pocketwatch somehow — surely you have seen it, the one with the runes inscribed? I wasn’t sure if he did so with your knowledge.”
His expression darkened. “No, he did not. What sort of chant? What were the words?”
She shrugged. “A foreign tongue.”
He stared at her, incredulous. “I can’t believe Randolph would—” A muscle in his jaw tensed. “I trusted him!”
“The professor assured me he was only trying to help Mrs. Parrish.”
In the space of a heartbeat, his expression changed from angry to panicked. “Caroline — how was she? How did she respond?”
“She seemed all right. Better, in fact — she indicated her headache had subsided.”
“Well,” he said with forced brightness, “I’m glad of that.” But anxiety soon overtook his features once more.
Elizabeth regretted having told him — or at least, having added to the burden of cares he already bore. “I’m sorry for alarming you. And I certainly don’t wish to make you doubt your friend. I just — I thought you should know.”
“I thank you. It is good to know that Caroline and I have a true ally in you. Please — may I have your assurance that if you witness anything else unusual concerning Randolph, you will tell me immediately?”
She promised. Outside the wind moaned as it pelted sleet against the windows. A draft caught her, chilling her through her thin muslin gown.
Surely that’s why she shuddered.
“… think you’re doing. Whatever it is had better stop right now.” Mr. Parrish’s voice, though hushed, was forceful enough to carry from the hallway through Elizabeth’s cracked door. She paused, her hand on the latch, reluctant to interrupt his argument with Professor Randolph to continue on her way to tea.
“But we never—”
He cut off Randolph. “No excuses. No discussion. We had an arrangement, and it didn’t include you muttering mumbojumbo around Caroline without my knowledge. You are not to meet with her again unless I am present. Is that understood?”
“Understood.”
“I don’t know what game you play, but it ends now.” Parrish brushed past Randolph, nearly knocking him down. He stopped just long enough to help Randolph regain his balance, then continued toward the stairs without another word.
“Without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery.”
It is abominably rude of them to keep us waiting.” Mrs. Hurst gestured toward the empty seats. Mr. and Mrs. Parrish, Mr. Kendall, and Professor Randolph were all absent from the dinner table. “Charles, let us start on the soup.”
The rest of the party — namely the Darcys, the Bingleys, and the Hursts — had gathered in the dining room fifteen minutes earlier, though to hear Louisa one would think it had been an hour.
Actually, so incessant had been Mrs. Hurst’s discourse on tardiness that to Elizabeth the brief period felt like an hour. She would sooner listen to the sleet pelting the window glass. Bingley had tried to divert his sister to another topic of conversation, while Jane, Elizabeth, and Darcy made occasional nods and polite listening noises. Mr. Hurst sat in stupid silence, exerting himself only to raise his glass in a mute demand for more wine. His hand shook so much that the housemaid, instead of giving the glass back to Mr. Hurst after refilling it, set it back on the table lest she take unfair blame for an accidental slosh on the tablecloth.
Jane nodded her permission to the servants to serve the soup. No sooner did a footman bring the tureen to the table than Mr. Parrish entered.
All gasped at his appearance.
Three deep scratches ribboned his face, including an ugly gash perilously close to his right eye. The bleeding had stopped, but the fresh wounds yet shone.
“Good Lord!” Louisa blurted. “What happened to your face?”
“I had a little accident.”
Bingley jumped from his seat. “Was Caroline with you? Where is she?”
“She will not be joining us this evening.” Parrish slumped into his chair. His whole countenance expressed defeat.
Bingley regarded Parrish uncertainly. No other information appeared forthcoming. He addressed the nearest housemaid. “Go to Mrs. Parrish’s room and enquire whether she needs anything.”
“Don’t bother, Bingley. She’s sleeping now.”
Jane waved her hand, dismissing the servants. “Mr. Parrish? Will you now relieve our anxiety?”
Parrish hesitated. “This is not an easy thing for me to say.” He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, gripping the locks at his crown. “I believe Caroline’s condition is worse than we imagined. Indeed, I fear her mind too disturbed to recover.”
Mrs. Hurst issued a small mewing sound. “My poor sister!”
“Dear Caroline.” Bingley slowly sank back down onto the chair. “What leads you to say so?”
“Less than an hour ago, she attacked me.”
The table erupted in exclamations. Mrs. Hurst denied it was possible; Jane thought perhaps Mr. Jones ought to be summoned. Bingley looked as though he were going to be sick. Mr. Hurst swallowed more wine.
When Caroline’s aggrieved family had quieted, Parrish continued. “I entered our chamber to dress for dinner. She was unusually agitated — pacing, talking to herself. When she saw me, she flew across the room at me in a frenzied rage and struck me repeatedly. I was so shocked that I scarcely defended myself. I called out for help and fortunately her lady’s maid heard me. We managed to subdue her.”
He stared, unseeing, at a spot on the tablecloth as if trying to reconcile himself to the image of his wife having completely lost control. “The whole while, she looked at me as if she didn’t even recognize me.” He met Bingley’s gaze. “Me — her husband! I gave her some laudanum to calm her down. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“None of us would have been prepared for such a scene,” Jane said. “You handled it as well as could be expected.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bingley. I wish your kindness could relieve the heaviness of my heart. She rests now, but what new trouble will confront us when she wakes? She has become utterly unpredictable — God help her, she has become violent!” He glanced at each of them one by one. “You are her family. You love her as I do. What is to be done?”
Elizabeth wished she had an answer for the unfortunate Mr. Parrish. Every attempt to check Caroline’s advancing illness had proven futile. Apparently, even the locket he’d petitioned the family for help to create — as unlikely a source of aid as he’d conceded it to be — had failed… if he’d followed through on it at all. She couldn’t recall having seen Caroline wear such an article since Parrish had requested the locks of hair. He must have given up on the far-fetched idea.
“Whatever we do, it must be done quietly,” Mrs. Hurst declared. “I cannot bear the thought of my poor sister becoming an
Parrish nodded. “We must protect her as much as possible,” he said. “But not just from gossip — from herself. And…” His voice broke. “I’m afraid we must protect others from her. Removing to Netherfield has not had the effect we’d hoped. We must consider a more drastic alternative.”
