“Can you tell, Sir,” Sedgelock interrupted their unspoken admiration, “from your last visit to this room, whether anything is amiss?”
Darcy glanced about the room. “Difficult to say from this position. Allow me a moment to examine the area.” He retrieved his lantern before slowly circumambulating the room. “It does not appear as if the locks on the display cases have been breached.” He gave a gentle tug on one of the hinged locks before moving on.
As he approached the corner where he and Elizabeth had found the documents of the possible coven, Elizabeth asked, “What of the maps?”
Darcy paused to peruse the items. “Someone has searched the documents on this table. Items have been moved.” He picked up several stacks of papers and thumbed through them. “I see no evidence of the map.”
Elizabeth said, “I had hoped to compare the map’s features to that of Mr. Rupp’s field.”
Only Darcy realized how still she had become. In silence, Elizabeth came to his side. “We should have considered a second entrance,” he said softly. Without a word, Elizabeth sorted the papers on the makeshift desk.
Meanwhile, Darcy finished his tour of the room. He lifted several pages from those scattered across another table’s surface. “I see nothing that should affect your study of Cousin Samuel’s archaeological finds,” he said distractedly. Rolling the document to take it with him, he said, “I believe you can safely catalog Samuel’s Egyptian and Persian treasures without further delay. I would simply ask that you remain cognizant of the intruder’s footprints. I intend to send for the magistrate.” He stacked his cousin’s writings in a box. “I believe Mrs. Darcy and I will take these other papers above. If we discover anything of import, we will inform you immediately.” He lifted the box. “By the way, Franklyn, I suppose my cousin’s journals are under lock and key in your quarters.” The statement was a question.
The man’s voice betrayed his obvious second thoughts. “I fear the late Mr. Darcy’s writings are on display on the desk in my chambers.”
Chapter 13
Though he felt anything but indulgent, Darcy nodded his understanding. Despite his having cautioned the Society members of the need to safeguard Cousin Samuel’s legacy, in his distraction Franklyn had left Samuel’s personal papers open to scrutiny. “Mrs. Darcy and I will retrieve Samuel’s journals, if you hold no objection.”
A reluctant, self-conscious laugh surfaced. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.” Franklyn inclined his head in agreement.
Feeling dreadful presentiments, he was annoyed by the error, but what could he do? It was not as if Darcy held the expertise to complete the Society’s part of this venture. All he could do was to concentrate his efforts toward discovering the mystery of Samuel’s death and disappearance. If worse became the standard, he could always turn the supervision of the Antiquarians’ task over to Rardin. As if completing his own inventory, his gaze carefully examined the room. “We will leave you to it.” He caught Elizabeth’s elbow to lead her from the room. “Come along, Mrs. Darcy.” He noted that she carried a sizable stack of bound documents and loose papers in her grasp.
On the steps, she whispered, “What do you make of this newest development?”
A brief shake of Darcy’s head indicated he would prefer to wait before they discussed the events. “Just bear with me,” he murmured softly as they reentered the library.
“Colonel,” he directed his cousin. “I will require your services.” Darcy strode to the bell cord and gave it a solid yank.
Within seconds, Mr. Barriton appeared at the door. “Yes, Sir?”
“Mr. Barriton, you will direct every female employee at Woodvine to appear in the drawing room across the hall within the next five minutes. None is first to return to her quarters before reporting to me. Wherever each is within the household, she should drop what she is doing and report directly to the Egyptian drawing room. If the person is already in her quarters, someone is to escort her. She may not tarry or seek sanctuary or be given an opportunity to rearrange her room. Mr. McKye will assist you.”
The butler said shakily, “Immediately, Sir.”
Both Barriton and McKye disappeared into the bowels of Woodvine’s passageways. “What do you require of me, Darcy?” his cousin inquired.
“You will escort Mrs. Darcy on a search of the quarters and common places within Woodvine. Before the prints are accidentally destroyed by those below, I wish to locate the footwear that created the impressions.”
