The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy grasped the book solidly and lowered it into Elizabeth’s outstretched hands. “I should see to the nail,” he said as his wife stepped away to examine the book. However, when he reached for the nail, Darcy’s fingers found a recessed notch and a lever instead. He paused, his stomach suddenly queasy. Without removing his eyes from the shelf, he instructed, “Elizabeth, close and lock the door.”

  Thankfully, his wife did not argue or protest. “What is amiss, Fitzwilliam?” she asked as she returned to stand below where he balanced on the stool.

  Darcy stared at the lever. He had seen such mechanisms in both the Earl of Matlock’s and Lady Catherine’s homes, but he had never suspected that he would discover one in Samuel Darcy’s house. After all, Samuel’s manor was a modest abode in comparison to the sprawling estates of Matley Manor or Rosings Park. “Lizzy,” he said cautiously, “I need for you to make some sort of noise to cover what I do next. I do not want Samuel’s servants to know what I have discovered.”

  Her hazel gaze lifted at his strange request. “Fitzwilliam, I do not understand,” his wife said in concern.

  Darcy glanced at her. “I know, my dear,” he said softly. “Just trust me for a moment more.”

  Elizabeth held his gaze for an elongated moment, and then his incomparable wife nodded her agreement. She opened her mouth and began to sing a Scottish love song, the same one she had sung that memorable evening at Sir William Lucas’s home in their early days together at Hertfordshire. It was one of the most exquisite evenings he could ever recall. She had mesmerized him with her song.

  Darcy smiled at her and then returned to the lever. Lifting the protruding metal tip with two fingers, Darcy focused on the sound of the bookshelf’s separation from the wall. It was a disquieting sensation echoing through his body. A sucking noise signaled the release.

  As the air filtered through the small opening, Elizabeth stammered to a halt, but with a sly smile, she renewed her efforts and broke into another verse.

  Darcy scrambled from the stool. Pulling the drapes partially closed to prevent anyone from observing their actions, he turned to kiss her cheek. “Keep singing for a few minutes more, my love,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Quickly, he lit several candles before he wedged his fingers into the opening and pulled with all his might. As if on a silent cloud, the shelving wall slid open. He saw Elizabeth’s eyes widen, and he reached for her. Expecting that someone eavesdropped beyond the locked door, he said loudly, “You have a beautiful voice, my dear. Come to me, Lizzy.” The servants would gossip about his infatuation with his wife, but the rumors would be a fair price for the privacy they required. Darcy handed his wife a candle and pulled her through the opening.

  As she came to a stumbling standstill behind him, Elizabeth gasped, “My goodness, Fitzwilliam! What in the world is this?”

  Darcy, too, stared in disbelief. “Cousin Samuel’s treasure trove,” he said reverently as he descended the last few steps into the hidden room.

  Elizabeth’s hand rested on the small of his back. She asked curiously, “Do you suppose there are armed traps?”

  Despite his wife’s trepidation, Darcy smiled. “I doubt Cousin Samuel would go to such extremes. What my cousin considered of value might not pique the interest of those who have never studied ancient civilizations.”

  Elizabeth stepped beside him, and they surveyed the room together. Darcy held his candle high, allowing the light to creep into the dark shadows. “It is amazing,” Elizabeth said in awe. “I have seen nothing to compare—even in London when Uncle Gardiner escorted my sister and me to the museum.”

  “Perhaps that will change with Cousin Samuel’s donation,” he said with pride. “It will be a great legacy—one bearing the Darcy name.”

  “May we make a quick tour of what the room holds?”

  Darcy caught her hand. “Watch your step.” He turned to the left where row after row of glass cases displayed a variety of weapons, eating implements, bones, and jewels. “These appear to be from Egypt,” he said as he set his candle on the corner of one of the cases. He glanced to another nearby row of glass boxes. “Those items appear to have come from India or Persia.”

  “What are these?” Elizabeth asked as she leaned over the case closest to where she had stopped to wait for Darcy. The possibilities touched Elizabeth’s cheeks with a flush of excited intensity.

