The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (14 page)

Their expressions thoughtful, his cousin and the former Runner agreed. “Afterwards, we may concentrate on solving this mystery,” Cowan said as he leaned forward. Darcy, Edward, and Cowan had ridden in Edward's carriage, while Mr. Franklyn had kept Elizabeth company in the Pemberley coach. Cowan said cautiously, “Are you willing to accept the fact that we may never uncover the truth of your cousin's death? The perpetrators have had nearly a month to set right their mistakes.”

Darcy hesitated. “I would hate to walk away from this without a resolution, but I can live with the idea of our performing to our best, but still knowing failure.”

Within minutes, the company disembarked the carriages before Woodvine Hall. Darcy had previously instructed his and the colonel's servants on how to treat the Woodvine staff. “Be receptive to any overtures, but do not trust any among the current employees. And more importantly, if you overhear anything out of the ordinary, confide your suspicions to Murray or Jatson.”

Elizabeth accepted Darcy's hand as she stepped from the coach. “My objections remain,” she said softly.

“I understand, but I am most appreciative of your support,” he acknowledged.

He stared deeply into emerald green eyes. The eyes disclosed the depths of her soul, and Darcy had once called them “fine,” but that word did not come close to defining the pure exuberance, which danced within them. “I shall never fail you, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, and Darcy knew without a doubt that Elizabeth spoke the truth. Despite his familial arrogance and her initial insensibility, from the onset of their acquaintance, he had known her to be the one person upon whom he could rely—the person who would complete him.

He inhaled his wife's essence and permitted it to mark him as hers. “Nor I you, my love,” he said as he escorted her through Woodvine's entrance. He turned to the waiting butler. “Mr. Barriton, I assume everything is in order,” he said aristocratically.

“It is, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy shot a glance about the foyer, but Mrs. Ridgeway was nowhere to be found. “This is my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and his associate Mr. Cowan.” Barriton bowed to both gentlemen. Darcy continued, “And the gentleman sent to authenticate
Cousin Samuel's donations to the British Antiquarian Society is Mr. Franklyn. I am certain, when necessary, Mr. Franklyn will send for others to assist him.”

“I understand, Mr. Darcy.” Barriton's tone and manners had changed dramatically from the time of their previous encounter.

“Mrs. Darcy and I prefer to keep country hours. We will settle into our quarters. If we have not come down prior to that time, you will send someone to inform us of supper. Tomorrow, Mrs. Darcy will meet with Mrs. Ridgeway and the manor's cook regarding menus and other requirements for our stay.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, please have someone escort us to our quarters.”

While Hannah and Mr. Sheffield saw to the unpacking, Darcy and Elizabeth relaxed in their adjoining sitting room. “You were quite demanding,” Elizabeth teased as she stroked his brow.

Darcy leaned against the settee's cushions and enjoyed his wife's ministrations. His eyes remained closed, but he said, “I thought you enjoyed my Master of Pemberley persona.”

Elizabeth brushed her lips across his ear lobe, her touch making Darcy forget the importance of breathing in and out. “I cannot say that I have always appreciated the power of your persuasion,” she said playfully. “However, I have grown quite found of it over the past year. Your understanding and opinions all please me. In fact, you want for nothing but a little more liveliness, and as you have married prudently, your wife may teach you.”

“Liveliness, is it?” Darcy asked as he caught her and pulled Elizabeth into his lap. “I will demonstrate
liveliness
to my most
sensible
wife.” Without giving her time to consider the desire she created in him, Darcy kissed her passionately, smothering Elizabeth's squeals as he took her mouth.

At first, as if to escape, she wriggled in his embrace, but soon she clung to him. “Fitzwilliam,” she murmured as Darcy broke the kiss. He treasured those moments when his name was both a prayer and a demand.

“Yes, my love,” he said with an easy smile.

“You are incorrigible,” Elizabeth complained, but she snuggled closer.

Darcy tilted her chin up where he might look upon her countenance. “Yet, you love being my wife?” he teased. However, there was always that moment of hesitation where he questioned his happiness as a providential stroke of luck.

“More than anything.” She said sincerely, “When we are old, and it is our time to know God's will, I pray that our Lord takes us together. I cannot imagine living even one additional minute without you.”

Her sentiments had spoken to his soul in ways that no simple “I love you” could. Elizabeth had put into words Darcy's greatest fear—that one day they would no longer be together. In the past six months, he had repeatedly asked God to take him first because he did not believe he could go on without her. “We will pray for God's benevolence. Surely He knows of our love.”

