A Quest for Mr Darcy

by Cassandra Grafton

  Elizabeth’s attention, however, was drawn to Mr Latimer, who was berating the blameless groom; Eleanor Latimer remained where she was as though frozen in place, the only movement being the water trickling down her face into her sodden Spencer.

  ‘Do not stand there, you simpleton! Fetch a robe, a towel, anything!’

  The young lad seemed dazed as he looked from the drenched young lady to the red-faced man before him, and Elizabeth silently urged him to do as he was bid.

  ‘Come on, man! What are you dallying about for? You will lose your position for this, you incompetent fool!’

  The groom began to bluster around before thrusting a thick horse blanket at the gentleman, which Mr Latimer threw quickly to the floor. ‘I am not placing that flea-ridden thing on my daughter!’

  ‘Allow me.’ The colonel stepped forward and removed his coat. ‘If you will permit, ma’am.’ He placed it carefully around Miss Latimer and, with his height and breadth of shoulder, it proved a more than adequate solution for her present need.

  Then, he turned to address the groom. ‘Do not fear for your position, lad. This is not of your making.’ He bent down to retrieve the horse blanket and passed it back to him before turning to speak to Mr Latimer, who remained red in the face. ‘Pemberley’s stables are too well kept to permit fleas to breed within the bedding.’

  Elizabeth moved forward hesitatingly towards Miss Latimer, only to stop as her father turned his outraged eye upon her. ‘Someone will pay for this!’ His gaze narrowed. ‘I heard a shout before the water fell. It was one of those—’

  ‘It was me, sir; there is no one else here.’ Elizabeth walked past him and pulled her shawl from her shoulders. ‘Here, Miss Latimer. Use this to dry your face.’

  The lady stared at her as though unhearing, and Elizabeth forced it into her hands. Looking down, Miss Latimer hesitated, then raised the shawl to do as she had been bid, pushing the sodden hair clinging to the sides of her face away before handing it back.

  ‘No, truly, keep it for now. Here.’ Elizabeth shook out the shawl, only part of which had been dampened, and then laid it carefully over the lady’s wet hair, wrapping it neatly about her shoulders. ‘It will keep you warm as you walk back to the house.’

  ‘This is not the end of the matter,’ snapped Mr Latimer as he pushed past Elizabeth to take his daughter by the arm. ‘You mark my words!’

  All but dragging Eleanor Latimer along, he glared at them as he left the stables, and Elizabeth bit her lip. She had an insane urge to laugh, and glancing at the colonel she almost indulged in it. He winked, suppressed his own grin and turned to reassure the young groom once more, before suggesting to Elizabeth they return to the house.

  Emerging into the autumnal sunlight, Elizabeth breathed in deeply. For all her wealth and position, she did not envy Miss Latimer. What an unpleasant man her father was!

  ‘Shall we?’ Looking around, Elizabeth smiled at the colonel. ‘If you will excuse the informality of my attire.’ He indicated his shirtsleeves as they fell into step and strolled back through the gate into the immediate grounds.

  ‘I have no objection, sir; besides, I feel I may be somewhat responsible for all that has happened.’

  The colonel frowned. ‘How so?’

  ‘The twins were pressing me for the reasoning behind something Mr Darcy said, when we were inspecting Viola’s illustrations to her sister’s story.’ She looked at the colonel, then smiled ruefully. ‘I do not know if he ever told you how we first became reacquainted upon his return to Derbyshire?’

  ‘No, he did not, but now I am intrigued and demand satisfaction!’

  With a laugh, Elizabeth looked away. ‘Yes; that is not dissimilar to the twins’ claims!’ She hesitated, then threw the colonel a quick glance. ‘I mistook your cousin for a fox, sir, troubling our hens, and I paid him the compliment I always show such behaviour, by liberally dousing him in water.’

  The colonel released a bark of laughter. ‘Capital! I wish I had been there to see it!’

  Recalling her mortification at the time, Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I wish I had not! And even more so now this has happened.’

