“No, Mr. Darcy.”
“A girl was murdered last night, Mr. Stafford. Miss Hazeldon. Do you know her?”
But the question was redundant, as all the blood had drained from Mr. Stafford’s face, his knees giving out as he sank into a nearby chair. “Sweet Jesus! Miss Felicity? Do you mean Miss Felicity? Murdered? No! It cannot be! Oh dear God! Who could do such a thing? How…” His voice broke in a sob, “How did she…? Oh God!”
“How well did you know the young lady, Mr. Stafford?” Richard asked sharply.
“I… That is, I knew her a little. They have… the Hazeldons have been here for, what four days now, Mr. Allenton? She is a lovely young lady, so sweet and kind. Jared will be crushed! He fancied her a bit, you see. Her poor, poor parents! This is horrible! Too horrible!” He released a moan, head cradled in shaking hands. “Have they caught the villain who did this?”
Mr. Allenton had watched and listened with a dawning fear that he attempted with all his might to submerge. He honestly liked both young men, judged them of the finest caliber, so the thought of either of them being involved had not entered his mind despite the friendly association between the two families. Mr. and Mrs. Hazeldon were also fond of the fellows, knew them to be reputedly of an excellent family, so had not inhibited the acquaintance between their eldest daughter and Mr. Jared Stafford. The innkeeper had placed their names last on the guest list given to Sheriff Weeden and obviously Mr. Hazeldon had not mentioned their names with any sort of suspicion. Given the rather flirtatious and forwardly improper personality of the deceased girl, Mr. Allenton had reckoned it could be any of the dozen men currently residing at his establishment.
Darcy and Richard were grim. “Mr. Allenton, has Sheriff Weeden spoken with Mr. Jared Stafford? Does he know about the girl?”
“I have not seen him yet this morning, sir. The Staffords are last on the list and I know the Sheriff has not seen everyone yet.” He paused, spreading his hands. “I do not know for certain, sir, but think it unlikely. They were quite intoxicated last night.”
Richard looked at Darcy. “Locked in his room and sobbing? Seems an odd crapulent reaction, no matter how intense the headache. Sounds like guilt to me.”
“Or fear.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Mr. Stafford was glancing from one troubled face to the other in confusion. “Are you suggesting… Wait!” He jumped up angrily, “Are you suggesting my brother had something to do with Miss Felicity? That is absurd! How dare you—”
“Calm down, Mr. Stafford.” Richard rose and placed his hand lightly onto the upset young man’s shoulder. “Lead us to your brother’s room and let’s see what we can discover.”
The chamber of Mr. Jared Stafford was at the end of the hallway, just beyond Richard and Darcy’s chambers. The three older men stepped in the wake of a fuming Mr. Hugh Stafford, who paused before the closed door and angrily glanced at the others before pressing his lips together and rapping on the solid wood.
“Jared? It’s Hugh. Open up and let me in.” Silence. “Come on, Jared! It is well past the lunch hour and I am famished. We need food, Brother.” Nothing. “Jared, you are worrying me. Open the door, please.”
“Go away, Hugh,” a muffled, slurry voice issued from behind the stout door. “Run back to mother and father. Tell them I am dead. Gone, gone… into the abyss… no hope… no bloody hope…” The words trailed off into hushed gibberish accented by the crash of something glass shattering against the wall.
No longer angry but merely frightened, Hugh looked to the older men. The face barely on the edge of manhood was now reverted to the pleading desolation of a confused youth. Darcy nodded to Mr. Allenton who retrieved a bundle of keys from his pocket. The muted scrape of a heavy object dragging across the wooden floor reached their ears as Mr. Allenton finally found the correct key and inserted it into the lock. He turned the knob, throwing the door open and nimbly stepping aside, clearly not wishing to be the first to view what they all feared to behold.
It was far worse than any of them had imagined.
The small chamber was freezing cold from the yawning windows and in utter ruin. Broken shards of glass and pottery lay everywhere; the linens had been violently flung off the bed with numerous ripped strips of fabric littering the floor; the curtains had been slashed with a knife and then wrenched from the wall, rod and all, to lie in a heap by the window; the tall mirror was smashed in four places by the heavy crystal tumblers whose remains could be seen in a pile at the mirror’s base; pictures were jerked from their wall hooks and tossed randomly; deep gashes marred one of the thick bedposts as if a sword fight had ensued with the unoffending column; and through it all were splatters of blood and bloody footprints.
