The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  “Mrs. Ridgeway has suffered some sort of injury,” Elizabeth explained. “I have sent for Mr. Glover.”

  Edward slowly circled the room’s periphery. From his eye’s corner, Darcy noted that his cousin palmed a small pistol. “Why such drama?” the colonel asked suspiciously.

  “I am uncertain,” Elizabeth confessed. She directed the maid cleaning the housekeeper’s wound to fetch some water.

  An older woman eyeing the proceedings from her place in the corner said, “The lady be burned when she tuched the witch’s bottle.”

  Darcy stood slowly. He surveyed the room. From where his wife nursed the housekeeper, soft sobs and whispers continued. “Explain,” he demanded as his eyes rested on the woman’s wrinkled countenance. Although a servant in his late cousin’s house, the woman did not act the part; she showed no signs of alarm. In fact, she appeared almost gleeful in her attitude.

  “Thar be a witch’s bottle under the lose hearth stone. None of us be tuching it, but Mrs. Ridgeway said we be fools. Yet, when she grasped it, it burned her skin. Brought the blood.”

  “A witch’s bottle,” Edward said with some amusement. “Why would there be a witch’s bottle in this house?”

  “Protect those within,” the woman insisted. “We not be overlooked by a witch from without. No familiar either.”

  Cowan retrieved pieces of the offending item from the floor where Mrs. Ridgeway had dropped it. “Not many use such conjurings these days.” Shifting through a knotted twist of metal, he closely inspected the bottle’s contents. “Appears to be some bent iron nails. As well as thorns. Some pins.” He touched the spilled liquid with his fingertip before sniffing the fluid. “Blood. Maybe some holy water. Very likely a person’s urine.”

  Darcy gave himself a mental shake. “You jest,” he said incredulously.

  “No. Seen them many times in Cornwall.” The Runner stood slowly.

  Darcy was uncertain whether the reference to Cornwall was part of the story he and Cowan had concocted for the villagers or whether Cowan truly knew something of England’s historic shire. “I still do not understand what could have burned Mrs. Ridgeway’s hand.”

  Cowan explained, “Generally, several pins are set within the stoneware. When Mrs. Ridgeway dropped the Bellarmine Jar, she was cut by the jar and the items within. Then the liquid poured over the wounds.” The Runner’s dark gaze spoke of the man’s inquisitive mind.

  The old woman scowled. “Perhaps it be as you say or perhaps not. Thar be many among those who live about that believe those which the bottle burns know the worst of the arts.”

  The woman’s remark annoyed Darcy with all that it implied. “We will have no such talk in this house. Do you understand?”

  A tangible thread of doom filled the space. The maid obediently dropped her eyes, but he did not think it was from a subservient deference to his position in this household. “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth assisted Mrs. Ridgeway to a seated position. She examined the woman’s hand again. Darcy noted her frown of disapproval. “There are several lacerations.” She sighed heavily. “We have done all we can until Mr. Glover arrives. Els, would you see Mrs. Ridgeway to her quarters?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”

  The housekeeper struggled to her feet. With what appeared to resemble fear, Mrs. Ridgeway glanced toward the hearth. “When Dunstan returns, I want him to check each of the fireplaces. I want no more accidents.”

  After the maid had assisted Mrs. Ridgeway from the room, Darcy caught his wife’s hand, and his long fingers closed around it. Immediately, Elizabeth’s presence brought him comfort. To the remaining Woodvine staff he ordered, “I want this situation resolved before the bottle’s contents stain the floor.”

  Darcy led Elizabeth from the room, but in the main foyer, he turned to speak privately with Cowan and the colonel. “Edward, if you would join Elizabeth and me in her sitting room, I would appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Darcy.”

  To the Runner, he said, “Please locate Mr. Franklyn and then join us also. It is odd that the gentleman did not respond to the chaos.” Cowan nodded before disappearing into the servants’ passageway. Darcy supposed the Runner had already surveyed the house’s many entrances and exits.

