The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy and Edward replied in unison, “The gypsies?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Edward’s frown deepened. “We will see to the sale of the Woodvine horses. For now, set about your mission.” With the groom’s withdrawal, the colonel said privately, “Did you not say that you and Elizabeth observed Mrs. Ridgeway and the gypsy leader in what appeared to be a contentious discussion?”

  “Andrzej Gry,” Darcy confirmed. “At the time, Mrs. Darcy and I wondered of their connection.”

  “Perhaps they argued over the horses. Mrs. Ridgeway must have known it would be only a matter of time before you discovered her perfidy.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Edward said, “We will have one of the assistant grooms prepare a proper carriage for us and Cowan, and we will pay a call on the Roma band.”

  Darcy explained, “Gry suggested that I send for him rather than to make an unexpected call on their campsite.”

  Edward countered, “Likely the Rom wished to keep you away while Gry’s troop disposed of the evidence.”

  Darcy shook his head in disbelief. He heard the forcefully restrained anger in his voice, and Darcy made no effort to disguise it. “From the time of my arrival in Dorset, I have silently criticized my father’s cousin for his gullibility, but I find myself just as vulnerable to those who practice obscurantism.”

  Chapter 7

  Edward assured, “With estate business or savvy investments, you are the expert, but when it comes to comprehending the psyche of the common thief or murderer, you have had no experience. You must allow Mr. Cowan and me to lead. Let us return to the house and rouse the Runner from his bed. I am certain Cowan will take note of discrepancies of which we have not.”

  A little over an hour later, Darcy, the colonel, and Cowan climbed down from the late Samuel Darcy’s less-than-stylish chariot to be greeted by a wary group clustered about a dying campfire. Darcy spied Andrzej Gry stepping from the back of a brightly decorated wagon. The Rom had a few highly contested words with a man whose appearance held a familiar look, but one which Darcy could not place. A jauntily slanted felt hat covered the man’s countenance, and the stranger disappeared behind the wagons before Darcy could get the right of it. As the gypsy leader approached, several men formed a protective semicircle behind Gry.

  The gypsy said with a tone of strained congeniality, “Mr. Darcy. What a pleasant surprise. To what do we owe this visit?” The man’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. Wariness clouded Gry’s countenance. A lack of a respectful bow spoke the words the man omitted. The Rom did not appreciate their intrusion.

  “Mr. Gry,” Darcy said with feigned politeness, “my cousin and I have discovered some inconsistencies in the late Mr. Darcy’s business transactions. We had hoped you might consent to answering a few questions.” The idea of conducting business in the middle of an open field disoriented Darcy, and a shiver of foreboding racked his spine. He glanced to the stolid countenances of his cousin and the Runner, and Darcy purposely schooled his features in a similar vein.

  With the slightest nod of his head, Gry told his men to hold their tongues. The dark-skinned protectors stepped away to attend to their camp duties, but Darcy was not fooled by the pretense. These men expected trouble, and they were prepared to defend their camp. “Of course.” The Roma leader smiled easily. “The accommodations are not of your caliber, but if you possess no objections, then who am I to complain?” He gestured to the wooden bench placed beside the wagon he had exited earlier.

  Darcy nodded curtly and strode toward the offered seating. Edward followed close behind. With a snap of his fingers, Gry ordered up two roughly hewn chairs. When the four men were seated in a tight circle, and Darcy had made brief introductions, Edward spoke for the first time. “My cousin and I have taken on the odious task of setting to right Samuel Darcy’s affairs.”

  Gry said warily, “I understood Mr. Samuel’s man of business held those loathsome duties.”

  Edward’s authoritative tone spoke of how the diversion had not taken. “My cousin and I honor our family duties,” the colonel declared. He did not allow the Rom the opportunity to interrupt. “In doing so, we have discovered that your followers have been the recipient of goods that belonged to the late Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, the person who sold you the property, held no legal right to do so.”

  Gry said defiantly. “Yet, we are to blame. Is that how it is, Colonel?”

  “No one is making accusations,” Edward said calmly. Darcy admired how his cousin had taken control of the situation. He would attempt to emulate Edward’s perceived influence, but it would cost him to keep his fury trapped inside.

