by Glenna Mason
“There is a lovely stone house on the estate that Mary and I will live in much of the year. My father expects me to do the majority of the estate management now. He likes to relax, when the House of Lords is not in session. Of course we will visit them in town for part of the Season. Mary hardly seems the type to wish to flit around from soiree to soiree, and I’m certainly not. But we’ll enjoy the theater and the art museums and rides in the park with you and Elizabeth. It’s fun to be a part of the excitement for a couple of months.”
“I agree. Good night, Miles. Congratulations! I always thought that Mary was an exceptional blossom ready to bloom. You will receive the benefit of a lovely soul.”
“Yes, I think I shall.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alone with Darcy in the breakfast room early the next morning, Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I am concerned about Baroness Eleanor’s pearls.”
“Yes, the Baron was very gracious about the mishap and produced a credible alternative, but . . . “
“But you’ve never heard of the Baroness being even a slight bit forgetful.”
“Exactly! The Baroness is well known for her sharp insight and devilish wit. I believe the Baron did not want to allow an embarrassing scene to develop at our engagement ball.”
“How gallant of him. Then we probably had a thief in our midst. I wonder who.”
“I’ve no idea and never will have one. We had a house full of people: guests, footmen, lady’s maids, carriage drivers—an impossible scenario for detection on our part—a perfect setting for a jewel thief.”
“I heard whispers last night at dinner. You’ve heard tales of such a thing happening before, haven’t you? You intimated as much after the Caroline incident.”
“Actually, yes.”
“Where? When?” Elizabeth queried.
“Last Season in the ton at least two ladies claimed a thief had robbed them during their daughters’ debutante balls. Those are the thefts I referred to after our near disaster at Netherfield. And more recently, stories have emerged that a piece or two of valuable jewelry may have gone missing at a country estate ball and later at a hunt party. It is all hearsay, but not refuted either.”
“Oh!”
“But the most egregious report that circulated regarded thievery at Lord Hamilton’s house party last November in Northumberland. Reportedly, no less than five sets of diamonds, rubies and emeralds were lifted. That one made The Times.”
“How exciting! Do you suppose a famous jewel thief might have attended our ball in the dead of winter, a three days ride from London and no telling how far from Northumberland?” Elizabeth asked, jollity in every word.
Darcy laughed. “He probably climbed through an upstairs window; isn’t that what these master thieves usually do?” he jested back.
“What do you think really happened, Fitzwilliam?”
“There are three potentialities as I see it.”
“Lady Eleanor didn’t bring the pearls,” Elizabeth guessed.
“Most likely, she did bring them, intending to wear them, but left them upstairs in her jewelry box, where they safely remained or where they were surreptitiously stolen.”
“Or maybe they were somehow lifted right off of her neck.”
“Unlikely.”
“Will they let us know which?”
“Good heavens, no! Not unless they are found. Otherwise Eleanor and Geoffrey will never mention the incident again. They are too gentile to allow a hint of scandal to sully our engagement ball.”
“They are assuredly a most gracious couple,” Elizabeth said.
“As you know, we allocated four rooms for the ball guests to refresh, two rooms for the ladies and two for the gentlemen. But there was a maid in only one of the rooms for the ladies and a valet in one for the men. That was just in case someone needed assistance. Many brought their own maids and valets. The guests left their reticules, capes, and other adornments in the rooms. Of course some brought jewel caskets. There was no maid in one of the rooms set aside for ladies. A theft in that room would have been easy and would have gone unnoticed.”
“Do you think the thief, if there is one, went into the guests’ rooms also?”
“I doubt it.”
“Oh?”
“With lady’s maids and valets in and out of the rooms, it would take precision and present an elevated risk to a thief, certainly more than simply pretending to have a requisite in the room allotted for guests and probably by happenstance finding a jewel box, just ready for the taking.”
“But not impossible?”
“Certainly not! And we’re not investigating. Let them tell us if there is a problem.”
