The Phantom of Pemberley (43 page)

Every other eye in the room drifted to a discomposed Mrs. Williams. “That is impossible!” she asserted. “I spoke to him only last night.”

Her admission silenced the room. “When might that have been?” Darcy’s eyes eagerly assessed the crumbling aplomb of the defiant naval widow. “As I assumed last evening’s meal to be the first of your acquaintance with Harwood, I would be most interested to know when you might have had the time for a private conversation.”

“As would I,” Sir Phillip moved up beside Mrs. Williams. “You will have a
private conversation
with me, madam.” He took the lady’s arm to lead her from the room.

JAMES TOOK A CHANCE by crossing the main hall of Pemberley, but his recent forays had provided no new information. He had been aware when Darcy and the others had found the maid’s body—he had known of the viscount’s returning to his mistress’s room—he had enjoyed the play the Pemberley guests performed for their own amusement—he had observed the chaos following Mrs. Wickham’s discovery of her tattered belongings and Darcy’s anger when his wife had suffered an injury.What he did not know was what had occurred when Darcy’s household had found the soldier’s body. The lieutenant’s entry into the bedchamber at the wrong moment had been a most unfortunate development.

Now, just as with Peter’s “soiled” articles, they expected James to right the mistakes of his newest partner, Gregor MacIves. He could not remove the body, but he could ascertain what Darcy intended to do next. He remained in the shadows, partially hidden by the palms and the marble busts—the door to the linen closet ajar so he could hide if necessary.

Finally, the door to the blue drawing room swung open, and the guests poured forth. James turned his back and edged toward the closet, pretending to polish a nearby framed mirror. He knew the aristocracy’s tendency to not actually see the household servants in attendance. He would be safe from close scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the usual clusters of people split to attend to their own diversions:Worth and Miss de Bourgh, the viscount and
his mistress, and Darcy and his wife. But the group had added two new players.

Miss Darcy and Lady Catherine exited the drawing room on the arms of a military officer. When the trio passed him, James recognized the man immediately: He was Darcy’s cousin Edward Fitzwilliam. Three years James’s senior, the second son of the Earl of Matlock had never approved of James’s manipulations.They had disagreed often over the years, but James had never feared the colonel. He feared Darcy, however. Although the colonel possessed fighting skills, he did not possess Darcy’s quick mind. Yet, forewarned was forearmed in all matters, and James was glad to have knowledge of the officer’s presence. He wanted no surprises.

The last from the room was the prudish widow, tears streaming down her face. Instinctively, James slipped through the closet door before anyone could notice, but he left it open enough to observe the final pair.The widow leaned heavily on the arm of a nobleman. Again, James knew the familiar countenance, although he had not seen the man in nearly a decade. Sir Phillip Spurlock had served the neighborhood for some twenty years as the local magistrate. James had run aground of the man as a youth for foolish pranks on two separate occasions—three, really. With the first two, old Mr. Darcy had intervened and lessened James’s punishment, before anyone else became aware of his shenanigans. For the third, Darcy himself had taken the blame and suffered a beating from his father.

“Mr. Darcy.” The magistrate pulled the Master of Pemberley to the side, where others could not hear—but close enough for James to listen.“Please have several of your men ready to search the Pemberley bedchambers when I have finished with Mrs.Williams.”

“Yes, Sir Phillip.” Darcy paused briefly. “Besides the arsenic, for what else do we search?”

Sir Phillip lowered his voice further.“For anything of significance.”

When they had moved away, James eased the door open and headed toward the nearest secret passageway. He kept his head
down as he passed one of the lower maids; luckily, no one else seemed about. He supposed Darcy had sent many on the magistrate’s errands.“Darcy took the blame for me once, a long time ago. I wonder whether he might care to do another good turn—this time, for my friend Gregor,” he murmured. He swung the door open and entered the candlelit tunnel, waiting for the obligatory click to secure his hideaway.

 

“Your shoes, Mrs.Williams,” Sir Phillip commanded softly.

She stopped her progress into the room.“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Your shoes, madam—remove them.”

The lady looked about, confused. “Whatever for?”

“You will be detained here—in this room. I cannot secure every exit, but without your shoes, I do not believe you will have the means of an escape.The weather has improved, but a five-mile trek to Lambton is not likely without the benefit of footwear.”

Incredulity set in. “You are serious, sir?”

“I am.” They held each other’s stares—a match of wills. Finally, Mrs. Williams stepped out of her day slippers. Sir Phillip bent to pick them up.“I will leave them with the footman outside the door. Make yourself comfortable, ma’am. I will return for you shortly.” The baronet turned on his heels to make his exit.

“The lieutenant’s body?” she said softly. “Is it with the others?”

Sir Phillip stared at the lady with renewed interest.“Not as yet. I wish to inspect the room once more before we move him.”

Mrs.Williams did not respond in turn, but gave just a slight nod of her head. She sank, exhausted, in a nearby chair and buried her head in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders. Sir Phillip waited to see if she would offer an explanation, but when none came, he left the room, instructing Darcy’s man to keep the door locked unless given an order to open it by Mr. Darcy, the colonel, or himself.

 

James checked Mrs. Darcy’s room several times through the slit to make sure no one was in the private quarters. He had done the
same with Miss Darcy’s room before he had made his way through the passage and across the girl’s room. Now, he peered around the screen before moving to the portal. He would not be long, so he set the opening for his speedy return. Georgiana Darcy’s room at the end of the hall was two doors from her brother’s master suite. James opened her door enough to enter the hall, leaving the latch loosely fastened. He took a calculated risk, symbolically sending Darcy a message.The break in the weather signaled a change in the household.They must make their presence known once more and then make their escape—no more haunting Pemberley’s hidden channel. They had come here for one purpose only, and tonight would be the proof of the pudding.

