Create Your Own JAFF Adventure – Post 17

Thanks for joining me on our Create Your Own JAFF Adventure! Just starting? You can catch up on previous posts collected here: https://austenvariations.com/category/sarah-courtney/ .

Feeling a little lost?  You can read a summary of what has happened so far in the story here: quick summary.

Last post, Elizabeth received a letter that her mother was sending Jane and Lydia to London without asking the Gardiners. Elizabeth finally got the chance to plot with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the trio hatched a plot to lure the villain into exposing himself or herself by leaving Mr. Darcy’s coffee unattended. Mr. Darcy then asked Elizabeth if he might call on her, but in the most insulting way possible. Elizabeth returned downstairs to find Jane and Lydia arriving, and she decided to pull Jane aside and tell her about the threat to Mr. Darcy and the plot.

If you’d prefer the third person version, you can read it here. There’s a link at the bottom of the intro part that will jump you to the newest part. Just don’t forget to come back and comment to tell me what Elizabeth should do next!

As soon as you can manage it, you whisk Jane upstairs to tell her as much as you dare about the events of the past week. Jane already knows about Mr. Darcy’s injuries and the initial attack, of course, but now you tell her about the laudanum and both Mr. Darcy and Andrew’s almost tragedies, along with the coincidence of the attack at Netherfield and the poisoning the night after the Netherfield party visited.

“Oh, but surely it was mere coincidence,” Jane protests. “Just think, Lizzy! Andrew drank the chocolate unsuspecting. It was only a mistake there. And it may have been a mistake for Mr. Darcy as well. He was recently injured and recovering—perhaps he intended to add just a little to help himself sleep, and he misjudged the dosage due to his impairment.”

“He had recovered significantly already, Jane, and he himself has sworn that he did not. And besides, Aunt Gardiner’s bottle of laudanum had already been taken down to the kitchen by then. Without going down to the kitchens, which you must admit Mr. Darcy could not manage without comment, he would have had no access.”

“The physician, then. He may have left a bottle himself for Mr. Darcy’s use.”

“He says he did not, and you cannot accuse him of being impaired!”

Jane blinks rapidly and swipes across her eyes. “But it cannot be Mr. Bingley! What purpose would he have in endangering his friend’s life?”

Trying to murder him outright, more like. But you will not point that out, not now.  You simply hand Jane your handkerchief. “It may not have been Mr. Bingley. It could just as easily have been one of the Hursts.”

“But not Miss Bingley?”

You bite your lip before admitting, “It is unlikely. She did not leave the room over the course of the evening.”

“You are certain?” Jane asks.

“I am.”

Jane nods slowly, dabbing a little at her eyes. “Lizzy . . . I do understand how it looks. But have you considered that the visit of the Bingleys and Hursts could have provided an excuse to some other culprit?”

“What do you mean?”

Jane shrugs. “If one of Uncle Gardiner’s servants accepted a bribe, he or she could easily access the chocolate. While they could have poisoned it at any time, doing it at a time when we had visitors would protect them should we suspect something more than illness. We would naturally suspect the visitors, thus making it less likely that we would consider a servant, as we would have if the poisoning had happened the night before.”

You stare at Jane. Jane stares at you.

“That is . . . an excellent point, Jane. How clever of you!”

Does it change anything for your plot? The coffee left alone in the passageway under observation would still be vulnerable to a servant, as well as to the guests. It might mean that you would have to take greater care with where the observer should watch from, as a servant might approach from a different direction than a guest.

Your greatest concern is whether the servant will hear of the unattended coffee for Mr. Darcy in time to act on it. It cannot exactly be announced in the kitchen. Of course, if a servant wishes to complete the job and chose once to plant the poison while the family had guests, he or she might be looking for similar opportunities again now that the same guests will be visiting. It may not be as hard to make sure they see the opportunity as one would think.

“I will speak with the others. We will need to beware the possibility, certainly.”

If it is a servant, there must be invisible hands behind it. There is no reason for a servant of Uncle Gardiner’s to hold a grudge against Mr. Darcy, is there?