  Gry scowled before a half smile curved the corners of his mouth. “I suppose you expect us to return the animals?”

  Darcy watched Gry’s countenance closely. The man had mastered the art of negotiation: Gry betrayed nothing unusual. “It would be for the best,” Darcy insisted. “I am certain your men would not wish the community to believe you have taken advantage of Mrs. Ridgeway’s grief.” He noted the slight flinch of Gry’s shoulders, but the source of the Rom’s anxiety remained unclear. He benevolently said, “Of course, we would return your payment.” The gypsy leader gave a silent signal to the men who had edged closer, and Darcy saw Cowan palm a small pistol. To allay a confrontation, he added, “No one from Woodvine wishes to bring censure to your door.”

  The gypsy leader’s response was sharp and to the point. “Yet, that is exactly what has happened. We are blamed for acting honorably,” Gry argued. He gestured wildly. “My men have treated the animals well, but all of Dorset will claim we have earned the cattle by devious methods. We paid a fair price for the Darcy horses. It is not as if we have stolen them.”

  Edward shot Darcy a knowing glance. They both knew the price was half what it should have been. His cousin responded calmly, “And we are willing to assure the community of your earnest dealings.”

  The Rom took a long, steady measure of Darcy and Edward, but the gypsy ignored Cowan. Watching the former Runner’s perceptive glaze, Darcy realized Gry had made a tactical error. Of the three of them, Cowan was by far the most dangerous. After an elongated pause, Gry related, “We have retained possession of only one of the horses. Several of my men have taken the other two to London to sell.”

  Cowan asked suspiciously, “When did your men leave?”

  Gry turned finally to look upon the Runner, and the Rom’s frown lines spoke of his initial wariness. “Some three days prior. I fear it will be impossible to stop the animals’ sale at this late thought.”

  “Then we will claim the single horse,” Edward said as he stood. “At a more appropriate time, we will discuss how best to handle the fraudulent sale of the others. If you will ask your men to produce the animal, we will leave you to your business.” The colonel drew on his gloves.

  Darcy extended his hand to Gry. “If you call at the manor, I will see to your compensation.” He stood beside his cousin.

  Gry reluctantly accepted Darcy’s hand before giving his guests a proper bow. “Thank you for accepting the truth, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy said enigmatically, “I knew the truth before I called upon your encampment.” He had expected many things from this tense confrontation, but Darcy had not expected the look of confusion that skidded across Gry’s countenance before the Rom quashed it.

  When the Roma brought the horse forward, Darcy recognized the stallion as being the one the gypsies had put through its paces on the day he and Elizabeth had called upon Mr. Stowbridge. In his world, the one of Pemberley, things ran to suit his pleasure. Unfortunately, in Dorset, that was not the case. Had he recognized the perfidy upon which he would unknowingly stumble, Darcy would have ordered Mr. Stalling to set a return journey to Pemberley’s safety. He easily recalled the trepidation he had felt when he had gazed upon the gypsy band.

  Edward accepted the horse’s reins and tied it to the back of the carriage. “Let us be about it, Darcy,” his cousin ordered.
“I promised Mr. Franklyn I would assist him with the issue of the missing gems. Another of the many mysteries my cousin has encountered in Dorset,” Edward said innocently, as if he were unaware that the gypsies hung on his every word. “Come along, Gentlemen.”

  Darcy had taken note of the shift in the Roma’s composures. He followed Edward into the carriage. “Ask for me personally when you call upon Woodvine,” he said in parting.

  “How long might you be at the house today?” Gry asked as he closed the side door of the chariot.

  Darcy smiled wryly. “You may call at your leisure. Mrs. Darcy, as well as my cousin, Mr. Cowan, several curators from the British Antiquarian Society, and I have taken possession of Woodvine while we await the Earl and Countess of Rardin. By the way, Gry, you should consider leaving before Rardin makes his appearance. The Earl holds a strong disdain for the Roma.” With that, Darcy tapped on the chariot’s side to signal their departure to Mr. Stalling.

