The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  The colonel watched as a chill stole down Darcy’s spine, and his cousin’s anger returned. “The bastard followed her into the water, and their fight continued. You should have seen her. Elizabeth was a vengeful Artemis, punching the man, but he struck her across the throat and dragged her under with him.” Edward waited for the tale’s end. “When I reached the spot where I had last seen Mrs. Darcy tussling with her attacker, I searched the murky depths in hopes of feeling her below me, but I was running out of time. Elizabeth had not resurfaced after the man had shoved her into the icy waters. Neither of them had. When I finally discovered her, Elizabeth’s body was floating toward the darkest depths. She was lifeless.”

  Edward asked for no more details. Darcy had suffered enough for one day. “You did your best, Darcy,” he insisted.

  Darcy buried his head into his hands. “Yet, is it enough?”

  Edward leaned over to lift Darcy to his feet. “Only time will tell.” Darcy stood stiffly. “Let us see to your injuries and to some warm clothes. Then, along with Hannah, you may tend Mrs. Darcy.”

  With Edward’s assistance, Darcy lumbered toward the open door, but suddenly he came to an abrupt halt. “As God is my witness,” he swore. “The day Mrs. Darcy is well enough to travel, I will leave this cursed household behind. Woodvine’s occupants may dance with the Devil in the moonlight, and I will not give a care. I will refuse to look back in regret. Woodvine will become Rardin’s problem.”

  Edward asked cautiously, “Even if we have no answers to our questions?”

  Darcy declared, “Even if the world tilts on its side sending parts of India and China tumbling off the end. I will never place Elizabeth in danger again.”

  Mr. Glover pronounced Elizabeth on her way to recovery. “Your wife will know more fine sunny days,” the man insisted.

  “How long before Mrs. Darcy can travel?” His earlier declaration still rang in Darcy’s ears. He had not removed his eyes from Elizabeth’s pale countenance. His wife had offered him a series of weak smiles, but Darcy was not convinced. Only when he could rid himself of the annoying surgeon and could speak privately to Elizabeth would Darcy know comfort.

  “Likely a week. Maybe less. Mrs. Darcy appears to come from sturdy stock.” The man good-naturedly slapped Darcy on the back. “Place your worry behind you, Mr. Darcy.” The surgeon returned his instruments to a small bag. “I have given Hannah several salves and draughts for your wife’s comfort.” Darcy glanced to Elizabeth’s loyal servant and smiled when Hannah rolled her eyes heavenward. Obviously, Elizabeth’s lady’s maid held similar opinions of the surgeon as did her mistress. “If you do not object, Sir,” said Glover, “I would call on Mrs. Ridgeway while I am at Woodvine. I would reexamine the lady’s injuries and spend time in conversation.”

  Darcy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He held no kind thoughts when it came to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Ridgeway is free to entertain whomever she pleases. After all, the lady’s employment has been terminated.”

  Glover asked incredulously, “You have released Mrs. Ridgeway? May I ask the cause?”

  Edward said from his place near the door. “I am certain the lady would prefer to explain the circumstances personally.”

  Glover frowned, but he kept his remarks to himself. Even in the most bizarre situations, manners required polite civility. “I suspect you are correct, Colonel.”

  After the man made his exit, Darcy sat on the bed’s edge. Capturing Elizabeth’s hand in his, he said affectionately, “I am pleased you are sitting up, Mrs. Darcy.” He had rushed through his own ablutions so that he might assist Hannah in tending to Elizabeth. The maid had blushed thoroughly when he had insisted on lifting Elizabeth in and out of her tub and when Darcy had gently washed the dirt and film from his wife’s skin and hair. The bruises on her arms, where her assailant had held her so tightly that the man’s fingers had left an imprint on Elizabeth’s fair skin, had come close to ripping Darcy’s heart from his chest. He blamed himself for sending Elizabeth off in a bad humor. In the future, he would take Edward’s advice: Even if he thought himself in the right, Darcy would apologize.

