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The greenhouse was situated well back from the main house at Rosings, out of sight beyond the orange grove. Elizabeth was glad for it reduced the chances of her being seen from the house. She had no wish for another demanding interview with Mrs Jenkinson regarding her activities. She entered the large structure with its many windows and welcomed the warm, humid atmosphere which enveloped her. The weather, which had been brighter that morning, had sadly turned grey again. There was no rain yet, though the ominous presence of black clouds on the horizon did not look promising and a brisk wind had lowered temperatures outside to a chilly level, making Elizabeth even more grateful for the warmth of the greenhouse.
Slowly, she made her way amongst the gardenias, jasmine, and myrtle trees towards the back of the greenhouse, where a separate area had been cordoned off for Edwin Hargreaves’s laboratory. Darcy was nowhere to be seen, but Elizabeth found the gentleman scientist hard at work, hovering over a stand of glass vials, his jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. At his side were a mortar and pestle, a small scale, and a collection of jars and bottles containing liquids of various colours. A small coal burner sat in the corner, with a pot on top boiling merrily. He looked up as she approached and hurriedly began putting his jacket back on.
“Miss Bennet... I hope you are feeling much recovered. We felt your absence at tea yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh... ah... yes, I am well, thank you,” said Elizabeth. “I am sorry to have missed the party.”
“Anne talked at great length about your tour of the park together. I had rarely seen her look so gay and animated.” Hargreaves glanced around them, then stepped out from behind his table and came towards her, his expression earnest. “Miss Bennet, you must allow me to say how grateful I am to you for befriending Anne. Your friendship has given her a newfound confidence and inspiration for change. You have been the most beneficial remedy for her health and happiness!”
“Why, thank you, Mr Hargreaves,” said Elizabeth, slightly overwhelmed by his vehemence. “I am sure that your friendship means a great deal to Miss de Bourgh as well. She would be touched by your concern for her welfare.”
He flushed and looked down. “I would do anything for Anne.”
Elizabeth stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to say. Finally, she cleared her throat and asked, “Um... Mr Darcy informed me that you were conducting tests on the samples of tea and milk he collected the other evening?”
“Oh! Oh yes...” Hargreaves hurried back to his table. He fiddled with one of the vials of liquids and held it up to show her. “In fact, you have come upon me at the right moment.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed?”
“Yes, I have just determined the answer to the question regarding the tea and milk samples Darcy obtained the other evening.” He gave her a rueful look. “Though it may not be welcome news.”
“Pray, why is that, Mr Hargreaves?”
“Because I can detect no trace of colchicum nor any other poison in either sample.”
“No poison?” Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. “But that is impossible!”
“What is impossible?”
They turned to see Darcy coming to join them. Though as immaculately dressed as ever in a deep navy jacket and dove-grey pantaloons, he had the air of someone who had come in a hurry.
“I apologise for my tardiness,” he said, making Elizabeth a quick bow. “I was detained by Lady Catherine who wished to enquire about the results of the search.”
Hargreaves lost no time in informing Darcy of his discovery.
“Hmm...” said Darcy, frowning. “This would corroborate Mrs Poole’s story. She appears to be innocent of the charges laid against her. According to your results, no poison was added to Lady Catherine’s drink by anyone. It seems we were misled by the theory regarding the syrup of colchicum—it is not involved in the poisoning at all.”
“But... I don’t understand,” said Elizabeth in confusion. “If the poison was not ingested, how did it enter Lady Catherine’s person?”
“Ah... there are other methods and means,” said Hargreaves. “For instance, some poisons can be absorbed through the skin—”
“Through the skin?” Elizabeth said.
Hargreaves nodded. “There are many well known poisons which can be absorbed through the skin. Camphor and monkshood, for instance, and the juice of tobacco leaves, which contains a substance called nicotine. It is why one must wear gloves when applying the concentrated tobacco solution as a pesticide.”
Elizabeth suddenly remembered her conversation with Peters the gardener and the pesticide solution he had been using on the roses. Was that the source of the poison? If so, how had it penetrated Lady Catherine’s person? Could it have been an accident? Perhaps Lady Catherine had touched some flowers and had received the poison that way... though Elizabeth could not recall seeing her ladyship handling a bouquet at any point that evening.
“You appear to be deep in thought, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked up to see Darcy watching her in amusement. She was surprised to note that they were alone. “Where is Mr Hargreaves...?”
“He has excused himself.” Darcy nodded his head towards the main house. “A call of nature, I believe.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth saw that he was still waiting for an answer to his question. “I... I was pondering the possible methods by which Lady Catherine could have received the poison through the skin. I do know that a concentrated tobacco solution is used in the gardens at Rosings, so it could be a ready source of poison for the perpetrator. But I wonder how Lady Catherine could have acquired it on her skin. I do not remember her handling any flowers or plants that evening, and indeed, her symptoms came on so suddenly after the serving of the tea, it would be logical to assume that the poisoning happened not long before or after that event.” She looked at him earnestly. “Do you recall Lady Catherine’s movements after you joined us in the drawing room?”
Darcy smiled wryly. “I confess, I paid little attention to my aunt that evening. My thoughts were... more agreeably engaged.”
Elizabeth remembered suddenly that Darcy had been talking to her; the memory of that moment when he had caught her hand to steady her as she had nearly spilled her tea brought a flush of colour to her cheeks. These were dangerous waters she was sailing into.
Flustered, she turned from him and walked away a few paces. She closed her eyes and attempted to recall once again the events of that evening. She remembered Mr Hargreaves’s attentions to Anne, Mrs Jenkinson’s hostility to Charlotte, Lady Catherine directing Mr Collins to include certain passages in his sermons...
“The letter!” Elizabeth cried, spinning around. “The poison was on the letter! The letter that was inserted in the book Lady Catherine was showing Mr Collins.”