  He shoved aside an unfurled set of diagrams for a primitive weapon to join her search of a dusty glass shelf. Removing his handkerchief, Darcy wiped away the grime. “They appear to be some sort of sickle swords,” he said, as engrossed in the find as his wife. “Samuel once explained to Georgiana and me how Egypt imported the tin required to make bronze, meaning that those without wealth carried stone tools well into the time of the Middle Kingdom. Egypt was at a disadvantage during the first millennium because it had to import iron.”

  Elizabeth pointed to what appeared to be a piece of armor. “Are those real jewels?”

  “The Pharaohs often wore armor with inlaid semiprecious stones because the stones were harder than the metal used for arrow tips.”

  Elizabeth nodded her understanding. “We should likely make a quick perusal of the room. We may study the individual pieces at our leisure at another time.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Darcy said as he retrieved his candle. “We do not want the staff to become aware of this room.”

  Elizabeth poorly hid her wince. “Do you suppose them ignorant of it?”

  Darcy considered her question. He glanced toward the steps. “If any of Cousin Samuel’s present staff has knowledge of this room, he or she has not inspected it for some time. Ours are the only footprints in the dust on the stairs and the floor. And no one has touched the cases. I suspect Cousin Samuel kept this room a secret.”

  “Then what of those?” She lifted her candle higher and pointed to several books and amulets on the table half-hidden by the steps. She reached for one of the items. “These do not appear to be of ancient origins.”

  Darcy joined her at the table. Grasping one of the leather-bound books, he read the title: Pagan Covens and Apotropaios.

  Elizabeth unrolled a manuscript. She gave a faint frown. “This appears to be a map of the area. Are there Stonehenge-type stones in Dorset?”

  Darcy studied the document. “I am unaware of any stones as close as this map would indicate.” His finger traced the lines from one symbol to another. “What does all this mean?”

  The shadows, past and present, filled every corner of the dimly lit room. She quickly thumbed through a ragged volume that held incantations and prayers. “I would say your cousin had developed a recent interest in witchcraft.”

  He conjured a nervous smile. “In ancient medicines and religious beliefs, definitely, but not in superstition and the dark arts. Such practiced ignorance was not in Samuel Darcy’s nature,” Darcy protested.

  Elizabeth said with a bit of irritation, “Samuel Darcy was more than a man of science. He was a man who embraced the unusual. Perhaps, he feared a witches’ coven had made him a target.”

  Darcy felt his temper rising and quickly restrained it. There was so much out of his control that he responded with more vinegar than he intended. “You know nothing of my cousin.”

  Her husband’s chastisement rubbed raw against Elizabeth’s vague sense of disquiet. She retrieved her candle and turned for the stairs. “Then perhaps I should leave you to discover your own realities, Mr. Darcy,” she said tersely.

  Darcy cleared his dry throat before catching her arm. He said resignedly, “I am a fool, Elizabeth. You are the one person I trust in this insanity, and I have made you my enemy.”

  Framing his face with her hands, Elizabeth smiled warmly. “You were my enemy once, Mr. Darcy, but those days are long forgotten. Now, you are the man I revere above all others. Even though I may speak in opposition, I would never be your critic.” She leaned against his chest, pressing her cheek to his heart.

  “I love you
, Elizabeth Darcy,” he said sincerely. His arms snaked about her to hold his wife to him.

  “And I you, my husband.”

  They remained in the embrace for an elongated moment. Finally, Darcy kissed her forehead. “We should have a quick look around before we return to the library. Surely someone will take note of our absence soon.” He reluctantly released her.

  Circling the room’s perimeter, each went a separate direction. They peered quickly into the glass display cases and pulled at the locks to be certain of their security. Along the back wall, Darcy’s toe caught on a loose floorboard, and he tapped it in place with his heel. Cursing under his breath at the mark on his favorite pair of boots, he grumbled, “Personally, I have had enough mystery and mayhem for one day.” He raised his candle higher for additional lighting. Turning to his wife, he said, “Lead the way, Mrs. Darcy. We may explore Samuel’s sanctuary in more leisure in the near future.” Within seconds, they emerged into the draped afternoon light. As Elizabeth extinguished the candles, Darcy placed his shoulder to the shelf to return it to a locked position. “Hand me The Demon Necromancer. I will replace it to cover the lever.”