Aunt Gardiner does come from Lambton, it is true. But it was many years ago. And no, now that you think of it, a servant wouldn’t have a way to attack Mr. Darcy at Netherfield, not unless he were part of a greater conspiracy. So it comes back to somebody else who might have reason to want Mr. Darcy dead.

Mr. Wickham? Mr. Darcy confided in you about Miss Darcy and her near seduction, and you have your own suspicions about where the girl was going when she sneaked out of the Gardiners’ house. But it is a long jump from seduction to murder. Mr. Darcy’s death might make Miss Darcy more accessible, but it would also put her in mourning. Is it sufficient motive for murder?

Mr. Darcy suspects him, you are fairly certain. Does he have reason to, or is his history with Mr. Wickham—and with Mr. Wickham’s attempt to seduce Miss Darcy—coloring his view?

You and Jane return downstairs to find that Lydia has gone with Miss Hammerlin and the children to the park while Aunt Gardiner finishes packing.

“How lovely. Miss Hammerlin has taken all the children to the park,” you say wryly.

Jane hides a smile, but you can see her amusement. “Be kind, Lizzy. And do not let Lydia hear you call her a child or she will put butter on your pillow again.”

“That will certainly convince me she is a mature adult. Besides, I am not being unkind. She is fifteen. Is that not a child?”

“Not in Scotland.”

At that, you both share a smile.

The door opens, and Colonel Fitzwilliam walks in. He grins when he sees you.

“Miss Bennet—”

He sees Jane and his eyes go wide. His brain stops before his feet, it seems, as he walks directly into the door frame.

You swallow your laugh. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, this is my older sister, Jane. My younger sister, Lydia, has also arrived, but she has gone to the park with Miss Hammerlin.”

The colonel offers a polite bow. “My apologies for not greeting you upon your arrival, Miss Bennet. I was upstairs with my cousin.”

Jane curtsies, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. “I have heard about Mr. Darcy’s infirmity. I am sorry that he is ill.”

“Thank you, Miss Bennet.” Colonel Fitzwilliam turns to you. “In fact, I hoped you might help Mr. Darcy. He has finished the books he brought here and was wondering if you might bring a book up to him.”

“Me?” You cock your head. “I am sure my uncle would not mind if you wished to fetch a book from his study.”

“Ah.” Colonel Fitzwilliam looks momentarily stymied. “Alas, I would, but he requests a specific book that I am unfamiliar with.”

“You, Colonel Fitzwilliam? An educated man? Surely you could pick out Coleridge from Shakespeare.”

The colonel blinks. “Ah. I could, but . . . but he requested a specific book he noted when we met with your uncle the other day.”

“What book is that?”

To your bemusement, Colonel Fitzwilliam looks blankly at the wall, at the floor, and then at the wall again before his face lights up. “Something about the fall of the Roman Empire!”

You consider. “Gibbons’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire? Which volume does he wish to peruse?” At the colonel’s confused look, you sigh. “Never mind. I will bring him the first two.”

“Excellent.” The colonel smiles at Jane, who smiles back.

Well, perhaps he will distract her from Mr. Bingley, even as her beauty seems to be distracting him from remembering Mr. Darcy’s request.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy,” you say as he admits you to his sitting room. “I brought the book as you requested.”

“The book I requested?” Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows furrow.

You hold out the two volumes and his eyes widen. “Oh, ah, yes. I sent my cousin down to request it, I suppose.”

“He says you did.” But you are beginning to have your doubts. “It is an interesting choice for sickbed reading.”

Mr. Darcy’s face looks carefully blank. “What man does not enjoy reading about the Roman Empire?”

You hand him the books and turn to leave.

“Miss Bennet, I beg you would give me a moment.”

You stop, facing the door, and close your eyes. “You have made yourself clear enough, I believe, Mr. Darcy.”

“No, I have not. I assure you, I have said very much the opposite of what I have meant to, and now . . .” He sighs heavily. “And now you see why I stand in corners at assemblies and refuse to dance.”