  Darcy placed his wife on his arm. Before the audience of Woodvine servants, they would carry on as if nothing unusual had happened. “I have asked Mr. Holbrook to speak to Captain Tregonwell about a proper horse for you to ride. If the groom is successful, perhaps we might share a short outing tomorrow and a longer journey the next day. The horses should have some rest after the journey from Bournemouth. I have made the assumption that you have missed our rides across Pemberley.”

  As if she understood the need to underplay the drawing room incident, Elizabeth smiled brightly at him. “That world be wonderful, Mr. Darcy.” She caught Edward’s arm also so she might walk between them. It was Elizabeth’s way: to include those she affected. “Will you join us, Colonel? I would enjoy that very much.”

  Edward’s easy smile followed hers. “If your husband holds no objections, a ride would do me well.”

  Elizabeth shot a mischievous grimace in Darcy’s direction. In a playful stage whisper, she said, “We shall ignore Mr. Darcy’s normal dudgeon. I refuse to allow it to defer my pleasures.”

  Darcy laughed good-naturedly. He could do so now that Elizabeth was his wife, but when he was so violently in love with her, and she had shunned his advances, it was a different story. At Rosings Park, anything was a welcome relief to the tedium of his aunt’s manipulations, and Elizabeth had caught his cousin’s fancy very much. Edward had seated himself by her, and had talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of traveling and staying at home, of new books and music, that Darcy could not withdraw his eyes from them, and, in that time, he would have gladly devised devious means of disposing of his cousin. “I would never deprive you, my dear, of such delightful pleasures.”

  As he held the door for her, his wife pursed her lips as if to leave a kiss floating in the air before his countenance. He inhaled the pleasure of her honey breath and squeezed her hand. With the door firmly closed behind them, Darcy seated Elizabeth beside him while Edward pulled over a straight-backed chair to form a tight semicircle.

  His cousin leaned forward and kept his voice low to maintain their secrecy. “What do you make of what has occurred below?”

  Elizabeth said in exasperation, “Every time I think we have uncovered the depth of deception in this house, another layer is exposed. Why would anyone permit such a foul superstition under his roof? I understand a horseshoe over the door or even a trail of salt spread around a bed, but I cannot comprehend the use of human secretions as part of a witch’s potion. Neither a horseshoe nor sprinkled salt will cause harm to others, but the witch’s bottle was meant to do injury.”

  Edward noted, “Obviously, Mrs. Ridgeway possessed no prior knowledge of the bottle or else she would have handled the situation differently.”

  “I actually held sympathy for the woman,” Elizabeth confided. “What say you, Fitzwilliam?”

  A frown tugged at Darcy’s brow. “Since our arrival in Dorset, I have learned to question all my instincts.”

  A light knock at the door signaled Cowan’s appearance. As he settled among them, the Runner explained, “Located Franklyn with his head buried in Samuel Darcy’s travel chest. The man claims he heard none of the uproar. I left him to his own distractions.”

  Darcy accepted the Runner’s explanation. “I am of the persuasion that your identity as a top-notch investigator should become common knowledge. I would like to place you in charge of locating my cousin’s body. It grieves me greatly to know Samuel has been deprived of his proper resting place.” The Runner accepted his assignment with a curt nod. “Franklyn and his associates will catalog my cousin’s collection. We will hire protection for the items that Franklyn deems as worthy.”

  “Then what role do you and I play in this intrigue?” the colonel
asked solemnly.

  “We will assist Cowan in his search, but we will concentrate our efforts on discovering the truth of Cousin Samuel’s death and how superstition has colored this investigation.”

  Elizabeth asked softly, “And what part do I play in this charade, Mr. Darcy?”

  “You are the steel that binds us, Mrs. Darcy. You will listen to the murmurs of the servants to discern hidden facts. You will be the voice of reason when the colonel, Cowan, and I have lost ours. You will keep the eccentric Mr. Franklyn from carrying off Lady Cynthia’s legacy, and, most importantly, you will observe Mrs. Ridgeway’s every move. The woman is involved in every facet of this duplicity. I feel it in my bones,” Darcy declared.

  Early the next morning, they set out for an open field some three miles from Wimborne Minster, along the River Stour. Despite his personal objections, Darcy had agreed to allow Elizabeth to accompany them. Beside the fact Darcy had foolishly promised his wife an outing, Elizabeth had argued that the servants would permit their guards to slip if they did not suspect that she watched their every move.