  Elizabeth busied herself with smoothing away their dusty footprints on the carpet as Darcy balanced on the stool to slide the book’s cover over the protruding lever to disguise the secret latch. Just as he stepped down and reached for his wife to bring her into another embrace, the library door latch turned, and the door swung wide. Darcy spun to see Samuel Darcy’s housekeeper framed by the hall’s backlight.

  “Mr. Darcy!” The woman said in obvious surprise.

  Darcy placed Elizabeth behind him in a protective manner. “How dare you?” he growled. “How dare you intrude upon my private time with my wife!”

  “We...we thought...we thought something amiss,” Mrs. Ridgeway stammered. “We heard no sound from within.”

  Darcy lorded over her. “And why should you have? Have you set the household to spy on us? I must say that I find your interference in my efforts to bring a resolution to the mystery of my cousin’s death and disappearance beyond the pale. You have taken upon yourself too many liberties, Ma’am. With my cousin’s absence you have assumed this household to be yours, but you have erred greatly, Mrs. Ridgeway.” Darcy glanced to his wife, who now stood beside him and who clutched his flexed arm. “If this manor is to have a Mistress, it shall be Mrs. Darcy. From this point forward, you will take your orders from her. Is that understood, Mrs. Ridgeway?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Darcy,” she said with feigned resignation.

  Darcy stepped around the woman. His voice carried through the supposedly empty passageway. “Mr. Barriton, I want to see you and the rest of the household staff immediately in the library.” Without waiting to see if his wish would be attended to, Darcy returned to Elizabeth’s side. From nowhere and everywhere at once, the room filled with servants dressed in his cousin’s livery.

  Eyes refused to meet his, but Darcy was accustomed to such deference. He spoke in hard tones. “Mrs. Darcy and I came to Dorset to pay our respects to my late cousin’s memory. Unfortunately, because of the bizarre events surrounding Samuel Darcy’s death, our journey’s purpose has changed. Yet, never once did we consider that we would be treated with complete disregard by my cousin’s staff. By my staff,” Darcy said with emphasis. “Along with the Earl and Countess of Rardin, I am your current employer.”

  Darcy paused to allow the reality of what he had just announced to settle. “If any of you wish to leave my employment, I will reconcile your wages immediately.” As suspected, no one spoke. Darcy placed Elizabeth’s hand on his arm. “I believe Mrs. Darcy and I have accomplished all we may as distant participants in this charade. With Mrs. Darcy’s consent, we will be changing our residence to Woodvine Hall tomorrow morning.”

  With her silence, Elizabeth obediently supported Darcy’s plan. His expression uncommonly somber, he continued, “Mr. Barriton, you will see that an appropriate suite of rooms is prepared for Mrs. Darcy’s needs and another for mine.”

  Barriton bowed low. “Yes, Sir.”

  Darcy’s focus remained on the housekeeper. “You will also prepare rooms for my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and two of his associates. Be certain the colonel’s rooms befit an earl’s son. Later, we will discuss preparations for the Sandersons’ arrivals.” Darcy said aristocratically, “That will be all for now, Barriton.”

  Barriton bowed again. “I will see to it personally, Mr. Darcy.” The butler ushered the staff from the room.

  When Mrs. Ridgeway made to follow, Darcy said, “A moment, Mrs. Ridgeway.” Although he assumed a few of those who had departed would tarry in the passageway to hear his words to the housekeeper, Darcy purposely waited until only he, Elizabeth, and the woman remained. “I will not forget your affront, Ma’am,” he said threateningly. “You will bring this household to a proper order, or you will be seeking another position. When I lock a door, it is to remain locked. When I give an order, I expect it to be followed without comment. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy’s temper had not lessened. “I am not the amiable employer of your past, Ma’am, and you would do well to remember that fact.”

  Chapter 6

  She had been quiet: Far too quiet for Darcy’s peace of mind. “Say it,” he dejectedly insisted. They had departed Woodvine Hall shortly after he had delivered his ultimatum. However, his wife had yet to speak her mind, and Darcy had fretted over her silence.

