North by Northanger

Thirteen

“Where is my nephew?”

The voice reverberated off the walls and every other hard surface of the room. It set Elizabeth’s spine tingling — and she had been anticipating it. Best of all, its sheer authority sent Mr. Melbourne scrambling to attention. He stood up behind his desk as Lady Catherine and Elizabeth entered the library of the magistrate’s home.

Elizabeth had not been entirely certain how Darcy’s aunt would respond to the second express she’d sent the night before. Given the vigilance with which her ladyship protected the Fitzwilliam name from the slightest threat, Elizabeth hoped she would offer assistance in liberating Darcy as quickly as possible. Her optimism had not been in vain. Lady Catherine had sallied forth so swiftly to defend the family honor that she arrived at the Golden Crown before Elizabeth had finished her breakfast.

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” Elizabeth said, “may I present Mr. Melbourne?”

He stretched to his full measure and squared his shoulders. “Good afternoon, your ladyship.” Mr. Melbourne bowed.

Lady Catherine acknowledged the introduction with a nod so cool and slight that it could have been mistaken for simply adjusting the balance of her hat.

“My nephew. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. What have you done with him?”

“He is currently in gaol awaiting trial for grand larceny.”

“Inconceivable! And entirely unacceptable. A gentleman of his stature, sitting in a common gaol for a crime he did not commit — it is not to be borne!”

Her indignation washed over Mr. Melbourne as easily as had Darcy’s. Though he maintained his deferential stance, the magistrate was clearly unimpressed.

“Bear it he must.”

“Not any longer. Mrs. Darcy has communicated to me the particulars of these ridiculous charges against him. They have no foundation.”

“Mr. Darcy had stolen diamonds in his possession.”

“Do you know who he is?” Lady Catherine strode closer. Were it not for the great walnut desk between them, she and Mr. Melbourne would have stood nose to nose. “Mr. Darcy descends from a noble and ancient family. He is the grandson of an earl. His estate rivals that of any in England. A paltry set of diamonds is nothing to him. He could not possibly have taken them.”

“The trial will determine that.”

“His great-uncle was a judge. A good one. He knew a false case when he heard it, and this one is as false as they come.” She rapped her walking cane on the floor. “I want these charges dropped.”

Mr. Melbourne stepped back from the desk. “I will not do that. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy stand accused of a grave offense. I take justice very seriously, and so does the assize judge.” His voice had lost some of its power.

“Then release him until the trial.”

“I cannot.”

“Name the price.”

The three small words hung in the air as the startled Mr. Melbourne stepped back a second time. “With all due respect, your ladyship, I hope I have not given the impression that I accept bribes.”

Lady Catherine huffed with impatience. “I am not offering one. I wish to post a bond.”

“No.” Mr. Melbourne repeated the denial with a shake of his head. “If Mr. Darcy forfeits, the judge will hang me.”

“Mr. Darcy will not forfeit,” she declared. “You will have his word and my money as assurance. My nephew would not jeopardize either.”

“Nevertheless, I will not release him into his own custody. The risk—”

“Then release him into mine.” Lady Catherine assessed him. Her gaze took in not just his person, but his surroundings — the document he had been writing when they entered, the law book lying open before him, the statue of blindfolded Justice on a shelf behind his desk.

“I see your position and the faithful execution of its responsibilities are very important to you,” her ladyship said. “Have you trained at one of the Inns of Court?”

“Yes,” he said, pride evident in his voice. “Middle Temple.”

“Most local magistrates are not so well studied in the law. Have you ever aspired to administer justice in a more exalted role?”

The look of interest that flashed across Mr. Melbourne’s countenance indicated that he had.

“You know,” Lady Catherine said slowly, “many people owe their situations to me, either directly or through my influence. It is one of the duties of the privileged to help others find their place. I think your proper place is not here, serving merely as a justice of the peace. No — I believe a gentleman with your veneration for the law ought to be a judge.”

“I consider the bench the most noble service to which one can be called.”

“The lord chancellor would agree. Did I mention that I share acquaintance with Eldon?”

“Indeed?” His tone was nearly reverential.

“But we stray from the subject I am come to discuss. We were speaking not of Lord Eldon, but of Mr. Darcy.” She gave him a meaningful look. “Your cooperation in the matter of my nephew would earn my personal appreciation.”

He was silent a moment as he pondered the offer she had not — verbally, at least — made. “Perhaps,” he said, “in light of your ladyship’s willingness to stand surety for him, some accommodation can be made.”

An expression of satisfaction spread across Lady Catherine’s countenance. “I sensed that you were a reasonable gentleman.”

“Even so, I hope I do not regret this.” He cleared his throat. “There is also the matter of Mrs. Darcy.”

Lady Catherine sighed heavily and cast a sideways glance at Elizabeth. “I suppose I will vouch for them both.”

“Very good.” He reached for quill and paper. “As soon as I have your signature, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are in your keeping.”

“Admittedly, all did not transpire exactly as I had hoped.”

“We are beholden to my aunt for our limited freedom. We are answerable to her for our every movement. And she is coming back to Pemberley with us until the trial. Who of sound mind would hope for that?”