As appalling as the room itself, even more gruesome was the sight of the eighteen-year-old boy slumped in the chair positioned before the unlit fireplace. He stared with lifeless eyes into the ashes, holding a sharp knife in his right hand and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in the other. Whether he was a handsome lad could not be discerned, so ravaged was his visage. His entire being was depraved: shoulder-length blond hair loose and snarled; eyes red rimmed and bloodshot; four deep, bloody fingernail scratches down his left cheek; torn, gaping, and blood smeared linen shirt displaying a bruised upper chest; stocking clad feet lacerated and bleeding from a dozen shard-inflicted wounds; and tremoring hands with swollen, bruised knuckles lifting the bottle to pale, dry lips. He muttered indecipherable words under his breath, momentarily unaware of the four shocked men standing in the doorway.
“Jared!” Hugh whispered. “My God, what happened to you?”
Jared glanced up blearily, blinking several times to focus, eyes alighting on his elder brother with bare recognition. “Brother. I told you to leave. Let me die as I deserve. Tell Mother… tell her I love her. Now, go away.” His voice was flat and low, and he turned away dismissively for further contemplation of the ashes.
Richard and Darcy shared glances. Richard cleared his throat and stepped forward, while Darcy whispered to Mr. Allenton to fetch the Sheriff. Hugh was shocked beyond words or coherent thought and stood pale and silent.
“Mr. Stafford, my name is Colonel Fitzwilliam. This is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. We are here at your brother’s behest to offer assistance.” He stepped closer, carefully avoiding the glass. “Perhaps you can share with us what has you so distraught?”
Jared shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “No point. There is no point. It is over… my life is over.” He choked out a sob, drinking the last drops of whiskey and then staring into the container as if baffled why it was empty. “Over… over and done.” He laughed hysterically then frowned, his face darkening as rage abruptly swept through each feature. With a harsh yell he heaved the drained decanter at the opposite wall where it shattered.
“All over!” Jared screamed, lurching unsteadily to his feet and fixing Richard with a baleful glare. “Because she lied to me! Lied and screamed and screamed and screamed!”
“Calm yourself, Mr. Stafford. Are you talking about Miss Hazeldon?”
“Yes! Her! The lying strumpet! Said she loved me, wanted me!” He was raging and pacing imperviously through the rubble, dangerously brandishing the long knife, and words barely decipherable. “Said, ‘Meet me, Jared. Once we are truly lovers we can be together forever. No one can stop us.’ Then she says no. No! Can you believe it? First she wants it, wants me, then she doesn’t! Tease! Whore! A woman cannot do that! Then she starts screaming and would not stop! I told her to stop, begged her to stop, but she wouldn’t. Told me I was hurting her. Why would I hurt her? I was making love to her! I loved her!”
He halted suddenly, swaying as he glowered defiantly toward Richard. Darcy had moved cautiously into the room, circling to the left. Hugh was crying unabashedly from his weak slouch near the door, hands covering his face. None of them noticed the return of Mr. Allenton with Sheriff Weeden and two deputies by his side.
“Mr. Stafford, please, put down t
he knife and…”
“No! Go away I tell you! All of you!” Twirling about toward Darcy with knife raised in a surprisingly firm grip given his obvious level of intoxication, Jared stepped backward toward the open balcony doors. “Stay away! Leave me be so I can die in peace. Die like she… like… Oh God!” Releasing wracking sobs with head hanging dejectedly and knife dangling loose at his side, Jared succumbed momentarily to grief and remorse.
Darcy, who was now nearer, leapt forward and grasped onto the weapon-wielding arm of the deranged youth. His control was fleeting, however, as Jared reared precipitously, bodily knocking into the far larger man. Surprise was on his side, as Darcy was unbalanced and lost his grip. The knife was jerked out of Jared’s hand and flew through the air, nearly impaling Richard, who again called upon his excellent reflexes and ducked just in time.
An animalistic growl erupted from the young man’s throat, eyes scanning the room and noting the additional men. With a final shove square on Darcy’s chest, sending him staggering backward into the splintered bedpost, Jared pivoted and dashed toward the balcony.