Elizabeth placed her find from the secret room upon the cushioned wing chair. “In addition to my search, do you have other duties you wish me to perform, Mr. Darcy?”
“It is possible that the culprit still wears the offending boots. As a gentleman, I cannot search the women, and as I am well aware that you enjoy being avowedly useful, it will be your task to examine the footwear and to confiscate any that might fit the bill. I will remain in the hallway to guard against anyone leaving until you have completed your search. Meanwhile, I will send Jatson to ask Mr. Stowbridge to join us. I am not certain the magistrate will be of much use, but we will conduct this investigation under his oversight.”
The colonel noted, “I will carry your instructions to Jatson.” He bowed to Elizabeth. “I will return in a few moments to escort you to the servants’ quarters.”
Darcy placed the papers Elizabeth had carried from the room below into the box he had retrieved earlier. “We will review these later,” he said distractedly. “Mr. Poore, beyond those from the Society, Mr. Cowan, the colonel, Mrs. Darcy, and me, no one is to enter the room below.”
The hired guard bowed. “I understand, Mr. Darcy.” He added quickly, “Mr. Maxton is outside. We will rotate the positions, but someone will remain on duty at both entrances at all times.”
Darcy stressed, “Mr. Holbrook will secure the services of several others on the morrow. You will be certain that each man understands his first duty is to guard the room below. Even if there is a disturbance outside this room’s door, you are not to seek out its source. I want no strangers to have access to my late cousin’s archaeological finds.”
“I understand, Sir.”
The first of the servants to arrive at the drawing room could be heard in the hall. “Time to perform our roles,” he said to his wife. Taking Elizabeth’s hand, they stepped into the passageway together.
“Mr. Barriton, I do not understand,” Mrs. Ridgeway pleaded as the two men ushered the women into the room.
The butler said, stone faced, “It is as Mr. Darcy has requested.”
The housekeeper shot a defiant look in Darcy’s direction, but she entered the drawing room without protest. The others appeared frightened by the unusual events.
“Do you still suspect Mrs. Ridgeway?” Elizabeth whispered.
Darcy spoke for her ears only. “It does not seem likely, especially after her remark upon viewing the open door; but for every revelation that seems to exclude the woman from some sort of perfidy, I cannot relinquish the feeling that Mrs. Ridgeway is not what she appears.” He exhaled a sigh of exasperation.
Elizabeth observed, “The lady is insolent and unforgiving. Perhaps it is Mrs. Ridgeway’s attitude to which you object rather than to her abilities to perform her duties. It is certain that at Pemberley the woman would not long retain her position.”
“I have told myself repeatedly that Mrs. Ridgeway is as much a victim in this matter as are we, but my mind cannot convince my instincts,” he confessed.
Edward reappeared. “Are you prepared for a bit of sleuthing, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth left Darcy’s side, and immediately he felt deprived of her closeness. He watched her walk away with his cousin, the two of them sharing some teasing comment, which brought his wife’s laughter echoing through the empty hallway. It was a foolish weakness—this sick, hollow gnawing in the pit of his stomach when he considered a future without her. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He could control only what was within his realm, and his obsession with Elizabeth
Darcy had always been beyond his reason. With a shrug of resignation, Darcy stepped into the drawing room and closed the door behind him.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Ridgeway permitted Mrs. Holbrook to speak for the group. “Mr. Darcy, Sir? Have we done something to displease you? We kinnot fathom why the men be not with us.”
Darcy appreciated the woman’s honesty. The lady and her son were the only ones among his late cousin’s staff for whom he held any respect. “The house has experienced another breach, Mrs. Holbrook. Fortunately for us, whoever executed the invasion was unaware that she left behind distinct footprints.”
“She?” Several of the women gasped. They clutched at each other for comfort.
“The prints are smaller than a man’s,” Darcy explained.
“And you think one of us the culprit?” Mrs. Ridgeway had found her voice, and, as usual, her tone held contempt.