Noticing that Darcy was getting perturbed, Elizabeth effectively changed the subject. “We all felt like princesses in our new gowns, Fitzwilliam. Thank you.”
“You are all very welcome. I’d like it if you would have the modiste fashion you a few more winter gowns. You will be here a month; you need warmer attire than you brought from Hertfordshire. It will be a start on your new Derbyshire wardrobe. You can use them again next winter.”
“That is a fine idea. I shall.”
“We will be more casual after tomorrow night, so some day dresses, as well as outdoor attire would be appropriate. We may sled or skate.”
“What fun!” Then she winked. “I don’t know how.”
Darcy laughed. “I’ll hold you up or pull you down.”
Elizabeth frowned, not understanding the pun. “Oh, the hill and the lake.” She smiled at her own density, the joy reaching her eyes, which twinkled in the morning sun pouring through the casement.
“Oh, those eyes. So fine.”
“Smile, Fitzwilliam.”
He obliged. “Oh, those dimples. So fine.”
Darcy smiled even more broadly. “What a woman!” he thought. “Always fun.”
Later in April
London
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth Bennet Darcy said, “Jane and I have conferred.”
“Yes, so I realize. I have been without the pleasure of your company all morning,” Darcy answered, as the footman ladled his soup. He smiled at her.
“Now, darling, be serious,” she said, sending a return smile down the length of the table. “This is serious business, dividing up the Bennets and their kin.”
“So it is. Whom are we hosting?”
“Lydia and the Count.”
“How unfortunate that the Count and Countess moved to their Northumberland estate and gave up their London flat just in time to return for Mary’s wedding.”
“Unfortunate for us, you mean.”
“Well, of course.”
“Caroline is presently staying at the Bingleys. Jane and I couldn’t imagine Caroline and Lydia in the same domicile again. It didn’t work very well last time.”
“Certainly not.”
“So Jane gets Mama and Aunt Phillips.”
“Your father? Your uncle?”
“Oh, they’re staying here.”
“And Miss Mary?”
“We both requested her presence, but Mary decided to stay at Jane’s and help with Mother,” Elizabeth said.
“Anne and Mason are at her townhouse. Kitty and the colonel return from their honeymoon just in time for Mary’s wedding parties—that would be today.”
“They’ll be at the Matlocks. Good thing that Jane and Bingley decided to honeymoon after Mary’s wedding, or we would have had the entertainment of the whole entourage,” Elizabeth declared.
“Yes, how fortunate to escape Caroline and travel to the Swiss Alps with Mary and the Viscount.”
Elizabeth stood. Darcy, confused, pushed back his chair and stood.
“Cameron, please move my plate to the right of Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Darcy pulled out her seat, smiling.
“I want to hold your hand under the table, Fitzwilliam.”
“You shall.” They both laughed.
“Elizabeth,
about our own honeymoon . . . “
“Isn’t that every night in your arms?”
Darcy was pleased.
“My darling, we shall go to the shore in the summer, just as you planned when you first requested my hand. In hindsight I’m quite amazed at your foresight. We have had to be available for three more weddings in five weeks. How could we have slipped a honeymoon into that schedule?” Elizabeth asked.
“I had this feeling—“
“You always do.”
“Love seemed to pervade the very air. I’m not sure it was my sensitivity alone that directed me to suggest a summer honeymoon in Ramsgate.”
*****
Mary’s wedding was four days away. Lydia and Count Pierre, the Bennets and the Phillips arrived in London this afternoon. The celebrations began tonight with a formal dinner party hosted by the Matlocks. The Darcys were giving a tea dance on Thursday. For Friday the Bingleys came up with a novel idea, a luncheon in one of the galleries of a famous art museum. The Earl and Countess of Westfield planned to hold court at a rehearsal dinner at his club Friday evening. Anne and Mason would host a reception for the newlyweds at their townhouse, immediately following the wedding ceremony.
After this whirlwind of activity, Mary and Miles decided they would spend Saturday night and all day Sunday, relaxing and resting up for their honeymoon trip, in a suite at an elegant London hotel.