  Obediently, she drew her gaze from the passing scenery to meet his eyes. Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “What is there to say, Mr. Darcy?”

  “You might say I overreacted. You might say I failed my cousin by showing the opposition my Achilles heel. You might say I promised you a holiday, but I have dragged you into a developing scandal.”

  She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “Why should I speak such disparagements? You obviously recognize your weaknesses, Mr. Darcy.” She smiled wryly.

  Darcy moved to sit upon the bench seat beside her. “I could not control my anger, Elizabeth,” he confessed. “I kept thinking how Mrs. Ridgeway’s intrusion might have brought degradation to your door. What if instead of the secret room we had partaken of...” He broke off when his wife blushed thoroughly.

  “Mrs. Ridgeway has been permitted too many liberties,” Elizabeth conceded. “With your cousin’s frequent and extended absences, Mrs. Ridgeway has experienced complete freedom in the running of the late Mr. Darcy’s household. Yet, it would not serve us well in discovering Woodvine’s secrets to announce our intentions, and I readily admit that I have no desire to sleep under Samuel Darcy’s roof.” His wife’s immediate understanding of the situation brought a bit of relief to Darcy’s mind.

  He declared, “I will protect you, Lizzy. I would never purposely place you in danger.”

  “I know your nature, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth persisted. “But it does not lessen my trepidation. We are caught in a game, and we hold no understanding of the rules or of the players. Nor are we aware of the true dangers. Despite your reassurances, my husband, we must recall that your cousin lost his life to an unknown assailant and in the most improbable manner, and the late Mr. Darcy can find no rest because either the same culprits or a different set have removed his corpse from its final resting place. I cannot feel easy about our relocating to the hornet’s nest.”

  Darcy touched her arm lightly. “When I made my decision, I did not consider how this situation might worry you. I am truly apologetic.” He stared into his wife’s beautiful countenance. “In my defense, I have always seen you as my doughty spirit. You are incomparable, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. She rolled her eyes heavenward, but she asked, “How may I object when you speak thus?” She rested her head on his shoulder, and Darcy drew her nearer.

  He did not think he could survive if his wife lost faith in him. Beyond her passion—beyond her companionship, Darcy desired Elizabeth’s belief in his steadf
astness. “Place your trust in me, Lizzy. I will not fail you.”

  “I do not like it, Fitz,” his cousin, Colonel Edward Fitzwilliam, said, as he scowled for the third time in less than ten minutes.

  As expected, the colonel had arrived in midmorning with a former Bow Street Runner and an expert from the British Antiquarian Society in tow. Without permitting his cousin or the colonel’s associates the leisure of unpacking their belongings, Darcy had set about explaining the events surrounding Samuel Darcy’s passing and the series of surprises he and Elizabeth had encountered since their arrival in Dorset. “I am not pleased with the circumstances,” Darcy said seriously, “but I am content that this is the most prudent means to discover Woodvine Hall’s secrets.”

  “Why should we not simply dismiss the staff and hire one we can trust?” the colonel argued.

  “I agree with your cousin,” Elizabeth said pleadingly.

  He could not claim his cousin’s cunning nor his wife’s pure bravado, but there was one area in which he excelled: Darcy knew something of human nature and all its foibles. Darcy caressed the back of Elizabeth’s hand before catching it and bringing it to rest in his lap. “As one may hear, Mrs. Darcy holds her own qualms regarding this matter.” He interlaced their fingers. “Yet, I am unswayed. I have considered my rash response to Mrs. Ridgeway’s intrusion into Cousin Samuel’s library last evening. It is my opinion the Woodvine staff seeks Cousin Samuel’s reported treasures. I have observed that most of the items on display about the house are valuable to a man of science or of history, such as Mr. Franklyn,” he said as he gestured to the bespectacled archaeologist sitting unobtrusively in the corner. “But they lack value to those in service. Based on what little I observed of the secret room, Cousin Samuel’s wealth rests within,” Darcy said definitively. “I suspect that last evening when Mrs. Darcy and I drew the drapes, those spying on us thought we had discovered Cousin Samuel’s secrets.”