Darcy answered in a tone that dared the woman to defy him. “I have sent for Mr. Stowbridge and have secured the area. It would be to my deficit if I did not do all I could to learn if anyone at Woodvine is involved. As a group, you will remain in this room until the magistrate arrives.”
“How be you knowing the person in question is someone employed at Woodvine?” Mrs. Holbrook asked calmly.
“As the intruder entered from the garden to the library, we have made the natural assumption that an employee would have noted a complete stranger casually making her way through Woodvine’s passageways and would have either detained the person or would have alerted Mr. Barriton.”
Mrs. Ridgeway asked, “Has your interloper stolen Mr. Samuel’s great treasure?”
Darcy sneered, “I fear that information is family business and not available for the servants’ rumor lines.”
Mrs. Holbrook shushed two of the younger girls. “Then we best be making ourselves comfortable. If’n we have nothing to hide, then there be nothing to fear.” Darcy nodded his exit. He placed Fletcher outside the door and returned to the library to sort through Samuel’s papers. He was certain Stowbridge would want to know if anything other than a map was missing.
Elizabeth and Edward had methodically searched three of the servants’ sleeping areas. From each, the colonel had removed shoes belonging to the female who had occupied the space. Elizabeth had attempted to convince him that not every pair of shoes fit the pattern, but the colonel had countered that Darcy would expect them to be thorough. Elizabeth suspected it was the colonel who preferred thoroughness rather than her husband.
As she fished another pair from under one of the scullery maids’ cots, she said casually, “Fitzwilliam tells me we shall soon be bereft of your company. Your orders send you abroad.” She handed him the shoes, which he placed in a box with the others.
The colonel frowned. “I have not shared the news with the Earl. I would not wish His Lordship to use his position to prevent me from being a part of the British force.”
“I understand,” Elizabeth said softly. “Yet, I must admit that I would be tempted to seek my father’s influence if I were you.”
Her assertion making the moment a trifle uncomfortable, Edward looked on with frank regard. “It is difficult to explain. Perhaps it is my unmitigating pride, but I hold the belief that my men—those such as Cowan—possess a healthier opportunity for survival if I place myself between them and those who wear the epaulets upon their shoulders.” He laughed selfconsciously. “I am vain to think myself essential.” A shrug of his strong, broad shoulders announced how private his thoughts remained.
Bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat. The thought of this fine and caring man purposely placing himself in danger’s path jangled her nerves. “Pride is a common failing,” Elizabeth observed. “By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary.” She paused to emphasize her point. “Early on in our relationship, I accused your cousin of misplaced pride,” Elizabeth confessed.
The colonel laughed lightly, “I cannot imagine how you could have misjudged Darcy as such.”
Elizabeth teased, “It was a leap of faith to change my opinion.” Edward smiled warmly at her as he extended his hand to assist Elizabeth to her feet. “Yet, please permit me to finish my thought. In reality, it was my sister Mary who offered this sage advice: Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
“Miss Bennet speaks with the solidity of her reflections,” the colonel observed.
Elizabeth privately considered his conclusion, but she could not merit Mary with too much sensibility. She smiled sheepishly. “If you had asked me at the time, I would have told you my sister was simply piqued because she had danced but one set at the assembly. Five sisters are often competitive in such matters. In hindsight, Mary had the right of it where Mr. Darcy was concerned. I had misjudged my dear husband.”
A rather philosophical expression crossed the colonel’s countenance. “Although my cousin suffered your initial rejection, Darcy has won the prize. I admit I am often envious of the happiness he has secured with your marriage.”
Elizabeth said tentatively, “I held hopes that your relationship with Miss De Bourgh would bring you contentment.”
He said with a shake of his head. “As did I.” Edward paused before saying, “Anne has many fine qualities, but she lacks the maturity of her years. I offered her an escape from what my cousin termed as her isolation, but in the end, her affection came from gratitude.”
“And you required more?” Elizabeth searched his countenance for the truth of his words.