“Surprise!” Mr. Bennet said sarcastically, laughing. “Resting up! Ha!”
Then on Monday, the Charles Bingleys and the Miles Heyburns would begin their honeymoon excursion to Switzerland.
“The weddings will be over,” Elizabeth said to Darcy, as they walked together up the stairs to bathe and dress for the first party on the schedule.
“Surely there must be someone else,” Darcy teased.
“Georgiana?”
“Not for years.”
“Oh, I know—Mr. Collins. He is somewhat of a relative, a distant cousin.”
“Maybe we should introduce him to Caroline.”
They laughed until the tears flowed.
That afternoon seated at her dressing table Elizabeth opened her jewelry case. The evening after their wedding Darcy had gifted her with his mother’s emeralds and sapphires. “Georgiana got the diamonds and the rubies,” he explained. “It was all set out in Father’s will. You both got a string of pearls of course. Fortunately there were two.”
Elizabeth, who to that point, had a gold cross and a few pieces ornamented with jade and lapis, was overwhelmed. Tonight she would wear her new jewels to the Matlock party. Darcy would be pleased and so, in fact, would she.
Fingering the elegant, brilliantly set stones, Elizabeth suddenly relaxed into her new role as Elizabeth Darcy. She had never envisioned such a future for herself and her sisters—truth be told, she’d spent little time worrying about the future. And yet here it was set in exquisite stones. Elizabeth smiled. Six short months had changed their lives forever—six months and five extraordinary men.
Now at this very moment in time Elizabeth realized that she was ready for the challenge. “I’ll be the best wife Fitzwilliam could have ever found in any time and space. He chose me because of who I am, independence and recalcitrance included.” She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “So, Elizabeth Darcy, no stepping into the false circles of London society or the dooming world of self-doubt either. Just be yourself. Amazingly, that is the very person your precious husband loves.”
Elizabeth got up and walked to her closet. It burgeoned with gowns, newly arrived from Madame DePre’s. “Sapphires or emeralds?” she queried. “Which shall it be tonight?”
Then her eyes lit on the perfect gown, a silver satin. “Emeralds or sapphires! I’ll decide later.”
That evening again in front of her dressing table, Elizabeth pondered her wonderful dilemma. “I’m in a sapphire mood tonight,” Elizabeth decided as Yvette styled her hair. “The stars are out in my heaven tonight.”
“Yvette, the hair piece with the sapphire star please. And the necklace and earrings to match.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Elizabeth locked her jewelry box back in the closet safe and took a last look in the full length mirror. “Sapphires, you are breathtakingly beautiful,” she said and beamed at her image.
Darcy entered their bedroom from his own dressing room on the other side of the suite. “Ready, my love?” he called.
Elizabeth stepped out. “Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright,” Darcy quoted.
“Oh, how Bard-like you are.”
“No use trying to improve on perfection. Shall we?”
The Darcys met the de Loirres in the upstairs hall and descended the staircase four abreast, arms linked. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Phillips were already down, having a whiskey in the library. Hearing the chatter in the hallway, the two emerged, drinks in hand.
“Pierre, look at Elizabeth’s sapphires. Tres belle, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oui, tres belle.”
“I’d like some.”
“One day, my dear. One day.”
With that pronouncement, the carriage pulled in front. The men donned their top hats and gathered their canes, and the ladies threw capes over their shoulders. All exited, when footmen opened the doors and bowed.
Something rumbled in the recesses of Darcy’s mind as the carriage clattered the three streets to Derby House, the Matlock’s home in town. “Sapphires, The Times, Northumberland.” But what? He could not bring it forward. Darcy’s concerns rose in direct proportion to his inability to synthesize his presentiments. “Perhaps later,” he decided, when the carriage drew to a halt before the Georgian mansion.
Noticing the sparkling of Elizabeth’s sapphires, when he handed the footman her cape, Darcy said, “Elizabeth, be sure to lock your jewels in the closet safe.”