  When they were out of earshot, Cowan said, “The gypsy leader knows more of what is amiss at Woodvine Hall than he discloses.”

  Edward inclined his head. “How so?”

  Cowan continued, “To begin, Gry never asked what property had passed illegally to his followers. He knew he had received the horses without proper arrangements.”

  Darcy regarded the man with a searching gaze. He reasoned, “Perhaps the horses were the Rom’s only purchase from Samuel’s estate.”

  “But even a Rom would know a housekeeper possessed no legal right to sell off her employer’s stable,” Cowan countered. “Obviously, Gry did not take advantage of Mrs. Ridgeway. The housekeeper likely recognized a means to supplement her income after Mr. Darcy’s passing.”

  The colonel concurred, “I have come to the conclusion that the woman maintains her own agenda.”

  Cowan suggested, “Did you not say the late Mr. Darcy had met Mrs. Ridgeway on a journey from America?”

  Darcy quickly drew the same conclusion as the Runner. “And Gry admitted to having lived in the Americas after his family’s forced exodus from Wales. Mayhap, the Rom and Mrs. Ridgeway held a former acquaintance.”

  Edward frowned noticeably. “Although the housekeeper is a handsome woman, there is a great disparity in age between the woman and the Rom. Besides, Mrs. Ridgeway has genteel ways. A woman in such a position would avoid any connection with a known gypsy. Even in America, it is just not acceptable.”

  Something fiery gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Darcy asked cautiously, “What if Gry’s identity had not been known in America? The man’s features might have permitted him more freedom on the American shores.”

  A long silence followed as each man considered Darcy’s supposition. “We should carefully observe Gry when he calls upon the manor later today,” Edward declared. “If a woman had placed my family in a tenuous position, I would not be pleased to speak to the lady further.”

  “Or perhaps I might choose to insist upon a few brief moments alone with the woman,” Cowan said ironically. Silence descended as they each came to his own conclusions. Finally, the Runner asked, “Do you wish me to send word to London? My former associates might discover word of the other horses. There are only a few places, even in London’s stews, that will do business with gypsies.”

  Edward said decisively, “That is an excellent idea. At least, we will know for certain whether Gry speaks the truth, and whether the gypsies hold the other two horses hidden somewhere in the forest.”

  Darcy had thought to make a comment about the tales of gypsies painting horses to disguise them, but before the words could escape his lips, a shot rang out. More accustomed to seeking shelter when danger called, both the colonel and Cowan dove for the floor of the open chariot. A second later, Edward’s tight grip on Darcy’s waistcoat brought Darcy tumbling forward on top of them.

  “What the hell?” Darcy expelled as he looked wildly about him. Mr. Stalling had set the Woodvine horses at a gallop, but the carriage rocked as if something pulled it in opposition. Fighting for control, Stalling pulled tight on the reins. As the animals slowed, the colonel and Cowan crouched on either side of the carriage in a defensive stance. Both held guns and surveyed the open area.

  Darcy scrambled to his cousin’s side. “Did you see the shooter?”

  “No!” Edward grumbled. He cautiously reached for the door latch and eased his way to the ground. “Are you hurt, Stalling?” he asked without turning his head.

  “No, Sir,” Darcy’s long-time coachman cursed under his breath. “But me shoulder will need some of Mrs. Reynolds’s special liniment tonight.”

  Darcy followed Edward from the coach. His eyes scanned the tree line. The colonel declared, “It is too quiet, which means someone is there or has been there. Nature goes silent when men invade it.”

  “I have it. See to the horses,” Cowan said as he pushed past them. With a gun in each hand, the Runner raced away into the surrounding brush.

  Edward’s eyes traced the Runner’s steps while Darcy turned to the animal. “Stalling!” he called as he sprang to where the horse leaned heavily against the chariot’s back boot.

  “Easy, Boy,” the coachman said as he approached. To Darcy’s horror, a small wound trickled blood on his side, but a sticky red fluid gushed over Stalling’s fingertips as his coachman pressed a dirty handkerchief to the animal’s neck. “I fear it’s too late, Mr. Darcy,” Stalling said sadly. “This one be gone, Sir.”

