The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (40 page)

“You think this is about your cousin's treasures?”

Darcy conceded, “How do we know the list Franklyn provided us represents to what Samuel agreed? From the beginning, we have taken the man's word. Think how often Franklyn has not responded to the chaos operating at Woodvine. Is that because he is the distracted scientist we assume or does Franklyn not respond because he has previous knowledge of the events? And we must not forget that Sedgelock and Chetley were among those sent to Dorset previously by the Society. Is it by guile or coincidence that Franklyn, Sedgelock, and Chetley have reunited at Woodvine?”

“Damn!” Edward expelled breathlessly. “I had never considered the possibility.”

Darcy confessed, “Neither had I until this afternoon.”

The footman returned with their meals, and they paused until they were alone. With the servant's withdrawal, Edward said, “I hate to admit it, but Franklyn could be our culprit. We have taken the man into our confidence and have given him full rein over your cousin's archaeological finds. Could we have misjudged the Society or the man?”

“Or both?” Darcy asked.

Edward sliced the cutlet. “That possibility makes a great deal of sense. Do you suppose the Earl might have some insights into those who oversee the Society? Father is in London for the Season; the Countess has promised her niece, my cousin, that she would sponsor Miss Topping for the girl's Presentation. I could send a note to London.”

Darcy wiped his mouth with the serviette. “It would be to our benefit to have the Earl's opinions. In the meantime, we should become more tight lipped around the others. You, Elizabeth, Cowan, our trusted servants, and I should be the extent of our circle until we know otherwise.”

Edward looked up from his meal. “Agreed.” He took a sip of his wine. “We will consider our options more carefully and see what develops. Now, what of your second mystery?”

Darcy said equably, “Let us finish our meals. Then we will wrestle with the next item on my list.”

“That bad, eh?” Edward asked inexorably.

After a moment, Darcy responded, “I believe I have deciphered Samuel's code, and what I have discovered has me puzzled.”

Edward said earnestly, “That spells trouble.”

They finished their meal in silence, each man considering the situation in which he found himself. Eventually, Darcy said, “I do not intend to share this information with any of the others.”

“Not even Mrs. Darcy?”

Darcy shook his head. “At least, not initially. My wife's dreams are filled with personal horrors. Once I hold a better understanding of what we face, then I will make Elizabeth aware of what I have discovered. In fact, I plan to share the code with Mrs. Darcy. While she is abed, it will prove well for my wife to have something productive to do with her time. If truth be told, Elizabeth has bemoaned the fact that she had to skip several passages in the journals she read previously.”

“If you knew how to decipher the code, why did you not share the knowledge with Mrs. Darcy?” Edward inquired.

Darcy chuckled. “I held no memory of my cousin's cryptic ways until I set myself the task of determining Samuel's hidden meaning. As I played with the passage, I looked for patterns. The letters ‘e' and ‘a' are found in many words. The idea of starting with the words ‘the' and ‘and' seemed most logical. Many people, as you are aware, will use every third letter of the alphabet as a simple code, but not Samuel.”

Finished with the meal, Edward and Darcy moved to the desk, with the colonel seating himself with a look of great vexation. “If you will note,” Darcy pointed to the page where he had worked on the code, “I attempted many combinations before one fell into place.”

Darcy shifted through the papers, finally choosing one. “When my father passed, Samuel arrived at Pemberley to counsel me in my transition as the estate's master, but he also spent valuable time with Georgiana. I was deep in grief and overwhelmed by my new responsibilities, and poor Georgiana was so young, I knew not how to meet her needs. But Samuel had his ways, and one of Georgie's favorites was an enigmatic treasure map. Samuel would hide a special treat for Georgiana, and
my sister would set about to solve the mystery. Her laughter returned because Samuel found time for her childhood fears. If Georgiana had had to depend purely on my efforts, she might never have learned to smile again.”

Edward assured, “You would have found a means to bring Georgiana pleasure. You have never neglected your responsibilities to your sister.”

Complacently, Darcy said, “I would like to think so, but I have my doubts. Sometimes, I wonder if my father recognized my deficiencies and, therefore, added you to Georgiana's guardianship to safeguard his daughter's future.”

Edward said bluntly, “That is ridiculous. Your father simply followed the standard of the day. If something happened to you, I would stand between Georgiana and the more infamous members of both the Darcy and the Fitzwilliam branches of your family.”

The truth was, he would never know George Darcy's reasons, and automatically, a crease formed on Darcy's brow. “It is an argument for another time,” he said prudently. “For now, we will concentrate on Samuel's coded messages. Something must be fixed on.”

Edward accepted Darcy's change of subject, and Darcy reached for a blank sheet of paper. He wrote the six and twenty letters of the alphabet upon the page, carefully spacing them where he might write a number above each.

“Samuel and Georgiana developed a special coding system. They played this game so often my sister became quite adept at deciphering Samuel's puzzles at a glance. If Georgie had come to Dorset with us, Samuel's textual messages would have been easier to interpret.”

“Tell me the secret,” Edward said with admiration.

“Samuel would choose a date. Perhaps the current date or a birth date or even a date of historical importance. He would provide clues to the date because it was the key to the hidden message. For example, this is one of his later entries. I determined the code by how Samuel recorded the date. Note on all the previous pages, my cousin simply wrote the day and the month: 2 March, 3 March, 4 March, and so forth. On this page, he has written 5 March 1813. It is not noteworthy, and most would consider the change simply a matter of Samuel's rush to record his thoughts for the day; yet, if one thumbs through the journal, the only pages, which record the year, are those for the first day of each calendar month. The change in Samuel's pattern was the clue.”