“Because you are arrogant and hold yourself above the company.” You turn just enough to see how he will react to the accusation.

“No. Well.” He flushes. “Perhaps. The truth is that when we spoke before, I was trying to convey . . . I was trying to explain how I had felt, and how very different I feel now.”

“I believe people often make use of the grammatical past tense when trying to make that distinction, Mr. Darcy.” But you, reluctantly, sit down in one of the chairs facing Mr. Darcy. You cannot meet his eye, not when he has so easily crushed your hopes in a few words, but you will listen.

“Then they are much cleverer than I. Miss Bennet, when I left Hertfordshire without proposing to you, I was making a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life. I thought that I was doing the right thing, that I had to value the connections, wealth, and rank of my future wife above all else. That doing credit to my family and their history meant marrying some earl’s daughter, or some baronet’s daughter with a fortune to strengthen Pemberley for generations to come.”

Do you desire to repeat his entire insulting speech? “Mr. Darcy, I cannot see how—”

“Please, Miss Bennet. Forbear with me just a little longer.”

You nod reluctantly and force your hands to unclench. You are not sure how much more of this you can withstand. How can a man otherwise so clever and admirable be such a . . . an addle pate!

“Georgiana and I have been alone at Pemberley for so long, alone and quiet and often just a little uncomfortable together, that I had almost forgotten what life and warmth it had when my parents were alive, when Father would swing Georgiana in the air and make her giggle, when Mother would sing as she arranged flowers or played on the harpsichord. My father married an earl’s daughter, it is true, but the more important fact is that he married a woman he loved. A woman who was bright and cheerful and filled Pemberley with life, who cared for the servants and the tenants, who raised her children with laughter and good humor along with discipline.”

“They sound lovely,” you say softly.

“They were.” He pauses. “I wish with all of my heart that you could have met them, and that they could have met you.”

At that, you finally bring yourself to meet his gaze. He is smiling at you with an earnestness that almost brings you to tears.

The door suddenly opens the rest of the way and Uncle Gardiner strides in. “Ah, there you are, Lizzy. Is Mr. Darcy enjoying my Gibbons?”

“Naturally, sir,” Mr. Darcy replies quickly, although there are again two red spots high on his cheeks.

“Wonderful. Come, Lizzy. Your aunt has everything packed, and Lydia has returned with Miss Hammerlin and the children. The children wish to bid you good-bye before they leave.”

Mr. Darcy starts to rise, but Uncle Gardiner waves him back. “I apologise, Mr. Darcy, but I believe it best that you do not come downstairs for the moment. Our story about your illness and various relapses is complicated enough, and it is likely better that the servants do not have any particular observations to share on your condition at present.”

“I understand.” Mr. Darcy’s eyes flick to you and back to your uncle’s. “Please tell your wife that I am very grateful for all that she has done and for the sacrifices she has made.”

“Once this is all over, I believe she will demand a token of appreciation.” At Mr. Darcy’s surprised look, Uncle Gardiner clarifies. “She is very fond of ices at Gunter’s.”

Mr. Darcy barks a laugh. “She shall have as many ices, for her and for the children as well—and you, Mr. Gardiner—as she likes. I shall set up an account for your family’s exclusive use.”

Mr. Gardiner claps him on the back. “Good man. Come along.” As you follow him out of the room, he draws close to you. “I believe the empire took less time to fall than you did to deliver it.”

“I had heard that Rome was not built in a day, but I had not heard that it fell in less than one, too.”

That evening, Lydia is full of chatter and excitement for her first trip to London. “We will go to the theatre, of course, and I also simply must see Astley’s circus! And Vauxhall Gardens, and ooh, I want to get an ice at Gunter’s! Papa insists that I go to Hatchards to fetch some book for him, but I have already forgot the title and so you shall have to write to ask him what it was. Are there many balls? I will need a fine ballgown. Aunt, you must know the best modiste!”