“Jared, no!” Hugh yelled, brought out of his stasis and launching after his brother, but they were too late. Jared catapulted himself off the balcony.
Darcy and Hugh reached the railing simultaneously, just in time to see a miraculously unhurt Jared struggling to free himself from an enormous snowdrift mere inches from the rearward side of the solid woodshed. Covered with powdery snow, he managed to right himself enough to commence plowing through the knee-high drifts, heading in a zigzag pattern toward the woods.
“Jared!” Hugh yelled.
“He is heading for the woods.” Darcy proclaimed, twirling and hastening toward the door with long strides. “Damned fool will die out there dressed like that.”
“Thankfully his trail will be easy to follow,” Richard added, joining his cousin in his rapid exodus from the devastated chamber, Sheriff Weeden and the deputies marching along behind.
What ensued was a wild trek through the wet, frigid surrounds. The snow was thick in places; the terrain obscured so that frequent submersions into pits or painful collisions with bushes occurred. The continued snowfall and winds created flurries and fogs that distorted vision. Nonetheless, a weakened, inebriated youth was no match for six healthy men on his trail.
Jared Stafford was finally cornered against the trunk of a broad oak, huddled and shivering on a bare patch of frozen ground. The shock of all that had transpired in the past twelve or so hours caught up to him, and from there it was an easy matter, the tragic youth no longer offering any fight.
Richard and Darcy gladly returned to the warmth of the inn, leaving the issue in the capable, legal hands of the Sheriff. Word of the murderer’s capture spread hastily through the halls; the mixture of horror and relief generated an atmosphere of bizarre giddiness that would reign until late in the night. Neither Darcy nor Colonel Fitzwilliam were in the mood to share their part in the tale, retreating to their respective rooms early in the evening, thankful that the drama was behind them and abundantly prepared to return to the seclusion of Pemberley.
Chapter Six
CATHARSIS
It was two damp, cold, and exhausted men who finally rode into the stable courtyard the following afternoon. The ride from Derby was miserable, despite the abated storm and rays of sunlight that now succeeded in piercing the scattering clouds. Stomping muddy boots and shaking snow-drenched cloaks in the north entrance foyer, servants dashing to assist, the men breathed deep sighs of relief.
Richard made a beeline for his room while Darcy inquired as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Darcy, informed that she and everyone else were in the court room cheering a tennis tournament. This was certainly the truth as far as it went. Georgiana and Kitty were currently engaged in a fierce competition, George playing referee from the net line, and the remainder of Pemberley’s guests applauding, whistling, and shouting encouragement. However, a rapid sweep of the room revealed that Lizzy and Jane were absent.
Darcy’s heart fell, but he had no time to deal with the disappointment before George spotted him. “William! It is about time! We thought you had gotten buried in a snow bank.” The lanky physician crossed the room in long strides, enfolding his nephew in a bone-cracking embrace and bestowing a stunning blow to his shoulder. “It is good to have you back, son. We have all missed your serious face, but none more so than your lovely wife and precious son.”
“Thank you, Uncle. Where might I find them?”
“In the conservatory. Your son decided it was mealtime and disrupted the entire game. Quite threw Georgie off and she completely missed the ball, match point to Miss Kitty.” He grinned.
Darcy grinned in return. “Extend my apologies to my sister. I am sure she will overcome. Now, if you will excuse me?” George nodded and Darcy waved a general greeting toward the crowd, hastily retreating before anyone else felt the urgent need to accost him.
The conservatory was an enormous room, easy to become lost in, but there were only three alcoves sheltering enough for Mrs. Darcy’s purpose. The nearest to the entrance was the wisteria arbor, so there Darcy headed. His choice was correct, the murmur of voices reaching his ears as he approached. Lizzy’s tinkling laugh at some quip of Jane’s sent his heart soaring.
A gentle rap on the trellis edge to alert to his presence was followed with a declaration, “Pardon me, ladies, but may I interrupt your pleasant interlude?” He peeked around the frame just as Lizzy released a gasp, meeting her instantly shining eyes with his own radiant smile. The sisters sat and gently rocked on the wide swing, Alexander nuzzled against Lizzy’s shoulder, apparently finished with his meal and currently staring raptly at the brilliant purple blooms draped behind his mother.