“Amazing,” Edward murmured as he perused the journal's many entries.

Darcy, too, had grown more excited. “So the pattern for this page is 5, three for the third month, and then 1, 8, 1, 3. To understand the code, one must assign the numbers from one to six and twenty to the alphabetic equivalents. Count the letters. The fifth one is
E
so it receives a 1. Count three letters, and
H
is assigned a 2.
I
becomes 3;
Q
is 4;
R
is 5, etc. One continues the pattern: 5, 3, 1, 8, 1, and 3. If one lands on a letter already given a numeric value, one skips over the letter and continues on until all letters are assigned a number.” He demonstrated by placing a small number above each letter.

Edward drew his own conclusion. “The phrase ‘God Save the King' becomes 15, 24, 9 ... 18, 26, 25, 1 ... 19, 2, 1 ... 17, 2, 23, 15.” He scratched out the code on the foolscap. “Seems simple enough.”

“What makes Samuel's messages difficult to interpret is my cousin never uses the same date for any of them. He has an infinite supply of codes. So, if a person manages to break the code of one passage, he cannot use the same numeric translation for the others. It is really quite ingenious.”

The colonel nodded his agreement. “Then tell me something of this passage.”

Darcy pulled a straight-backed chair closer. “Samuel writes of meeting an inventor when he traveled to America some years prior. Notice the sketches my cousin makes in the margins.”

Edward turned the journal this way and that. “What is it exactly?”

Darcy pointed to the translated passage. “Samuel refers to it as a ‘
torpedo
.'”

“Do you mean like the ones the American, Robert Fulton, attempted to sell the British government back in '05?” Edward flipped the page to examine more closely the other sketches in the late Mr. Darcy's journal. “These images display nothing of what I recall of Fulton purporting. The American's device floated behind his ship, the
Nautilus
. It was to explode upon contact with an enemy vessel. Of course, Fulton's work was more successful than that of Britain's
Turtle
back in 1800. Truthfully, I barely remember those attempts. Only what the newspapers reported. I had not entered the service in 1800. Not until '02. But I recall Father's contempt for the government for wasting money on the project.”

Darcy shook his head in denial. “I do not think Cousin Samuel would be interested in a device that could cause mass destruction. He was more of a man of peace. A man who thought of personal comforts and advancements or how a civilization faced life's discord and successes.”

“If not a military weapon, then what other use is there for a torpedo?” Edward asked in concern.

“That is part of what I have yet to uncover,” Darcy confessed.

Edward continued to study the drawings carefully. “I cannot wrap my mind about these sketches. Each has an additional element not shown in the previous one. I wonder what the late Mr. Darcy had in mind.”

Darcy's eyes traced the drawings; he absorbed each detail as if committing it to memory. “There is one passage for which I have not discovered the key,” he admitted.

Edward looked up in surprise. “That is the mystery, is it not? You believe something in that particular numeric passage holds the key to quieting the drama found under Woodvine's roof.”

Darcy swallowed hard. “In the passage marked for 10 March, Samuel speaks of receiving a copy of the plans for this device from his American friend and of his desire to make a prototype.”

Edward's frown lines deepened. “I realize I have not searched Samuel Darcy's quarters, nor have I spent much time examining the contents of the man's formerly secret chamber, but I recall no detailed plans for such a contrivance, nor a model that matches a description similar to these sketches.”

Darcy admitted, “When I read Samuel's passages, I searched his quarters again. There is neither among my cousin's belongings; however, I seem to recall shoving aside a parchment which held sketches and measurements when Mrs. Darcy and I first discovered Samuel's chamber. We examined the display cases, and I put the diagrams from my view.”

“Was there such a document in Samuel's personal papers in the chamber?”

Darcy shook his head in denial. “Not among the items I removed the night we uncovered the additional entrance. Nor are there such documents among those remaining in the chamber. I looked.”

Edward's attention returned to the journal's marginal sketches. “The late Mr. Darcy devoted page after page of his last journal to drawings of this item and to a description of its construction,” the colonel reasoned. “Your cousin appears quite obsessed with this torpedo. So much so that it would make little sense for his not to have pursued the making of a model or even a working prototype.”

Darcy asked ominously, “I had come to the same conclusion, but if it is as you say, who has Samuel's torpedo and what does he plan to do with it?”

He and the colonel had decided to mount an extensive search of the house on the following morning. Every room. Every corner. As Darcy slid into the bed beside his wife, he wearily shook his head. There were so many variables he could not control, and the thought of his weakness frustrated Darcy to no end. He despised weakness in any man, and especially in himself.

Elizabeth rolled comfortably into his arms. She kissed his chest, and Darcy smiled for the first time in hours, perhaps all day. “I am here, my Lizzy,” he whispered as he gathered her closer. Only in moments such as these did Darcy feel complete. Had he not been a successful and respected gentleman before he had encountered Elizabeth Bennet? Had he not known the praise and admiration of all he had encountered? Then why had it never been enough? Why had he only felt his own greatness whenever he had pleased
his
Elizabeth? Why had God designed this one woman for him alone? Such thoughts often baffled Darcy. “Ah, my love,” he said tenderly as he brushed the hair from her eyes. “Without you I am nothing.”