  ‘Do not take the blame upon yourself, Miss Elizabeth. Latimer’s condescending manner towards the girls has not gone unnoticed, and must have been quite the provocation for the Miss Bingleys. If it were not this, something else would have occurred to them. Indeed, if I were he, I would be on my guard. With this mission failing, they will be even more determined next time.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Elizabeth sighed again. ‘I cannot say I blame them for their actions, though I did feel for Miss Latimer. Do you think she will ever recover from her state of shock?’ A smile tugged at the gentleman’s mouth. ‘I feel sufficiently culpable, Colonel Fitzwilliam; do not make me laugh at the lady’s predicament.’

  He grinned widely. ‘Have no fear, ma’am. Your secret is safe with me.’

  They had reached a fork in the path, and he looked to Elizabeth for a direction. ‘Do you wish to return to the house? I can hear nothing of Latimer, so perhaps his nice wife has managed to calm him.’

  Elizabeth’s gaze roamed the gardens. It was a lovely day for so late in the year. ‘I think I will remain out here for now.’

  ‘Then you will not object to some company? I know Georgiana and Mrs Annesley are gone to Lambton and will not return for some hours.’ He looked down at his state of dress again. ‘Of course, I am not fit for a lady’s company.’

  ‘Your chivalry should not prevent you from enjoying the fine weather, sir. Besides, I—’ Elizabeth stopped, then narrowed her gaze as it was drawn up the sloping lawns to the edge of the trees where the woodland came to meet it. ‘Is that one of the girls, up by that statue? What are they up to now?’

  Following her gaze, the colonel snorted. ‘No good, I suspect. Unless I am mistaken there is a leg dangling from that tree, and I will wager the other twin is attached to it!’

  Picking up their pace, they turned their steps onto the grassy slope and headed for the large horse chestnut tree, keen to discern the twins’ purpose and, ultimately, ensure their safety.

  ~o0o~

  Darcy rode fast once he left Pemberley’s grounds, setting Bedivere across the fields, taking hedges and fences with the ease of a natural horseman.

  He knew whence the depth of his anger stemmed, and it was not down to Latimer’s arrogant assumptions over Darcy’s intentions. His veiled threats towards the Bennet family had roused something deep within him, a fierce protective instinct he barely knew he possessed.

  Scaling yet another fence, Darcy gave the stallion its head, low in the saddle as he raced across a further grassy field, the sheep grazing near the far wall raising their heads to stare at them as they flew past.

  Wickham’s letter, its pointed message and its threat of harm to one of the Bennet daughters had shocked him; he found it distasteful and it caused him concern, but Latimer’s implication he could delve into Elizabeth’s background, dig up whatever he wished and use it against the family brought him fury.

  What if the man attempted to destroy their newly established reputation in Derbyshire? Darcy did not care for himself; all his pain, his anger was on Elizabeth’s behalf. She had endured enough; to put her through such unpleasantness again and, worse, perhaps have Bennet feel he must disappear once more, alarmed him. What if he chose to go without giving even Darcy a clue as to their whereabouts? What if, after having just found Elizabeth again, she was taken away from him, and their paths never crossed again?

  A searing pain lanced Darcy’s breast, and he sat up in the saddle, easing his mount into a canter. He would not allow it to happen!

  ‘At ease, Bedivere,’ he whispered, leaning forward to pat the neck of his mount. ‘There is a water trough nearby; you deserve to slake your thirst.’

  They were passing a small copse of trees now as they approached the hedgerow bordering the far side of the field, but suddenly, a cloaked figure darted out, and Bedivere reared onto his hind
legs in protest.

  ‘Steady, boy!’ Struggling to calm his startled mount and not lose his seat in the process, Darcy used all his strength to bring him under control, conscious of startled eyes in a pale face before the figure fled back into the undergrowth. Breathing heavily, he turned Bedivere in a circle, his eye then caught by a hessian sack on the ground, an assortment of victuals spilling from a torn seam. Had he just come across the poacher from Pemberley’s woods?

  Peering into the trees, Darcy could see no sign of anyone, and slowly he turned his mount towards a gap in the hedgerow ahead, emerging onto a lane on the outskirts of Kympton. A strange sensation had taken hold of him, his heart still pounding in his ears, and he searched his mind for what had struck him so forcibly about the figure as he steered Bedivere in the direction of the village. It had not looked like a villager, dressed as it was in a long, moss green cloak, the hood concealing all but a glimpse of a face—yet there was something about it which tugged at Darcy’s memory.