Mr. Franklyn spoke in agitation. “Mr. Darcy, you do not understand.” They had gathered in the smallest of the drawing rooms while their party awaited the supper service. “Someone has purposely removed the jewels from the Head of Thiruvadhiral.” The man thrust a small figurine into Darcy's hands.

Darcy examined the unusual statue in which the figure's head dwarfed the remainder of its body. Carved from a polished granite-type material, the figurine displayed a slight scratch where Franklyn had declared the three jewels should be. “Perhaps the jewels were removed many years prior to my cousin finding this piece,” Darcy suggested.

Franklyn was far from appeased; the man said in dismissal, “That is impossible, Mr. Darcy. Samuel Darcy sent a detailed listing of his most recent findings to the Society in January. I brought tidings from the Society's chair, at the time, and later, in mid-February, Mr. Sedgelock and Mr. Chetley visited with your cousin. During that short stay, Sedgelock and Chetley verified the existence of and the condition of each piece in the late Mr. Darcy's collection, as well as the items he indicated that he would have the Society display at the Grand Exhibition in September. I have that original list with me. I have studied it extensively, and I can assure you, Sir, that Thiruvadhiral's head held three small jewels, each perhaps the size of a small pebble: two rubies and one sapphire.”

Elizabeth shared, “Reportedly, there was an attempted robbery some three weeks prior to our arrival.”

Franklyn paled. “I pray nothing else is missing.”

Darcy leveled a steady gaze on the man. “You may begin your detailed search on the morrow. If you believe it necessary, Sir, to send for reinforcements, I hold no objections. I am certain the Earl of Rardin would want his wife's inheritance handled by experts.”

Darcy woke early the following morning. The heat from Elizabeth's body nestled against him reminded him how fortunate he was to have found her. He was also very fortunate not to have lost her. In reality, his idea of a holiday had come about because Elizabeth had not been herself of late. Since February, his wife had silently grieved for what was not to be. Elizabeth had not realized she carried his child until after she had lost it.

Neither he nor Elizabeth had fully understood what had caused her to double over in pain and had sent her tumbling down Pemberley's main stairway. Fearing the worst, Darcy had sent immediately for the surgeon. He had never known such incapacitating fear in his whole life. Only after Mr. Spencer had come and gone had Mrs. Reynolds explained that Elizabeth's bruises would easily heal, but his wife's disposition had suffered the greatest injury. He had held her in his embrace as Elizabeth had sobbed for their loss and had uttered the question both of them feared most: “What did I do wrong?”

Darcy had had no answer, but he had not blamed Elizabeth. Even before Darcy's loyal housekeeper had assured him that the fall had not cost him his heir, Darcy had known the truth. “Mrs. Darcy's body must learn to nourish the child,” Mrs. Reynolds had insisted. “Your lady was not prepared to carry a babe. Each woman is different. Mrs. Darcy will become enceinte again.”

Darcy had nodded his understanding, but that evening as he said his prayers, he had begged God not to take her from him. “Even if it means no heir for Pemberley, give me Elizabeth. She is all I require.”

“You always wake so early,” she murmured against his skin. Her breath tickled his chest.

He stroked her hair and nudged her closer. “I promised my cousin that we would ride out this morning. The colonel has an idea where the ancient stones may be found. Several men in his previous command were from Dorsetshire.”

Elizabeth kissed the line of his chin, nipping gently at the point where his neck met his shoulder. “And your wife cannot induce you to remain in her bed?” she asked huskily.

Darcy rolled her to her back and draped himself over her. “My wife has only to walk into a room or to share a smile, and I am lost to her presence.” He tasted the curve of her shoulder.

“Poor Mr. Darcy,” she said with sugary sweetness. “Such a terrible ailment. However will we cure you?” She brushed the hair from Darcy's forehead.

“Love me,” he growled as he claimed her mouth. “Just love me, Lizzy.”

An hour later, Darcy and the colonel strode toward the Woodvine stables. Edward had brought his mount from London, but Darcy would ride one of Samuel's horses. “Mr. Darcy?” The head groomsman bowed respectfully.

Darcy closely examined the man's countenance. “I have seen you previously, have I not? You have been in the late Mr. Darcy's employment for some time.”

“Aye, Sir. For a bit over twenty years. Since I be a boy. Me father served Samuel Darcy before me. Holbrook, Sir.”

Darcy's wall of reserve relaxed. “I sent word for a proper mount, Mr. Holbrook.”