Before he could reply, the colonel broke in. He said, “It is important, Miss Georgiana, that you should not remain at Pemberley until this matter has been fully investigated. I shall be writing by express to Lady Catherine this evening and I have no doubt she will speedily invite you to Rosings. I know that you do not particularly like the house and that the invitation will to some extent be unwelcome, but it is your brother’s wish that you go where you will be safe and where neither Mr nor Mrs Darcy need have any anxiety about your safety and welfare. I am sure that with your good sense you will see the wisdom – indeed the propriety – of what is proposed.”

Ignoring him, Georgiana turned to Darcy. “You need have no anxiety. Please do not ask me to leave. I only wish to be of use to Elizabeth and I hope I can be. I cannot see that there is any impropriety in that.”

It was then that Alveston intervened. “Forgive me, sir, but I feel I must speak. You discuss what Miss Darcy should do as if she were a child. We have entered the nineteenth century; we do not need to be a disciple of Mrs Wollstonecraft to feel that women should not be denied a voice in matters that concern them. It is some centuries since we accepted that a woman has a soul. Is it not time that we accepted that she also has a mind?”

The colonel took a moment to control himself. He said, “I suggest, sir, that you save your diatribe for the Old Bailey.”

Darcy turned to Georgiana. “I was thinking only of your welfare and happiness. Of course, if you wish, you must stay; Elizabeth will, I know, be glad of your help.”

Elizabeth had been sitting quietly wondering whether she could speak without making matters worse. Now she said, “Very glad indeed. I must be available for Sir Selwyn Hardcastle when he arrives and I do not see how the necessary letters can be delivered in time unless I have help. So shall we make a start?”

Thrusting back his chair with some force, the colonel made a stiff bow to Elizabeth and Georgiana, then left the room.

Alveston stood up and spoke to Darcy. “I must apologise, sir, for intervening in a family matter which is not my concern. I spoke inadvisably and with more force than was either courteous or wise.”

Darcy said, “The apology is due to the colonel rather than to me. Your comments may have been inappropriate and presumptuous but that does not mean that they were not true.” He turned to Elizabeth. “If you could settle the question of the letters now, my love, I think it is time for us to speak to the staff, both the indoor servants and those who may be working in the house. Mrs Reynolds and Stoughton will have told them only that there has been an accident and the ball has been cancelled, and there will be considerable alarm and anxiety. I will ring for Mrs Reynolds now and say that we will come down to speak to them in the servants’ hall as soon as you have drafted the letter for Georgiana to copy.” 

5

Thirty minutes later Darcy and Elizabeth entered the servants’ hall to the sound of sixteen chairs being scraped back and a muttered “Good morning sir” in reply to Darcy’s greeting, spoken in a concerted murmur so low that it could hardly be heard. Elizabeth was struck by the expanse of newly starched and very white afternoon aprons and goffered caps before remembering that, under Mrs Reynolds’s directions, all the staff were impeccably dressed on the morning of Lady Anne’s ball. The air smelled of baking and a pervading savoury aroma; in the absence of orders to the contrary, some of the tarts and savouries must already be in the ovens. Passing an open door leading to the conservatory, Elizabeth had been almost overwhelmed by the sickly scent of the cut flowers; unwanted now, how many, she wondered, would be alive by Monday. She found herself thinking of what could best be done with the many birds plucked for roasting, the huge meat joints, the fruits from the greenhouses, the white soup and the syllabubs. Most would not yet be prepared but with no counter-instructions there would inevitably be a surplus which somehow must not be allowed to go to waste. It seemed an unreasonable anxiety at such a time, but it crowded in with a multitude of other concerns. Why did Colonel Fitzwilliam not mention his ride into the night and where he had been? He could hardly have taken merely a windblown ride by the river. And if Wickham were arrested and taken away, a possibility which no one had mentioned but each must know was almost certain, what would happen to Lydia? She was unlikely to want to stay at Pemberley, but it was necessary that she should be offered hospitality somewhere close to her husband. Perhaps the best plan and certainly the most convenient would be for her to be taken by Jane and Bingley to Highmarten, but would that be fair to Jane?

With these preoccupations crowding her mind, she was barely aware of her husband’s words which were heard in absolute silence, and only the last few sentences fully penetrated her mind. Sir Selwyn Hardcastle had been summoned during the night and Mr Denny’s body moved to Lambton. Sir Selwyn would be returning at nine o’clock that morning and would need to interview everyone who was at Pemberley last night. He and Mrs Darcy would be present when this happened. No one among the staff was in any way suspected but it was important that they answer Sir Selwyn’s questions honestly. In the meantime they should continue with their duties without discussing the tragedy or gossiping together. The woods would be out of bounds for everyone except for Mr and Mrs Bidwell and their family.