  During her bath, Elizabeth had indicated how her retching and the lake water had irritated her throat. Darcy privately thought her discomfort had come from her assailant’s violent attack upon Elizabeth’s breathing. The attack and the fact that her bonnet had wrapped itself solidly about her neck likely led to her current physical discomfort. Realizing she would not easily give up her need to communicate, Darcy had gathered several sheets of foolscap from Samuel’s desk, a serving tray, and two artist’s pencils so that Elizabeth might write her responses. He read her sentiments as they skittered across Elizabeth’s countenance, her gratitude went beyond the gift of the foolscap.

  She brought his palm to her lips and kissed it. Despite the ghostlike sheen on her cheeks, Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with their customary mischief, and Darcy breathed easier for it.

  He motioned his cousin to sit on the other side of the bed, and a bit of jealousy resurfaced when Elizabeth intertwined her fingers with Edward’s. “What can you tell us about your attacker?” the colonel encouraged.

  Elizabeth’s face contorted in fear. Panic crossed her expression. “Do not fret,” Darcy assured her. “The man did not resurface after the two of you went under.”

  “Are you certain?” she scribbled quickly on the paper’s middle.

  Darcy’s thumb traced the blue-black bruise on the inside of her wrist. “Absolutely. I was there. Searching for you,” he explained. “Only you floated toward the light.”

  Edward asked again, “Had you seen your assailant previously?”

  She shook her head in the negative, but Elizabeth reached for the paper. In the upper corner, Elizabeth wrote a single word: Roma.

  Darcy’s temper flared. Not only had he allowed his wife to leave Woodvine unchaperoned and in an agitated state, but he had permitted the man who had assaulted her to live on Woodvine land. Fault was his newest companion. Darcy would blame himself forever. “One of the gypsies attacked you?” he demanded.

  Elizabeth nodded in the affirmative, and then she ducked her eyes. She wrote: I killed him.

  “No,” Darcy said immediately. “The man set his own course. You did nothing more than to survive, which was God’s plan for you.”

  A tear crawled down Elizabeth’s cheek. Her shoulders shook with true sorrow. It would be a long time before she could reconcile her actions to the end result, but Darcy would be beside her on the journey. His cousin’s eyes said that they would pay a visit to the gypsy camp, and the result would not be a pretty sight.

  Edward said without emotion, “I will see to recovering the Rom’s body. It will resurface in the next few days. It is the way of nature.”

  Elizabeth shook her head violently. NO! she wrote, in large letters.

  Edward patted the back of her hand. “It is true, my dear. I have seen it often. The time varies a bit depending on the water’s temperature, but whether the person died from drowning or died on land and was placed in the water, the body rises to the surface in somewhere between two and five days.”

  Until recently, Darcy had never thought about how quickly a body decomposed after death. He supposed his cousin had come to look upon death as commonplace. The thought grieved him dearly.

  Elizabeth jerked on Edward’s jacket sleeve for his attention. More than one. She had written the words and underlined them twice.

  “What do you mean by ‘more than one’?” Edward asked curiously. “You had more than one attacker?”

  Again, she denied his words. Writing frantically, she scribbled, More than one body.

  Edward asked, “How can that be? Darcy observed only one attacker. If another is on the lake’s bottom, he would have to have been placed there within the last few days,” he reasoned.

  “Another witch’s sacrifice?” Darcy asked. He said to Elizabeth, “Perhaps it was Els you followed into the night, after all. Could she and her followers or
she and this man she calls ‘Toby’ have done away with another from the community? Is it possible you overlooked the stolen map when you initially searched the maid’s room?”

  Edward answered for her, “Definitely not. None of Samuel’s servants have extensive quarters: a small bed, a chest, and an area to store one’s clothes. Mrs. Darcy and I searched under mattresses and inside drawers.”

  Darcy summarized, “Then there are two bodies to recover: those of Elizabeth’s attacker, and of a stranger, who has likely disappeared in the past week.”

  Elizabeth scrawled, Mr. Crescent?

  Darcy looked from his wife to his cousin. “Is that possible? No one has heard of Crescent for nearly a fortnight.”

  Edward asked gently, “Could you see anything of the person?”

  Elizabeth shook her head in the negative. Her fingers stroked the slender column of her neck, and with great effort, she said on a throaty rasp, “Could not see. Too deep. Felt his hand. Trapped my bonnet. No escape. Rolled him. But no more air. Cannot remember...anything after I kicked...away from him.”