Edward appeared discomfited, and she instantly regretted her inquisitiveness. “As a second son, I must marry an heiress; yet, I have hopes of discovering a woman who would return my affection.”
Elizabeth laced her arm through his. “I am certain that you shall know both, Colonel.”
He held the door for her. “Do you have personal knowledge of such a female, Mrs. Darcy?” he teased.
Elizabeth patted his cheek affectionately. “I have my suspicions, Colonel.”
She led the way toward Mrs. Ridgeway’s room while Edward hustled to keep pace with her. “Do you mean to tell me of whom you speak?” he asked as he juggled the box of shoes and half boots.
Elizabeth stopped suddenly. “I do not think so, Colonel. It is too soon. You must serve the King, and it would not be fair to begin a relationship only to have it interrupted by your career. And I do not believe you would betroth yourself to an innocent with the fear of war looming over your shoulder.”
“’Tis true,” he said begrudgingly. “Yet, I will charge you to speak of your suspicions upon my return.” Edward’s hope laced his words. “Of course, that is assuming that the lady has not been claimed by another in my absence.”
Elizabeth cast a wary eye upon her husband’s cousin. Their clasped hands were held at her heart. “I believe the lady in question is quite content with her current unmarried status. Yet, I must warn you, Colonel, I have not spoken of you to the young woman. It is purely my female intuition that permits me to venture a guess of the lady’s true regard for you. I could be taken completely unawares in this matter. I would not wish to give you false expectations.”
Edward held her gaze for several elongated seconds. The former aloofness receded from his face. “Mrs. Darcy, false hope or not, I will hang my hat upon your words. It may appear foolish, but a man facing death prefers to know that, if he can waltz with devastation and survive its wrath, a future awaits him.”
Elizabeth eyed him cautiously. “While you dream of England in foreign lands, I shall bully my efforts to make your future a reality.” She slipped her arms about his waist and rested her head on his chest. “Your heart is true, Colonel, and I shall take great plea
sure in singing your praises.”
Stowbridge strutted about the room like a peacock. The magistrate had arrived at Woodvine Hall as the colonel and Cowan had finished their attempt to match the gathered footwear to the imprints. Now, the squire had taken on the mantle of authority. Darcy watched with some amusement as Stowbridge stumbled through his official investigation. “The magistrate is certainly not of the caliber of Sir Phillip Spurlock,” Edward had observed when no one was near. Darcy had agreed wholeheartedly. When Darcy returned to Derbyshire, he would make a point of expressing his personal appreciation for Sir Phillip’s expertise in the law.
With his usual contempt worn comfortably about his shoulders, Stowbridge addressed Woodvine’s female staff. “Mrs. Darcy has agreed to move among you and to collect your footwear. You will remove whatever boots or day shoes you currently wear. Mr. Darcy and I will step into the hall to provide you privacy.”
Darcy thought it ironic it had been at Elizabeth’s insistence that the magistrate had afforded the women any respect. His wife had placed her fists on her hips, and vocally charged into the fray. “Although it is likely that one of the women in the drawing room has committed a crime, there are ten others behind that door,” she had gestured with an emphatic point of her finger, “that have done nothing other than their duties to this household. I shall not have the innocent vilified along with the guilty.” And just like every man who ever crossed Elizabeth’s path, Stowbridge had crumpled. Darcy chuckled with the memory of the magistrate’s flushed face. He triumphantly held the door for the man as they exited the room.
When the gentlemen had departed, Elizabeth turned to the women. “If you would be so kind as to remove your footwear, this will be over soon.”
“And what if we choose not to cooperate?” Mrs. Ridgeway asked with her usual defiance.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in frustration. “Why would you wish to defy the magistrate unless you had something to hide?”
Mrs. Ridgeway stiffened with the accusation. “If you recall, Mrs. Darcy, I was astonished upon observing the late Mr. Darcy’s secret chamber,” the woman declared in her defense.
The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy Page 19