Aunt Gardiner laughs. “I am afraid that you will find that fifteen is considered too young to be ‘out’ in London, my dear.”

“Oh, but Aunt—”

“Any girl of fifteen said to be out would reek of desperation. No, if we purchase a gown for you, it would have to be that of a girl not yet out, like Miss Darcy.”

Lydia tilts her head. “Miss Darcy?”

“Yes. I believe she is just a little older than you, and very elegant. Now, I think a visit to Astley’s could be arranged once the children return from their visit to my mother. And the theatre is a reasonable outing for a young woman who is nearly out, provided she is with her family. Uncle Gardiner will see about arranging a visit.”

Lydia purses her lips. “Will the gown be elegant?” Trust Lydia to focus on the part that matters most to her.

“Elegant, yes, but cut for a young woman who is not yet out,” Aunt Gardiner says firmly. “And as for other social outings . . . tomorrow evening, we will have guests: the Bingleys and the Hursts. I believe you know them from Meryton.”

“Of course I know Mr. Bingley—” Lydia begins.

“And I will have high expectations for the manners of a girl who is nearly out. If you can behave like a young woman, then we will begin to include you on calls and other social outings that are appropriate for a girl of your age. However, if your behavior is that of a child, then we had best leave you at home with Miss Hammerlin and the other children during our outings.”

You raise your eyebrows. You had not thought of such a solution, but once the children return from Aunt Gardiner’s mother’s, Lydia can be relegated to the nursery if she misbehaves.

“With the children?” Lydia squawks.

Aunt Gardiner holds a finger over her lips. “Yes. Ladies do not raise their voices in public. Children will shriek from time to time, but children are sent to the nursery for an early bedtime.”

Lydia pouts but says nothing else.

“Did you enjoy the park?” Jane asks. “I know my aunt was very pleased to have the children occupied while she was packing.”

Lydia nods. “It is a lovely park. The girls fed ducks and the boys chased each other on the lawn. I saw so many lovely hats! And the gowns . . .” She gives a happy sigh. “One lady had a gown in the brightest green I have ever seen, with feathers dyed to match!”

While Lydia chatters on about her visit to the park, you sneak a curious glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is so quiet you have almost forgot he is still in the room.

No wonder he is quiet. He is watching Jane, a soft smile tickling the corners of his mouth, his eyes soft. You are tempted to tease him, but you leave him alone for now.

Does Mr. Bingley have competition? Or is Colonel Fitzwilliam simply a man who enjoys pretty women? He did not walk into a doorframe when he first sighted you, but then he had been distraught over his cousin at the time, and you, while you know you have a pleasing figure and countenance, can hardly compare to the perfection that is Jane.

And Jane watches him back, although you cannot tell if she is interested in him, or if she is simply aware of his interest and embarrassed because of it.

If Mr. Bingley is the guilty one, a little flattering interest from another gentleman might help soften the blow of Mr. Bingley’s guilt. Even if he is not guilty, if one of his family members is, it might still be better for Jane to stay away from the family entirely. But Colonel Fitzwilliam has said something to Uncle Gardiner about younger sons not being able to marry where they wish.

You shake your head. You are turning into your mother, seeing romance in every flush or smile. Foolish girl! You should be focused on tomorrow’s plan . . .

And maybe a little on Mr. Darcy’s intentions. He has asked to call on you, before he made a hash out of his question. And while he was cut short in his explanation earlier, you have a sense of what he was trying to say.

Do you want him to call on you? You have always had strong feelings about him—negative, at first, but strong. And the more you come to know him, the more you respect him, like him, are attracted to him . . . perhaps even love him. But is it enough?

He has admitted to his own hesitancy about choosing you, with your lack of fortune or connections. In the first bright sparkle of romance, he is prepared to overlook those things. But as the years pass, as you grow plump and your hair fades to gray, will he still be satisfied with his choice? Will he resent choosing you when it means he has less fortune for your second sons and daughters?

Is love enough?

You go to bed contemplating the question and wake with butterflies in your stomach and a stiffness in your limbs.