“I always do.”
“Good. Lydia likes them a little too much for my comfort.”
*****
Late into the night Darcy lay awake, Elizabeth curled snugly against his chest, beautiful and sleeping soundly. Had Count de Loirre been in England by the time the Season concluded last year? Darcy wasn’t sure. Tomorrow he’d subtly find out. Why? He wasn’t sure about that either. There were the rumors of the missing jewels at the debut balls. So . . . So what?
It was just that the house hunting expedition of the Count and Countess had coincided with the notorious jewel heist at Lord Hamilton’s in Northumberland. That meant little, but they were in the vicinity. “Were they at the house party?” he wondered. One thing was certain: the pair were at Pemberley when the Baroness’s pearls went missing. Lydia had been sent upstairs several times, not only by her husband, but also by her father. “Lydia, a prime suspect.”
He decided to write to the Baron to see if the pearls had reappeared. He was fairly sure of the answer. The Baron would have already alerted him, if they had been found. But why not be certain? He would be diligent in his own home. The de Loirres were to stay a week. A lot could disappear in a week.
Darcy didn’t actually suspect Count Pierre. The de Loirres were widely recognized to be fabulously wealthy. However, wealthy men might find pleasure in all sorts of dalliances. And any man who would select Lydia Bennet as his wife had an inexplicable outlook on life. And, as for Lydia, Darcy was sure she would take anything she liked, without the slightest hesitation, thinking it her due.
At breakfast the next morning, Darcy easily ascertained from Count de Loirre that the gentleman had been traversing between France and England for several years, trying to decide which he preferred. The Count surprised Darcy with the news that his mother was British, so he enjoyed dual citizenship. “After meeting Lydia that fateful day, I finally made up my mind,” the Count said.
“Fateful indeed,” Darcy thought.
The Count admitted he’d been in England for part of the Season for the last five or six years, long enough to know he’d prefer going home to his own estate this year.
“Yes,
a few seasons of the Season are quite sufficient,” Darcy said, nodding his head in approval. He quite liked this Count. “If he’s a famous jewel thief, what business is it of mine,” Darcy reasoned. “Unless, of course, he steals from the Darcys.”
Thursday was a busy day at Darcy House. The couple hosted a tea dance from four to eight. All went smoothly. Mary was stunning in a bright blue satin, which accented a new set of diamonds in her hair, around her neck and on her ears. “An engagement and wedding present from the Earl,” she whispered to Elizabeth and Darcy, when they lined up to welcome guests. Miles stood proudly beside them, a complementary diamond pin showing on his cravat, his hand on her waist.
In fact by the time the dance began, jewels were everywhere. They seemed to flash through Darcy’s psyche, consuming his every thought. Elizabeth, disconcerted by Darcy’s un-Darcy-like manner, wondering at his frown and inattention, asked as they moved together in the dance, “What is wrong, my love?”
Darcy shook his head. “Enough,” he reprimanded himself.
“Enough?” Elizabeth queried with a frown of her own.
Darcy had to think fast. “Enough joy to fill the world,” he said, sweeping his hand to encompass the colors swishing about in the movements of the quadrille.
Elizabeth was nobody’s fool. She countered, “You were frowning due to joy?”
“The sparkle of its light must have momentarily blinded me,” Darcy explained, bowing to her in time to the music, “causing an involuntary frown.” He laughed. She’d heard “enough” and joined him in his laughter.
The rest of the party went well. No jewels went missing.
However, the same could not be said for the reception after the Saturday wedding. Around seven that evening, Anne sent a footman to Darcy House, requesting Darcy’s presence at his convenience, preferably, however, right away.
So at eight Darcy excused himself from the gentlemen, enjoying port and cigars in the library, and informed Elizabeth he wanted to walk over to Anne’s, but would return soon.
Anne and Mason received him in their parlor and offered port or cognac. Over a glass of cognac, the couple described their dilemma.