Like Elizabeth, Darcy kept his voice low. Though they had returned to the privacy of their room at the Golden Crown, Lady Catherine had taken the chamber next door. His aunt had stated an intention to rest after her journey from Bath and liberation of Darcy, but they nonetheless did not wish to chance her ladyship’s overhearing a conversation with herself as the subject.

“At least you are no longer incarcerated.”

They sat by the fire, Darcy in a chair, Elizabeth on his lap. He tightened his arms around her as she leaned against him, grateful just for the ability to talk with her this way again.

“But at very dear cost. You do realize she will still be reminding us of this when our child enters Cambridge?”

“I did not know girls were allowed to enter Cambridge.” She sighed. “Perhaps I made a poor decision. But Lady Catherine was the only person I could think of who had the force to sway Mr. Melbourne, the proximity to travel here quickly, and as much interest as we in preventing society at large from ever learning of the matter.”

Darcy knew he could rely upon his aunt to keep silent — in that assumption, Elizabeth had been correct. Lady Catherine de Bourgh would never risk exposure, for the stigma of a family member tried for larceny would blacken her own reputation. But others — Mr. Melbourne and Mr. Chase, Henry Tilney, the audience of laborers at the Golden Crown — also knew of the affair, and they possessed no such motive for silence. He could only hope that Gloucestershire was far enough removed from London that word would not spread.

“Too,” Elizabeth continued, “should diplomacy have failed, I thought perhaps Lady Catherine’s dulcet tones alone could break you out of gaol. Either way, you would enjoy freedom more quickly than Mr. Harper could arrange it. How soon do you estimate we will see him at Pemberley?”

“It depends on whether he stops at his London office upon returning to England. If he receives the second letter I just sent, he will know to proceed directly to Derbyshire. If, having read only your missive, he travels here after landing, the detour will delay him.” Darcy hoped to see his solicitor sooner rather than later, so they could immediately begin working on his case.

“He will be a welcome sight no matter when he arrives. I must confess, even your aunt was, today.” Elizabeth smiled at some recollection. “Darcy, you should have heard the manner in which she manipulated Mr. Melbourne. It was really quite understated for Lady Catherine — a suggestion of future favor, but no actual commitment to ever do a thing for him. Do you expect she will indeed use her influence to win a place on the bench for him?”

“If there is one skill at which my aunt excels, it is putting people in their place.”

A knock on the door forced Elizabeth to reluctantly relinquish her seat. Darcy rose and opened the door to one of the inn’s maids.

“There’s a gentleman downstairs, sir, wanting to see you. A Mr. Tilney.”

Mr. Tilney? Darcy, having just started to relax the constant guard he had maintained since his arrest, braced himself once more. He doubted the visit would prove a cordial one. “Show him up.”

Elizabeth’s expression revealed similar concern. “I hope he has not come to express displeasure at your release.”

“Quite the opposite,” said Mr. Tilney as he entered the room and bowed to them both. He carried his greatcoat over one arm and his hat in hand. “I was glad to hear of it, as I went to see Mr. Melbourne with the intention of effecting it myself, if I could.”

“I confess surprise,” Darcy said. “When we parted, you did not appear so inclined.”

Mr. Tilney seemed much more amiable now. His voice was warmer, his manner less reserved. “I am come to apologize for my incivility. I had, as you know, just learned of my brother’s death, and I had not yet recovered from the shock of that news when the magistrate arrived with you — a stranger accused of stealing my mother’s diamonds. The more you revealed, the harder it became to divide sentiment from reason and think clearly.”

“Anyone receiving so much disconcerting intelligence in rapid succession would find himself similarly affected,” Darcy said.

“You are more generous with me than I was with you. I am a clergyman; I make my trade in helping others cope with unpleasant news. I should be able to handle it better myself.”

At Elizabeth’s invitation, Mr. Tilney laid aside his coat and hat, and took a seat. He gratefully accepted her offer of tea, revealing that he had ridden directly from Northanger to Mr. Melbourne’s house to the Golden Crown without stopping for refreshment.

“We appreciate your trouble,” said Darcy, “and your intention to intercede with Mr. Melbourne on my behalf.”

“After I had time to consider your account more objectively, its full import struck me. I realized how unlikely it was that you invented so many of the particulars. Too, though I did not recognize your name upon first introduction, when you revealed our mothers had been friends I realized it had sounded familiar. Your mother was Lady Anne Darcy, was she not?”

“She was.”

“I remember her. She visited Northanger once — I believe I was about twelve. I thought her very pretty.” He smiled. “And her company made my mother cheerful — she valued their friendship. She was an estimable lady, your mother, and I cannot but expect that a son of hers resembles her in that regard. At a minimum, I presume you have better employment for your time than traveling all the way to Gloucestershire to steal a diamond necklace from our family.”

Mr. Tilney paused. “There was also something else that countered my prejudice.” He rose, went to his greatcoat, and withdrew from its folds a familiar object. “I believe this is yours.”

“My walking stick?” Darcy had not expected ever to lay eyes on it again. “Where did you find it?”

“My butler came across it after you departed.”