Goodness. You really are turning into your mother. Will not Mr. Darcy be thrilled by that?

The day seems to drag on forever. Aunt Gardiner takes pity on you girls and takes all of you walking in the park, which is dreary and overcast with a threat of rain, but thankfully the weather holds off. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam spend the day in conference, Uncle Gardiner joining them off and on, and you know they are discussing where to hide the observer and who they might trust to do the observing.

At first opportunity in the morning, you take your uncle aside and tell him Jane’s theory, which he accepts with appropriate seriousness and without trying to deny that one of his servants could accept a bribe.

“I pay them well,” he admits, “but someone who is certain they can get away with something and is desperate for money may do the most despicable thing. We will account for the possibility, Lizzy. Thank you.”

Finally, evening comes, and the Bingleys and Hursts arrive. They express dismay to hear that Mr. Darcy feels too unwell to join you.

“Charles, I really think we ought to insist that Mr. Darcy be removed to Grosvenor Square,” Miss Bingley says. “The air here, so close to the warehouses, cannot be good for his recovery. Why, he was on his feet and almost recovered only a few days ago!”

Mr. Bingley does not respond. His eyes are on Jane, and he takes a half step forward without apparent conscious thought.

“Charles,” Miss Bingley hisses.

“Hmm? Uh, yes, Caroline?” Mr. Bingley asks. Without waiting for an answer, he takes another step forward. “Miss Bennet, it is a joy to see you again. I thought you in Hertfordshire.”

Lydia grins broadly. “Oh, there was nothing for her there.”

You glare at her, but Lydia does not even look abashed when you look from her to Aunt Gardiner to remind her of her promise. Lydia raises her eyebrows instead, and you decide the wiser course is to leave well enough alone before Lydia decides to snort.

It will be vastly entertaining to see what Andrew will be like at fifteen.

“Good sport,” Mr. Hurst grunts. “Birds more obliging than the fish. Decent cards with those militia chap.”

“Jane does not shoot.” Lydia rolls her eyes and does not even look abashed when you give her a quelling look. “Nor does she fish or play high at whist.”

Mr. Hurst grunts again, and that seems to be the end of his willingness to contribute to the contribution.

“We had a lovely time in Hertfordshire,” Mr. Bingley says. “I was pleased with the hunting, of course, but even more pleased with the neighbours. Pleasant company, and so welcoming.” His eyes have not left Jane’s, and her face is bright and hopeful.

You dare sneak a peek at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who watches Mr. Bingley and Jane, a look of dismay creeping over his face. You feel for the colonel. He is well enough looking, but he is not handsome like Mr. Bingley, being built too tall and broad for fashion, and he does not have five thousand pounds a year or the potential of an estate in the country. And, of course, there is the fact that Jane is already in love with Mr. Bingley.

To your surprise, though, you are not the only one whose gaze flicks to Colonel Fitzwilliam briefly. Jane quickly returns her attention to Mr. Bingley, but you have seen it. What does it mean?

The butler enters the room, and Aunt Gardiner steps forward with the expectation that he is to announce dinner. Instead, he is followed by a familiar young woman.

“Miss Georgiana Darcy,” the butler announces, bowing before leaving the room.

“Georgiana!” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaims. “What do you here?”

“I—” Miss Darcy looks frantically from face to face. “Where is my brother?”

“It seems that Cheapside is not the right environment for your brother’s recovery.” Miss Bingley’s nose rises with every word. “He is upstairs, ill.”

“Ill?” Miss Darcy blanches. “No! Is he—”

“He is not dying,” Colonel Fitzwilliam assures her. “Merely unwell. Where is my mother?”

“I . . . I left her a note.” Miss Darcy’s chin trembles for a moment. “I needed to see my brother. You are certain he is well? You saw him recently?”

“Just before I came down to dinner,” the colonel reassures her.

Miss Darcy takes a slow breath. “Yes. Very well. I apologise for interrupting. I shall return to my aunt’s house.”

