The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  The colonel’s countenance revealed his own uncertainty. “We must return to our earlier decision: We must take charge of the investigation instead of permitting it to lead us about by our noses.”

  A spark of defiance appeared in Darcy’s eyes. “I agree. Therefore, let us begin with what we know regarding the victims.”

  “We are certain two of those from the lake thought to marry a woman they had never met.” The colonel ran his fingers through his hair. The ends curled easily, indicating Edward was overdue for a cut.

  “Is it possible that Hotchkiss and our unknown victim had similar thoughts?” Darcy mused.

  The colonel observed, “As all our victims are males, I suppose it possible. I had not thought so previously; yet, we have no other clues.”

  Darcy exhaled slowly. “Is our murderer a woman?”

  Edward denied the probability. His stance said a mad run of emotions had settled on the colonel’s shoulders. “How could a woman have buried a man? Or have moved a body to the lake and weighed it down? Have killed seven others?”

  Darcy asked, “What if the lady in question had an admirer who efficiently eliminated his competition?”

  “Would the woman not notice? Even though it is difficult to determine the exact date of each death, we can assume they occurred within the last year. How could one woman have so many gentleman callers?”

  Darcy watched Holbrook tighten the straps about the first horse. “Could we have more than one woman and only one desperate man?”

  “If we consider Mr. Williamson’s descriptions of the potential brides, your idea makes sense.” The colonel tapped his gloves against his thigh. “Somehow, I do not see either Samuel Darcy or Mr. Hotchkiss as being lovesick swains.”

  Darcy was quiet for several seconds before he said, “From what we know of Mr. Hotchkiss from Samuel’s journal, I would agree with your assumption about the steward, and as to my cousin, he kept a mistress in London, but I have never known him to have a serious relationship. My father once spoke of a woman who Samuel had loved, but she married another, his elder brother, Stewart.”

  “That explains Samuel Darcy’s strong affection for Lady Cynthia.”

  Darcy confided, “There were rumors of indiscretions, but no one spoke openly of the possibilities of Cynthia’s parentage, and Samuel always treated his brother and Perdita Darcy with great reverence. Samuel married his work. He spent his life discovering the ancient loves of other people.”

  Edward nodded to where Holbrook had finished saddling the second horse. “One thing is certain. I plan to examine the countenance of each woman at services tomorrow. Surely there must be a Helen of Troy hiding among the country folk of the shire. I do not understand how I could have not heard of such an angel previously,” he teased.

  “Nor I,” Darcy said ironically. “Would not one expect the news to have reached every corner of England?”

  Edward slapped Darcy on the back. “I feel much relieved when your humor returns, Cousin.”

  “Either laugh or cry. There are no shades of gray at Woodvine. Evil or goodness is all we know.”

  A half hour later, they knelt beside a shallow grave. There were no markings, as there had been with Bates’ grave, but the evidence remained. “The ground be recently turned,” Holbrook noted as he crumbled a clod of dirt in his hand.

  “Could a woman dig such a grave?” Darcy asked as his eyes searched the area for any clues to the crimes.

  “Aye, Sir.” Holbrook stood. “The ground be soft here. So many leaves making it rich. Little sun reaches through these trees; therefore, nothing to dry it out and make the land hard.”

  The colonel tossed his hat to the side. “Let us see if our suspicions hold true.” He reached for a shovel from those they had stacked against a nearby tree.

  Darcy tugged his coat from his shoulders. He folded it and placed the cloth beside his cousin’s uniform jacket, which was draped across a felled tree. “Shall we have a contest?” he challenged. “If we must dig a grave, allow us to do so with speed.”

  Edward shook his head in amusement. “You are too soft, Cousin, to win a physical challenge. Married life does that to a man.”

  Darcy had no idea why he had issued such an asinine test. He certainly did not see the loss of life as a form of entertainment. He was far from being a barbarian. Yet, so many deaths had set his impudicity into action. Darcy doubted his ability to cope with one more mystery or one more body. “You are correct, Colonel. I withdraw my dare. Whoever lies below deserves our respect.” With that, Darcy placed his shovel’s tip into the soft dirt, rested his booted foot on the edge, and pressed his weight into the effort. Along the outlined gravesite, his cousin did the same.

