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.
Hardcastle said with a degree of self-satisfaction, “That will hardly be necessary, Lord Hartlep. It was convenient for me to call at the King’s Arms on the way here this morning to check whether there had been any strangers staying there on Friday, and I was told about the lady. Your friend made quite an impression at the inn; a very pretty coach, so they told me, and her own maid and a manservant. I imagine that she spent lavishly and the innkeeper was sorry to see her go.”
It was then time for Hardcastle to interview the staff, assembled as before in the servants’ hall, the only one absent being Mrs Donovan who had no intention of leaving the nursery unprotected. Since guilt is more commonly felt by the innocent than by the culpable, the atmosphere was less of expectation than of anxiety. Hardcastle had resolved to make his discourse as reassuring and as brief as possible, an intention which was partly vitiated by his customary stern warnings of the terrible consequences for people who refused to co-operate with the police or who withheld information. In a gentler voice he continued, “I have no doubt that all of you on the night before Lady Anne’s ball had better things to do than make your way through the stormy night with the purpose of murdering a complete stranger in the wild woodland. I will now ask any of you who have information to give, or if you left Pemberley at any time last night between the hours of seven o’clock and seven o’clock this morning, to hold up your hands.”
Only one hand was held up. Mrs Reynolds whispered, “Betsy Collard, sir, one of the housemaids.”
Hardcastle demanded that she stand up, which Betsy immediately did, and without apparent reluctance. She was a stout, confident girl and spoke clearly, “I was with Joan Miller, sir, in the woodland last Wednesday and we saw the ghost of old Mrs Reilly plain as I see you. She were there hiding among the trees, wearing a black cloak and hood but her face were right plain in the moonlight. Joan and I were afraid and ran out of the wood quick as we could, and she never came after us. But we did see her, sir, and what I speak is God’s truth.”
Joan Miller was commanded to stand up and, obviously terrified, muttered her timid agreement with Betsy’s account. Hardcastle clearly felt that he was encroaching on feminine and uncertain ground. He looked to Mrs Reynolds, who took over. “You know very well, Betsy and Joan, that you are not permitted to leave Pemberley unescorted after dark, and it is unchristian and stupid to believe that the dead walk the earth. I am ashamed that you allowed such ridiculous imaginings to enter your minds. I will see both of you in my sitting room as soon as Sir Selwyn Hardcastle has finished his questions.”
It was apparent to Sir Selwyn that this was a more intimidating prospect than he could produce. Both girls muttered, “Yes, Mrs Reynolds,” and promptly sat down.
Hardcastle, impressed by the immediate effect of the housekeeper’s words, decided that it would be appropriate for him to establish his status by a final admonition. He said, “I am surprised that any girl who has the privilege of working at Pemberley can give way to such ignorant superstition. Have you not learned your catechism?” A murmured “Yes sir” was the only response.
Hardcastle returned to the main part of the house and joined Darcy and Elizabeth, apparently relieved that all that remained was the easier task of removing Wickham. The prisoner, now in gyves, was spared the humiliation of having a group watching him taken away, and only Darcy felt it his duty to be there to wish him well and to see