  Pushing his speculations aside, Darcy rode on and they soon neared the church, where a stone trough stood beside the mounting block. Reining in his mount, he dismounted, flipping the reins over the attendant rail before bending to splash some water on his face. As Bedivere drank thirstily from the trough, Darcy flexed his shoulders and ran a hand through his windswept hair. He must be going mad to have such imaginings. That or the twins and their fancies were beginning to affect his mind!

  Almost amused at his thoughts, Darcy turned to unfasten the reins from the rail, when suddenly a movement beside the bell tower caught his eye, and his gaze narrowed. Unless he was mistaken, the same hooded figure had just disappeared into the trees at the rear of the church.

  'Bide your time, Bedivere; I shall return directly.' Darcy spoke quietly to his mount, giving him a further pat on the neck, before turning to stride up the path and into the churchyard in pursuit. Thick woodland fringed the rear of the church, and Darcy walked under the overhanging trees, then paused to listen. A sensation of being watched came upon him, causing his skin to go cold, and then there was the crack of a foot upon a branch. His head turning quickly to the right, he caught a glimpse of a pale face again as the figure in green began moving, and he set off in pursuit once more.

  In the dim light of the over hanging branches, the sunlight barely piercing its leafy canopy, it was hard to see, and Darcy allowed his instinct and his hearing to guide him. Whoever it was, they were quick on their feet, and he increased his pace as the ground began to rise underfoot. Branches clawed at his clothes as he ran, one scoring his cheek and drawing blood.

  Regardless, he did not give up the chase, closing in on his quarry as it darted to and fro. Clearly, they knew their direction, but his legs were longer and his strength greater, and as they emerged into a clearing in the centre of the wood, the person concealed beneath the cloak tripped and fell.

  Darcy stood, hands on his hips, breathing heavily, as the figure struggled unsteadily to its feet, dislodging the hood in the process. Startled, Darcy took a step backwards, then stared in disbelief at what he beheld.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Barely had Elizabeth and the colonel reached the tree, when Viola dropped to the floor from it, brushing her skirts free of some leaves.

  ‘Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam; Miss Elizabeth! We did not see you approach!’

  ‘Clearly,’ said the colonel dryly.

  The twins exchanged an anxious look, then turned contrite eyes upon him. ‘Do you forgive us, sir? We did not mean for the lady to become the victim.’

  ‘It is not for me to forgive you; I suspect we might all feel a little less guilty if the intended recipient had been at the end of your prank.’

  They had the grace to look a little chastened, but it was momentary, and Elizabeth had to hide her smile so as not to indulge them.

  ‘We promise not to attempt it again.’

  ‘You should not attempt to climb trees, either, Miss Viola. You are young ladies now!’

  ‘But we wished to recover this, Miss Elizabeth.’ She held aloft a piece of pink ribbon, which had clearly been battered by the elements.

  Olivia took it from her. ‘We saw it when the colonel took us ghost hunting.’

  ‘And here it remained, lodged in the branches of this tree.’ Viola pointed whence she had just come. ‘We could not retrieve it by our efforts the other night.’

  ‘So we decided to try an alternative approach.’

  ‘We think it may belong to our ghostly spirit!’ Viola beamed at the colonel as Elizabeth laughed.

  ‘I am not certain a ghost would have much use for such a material thing as a ribbon, my dear.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘Oh, but we can be certain of one thing, Miss Elizabeth! The ghost glimmering in the tree tops exists nonetheless.’ She smiled widely. ‘You saw it yourself, did you not?’

  Elizabeth smiled in return. ‘You both have splendid imaginations, but do take care where it leads you! Scaling the branches of a tree for a piece of discarded ribbon could have led to a fall and all its consequences.’

  ‘Oh look! Is that Mr Darcy?’ Viola pointed back towards the stable block, and they all turned to look. Positioned as they were on higher ground, it was possible to see over the boundary wall and observe a horse travelling at speed up the stone driveway towards the stables, the rider’s coat billowing behind him.

  The colonel frowned. ‘It is indeed.’ The twins had turned away to inspect their find, and he glanced at Elizabeth. ‘I told him to burn off his anger, not bring it home with him.’