  “I will assist Mrs. Darcy,” he told Mr. Holbrook when the groom brought forth a mounting block for Elizabeth. His wife had quickly become a fair horsewoman. Elizabeth possessed a bit of daring, which displaced any fear she might have of the animal. That daring also occasionally prompted his wife to ride beyond her skill. So noting, Darcy instructed the groom, “You will ride beside Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Holbrook responded as he steadied the mare’s head while Darcy lifted Elizabeth to the side saddle.

  He tightened the strap and placed her heel into the stirrup. Darcy loved touching her, and he allowed his fingers to caress the back of Elizabeth’s calf beneath the hem of her riding habit. He handed Elizabeth the reins. “If you tire, you must tell Mr. Holbrook,” he instructed. “This is not Pandora. We know nothing of this mare’s temperament, nor does she have knowledge of your sometimes heavy hand on the reins,” he teased.

  “I understand, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said with a pert smile.

  Darcy stared deeply into his wife’s emerald-green eyes. “Indulge me, Mrs. Darcy. I worry for your well-being.”

  Elizabeth leaned down to whisper, “I am honored by your love, Fitzwilliam.”

  Edward called, “Come along, Darcy. Mrs. Darcy has always practiced good sense.”

  Darcy shook his head in exasperation. His cousin did not understand. Some day Edward would give his heart to one woman, and then he and his favorite cousin would be equal. Only then would Edward comprehend the overwhelming fear of God snatching away Darcy’s only true happiness.

  Darcy mounted, and they turned their horses toward the field that Edward’s former soldiers had described. When they had asked Holbrook if he knew of such a place, the groom had confirmed Edward’s information. “There be a mighty stone close to the road,” Holbrook had said. “Don’t know of no circle, but I’s rarely travel that direction, and I’d have no reason to cross the farm on foot.”

  They had traveled a different section of Samuel’s property, one of which Darcy was not familiar. Upon the few occasions he had called upon Samuel over the past few years, they had hunted the forested areas, but little else; yet, since arriving in the neighborhood, Darcy had crisscrossed between the shires of Hampshire and Dorset, where he had noted the broad elevated chalk downs and their characteristic rolling hills and valleys and the shallow soil structure which was poor for farming. Farther inland, there were steep limestone ridges and low-lying clay valleys. The limestone ridges were mostly covered in arable fields or grasslands supporting sheep. Some parts resembled a heathland, with the low shrubs of that landscape. Dorset certainly held nothing of the look of Darcy’s beloved Derbyshire.

  His party had had no difficulty in finding the area known as the “Great Wood.” It was on the west side of Wimborne on the Roman Road leading from Badbury to Hamworthy, where a minor loop of the river came close to the road. It was a place of meadows and pastures dotted by hawthorn hedgerows and large ash trees.

  One of the stones they sought had recently been marked off from the adjoining field by a sturdy fence. “Best not appear as if ye want to place a claim on the land,” Holbrook warned as he reined in one of the four horses the groom had let from Lewis Tregonwell. “You in yer fine attire might remind the locals of the Inclosure Act.”

  Darcy nodded his understanding. He carefully organized his thoughts. “We will take shelter under the shade of that copse of trees.” He gestured off to his right. “You ride to the house and tell whoever claims this land that all I want is a quick look at the stone formation. If this is the only stone, we have mistaken the place.”

  With a simple doff of his hat, the groom turned toward the house in the distance. Darcy nudged his horse forward and quickly dismounted. He rushed to assist Elizabeth to her feet.

  As Edward slid from the saddle, he said, “I will have a look around.” He walked off toward the tree line.

  Elizabeth watched him go. “What remains amiss for your cousin? In private moments, he appears less than his amiable self.”

  Darcy’s mouth twisted in a wry grin. She met his steady gaze squarely. “How do you always manage to notice when a person disguises his true nature?” He seated her on an uprooted tree trunk.

  His wife blushed. “I would not call my opinions astute. I greatly misjudged you, my husband.”

