Page 88 of The Briar Bargain
"But why would she attempt such a thing?" Bingley demanded. "She knows the bridge is not yet safe."
The footman's discomfort grew visibly. "That's just it, sir. When they pulled her out and asked why she was in such a hurry, they found . . . well, they found something on her person that don't belong to her."
The silence that followed this revelation was profound. Darcy exchanged a meaningful glance with Bingley, while Hurst muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.
"What did she have?" Darcy inquired, his voice carefully controlled.
"Mr. Linton didn't say precisely, sir, only that they knew it weren't hers. He's got her in the servants' hall now, wrapped in blankets and waiting for Mr. Bingley's instructions."
Bingley ran a hand through his hair, his earlier good humour entirely dissipated. "Very well, tell Mr. Linton I shall be down directly." As the footman bowed and departed, Bingley turned to his companions. "This is all I needed on the eve of my engagement."
"It may be nothing more than a misunderstanding," Darcy offered, though he did not really believe it.
"A misunderstanding that drove her to risk her neck on a broken bridge?" Hurst shook his head. "More likely she has been helping herself to whatever caught her fancy and feared discovery."
Bingley's expression grew grim. "Indeed. Well, there is nothing for it. I must deal with this. Will you come with me, Darcy? I suspect I may have need of a clear head."
"Of course." Darcy set down his glass with finality. The peaceful interlude was thoroughly shattered, replaced by the unpleasant prospect of examining a servant's misdeeds. He thought briefly of Miss Elizabeth, probably dressing for dinner with no knowledge of the drama unfolding below stairs, and felt a sharp regret for the innocent contentment of mere moments before.
As they walked to the servants' quarters, Darcy reflected that trouble, like rain, rarely came singly. Whatever they discovered about Susan's actions, he suspected it would prove only the beginning of a most uncomfortable evening.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Elizabeth exited her chamber, intending to knock on Jane's door and walk down to dinner with her, she was startled to find Miss Bingley approaching her door. The woman's face was pale, her usual composure visibly strained.
"Miss Elizabeth," she said, her tone carefully modulated, though Elizabeth detected a tremor beneath it. "A word in private, if you would be so kind? There has been rather an unfortunate incident involving a servant, and I believe you may have some particular interest in the matter."
Elizabeth raised her brows in surprise. She could hardly imagine what Miss Bingley might wish to discuss, though something in the woman's manner suggested more than casual conversation.
"An incident involving the servants?" Elizabeth asked.
"Indeed. The maid, Susan."
Elizabeth felt a chill of foreboding.
Miss Bingley's smile was perfectly polite, but her gaze was hard. "The same maid whose character you so confidently affirmed when I had concerns about my missing fan. Do you recall?"
Elizabeth did recall. She had impulsively defended the young woman from Miss Bingley’s wrath. "Yes, I remember."
"Because you were so adamant, I accepted your assurance. As your hostess, I could do no less." Miss Bingley's composure began to crack, real emotion bleeding through. "To think, I even gave her some soap and two entire candles, for she said her mother was ill."
"Miss Bingley, what has happened?"
"What has happened," Miss Bingley said, her voice now dropping to just above a whisper, tight with suppressed fury, "is that your honest, trustworthy Susan was pulled from the river this evening, having fallen through a section of the bridge with my mother's sapphire brooch in her basket. It is only because the basket fell onto the bridge instead of the water that it was recovered."
The words hit Elizabeth hard. "Your mother's brooch?"
Miss Bingley's voice cracked slightly. "She died when I was sixteen. That brooch was her favourite piece. And because you so fervently affirmed Susan’s character, I could have lost it forever to that little thief."
Elizabeth felt the ground shifting beneath her feet. She remembered now why Susan had left Longbourn. The girl had needed work that paid better wages to help her struggling family. Had desperation driven her to theft? She could scarce believe it.
"Miss Bingley, I . . . I am so sorry. I truly believed—" Elizabeth felt heat rise in her cheeks. Miss Bingley was right to be angry. She was right to be furious. Elizabeth had interfered in household matters she did not fully understand, had championed someone whose character she had sorely misjudged. The thought of Miss Bingley losing her mother's brooch because she had accepted Elizabeth's misguided assurance against her own will . . . it was genuinely awful.
"I have more I would say,” Miss Bingley said, glancing around Elizabeth and into the chamber, the door still partially opened. “Perhaps it would be better to discuss this somewhere more private? I see that your maid is still inside, and I would not wish for such delicate matters to be overheard."
Elizabeth did not wish to accompany Miss Bingley anywhere. But thiswasher fault, and the woman was owed a hearing and an apology at the very least. Thank goodness the brooch was safe, for Elizabeth did not know how she would ever raise the funds to compensate Miss Bingley for it, and the sentimental value could never have been recovered.
She followed Miss Bingley as they passed several doors, her mind reeling with guilt and dismay. How could she have been so wrong? How could she have so impetuously interfered in a matter where her judgment had been so terribly flawed? They turned a corner and walked a little longer before hesitating at a door to a room she had not seen before.