  “That is enough,” Darcy ordered. “Glover said no talking until, at earliest, tomorrow. Hannah, would you bring Mrs. Darcy some more lemon tea?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Edward said cautiously, “If it is Crescent, then someone must have killed the man.”

  “How so?” Darcy asked as he stood.

  Edward followed him to his feet. They had another mystery to solve. “The only way a body would stay under water for that long would be if someone had weighed it down.”

  Chapter 16

  In their own world and ignoring everyone around them, Darcy and the colonel were nearly to the door when Darcy heard his wife snort and knew to duck before the wooden tray came sailing in their direction. His cousin was less experienced in the ways of married women. The tray hit the back of Edward’s left shoulder.

  Darcy laughed as he turned to observe his wife’s confrontational posture. True, she remained propped up on the bed’s many pillows, but his wife’s arms were crossed stiffly across her chest. Her eyes flared with a warning Darcy recognized, and a tight-lipped scowl marred Elizabeth’s handsome countenance. “Did you require something to relieve your discomfort, my dear?” he asked in a mock-solemn tone, which brought a mischievous grin to his wife’s lips.

  Edward rubbed his arm briskly before he retrieved the tray from the floor. “I say, Darcy,” he said with a bittersweet taunt, “you did not warn me you had married a shrew.”

  Darcy’s lips twitched in amusement when he noted Elizabeth picking up the empty teacup and testing its weight in her hand. “Be cautious, Colonel. My wife has a deadly aim when she requires one. You are about to be introduced to the pleasures of wedded bliss.”

  Edward leaned easily against one of the four posts of Elizabeth’s bed. “In that case, perhaps I have been too eager to place my head in the parson’s noose.” He flipped a small pillow in Elizabeth’s direction.

  At least her testiness had brought a flush to Elizabeth’s pale cheeks. For that, Darcy said a private prayer of thanksgiving. In her frustration, his wife snapped her fingers at Edward. Emphatically, she pointed to him and then motioned to the door with a jerky movement that required no words to relay her meaning. Elizabeth had ordered Edward from her room.

  His cousin chuckled. He said as he strode toward the door, “I do not know which is worse: being profoundly dismissed by a lovely lady or being dutifully retained to face her wrath.”

  Darcy said to his cousin’s retreating form, “Being profoundly dismissed. Without complaint, I would dutifully stay by the lovely lady’s side.”

  With an elegant bow, Edward dramatically closed the door before Darcy sat beside Elizabeth again. “I apologize,” he said automatically. “The colonel and I fell into a familiar pattern. My cousin requires little encouragement to rush off to save the world.”

  Even without the words, Darcy knew his wife’s sentiments. He wondered how it could be so—how after so short an acquaintance had they given themselves so completely to one another. Normally, a couple spent years together before they knew each other so well. If ever. In Society, a man and wife often lived apart. The gentleman’s mistress likely knew more of the man’s preferences than did the woman he had married.

  Darcy gathered Elizabeth into his arms. Her curves fit snugly against his hard angles. His cheek was pressed to her hair. “I promise not to go into the lake again,” he assured her. She relaxed against him. “And I will see that the colonel takes care if he should venture forth.” He stroked the back of Elizabeth’s head. “You must know, however, that my cousin and I must discover the truth of this madness.” She nodded against Darcy’s chest. “If you wish, I will tell you what we uncover.” He gently kissed the top of her head. “Yet, I will take the information to my grave if it disturbs you in any way. I will not see you hurt by this mayhem.”

  Elizabeth tightened her arms about his waist and pressed closer. “And?” she whispered.

  “Do not ask it of me, Lizzy. I cannot promise you I will not seek revenge upon the gypsies.” Darcy closed his eyes to force away the image of Elizabeth fighting for her life. She squeezed harder and began to sob. “I am sorry, Lizzy, truly sorry. I will promise not to attack the innocent, but I cannot simply look away.”

  “Your heart,” she rasped.