James quietly opened the door to the master’s chamber. Decorated in rich tones of red and mahogany, the décor spoke of Fitzwilliam Darcy’s tastes—never ostentatious—always refined. Even James admired the breeding and the masculinity of the man. He slid into the empty room and traversed the short distance to the master bed. Pulling back the drape, he staged the scene.“A nice touch,” he muttered as he arranged a bloody towel upon which Gregor had wiped his hands and the straight razor from the lieutenant’s room in the center of Darcy’s bed.“Perfect.” He straightened the folded cloth before letting the drape fall to its proper place. As he hurried toward the end room, he realized it might be a day or two before anyone found his clues, but it would satisfy his sense of the dramatic all the same. Darcy spent every evening in his wife’s bed, so the man might not see the “masterpiece” right away, but he would find it. James had no doubts.

After slipping into the gaping opening, he turned the lever to close the wall entrance in Georgiana Darcy’s room. He sought the mattress,
Sleep now,
he thought as he made his way to the antechamber. “Tonight,” he grumbled. “I need some sleep before tonight.”

 

Darcy, Stafford, Worth, the colonel, Sir Phillip, and several of the Pemberley footmen entered Cathleen Donnel’s room.They agreed to start at one end of the hall and to work their way from room
to room. Adam Lawrence groused about the impropriety, even though he agreed to the necessity of the search. “It just does not seem proper,” he told the men as they rummaged through Cathleen’s private belongings.

Sir Phillip opened the drawer holding the lady’s undergarments. “Would you care to help with this one, Stafford?” He waited until Adam stepped up beside him. “It is not proper,Your Lordship; yet, I know of no other way to prove a person’s innocence or his fault in such cases.”

“I understand, sir.” Adam held the older man’s gaze for a few elongated seconds before giving in. “What must I do?”

“Check everything.”

With a simple nod, Adam’s hands delved into the silky items. Something hard rested on the bottom of the drawer. He withdrew it from among Cathleen’s chemises and corsets.

“What have you found?” the colonel called as Adam gingerly withdrew the item.

“A book,” Adam rasped out when he saw the gold-leaf pages. “I bought this for Cathleen a couple of months ago. She saw it in a window and instantly wanted it.” Without thinking, his fingers traced the raised letters.

“A first edition?” Darcy asked.

Adam shook his head in the negative. “Simply a limited edition.” He opened it and thumbed through the pages.

“Grimm—the brothers,” Darcy peered over the viscount’s shoulder. “Fanciful stories.”

“Yes,” Adam mumbled.

Worth picked up a small tied packet from the floor. “You dropped these.” He handed the viscount a beribboned bundle.

“What have you there?” Edward Fitzwilliam asked before searching the wardrobe.

Lawrence bent the edges of the paper to take a closer look.“Letters.” He fanned the stack. “From Cathleen’s family and a few from me.” He stared at how she had included his notes along with those
from her cousins and her aunt and uncle. Cathleen cared for him—she thought of him as her family. A dried flower—a red rose—he always gave her red roses—Cathleen’s favorite—rested on top. He placed the items reverently in the drawer where he had found them. Allowing Cathleen Donnel to leave him might be one of the hardest things he ever did, but it was the right thing, and Adam had no choice but to let her go—let her try to find happiness with someone who could love her the way she deserved to be loved.

“There is nothing unusual to find among Miss Donnel’s things,” the baronet declared.

Worth added quickly, “As we all expected.”

“Who is next?” Sir Phillip asked.

“The next occupied room is that of Mrs. Williams.” Darcy turned to lead the way.

Sir Phillip caught Darcy’s arm to stay him. “Let us leave the good lady’s room for one of the last ones. If what I suspect is there, I do not want to neglect the other rooms, and I fear the solution to one part of the mystery lies within Mr.Williams’s room.”

“As you wish, Sir Phillip. The private quarters, then?” Darcy waited for a moment for the man’s agreement. They walked past Mrs. Williams’s room and turned to the left. “This one is Lady Catherine’s suite.” He held the door open for the others.This time, the duty of inspecting Her Ladyship’s private items fell to Darcy.“It is like touching the Holy Grail,” he grumbled.

Lord Stafford chuckled.“Some pieces are probably relics in their own right.” He good-naturedly patted Darcy on the back as the master of Pemberley lifted an oversized corset between his fingertips.

“I found a small portion of a chalky mixture in this jar,”Worth extended the container toward Sir Phillip.

Darcy suddenly joined the others, who peered into the suspicious ingredients. He touched his finger to the powder, taking a smudge of it on the tip, and then he touched the dry mixture to his tongue’s surface. “Bitter,” he remarked, grimacing as his tongue spread the taste throughout his mouth. He moved to fill a glass with
water to wash the acerbic grittiness away.“How can women subject themselves to such stringent measures?”

“Her Ladyship admitted to partaking of the arsenic-laced mixture upon occasion,”Worth recalled from their previous meeting.

“She did,” Stafford confirmed.

Sir Phillip resealed the jar.“Let us keep this as possible evidence.”

In Anne’s room, they found several letters from Harwood, those supposedly sent to Anne’s maid as part of the lieutenant’s ruse. Worth read one before the others realized the nature of the items. His expletives alerted Sir Phillip to the intimacy Harwood shared.

“Hopefully, Miss de Bourgh will not mind my commandeering these,” Sir Phillip remarked as he placed the stack in the drawstring bag he carried.

Darcy glanced over his shoulder at an agitated Nigel Worth, who slammed the desk drawer closed. “I believe my cousin, as well as Mr. Worth, would happily agree to never seeing them again.”

Sir Phillip smiled.“I will see what I can do.” He gestured to the door. “Who is next?”