. “We had endured a long day’s travel, due to the storm, and retired early.”

The constable nodded, his second chin spilling over the folds of his simply tied neckcloth. “And where were your quarters?”

“Upstairs, in the back of the house.”

“The late Mrs. Tilney’s apartment?”

“So we were told.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth to see whether she seemed any better able to grasp Mr. Chase’s purpose than he, but she appeared equally perplexed.

“While occupying the apartment, did you remove or relocate any objects?”

“No. We left all as it was.”

“And you left in haste, did you not?”

The sharpness of Mr. Chase’s tone raised Darcy’s defenses. What intelligence did the constable truly seek, and why did he not simply ask for it? Darcy began to doubt whether full cooperation were in his and Elizabeth’s best interest.

“What causes you to believe we departed in haste?”

“Perhaps I should have said ‘urgency’ As you stated, the storm rendered travel hazardous. Only necessity could have induced you to risk the roads yesterday. What prompted your departure?”

Darcy hesitated to state that there had been no specific reason other than a sense that nothing at Northanger seemed quite as it should. “Business calls us home.”

The constable gestured to the remains of their breakfast. “Yet I find you enjoying a leisurely morning. Are you no longer in a hurry to reach Derbyshire?”

“We thought it best to postpone further travel until the roads improve.”

“They are greatly improved now — I just traveled them myself to come here. But I am afraid your journey home will be delayed regardless.”

At a look from Mr. Chase, one of his companions moved to stand in front of the door. Too late, Darcy wondered whether Mr. Chase were indeed a constable. He instinctively shifted to place himself more squarely between Mr. Chase and Elizabeth.

Noting his movement, Mr. Chase chuckled humorlessly. “Fear not, Mr. Darcy. So long as you cooperate, this will not become a physical confrontation.”

Darcy suddenly felt like cornered prey. His pulse quickened as his mind scrambled to assimilate the nature of the threat Mr. Chase posed.

“Cooperate in what?”

Mr. Chase rose, walked behind his chair, and rested his hands on its back. “I received an anonymous letter this morning advising me that a crime had been committed at Northanger Abbey. It seems that a collection of diamonds once belonging to the late Mrs. Tilney has vanished from the premises, and that their disappearance coincides with your visit at Northanger. Can you offer any enlightenment on this matter?”

Elizabeth gasped and looked at Darcy. “The diamonds...”

Mr. Chase seized upon the utterance as if it were a confession. He leaned forward and regarded Darcy with increased antagonism. “So you do possess information. Where are the diamonds?”

Initial relief that Mr. Chase indeed represented the law rapidly gave way to resentment at the suggestion that Darcy had broken it. “We know nothing about any missing diamonds,” he said. “We discovered a set of jewelry in Mrs. Tilney’s chamber, but we left it in the drawer in which we found it.”

“When did you make this discovery?”

“Almost directly upon our arrival. My wife happened upon them while seeking a hairbrush as we dressed for dinner.”

“Did you mention them to anyone?”

“I was going to mention them to Captain Tilney,” Elizabeth said. “But he interrupted me and our discourse shifted to other subjects.”

“You did not think the discovery of a valuable set of jewelry merited redirecting the conversation?”

“We were not in the captain’s company much longer.”

“By your own management. And you claim that the diamonds were still in their drawer when you left Northanger?”

“I presume so,” Elizabeth said. “We never looked in the drawer a second time.”

“You did not need to. The two of you discovered the diamonds and decided to take them for yourselves.”

The accusation so appalled Darcy that he momentarily lost the power of speech. “Nay, sir,” he practically sputtered when he recovered himself. “We most certainly did not.”

“By your own admission, you spent the majority of your time in your chamber — even retiring early. Thus you not only had ample opportunity to hide the diamonds among your belongings, but your presence in the chamber restricted the access of any other party.”

He could not believe his ears. How dare this self-important clod carelessly issue such a serious allegation? “We were absent from the room at dinner and breakfast, in addition to our time with Captain Tilney. Someone could have entered the apartment then. A servant, perhaps.”

“Such as a housemaid? That is possible,” the constable conceded. “Did you happen to encounter any of the servants who attended your chamber?”

Darcy paused. Revealing the lack of attention both they and their chamber had received from Northanger’s staff did not seem likely to aid their cause.

Mr. Chase twisted Darcy’s hesitation to suit his purpose. “You suspect one of your own servants, then?”

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “One cannot imagine more trustworthy servants than Lucy and Graham. Beyond that, they both took ill upon our arrival and entered our apartment only to repack our trunks when we departed.”

“When you departed as soon as possible to make good your escape — with the diamonds in your repacked trunk.”

Darcy shot to his feet, unable to contain his outrage any longer. “Sir, you insult my honor as a gentleman. And you insult my wife.”

“Then to prove your innocence, you will not object if we search your belongings.”

He objected very much to Mr. Chase and his cronies ransacking their trunks. “I will not have my wife subjected to that indignity.”

“Would you rather subject both her and yourself to the indignity of sitting in gaol while I complete my investigation?”

“Gaol?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“On what grounds?” Darcy asked. “You have no evidence, only your own speculation.”

“And the letter.”

“A letter authored by someone too cowardly to sign his name.”

“Darcy.” Elizabeth had moved beside him and now touched his arm. “We can resolve this very easily. Let Mr. Chase search our things. We have nothing to hide.”

Submitting to such an affront went against every natural impulse. But she was right — they had nothing to hide, and allowing Mr. Chase to determine that for himself was a more expedient way to acquit themselves of his ridiculous accusations than engaging in prolonged argument.

“Very well,” he said stiffly.

A thorough examination of every trunk, case, and compartment — right down to Elizabeth’s reticule and his coat pockets — commenced. Darcy observed in silent fury, thankful that Elizabeth had packed no diamonds of her own to confuse the search. Just as the offensive exploration seemed at an end, Mr. Chase’s gaze came to rest on the umbrella stand, where Darcy’s walking stick rested.

The constable withdrew it from the stand. Darcy resented the sight of him holding the cane.

“This is yours, I presume?”

“It is.”

He inspected the grip, then twisted the cinquefoil band. To Darcy’s astonishment, the cane separated into two pieces.

With a smug glance at Darcy, Mr. Chase set aside the grip, inserted two fingers into the shaft, and withdrew a long, narrow bundle wrapped in cloth. He set the shaft on the table beside the grip and, as Darcy watched in dread, unfolded the muslin.

“Well, now, Mr. Darcy.”

The constable held up Mrs. Tilney’s diamond necklace. Sunlight bounced off its many facets, splaying the walls with damning brilliance.

“What have we here?”