  Darcy sighed deeply. “You wonder if I can continue to love if I lose my honor?” He lifted her chin with his fingertips. “When did you become my conscience?” His wife’s lips turned up in a smile. “You think that amusing, do you?” He kissed the tip of Elizabeth’s nose. She shrugged heavily. “I will have time to consider all the possibilities before I will visit the gypsy camp. That is the extent of my promise.”

  Elizabeth pulled herself to him, lacing her hands about Darcy’s neck. “Kiss,” she said on an exhale. Darcy needed no prompting. He had come close to losing her on this day; he would claim Elizabeth as the love of his life. Elizabeth automatically opened her mouth; he no longer needed to urge her along. His tongue swept in to tantalize the depth of her affections. Elizabeth arched into his body, and Darcy meant to brand her as his own.

  A quarter hour later, he found the colonel and Glover waiting on him in the main foyer. “I thought we might require the surgeon’s expertise,” Edward explained with a knowing look. Evidently, his cousin had something of import to share with Darcy regarding the surgeon.

  “It is an excellent idea,” Darcy said wisely. “Have you found someone willing to assist us at the lake?”

  “Mr. McKye claims expertise at both swimming and diving, and Holbrook has taken a flat wagon to the site.”

  Darcy chuckled. His cousin was a man built to make decisions, to organize and to order. “Then I suppose we should be about it.”

  “I will take my curricle,” Glover said as Darcy and Edward mounted the waiting horses.

  Within a mere matter of minutes, they had outstripped the surgeon. “What might you wish to share regarding Glover?” Darcy asked as he glanced over his shoulder to where the surgeon deftly maneuvered the curricle around yet another rut in the road.

  The colonel followed Darcy’s inquiring gaze with one of his own. “When I sought the surgeon’s assistance in recovering the bodies, I overheard an interesting bit of information of which you should be made aware.”

  Darcy kept his eyes on Glover. “Go on.”

  “First, it seems Mrs. Ridgeway has sent word to Mr. Stowbridge that she will accept employment in the magistrate’s household.”

  “That makes little sense,” Darcy said. “When Mrs. Darcy and I first came to Dorset a little over a week prior, it was quite obvious that Mrs. Ridgeway wanted nothing to do with Stowbridge and the magistrate desired a relationship beyond the woman’s being his servant.”

  Edward said softly, “The surgeon is aware of the oddity of the lady’s change of heart, and Glover is most displeased. Their conversation had reached a heated impasse by the time of my appearance.”<
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  Darcy observed, “I do not doubt it. Mr. Glover holds a strong tendre for the woman.”

  They neared the lake. Darcy could see Mr. Holbrook climbing down from the wagon in the distance. “One thing more,” Edward cautioned. “The good doctor said the oddest thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Glover asked Mrs. Ridgeway if she knew which of the gypsies might have attacked Mrs. Darcy.”

  The hollow feeling of uncertainty had returned to Darcy’s chest. He looked to his cousin inquiringly. “Did the lady have a response?”

  Appearing a good deal perplexed, his cousin shook his head in the negative. “I am afraid the couple became aware of my presence and did not finish their conversation.”

  Darcy bit his bottom lip in frustration. The action reminded him of Elizabeth, and he could not resist smiling. He and his wife were assuming each other’s mannerisms. “I suspect at the end of the day we should add a few more details to Mrs. Darcy’s list of what we know and what we have yet to discover. Mayhap, this day will even out the lists.”

  McKye had proved a more than able swimmer. Before he had been pressed into service under Captain Tregonwell, the man had spent several years upon fishing boats. It had taken but three attempts to locate the first body. As Darcy looked on, he had relived every harrowing moment of his wife’s rescue: the strong, determined stroke as Elizabeth fought with the gypsy; his heart pounding a staccato; the dizzying terror; wishing away the nausea. “The man who attacked your wife, Sir, is still below,” McKye explained. “He will be the easy one to bring up. He is floating along the bottom head down.”

  Darcy frowned and looked to Glover for an explanation.

  “No one knows why what McKye describes is true, but ’tis so. Most of the uninformed assume that somehow the blood gathers in the head because those who drown can no longer breathe. Yet, that makes little sense to a man who has studied the human body to discover the truths of nature and God,” the surgeon disclosed. “Submersion causes the skin to turn blue.”