  Elizabeth bit her lip. ‘It seems his ride did not answer.’

  They waited, Elizabeth’s insides all aflutter, expecting Darcy to enter the grounds through the same gate they had used as it was the nearest to the stables, but when he did not, the colonel excused himself.

  ‘I will see if I can track him down, discover what is amiss.’

  Watching Colonel Fitzwilliam stride purposefully back the way they had come, Elizabeth regretted she could not go with him. If something was troubling Mr Darcy, she wished to know about it.

  ‘We are taking our find back to the house, Miss Elizabeth.’

  Turning around, Elizabeth smiled at Olivia. ‘I will come with you. I think I will call on Miss Latimer and see she has come to no harm from her recent adventure.’

  Both girls looked a little shamefaced, but then they brightened. ‘Perhaps we should come too!’

  Viola looked to her sister in excitement. ‘We could bring something for her—a gift of some sort!’

  ‘To say we are sorry. What a superb notion, Viola!’ Olivia turned to look at Elizabeth. ‘What do you think, Miss Elizabeth? Would she appreciate such a gesture?’

  Elizabeth found she had no answer; it was nigh on impossible to say what Miss Latimer might think about anything.

  ‘An apology is a necessity, of that I am certain.’ She turned and began walking towards the house and the twins fell into step behind her. ‘I would be grateful,’ she added over her shoulder, ‘If you would permit me to see her—if she will allow it—first?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Viola nodded. ‘You go on ahead, Miss Elizabeth. We will put our heads together on what we can bring.’

  Leaving them to whisper excitedly to each other, Elizabeth could not help but smile as she walked back towards the door to the boot room. How easily they were distracted from anything negative in their lives; how little they chose to dwell upon the disagreeable, seeking only to appease. It was the way of their brother too—though how well he might take this latest incident she could not begin to imagine!

  Elizabeth’s gaze scanned the parkland, but there was no sign of Mr Bingley and her sister, and she hurried her steps, keen to see how things lay with the Latimers. It would provide adequate diversion, to be certain, from dwelling upon what ailed Mr Darcy.

  ~o0o~

  Darcy ran a hand through his hair as he paced up and down in his steward’s office. His mind was reeling, the tension in his shou
lders taut as can be, and his heart continued to pound fiercely in his chest. To think, he had left home that morning wrapped up in his anger and frustrations over Wickham, Latimer and everything connected to them; he did not need further complications! When would there ever be a moment to try and speak to Elizabeth, to see if anything could be resolved between them once and for all?

  Muttering an expletive, Darcy turned on his heel, but his eye was then caught by the large estate plan on the wall. He walked over and glared at the mark indicating the village of Kympton and its church. What was he to do about this latest development?

  ‘There you are!’

  Darcy turned about. His cousin was peering around the door. ‘Rivers said you were in need of some privacy. Shall I make myself scarce?’

  ‘No—no, you had best come in, Fitzwilliam.’

  The colonel sauntered over to join Darcy, who had turned back to study the plan on the wall, conscious of his cousin’s eyes widening as he took in his dishevelled appearance.

  ‘You are white as a sheet, man!’ He placed a hand on Darcy’s arm and turned him about. ‘What the devil has happened to you?’

  ‘I wish I knew, Cousin.’ Darcy leaned back against the wall. ‘Let us say, my ride was not quite the remedy we had hoped.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand across his forehead. He was gaining the devil of an ache in it, that much he did know.

  ‘Clearly!’ The colonel pointed at Darcy’s face, and he lifted a hand to touch the cut in his cheek, then winced; his fingers bore the evidence of it bleeding yet.

  ‘An uncompromising branch.’

  ‘You are quite done in. Here, sit.’ The colonel pulled Rivers’ chair out from behind the desk and almost forced Darcy into it, where he rested his elbows on his knees and let his head drop into his hands. How could he possibly make any sense of what had just happened?

  ‘Here; drink this.’

  Darcy raised his head and squinted at his cousin; he was holding out his hip flask, and he took a slug from it, relishing the sting of the liquor as it rolled down his throat. The colonel took it back and splashed some of the alcohol onto a scrap of clean cloth he had found before giving it to Darcy, and he held it against his cheek, wincing again as the sting hit home.