  Within a quarter hour, they had uncovered enough of the body to know Holbrook’s instincts had been correct.

  “He be wrapped in some sort of blanket,” Holbrook noted.

  Darcy wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “I care not to look upon death’s face again so soon. Leave the blanket in place.”

  His cousin suggested, “Why do you not start on the site behind the line of ash? Holbrook and I will see to this victim.”

  Darcy swallowed hard. He shook his head in disbelief before stumbling off toward the second possible gravesite. If not for the shovel, he would have likely tumbled over, head first. His legs suddenly felt old and his footing unsteady. Never in the scope of his understanding had Darcy met so much death and destruction in one place. Certainly, the colonel would have seen much more, but Darcy could not comprehend how so many had lost their lives. Dorset was not the West Indies, nor was it the Continental front. This was a quiet country shire, not a battlefield.

  Automatically, he set himself the task of removing the loosely packed dirt of the second grave. Soon Edward joined him.

  As his cousin set a shovel full of dirt to the side, he said, “You should know, Darcy, that the blanket has an embroidered emblem in the corner. Holbrook says Samuel Darcy had previously ordered the maids to place three symbols—a triangle, a small square, and two parallel lines—on all the bedclothing being used within Woodvine’s walls. The blanket ties the murder to someone in your cousin’s employ.”

  Darcy comforted Elizabeth as he explained their latest discoveries. Although he and Hannah had forbidden Elizabeth from leaving her quarters, his wife had insisted upon rising from her bed. “I will escort you to services on the morrow,” he had said in dutiful conciliatory tones. “But I will not have you rush your recovery. I do not often have the opportunity to tend to my beautiful wife’s needs. Do not rob me of the pleasure of playing the role of doting husband. I will use such moments as a reminder of my loving devotion when next we disagree on some minor inconvenience.”

  Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “We have never disagreed on issues of a minor nature,” she said with a rasp. Although she sounded better, Darcy would see that she did not overuse her damaged larynx. Twice during the night, Elizabeth had cried out in remembrance of her ordeal. Both times, Darcy had reassured her with words of endearment and his closeness, and Elizabeth had clung to him until he managed to woo his wife to return to her sleep. “In most instances, we are of a like mind, my husband.”

  Darcy stroked her arm, while Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. “Yet, when we differ,” he teased, “I am held accountable; therefore, I will bank your gratitude and use it when next you turn a disdainful eye upon me.”

  “I shall grant you the use of your manipulations, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth expelled a quick sigh. “Tell me more of what happened in the woodland,” she pleaded.

  Darcy had difficulty dismissing his forebodings, and he took the opportunity to express them to the one person who truly had a measure of his personality. “I cannot explain my fears, Elizabeth. And they are truly fears. Other than the gypsy, I have looked upon death eight times in less than a week, and in each case, the victim appears to be an innocent. It is not as if any of these men were an armed enemy. From those we have identified, they were hard
working country gentlemen.”

  “And?” Elizabeth asked softly. “You feel yourself unequal to it?”

  Darcy said tightly, “I have known great grief in the matter. When one buries a loved one, he imagines his family member meets his divine reincarnation, as he was when he left this world. Yet, I am reminded with each of our discoveries how fragile the shell we call a body really is. It disintegrates into nothingness. When I consider my beautiful mother and my distinguished looking father so, it is enough to drive me to distraction.” Darcy shivered in disgust.

  “It is the person’s soul which matters,” Elizabeth assured.

  Though he would not have owned it, Darcy was profoundly shaken. “If I had held any doubts previously, I would be a believer now.”

  “Then it is quite beyond the unthinkable?” Elizabeth ventured.

  “It is not a sight I would ever wish upon another, and especially never for your eyes. I could not bear for you to know the depth of our vulnerabilities firsthand. I would slay dragons for you, Lizzy. I would protect you from the worst this world offers.” He took a deep steadying breath as he lifted her chin. He noted the pale tissue of her cheeks. His wife was, obviously, frightened by his words and his somber tone; yet, even as Darcy looked upon her countenance, Elizabeth braced herself against any signs of weakness. It was a gesture which had once stirred Darcy’s soul; however, today, he found it sorrowful. Darcy knew, against hope, Elizabeth would place herself in danger in order to protect him.