  Darcy swallowed hard. “Finish it, Mr. Stalling.” He turned heavily toward where his cousin waited at the team’s head. Edward soothed the skittish animals as Stalling led the injured animal away.

  With the wheezing and snorting of the frightened animals as a backdrop, a second shot rang out, and the proud gelding collapsed with a heavy thud.

  Edward spoke though clenched teeth, “I have seen many men and their animals fall in battle, but I will never grow accustomed to the loss of life, no matter whether it be man or beast.”

  The Runner reappeared beside them. “Whoever it was is gone,” he confirmed. “I found this.” He extended his upturned palm. “It is like no ammunition fragment I have ever encountered.”

  Edward scooped the shard of evidence from Cowan’s hand. He held up the scrap of metal to the light. As he turned it in his fingers, he said, “It is from an American long gun. I have seen only a few of them, but I have no doubt of its origin. That is why we did not see our assailant. With such a weapon, one does not require close proximity to be accurate.”

  Elizabeth shivered involuntarily. As Darcy had directed, she had met with the Woodvine cook regarding the weekly menu. They had finished their task when dread had physically rocked her spine. Despite the feeling of dizziness drowning her senses in its sweep, Elizabeth desperately pushed the swirling sensation away.

  “Is something amiss, Mrs. Darcy?” the cook asked with what sounded of true concern.

  Elizabeth shook her head in denial. “Just one of those intuitive moments we women experience daily. Likely, Mr. Darcy has turned his ankle or one of my sisters has spotted a snake along the road to Meryton.” She laughed at her foolish nature.

  The gray-haired woman with the sparkling, equally gray eyes pushed her spectacles farther up her nose. “It be the way of women,” she said sympathetically. “Me boy, Arnie, be one of Mr. Darcy’s grooms. We both have served the old master for many years. Whenever Arnie gets himself kicked by one of them ornery beasts, I knows before he ever shows himself on me doorstep and looking fer some of me herbs to ease the pain.”

  Elizabeth again wondered if something had happened to Darcy. Her husband had spoken of the possibility that the gypsy band had posed an unknown threat. At home, at Pemberley, she had often sensed Darcy’s presence before he appeared on the threshold of her sitting room, but this was different. The lingering dread that currently wrapped itself about her shoulders had nothing to do with the pleasant anticipation she often experienced when her husband surprised her in the middle of the day. This was a warning of dan
ger. She cleared her throat, refusing to consider the possibilities. Bravely, she said, “I am certain it is nothing. Mr. Darcy’s cousin, a seasoned military commander, as well as Mr. Cowan, accompanied my husband. I am being foolish.”

  Mrs. Holbrook’s eyebrow rose in sharp denial, but the lady wisely said, “If that be all, Mrs. Darcy, I’s best return to me duties.”

  Elizabeth gathered her notes. “Remember, Mrs. Holbrook, no sauces on the meats. The colonel prefers his dishes plain. Serve the dressings in a separate dish.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’s understand.”

  Elizabeth stood slowly to follow the woman to the door. “I expected Mrs. Ridgeway to join us,” she said as nonchalantly as she could muster. In reality, the housekeeper’s absence had irritated Elizabeth. It was another affront to Darcy’s authority, and she planned to express her anger over the woman’s slight.

  Mrs. Holbrook paused in her speech, as well as her step. The woman looked about quickly—as if she suspected someone could be eavesdropping on her conversation. “Mrs. Ridgeway sent word, Ma’am, that she be experiencing a megrim.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said knowingly. “I suppose a headache might keep Mrs. Ridgeway from her duties.”

  Mrs. Holbrook smiled wryly. “I suspect that be true, Mrs. Darcy.” The woman disappeared into Woodvine’s apparently empty halls.

  Elizabeth stood silently by the still-open door and listened carefully to what were obviously exchanged whispers. Someone, or several people, concealed themselves in Woodvine’s late afternoon shadows. The thought of others watching her every move, on one hand, shook her resolve, but on the other, it irritated her. She would permit no one to intimidate her. After all, had she not withstood the imperious Lady Catherine De Bourgh? “We shall see how they perceive their positions when I have my say,” she said privately to fortify her resolve.