  Darcy sat beside her. “True. But in your defense, I admit to hiding my feelings even from myself. Perhaps what you saw as pride was, in fact, my awkward attempts to mask my emotional need for you in my life.”

  Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “How like you, Fitzwilliam, to assume the blame for my ill behavior, but I shall not permit you to do so. I acted most discommodiously. Yet, we shall not assign culpability,” she said to stifle his objection. “We both have learned from our failures.” She nodded toward the path Edward had taken. “What should I know of the colonel?”

  Darcy’s eyes followed hers. “My cousin has received notice for the American front,” he said solemnly.

  “Oh, no!” Elizabeth shook her head in denial. “It cannot be! The colonel has served the King on one front previously,” she protested. “Is that not enough?”

  Darcy watched the path. He would not want his cousin to overhear their discussing Edward’s life. “Yet, it is so. As soon as the colonel has trained his men for the American conflict, they will set sail. Likely, by summer’s end.”

  “I had hoped...” Elizabeth said wistfully.

  He stilled at her words. “Hoped what, my love?”

  She shrugged her shoulder to indicate her nonchalance, but his wife’s tone spoke of a very female romantic slant. “I had hoped that the colonel might find someone who would claim his heart.”

  Darcy caught her hand to hold between his two. “I pray you have no plans of playing matchmaker, Mrs. Darcy,” he said lightly.

  Elizabeth teased, “I am my mother’s daughter.”

  “Heaven forbid!” Darcy exclaimed in feigned alarm.

  Elizabeth laughed openly. “You sound like my father,” she chastised. “And we both know that my mother’s motivations are purely unselfish. She seeks husbands for her daughters.” She hesitated before saying, “I would not purposely place any young lady in the colonel’s way, but I would see him know happiness.”

  Darcy confessed, “I had thought perhaps Edward held a true affection for Anne, but that appears to have turned.”

  Elizabeth observed, “I should not speak poorly of Miss De Bourgh; however, even with her advanced years, your cousin Anne is more naïve than is Georgiana. Miss Darcy’s experience with Mr. Wickham provided our sister a more resilient nature. It proved the making of Miss Darcy. Georgiana did not succumb to the distracted spiral of possible shame, and she has emerged as reliable and independent.”

  Despite his contempt for the nefarious Mr. Wickham, Darcy had to agree with his wife. Georgiana had weathered the scandal well, but unlike his wife, Darcy placed the credi
t for his sister’s recovery on Elizabeth’s shoulders. His wife had shown Georgiana the love of a sister and of an honest confidante. Elizabeth’s caring nature had altered Georgiana’s confidence. “As a second son, Edward must marry an heiress. He likely will not know the pleasure of choosing with his heart.”

  “That fact does not prevent me from wishing for the colonel’s faithful happiness,” Elizabeth countered.

  Before they could finish their conversation, Holbrook reappeared with a local farmer in tow. As the men approached, the colonel emerged from the thick copse. Darcy stood and assisted Elizabeth to her feet.

  The farmer removed his hat in a respectful gesture when the men came to a halt before Darcy’s party; yet, Darcy noted the man appeared nervous and ill at ease. Holbrook cleared his throat. “Mr. Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Darcy. This be Mr. Rupp.” Darcy’s party nodded to the man, who offered an awkward bow. “I be explaining to Mr. Rupp that you wished to see the stones found upon yer cousin’s map. Rupp assures me there be five stones of various sizes and another farther on used as a field marker.”

  Darcy dipped his head in another nod of approval. “I thank you, Sir, for granting us permission to survey the area. My father’s cousin was a famous archaeologist, and he wished for me to know this place.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but Darcy was certain Cousin Samuel did intend for Darcy to discover the hidden room’s secrets.

  “It be me honor, Mr. Darcy. If’n yer wife be requirin’ more rest, Mrs. Rupp would be pleased for the company,” Rupp offered with a bit of strain in his tone. Automatically, Darcy thought perhaps the farmer was not as welcoming as he pretended; however, a quick glance at both Edward and Elizabeth gave him no indication that either his cousin or his wife had taken note of Rupp’s tight-lipped offer of greeting. Mayhap after encountering so many unanswered questions of late, Darcy looked for mystery where none could be found.