The statement was met by a silence which Elizabeth felt she was expected to break. As she rose she was aware of sixteen pairs of eyes fixed on her, of worried and troubled people waiting to be told that all in the end would be well, that they personally had nothing to fear and that Pemberley would remain as it had always been, their security and their home. She said, “Obviously the ball cannot now take place and letters are being sent to the invited guests, briefly explaining what has happened. Great tragedy has come to Pemberley but I know that you will carry on with your duties, remain calm and co-operate with Sir Selwyn Hardcastle and his investigation, as we must all do. If you have anything which particularly worries you, or any information to give, you should speak first to Mr Stoughton or Mrs Reynolds. I should like to thank you all for the many hours which, as ever, you have spent in preparing for Lady Anne’s ball. It is the great regret of Mr Darcy and myself that, for so tragic a reason, it should be in vain. We rely, as always in good times and bad, on that mutual loyalty and devotion which is at the heart of our life at Pemberley. Have no fear for your safety and for the future, Pemberley has weathered many storms in its long history, and this too will pass.”

Her words were followed by brief applause, quickly suppressed by Stoughton, and he and Mrs Reynolds then said a few words expressing sympathy and co-operation with Mr Darcy’s instructions before their audience was ordered to continue with the duties of the day; they would be called to reassemble when Sir Selwyn Hardcastle arrived. As Darcy and Elizabeth entered their part of the house, he said, “I may have said much too little and you, my love, a little too much, but together, as usual, I think we got it right. And now we must brace ourselves for the majesty of the law in the person of Sir Selwyn Hardcastle.” 

6

The visit of Sir Selwyn proved to be both less stressful and shorter than the Darcys had feared. The High Constable, Sir Miles Culpepper, had written to his butler the previous Thursday to say that he would be returning to Derbyshire in time for dinner on Monday and the butler had thought it prudent to pass on this information to Sir Selwyn. No explanation of this change of plan was vouchsafed but Sir Selwyn had little difficulty in divining the truth. The visit of Sir Miles and Lady Culpepper to London with its splendid shops and enticing variety of entertainments had exacerbated a disagreement common to marriages wherein an older husband believes that money should be used to make more of it, and a young and pretty wife is firmly of the view that it exists to be spent; how otherwise, as she frequently pointed out, would anyone know that you had it? After receiving the first bills for his wife’s extravagant expenditure in the capital, the High Constable had discovered in himself a renewed commitment to the responsibilities of public life and had informed his wife that a return home was imperative. Although Hardcastle thought it unlikely that his express letter with the news of the murder had yet reached Sir Miles, he was well aware that as soon as the High Constable was informed of the tragedy he would demand a full report of the progress of the investigation. It was ridiculous to consider that either Colonel the Viscount Hartlep or any member of the Pemberley household could have had any part in Denny’s death, and accordingly Sir Selwyn had no intention of spending more time at Pemberley than was necessary. Headborough Brownrigg had already checked, on his arrival, that no horse or carriage had left the Pemberley stables after Colonel Fitzwilliam departed for his ride. The suspect he was anxious to interrogate and urgently was Wickham, and he had arrived with the prison van and two officers with the intention of removing him to more appropriate accommodation in Lambton prison where he would obtain all the information necessary to produce for the High Constable a full and impressive account of his and the petty constables’ activities.

The Darcys received an unusually affable Sir Selwyn who condescended to take refreshment before questioning the family, who, with Henry Alveston and the colonel, were interviewed together in the library. Only the colonel’s account of his activities aroused any interest. He began by apologising to the Darcys for his previous silence. He had been to the King’s Arms at Lambton by agreement with a lady who required his advice and help with regard to a delicate matter concerning her brother, formerly an officer under his command. She had been visiting a relative in the town and he had suggested that a meeting at the inn would be more private than at his London office. He had not disclosed this meeting earlier because he was anxious that the lady concerned should be able to leave Lambton before her stay at the inn became general knowledge and she was liable to become an object of curiosity to the locals. He could provide her name and London address if verification were required; he was confident, however, that the evidence of the innkeeper and customers who were drinking at the inn at the time of his arrival and departure would confirm his alibi.