  As if she read Darcy’s thoughts, Elizabeth said defiantly, “I would stand in your stead, Fitzwilliam.”

  He kissed her tenderly. Darcy found her gloom less impenetrable on any topic than that of his regret at her secession from the life they had begun together. “I know your heart, my love, and I am blessed by your goodness.”

  “Yet...?” she whispered.

  “Yet, you must promise me, Mrs. Darcy, that you will do nothing to endanger the future of Pemberley. Even now, you could be carrying our child.” He paused to swallow the weight of responsibility pressing against his chest. “I made a sacred vow to my father that I would secure Pemberley’s future. If for any reason I am not with you, you must promise to carry on my trust.”

  Elizabeth said boldly, “If some unforgivable act takes you from my side, I shall guard any child I may carry. However, if no child exists, I shall follow you into eternity. I should not wish to know this world without you.”

  “You will not bring shame to the family name by doing yourself harm!” Darcy demanded.

  “I shall do nothing to which you would object, my husband,” Elizabeth said obediently. However, Darcy knew her stubbornness. His wife would not disgrace either the Bennet family or his with her actions. She would simply give up living to life’s fullest.

  Darcy gathered her closer. He would not argue with her over this matter, but he would leave her a personal note among his last papers, one which would charge Elizabeth to live a full and happy life. It would be a part of his last testament. Despite her earlier words, Darcy understood that his wife would do his bidding: Elizabeth would honor his last wishes.

  Darcy had returned below stairs, but he had left Elizabeth a task to keep her busy. In her special form of self-indulgence, Elizabeth despised how well he knew her. Darcy had wrapped his request in pretty ribbons—words of how valuable the yet-to-be-deciphered passages from Samuel Darcy’s diary were to their solving the house’s mystery, but she had recognized her husband’s maneuverings. With nothing more to entertain her than a few historical accounts of earlier civilizations, which she had discovered in Cousin Samuel’s library, he feared Elizabeth would soon not only leave her bed, but her quarters, as well.

  Darcy had shown her Samuel’s convoluted code and had told her the passages he had not interpreted were ones for which he had yet to discover the date combination Samuel Darcy had chosen. Darcy had trusted her to finish his work.

  “Hannah, I wonder if I might impose on you to retrieve the late Mr. Darcy’s family Bible from the display table in the library?” After reading each of the previous passages carefully, Elizabeth had attempted several combinations, but none had proved true.

  Hannah folded Elizabeth’s freshly washed linens. “Aye, Ma’am, but I must wait for either Mr. Sheffield or Mr. Fletcher to return to the floor.”

  Elizabeth placed her pen within its holder. Turning to her maid, she asked suspiciously, “And why must you ignore my orders?”

  “It is the Master’s wishes, Ma’am. Mr. Darcy be saying I am not to leave you alone in this house. That it be too dangerous,” the maid explained. “And truthfully, Mrs. Darcy, I am of a like mind.”

  Despite her instant disapproval of Darcy’s edicts, Elizabeth maintained a rigid calm. “I can understand Mr. Darcy’s concerns, but I cannot imagine in the midmorning hours that I should not be safe while you retrieved a book.” Elizabeth would speak privately to Darcy over his setting the servants’ orders contrary to her nature. “My husband shall not shield me in a golden cage,” she promised herself. Hannah appeared conflicted, and Elizabeth abhorred placing her loyal servant in such a situation. “Very well, Hannah, if you must wait, I hold no objection.”

  Hannah glanced to the door and back to where Elizabeth waited. “It should not take me long. I know of the Bible. I seen it when I assisted Mrs. Jacobs after her accident with the tea service.”

  Elizabeth said judiciously, “I would not set you against Mr. Darcy, Hannah.”

  “But it would be to your advantage to have the book,” the maid reasoned.