Jane stood, approaching her brother-in-law with a dimpled smile. “William, how delightful to have you home. We have missed you and Colonel Fitzwilliam most profoundly. Far too many females languishing about without male attitude to sustain a balance.”
Darcy took her hand, kissing fingers with a courtly bow. “Dear Jane. You look beautiful and in excellent health. I pray all is well?”
“Excellent, sir. I have little to complain about. Thank you for asking, but I am quite certain you do not wish for a protracted conversation about my health. If you will excuse me, I do believe I shall see how the tennis match is proceeding.” And with a smile toward Lizzy, she departed.
Lizzy already had one arm extended toward her husband, fingers beckoning and instantly entangling into his damp hair when he sat. She drew him close, Darcy offering no resistance as he met her lips for a hungry kiss. He encircled her with one arm, palm cool on her face as fingers stroked, the other hand joining hers on Alexander’s back.
The kiss lasted for a long time. Only the burning need to taste her flesh moved him away from her intoxicating mouth to trail moist kisses over jaw and neck.
“Oh, William, I missed you so! I know it has only been five days, but it feels like an eternity. And then this horrid blizzard! I so feared you would be stranded in Derby for longer. I could not bear it!”
He had reached her ear, scattering kisses and nibbles amid gentle flicks of his tongue and hot breath. “I promised I would be home for the christening, my heart. Nothing would keep me from you and our son.” He returned to her mouth vehemently for another extensive kiss, both panting heavily when he finally withdrew to rest his forehead onto hers.
“You must tell me everything.”
He pulled away with a smile, needing to gaze into her stunning eyes. “I will, naturally, but not yet. I simply require your voice and touch to comfort me. Your beauty soothes me. Are you well, my dearest wife? All has passed quietly in my absence? You weathered the storm safely?”
Lizzy laughed, kissing him tenderly. “Listen to you! You are the one off having adventures and you ask what we have been doing? I can assure you, it was much as you have already seen. Constant entertaining larks. The men were devastated to have their target practice cancelle
d. Be prepared for an urgent need to brave the ice and cold for a chance to fire your new rifle.”
Darcy laughed as she continued, fingers ruffling through his hair as she spoke, “George regaled us with stories of past Derbyshire storms, although he recalls none as violent as this one. The lightning was an entertaining treat if frightening. Noses were pressed to available windows facing west as the bolts were spectacular. Mr. Keith was relieved to report no damage done. A billiard tournament was attempted, and although George was thrilled to win for a change, they all agreed it was a dismal failure without you.”
“I am touched.”
“So, as you can see, it was uneventful. Lazy, endless hours of lying about with the only interruptions of import being your son’s appetite, which shows no imminent signs of waning.”
Alexander had finally recognized his father’s voice, head bobbing in a determined attempt to turn away from the wisteria but not having great success. Darcy laughed, removing his arm from about Lizzy’s shoulders and pulling the babe into his lap with broad hands supporting.
“Let me look at you, little one. Have you been a good boy? Taking care of your mother? Yes? That is papa’s bright boy. Give me a kiss, sweet love.” And he proceeded to shower tiny kisses all over Alexander’s face and chubby neck, the infant fidgeting irritably at the cold skin and fabric. Darcy hugged him close to his chest and reached a hand to cup Lizzy’s face. “I am happy to be home.”
***
“There you are!” Lizzy laid her embroidery hoop aside and smiled up at her weary but handsome husband, who had entered their sitting room with a contented sigh.
“Yes, finally. Forgive me for ignoring you. I wanted to settle a few matters with Mr. Keith before they escaped my tired brain.” He crossed to his wife, sitting on the ottoman before her chair and leaning for a kiss, hands warm and soothing on her knees. “Thank you for waiting so patiently.”
“I cannot claim any great patience, as I was near to storming into your study and evicting you forcefully.” She smiled but reached up to stroke his cheek with concern evident in her eyes. “You have had a grueling few days, my heart. I can see it in your eyes without knowing the specifics. I should scold you for insisting we retire early only to spend the past hour with your steward, but I shall not. I am just happy you are here. Shall I call for tea?”
In the Arms of Mr. Darcy Page 12