Darcy took the cane in his hands and examined it. The silver band was fixed — it hid no secret compartment — and the wood’s signature flaw had never appeared so agreeable to his eye as it did now. “So you believe our account of events?”

“I do. Though it means something far more alarming than theft transpired at Northanger Abbey. In the fortnight since my brother died, someone sent his servants away, made free use of his home, enacted an elaborate masquerade for your benefit, and then erased all traces of their presence.”

“Have you any idea who might have perpetrated this scheme?”

“None. I hoped perhaps the two of you could assist me. May I impose upon you to repeat your tale, from the beginning? You said Frederick — or someone claiming to be Frederick — first contacted you in Bath?”

“Yes,” said Darcy. “We received a letter—”

Elizabeth rose. “We still have it.” She retrieved the note and handed it to Mr. Tilney.

“It is dated before Frederick died.” He studied the lines closely. “And this appears to be his hand. If not, it is a convincing forgery.” He set the letter aside. “What occurred next?”

They described their reception at Northanger, their encounters with the false captain and housekeeper, and their premature departure. When they finished, Mr. Tilney asked whether they had been able to discern any of the captain’s features beneath all the bandages.

“He had blue eyes,” Elizabeth recalled. “At least, the one we could see was blue.”

“Frederick’s eyes were brown,” Mr. Tilney said. “Not that there is otherwise any doubt that the man you met was an imposter. Can you remember anything he said that might provide some clue to his true identity?”

Both Darcy and Elizabeth shook their heads. “Nothing obvious comes to mind,” Elizabeth said. “The whole interview was exceedingly odd, though the knowledge that our host was not in fact Captain Tilney now explains much.”

“Obviously, I have an interest in finding this man,” Mr. Tilney said. “And so do you, for Mr. Melbourne told me the larceny charges will not be dropped even though I have withdrawn my interest in the matter.”

“We are to stand trial for a crime with no accuser?” Darcy asked.

“He claims the letter provides sufficient accusation.”

“But the writer is nameless and suffered no damages.” While Darcy himself placed high value on justice, he believed it must be tempered by reason. He could not comprehend the magistrate’s zeal.

“I can only guess that this whole scenario has provided Mr. Melbourne an opportunity to demonstrate his passion for the law. I am sure, however, that if the man who posed as Frederick can be identified, what tatters of a case now exist will fall apart completely, and you shall be spared the inconvenience and insult of a trial. Can I persuade you to return to Northanger Abbey with me? Perhaps working in concert we can find our answers more quickly, and I would appreciate your aid.”

Assist Mr. Tilney? Without question — for in doing so, he helped himself and Elizabeth. The false Frederick Tilney held the key to their freedom, and Mr. Chase and Mr. Melbourne certainly were not going to do anything toward identifying and arresting him.

But return to Northanger? To this he could not agree. He would not subject Elizabeth to additional time in that house, nor risk her being anywhere near it should the imposter return. He needed to get her to Pemberley, where he could keep her safe while awaiting the arrival of their child. And, much as he hesitated to leave the investigation entirely in Mr. Tilney’s hands, he needed to escort her there himself. Not only did the conditions of their release demand that they remain proximate enough for Lady Catherine to supervise them both, but his own heart demanded that he entrust Elizabeth’s care to no one but himself.

“I freely pledge our cooperation, but I fear we cannot delay our return home.”

Mr. Tilney nodded sympathetically. “Were I you, I should not wish to linger in Gloucestershire, either.”

Darcy actually wished he could linger. Though Pemberley offered a safe haven where he could retreat and regroup, he could not conduct his own investigation as effectively from Derbyshire as from here. He would have to rely heavily on Mr. Tilney and Mr. Harper to carry out actions he would otherwise perform himself — and to do so as successfully.

“Let us keep in close communication,” said Darcy. “My wife and I will review our memory of events for anything else that might prove useful. We will also speak with our servants, and I advise you to do the same. Though Northanger’s household staff has been on holiday, one of them might have perceived something unusual upon resuming his or her duties. Also talk with the groundskeepers and stablehands. I cannot believe that the imposters arrived at Northanger and set up housekeeping without somebody taking notice.”

After a quarter hour’s further discussion of strategy, Mr. Tilney, eager to begin his share of the investigation, departed for home.

“I trust Mr. Tilney,” Elizabeth declared when he had gone. “He seems an intelligent man. But we leave great responsibility with someone we do not know well, and that is unlike you.”

Yes, it was. And it bothered him more than he could reveal to her. “After I confer with Mr. Harper, I will send him here to work with Mr. Tilney. In the meantime, we must get you to Pemberley.”

“I will not enter my confinement for several more months. We can stay here awhile until we find the imposter and clear our names.”

He studied her face — the anxiety lines that creased her forehead; the troubled expression of her eyes and the dark smudges under them. She looked as if she had not slept since Mr. Chase arrested him. “No, we cannot. You need to be home, where you can take proper care of yourself and our child. Not at some inn, or at Northanger Abbey.”

“But what of the investigation?”

“We are going home. Trust me, Elizabeth. Once we reach Pemberley, all will be well.”