  “I know so little of Samuel Darcy’s life. I had hoped the late Mr. Darcy recorded important family events in the Bible.”

  The maid hesitated before saying, “I shall return momentarily.” With a quick curtsy, Hannah disappeared into Woodvine’s passages.

  With a smile of satisfaction, Elizabeth returned to her work. She looked for common phrases and words of similar lengths, comparing the ones Darcy had managed to decipher with the ones in the yet-to-be-translated passages. “Could Cousin Samuel have replicated the code in later passages?” she mused aloud. Looking through several of the entries, Elizabeth played with the possibilities. “If this word is ‘about,’” she mused aloud, “then every 8 would be an ‘a.’”

  A quick rap at the open door brought Elizabeth’s attention to the figure framed by the light from the window at the end of the hall.

  “Mrs. Ridgeway,” Elizabeth said cautiously. “You required something?”

  The housekeeper gave her a satirical smile. “I thought perhaps you would care for fresh tea.” The woman entered the room uninvited. “I am pleased you are recovering so quickly, Mrs. Darcy. I cannot imagine the extent of the ordeal you have experienced.”

  Elizabeth kept the frown from her lips. “That is kind of you.” She aristocratically gestured to the tray Hannah had yet to remove. The thought of how easily she had assumed Darcy’s mannerisms both pleased and amused her. She watched the woman place the teapot and fresh cup upon the tray. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Ridgeway?”

  The housekeeper took a step in her direction, and Elizabeth immediately stood to block the woman’s view of the desk at which she worked. She would not permit the housekeeper any additional information into Darcy’s investigation. “I thought it best to inform you I have accepted a position in Mr. Stowbridge’s household.”

  Elizabeth hid her relief. “Several of the servants had apprised Hannah of your decision. I pray it is a more satisfying position.”

  The woman said readily, “Mr. Samuel treated me well. I hold no ill memories of my service at Woodvine.”

  She observed the lady archly and after a short pause, Elizabeth said, “Then you hold no regrets. That is best when parting ways.”

  Mrs. Ridgeway sighed deeply. “I cannot say no regrets, but I have come to terms with my future.” An awkward pause filled the room. “Mr. Stowbridge has asked that I join his staff sooner rather than later.”

  Elizabeth had not expected the wo
man to take a quick step to the left, and she was a heartbeat behind Mrs. Ridgeway’s maneuver; but Elizabeth managed to counter the housekeeper’s sudden move. She moistened her lips and took a steadying breath. “I see,” she said cautiously. “When shall you leave us?” With a hand behind her, Elizabeth surreptitiously closed Samuel’s journal.

  The housekeeper hesitated. “I have told the magistrate that I could not leave before this coming Monday.”

  “In three days time?” Elizabeth did not hide her surprise well.

  “Of course, that is if you and Mr. Darcy hold no objection,” Mrs. Ridgeway said with some satisfaction. “After all, Saturday next is the first of the month: your deadline for my removal.”

  Her temper spiked, but Elizabeth quickly masked her thoughts. She straightened her shoulders. She stood tall, but she still felt dwarfed by the housekeeper’s majestic presence. “We should be honest, Mrs. Ridgeway. Our relationship began cordially enough, but we hold different opinions on a servant’s position within a household. Perhaps the difference comes from the years you spent in America. I understand those in the former colonies have less stringent class structures.”

  “Perhaps,” the woman murmured enigmatically.

  Elizabeth continued in her best Mistress of Pemberley voice. “Whatever the cause, our time together has proven ill. It is best if we part ways with as little ceremony as possible. When Mr. Darcy and I quit Woodvine, you shall wish to continue a relationship with those with whom you have served. You may make your proper farewells, but I would caution you to show diplomacy in your leaving. My husband is not normally a vengeful man, but never doubt that he is a man of great influence.”

  “And Mr. Darcy would turn that influence against a woman attempting to make an honest living?” The housekeeper and Elizabeth exchanged assessing glances.

  All of her emotions condensed into this moment. They were done with useless words. Elizabeth managed to ignore the woman’s tartness. “Mr. Darcy would do whatever is necessary to maintain the respect accorded his family name.”