Aunt Gardiner raises her eyebrows at Colonel Fitzwilliam before stepping forward. “You would be very welcome to stay to dinner, my dear. It would be no trouble at all to set an extra plate, and I will have a note sent to Lady Matlock so that she will not worry.”

At Miss Darcy’s acquiescence, she steps out to do as she has offered.

“After dinner,” Colonel Fitzwilliam says sternly, “I would like us to speak privately.”

Miss Darcy looks down at her feet. “Yes, Richard.”

The butler re-enters the room, this time for the expected announcement that dinner is served.

The meal is one of the oddest you have ever spent at your aunt and uncle’s. Mr. Hurst is concerned with nothing more than his meal and his wine. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst keep up a constant prattle about their concern for Mr. Darcy and their worry that his stay in Cheapside is keeping him ill. Mr. Bingley has eyes only for Jane, and Colonel Fitzwilliam seems split between curiosity about his young cousin’s sudden appearance and sneaking his own peeks at Jane. Lydia is fascinated with Miss Darcy’s dress and peppers her with questions about its provenance and style, what color Miss Darcy favours for dresses and whether she thinks it is more important to wear colours that flatter one’s complexion or colours that are currently in fashion—shooting an occasional look at Miss Bingley’s gown as she does so—and you, for once, find yourself watching the odd assortment of individuals instead of joining the conversation. Thank goodness for your aunt and uncle, who keep the conversations going from their opposite ends of the table.

As the ladies separate after the meal, you take a deep breath. The time is imminent. As soon as the gentlemen join you, Aunt Gardiner will serve the coffee and mention Mr. Darcy’s cup. You are on tenterhooks, and you can see the same tension in Jane as you find seats in the drawing room.

First, you must survive Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst in the same room as Lydia, who is already discussing the militia she has left behind in Meryton and how desperately they are missing her.

“—and Denny said that Saunderson said that Wickham should have been back from London by now, but that he was delayed, and Colonel Forster says . . .”

You glance at Miss Darcy, whose face has paled at the mention of Mr. Wickham, but who otherwise sits stiff and upright in her chair without reaction.

“But I am beginning to think London may be more entertaining than I thought,” Lydia says with a giggle. “In Meryton, the officers wear redcoats, but here they are in disguise.”

“You mean Colonel Fitzwilliam, I suppose,” Mrs. Hurst says in a most exasperated tone.

“Oh, no, I mean the one outside watching the house. I can always tell an officer from an ordinary gentleman, you know. It is how they stand and walk.”

You suck in a breath so quickly that you almost choke, and you can see an equally alarmed expression on your aunt Gardiner’s face. Colonel Fitzwilliam or Uncle Gardiner must have set a guard outside the house to help when the criminal is exposed. At least, you hope the man is a guard they have hired, and not someone helping your enemy! You will have to pull Uncle Gardiner aside the moment the men join you to make sure he knows of the man.

Trust Lydia to recognise a soldier by his style of walking!

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst turn to your aunt with matching looks of bemusement, and you force yourself to calm. You will have to respond quickly before Lydia’s outburst reveals your scheme entirely. But you can barely think of any response that will not draw suspicion.

Should you say:

“Lydia will see soldiers everywhere!” and laugh

or

“That is Uncle Gardiner’s guard, Lydia, as our uncle has an important shipment arriving any day now. Although I suppose the guard may be a former soldier!”

Jane is in London, and so is Mr. Bingley! But is he the best match for her, or should she look elsewhere? Hmm. Feel free to add your thoughts on that to the choice above!

By the way, I love all of your ideas and suggestions beyond the a/b choice of the story. But! I do need to ask you to be clear on which way you choose, because ultimately I need to tabulate votes for one choice or the other. I do take your additional suggestions into account and I do sometimes incorporate them, but I need you to make sure you also include a base vote that is clear so I know which way to count your vote! (In other words, it’s fine to say “Tell Jane about the laudanum but not about the plot!” but I also need to you declare whether that’s ultimately a vote for “tell Jane” or “don’t tell Jane.”)