The Phantom of Pemberley

by Regina Jeffers

  Shawl in hand, she had followed Anne at a more leisurely pace. However, when she had heard the scream, she rushed forward, fearing the worst, but found only a man in the Pemberley livery blocking her way. “What is going on?” she cried. She peered around the man’s shoulder. He stood perfectly still. “Move!” she ordered as she tried to press past him.

  “I would not,” he growled.

  Mildred looked up into his eyes, which were red with anger. The man frightened her, but she mustered her best duenna voice—the one she had used years earlier for misbehaving children—and ordered,“See to your duties, sir, and remove yourself from my way.”

  The man leaned menacingly over her, but he said no more. When she raised her chin in defiance, he whispered in a gravelly voice, sounding much older than his appearance indicated, “Beware, old woman!” And then he left, disappearing in the direction of the family quarters.

  Mildred stared after him for a few brief seconds, overpowered by his rudeness, but as he withdrew, her sensibility returned, and she rushed to Anne’s side.

  Darcy glanced down to where Lawrence continued to tend to his mistress. “Can she be moved?” he asked as he knelt again.

  “I can find no obvious injuries, but I am no physician,” Lawrence said. “Yet, I think we can move Cathleen to her room.”

  Darcy started to motion for a waiting footman, but Lawrence shook off the offer. The viscount circled to the opposite side of the woman, where he might lift her without hurting Cathleen or himself. However, before he had made a move, his eyes fell on the first step. “What is that?” He indicated with his eyes for Darcy to look to what he saw.

  Darcy obeyed the urgency in the viscount’s eyes. “I do not know.” He bounded up the eight rises and reached for what he and Lawrence now realized had caused the accident. A thin piece of hemp—pulled tight—stretched from the banister’s spindle and hooked around a decorative nipple in the wall’s baseboard.

  “What the hell?” The viscount ran his finger along the line. Angrily, Lawrence jerked on the looped thread and broke it.“Cathleen could have been seriously hurt,” he hissed. “Is this some sort of perverted trick?”

  Darcy did not like the man’s accusation. “We have never experienced anything of this sort at Pemberley, sir—at least, not until we were beset with unscheduled visitors.We opened our doors out of kindness. If you and Miss Donnel wish to withdraw, I will make no an effort to stop you.” Darcy stood erect, arms akimbo—his fists opening and closing.

  Lawrence, equally as tall, stood also—toe to toe; they took each other’s measure. “I shall see to my cousin’s well-being, and then you and I will speak of this at greater length, Darcy.”

  “It would be my pleasure, sir,” Darcy snapped.

  Adam returned to where Cathleen now pushed herself to a seated position.“Let me help you, Darling,” he murmured softly to her. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

  “My ankle,” she muttered. “And my head.”

  “Let me see you to your room.” Adam lifted her to his chest and began to climb the steps again. When he reached the point where Darcy still stood, he snarled, “Might you send someone to my cousin’s room, sir?”

  Darcy felt sorry for Miss Donnel’s injury, and he understood the viscount’s anger, but he objected to the man’s tone.“Mrs. Reynolds will see to it personally, Lord Stafford.”

  When Adam reached the hallway, he let Lydia Wickham lead the way to Cathleen’s room. “Allow me to get the door and turn down the bed, Lord Stafford.”

  “Thank you, Mrs.Wickham.”

  Adam gingerly placed Cathleen on the bed. He wanted to examine his mistress’s ankle himself, but a gentleman would not conduct himself as such, even with a cousin. Luckily, Mrs. Reynolds rushed through the door, carrying bandages and several medicine bottles. “I will tend to Miss Donnel,Your Lordship.”

  “I know this may be unseemly, Mrs. Reynolds, but I will wait on the other side of the screen in case you have need of my assistance.”

  The housekeeper did not think that would prove likely; yet, she simply nodded her assent. “Where might be the most pain, Miss?” Mrs. Reynolds gently raised Cathleen’s chin to look in her eyes—to determine the clarity within them.

  “The back of my head.” Cathleen reached to feel a raised lump behind her right ear.

  Mrs. Reynolds replaced the woman’s hand with hers. Gently, she removed two pins from Miss Donnel’s hair and probed the affected area. “I see no laceration,” Mrs. Reynolds announced. “You should probably remain in bed for a day or two just to be sure—until the swelling goes down.” The housekeeper looked up to see Lydia Wickham still lurking by the door. “Mrs. Wickham, might I trouble you to send one of the maids to me?”

  Curious about the interactions—Lord Stafford’s more-than-familiar relationship with Miss Donnel and his less-than-friendly confrontation with Mr. Darcy moments earlier—she volunteered, “I will find someone and return to help you also.”

  Mrs. Reynolds had lost all respect for George Wickham many years earlier, and she fought to not transfer those feelings to the man’s wife; however, the girl’s foolish interference irritated her. “That will not be necessary, Mrs. Wickham,” she stressed. “Please join the master in the dining room; my staff and I can handle Miss Donnel’s injuries. I am sure that your sister—that Mrs. Darcy—will call on Miss Donnel herself. The mistress is all charity,” she pronounced with the assurance of a skilled servant long in her position.

  Lydia wanted to speak to Lord Stafford—wanted to assess the situation personally—as this was the most interesting thing in the house right now—but she relented. “I will see to it.” She flounced from the room.

  Seconds later, a maid entered.“You sent for me, Mrs. Reynolds?”

  “Miss Donnel will need cold compresses for her head, Betanne.”

  “Probably for my ankle, as well,” Cathleen muttered from behind them.

  Mrs. Reynolds jerked her head around.“Oh, my, Miss, I did not realize.” She lifted the sheet. “Which ankle, Miss Donnel?”

  “The left.”

  The housekeeper raised the woman’s lower leg and cradled the ankle in her hands. “Might I rotate it?” she asked as she touched the tender joint.

  “Yes.”

  Gingerly, the older woman circumvolved the injured foot, while bracing it from the back.“I observe no breakage, Miss.” She turned it again just to be sure.“The ankle is swollen and quite bruised.We should elevate it.” Mrs. Reynolds took several pillows and placed them where she might rest Miss Donnel’s foot on the cushions. “We will need compressions for the ankle as well, Betanne, and have Mrs. Jennings send up some oil of chamomile.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds.”The girl curtsied and departed.

  Mrs. Reynolds spread a blanket across the young woman’s lap. “You may join us,Your Lordship,” she called out to the viscount.

  Adam reappeared immediately.

  “I am assuming, sir, that you overheard what I have told your cousin.”

  Adam sat beside the bed and took Cathleen’s hand in his.“I did, Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “It seems important to keep your cousin in bed where she might rest. I would also like to give Miss Donnel a dose of laudanum ; the medicine will ease her pain.”

  Adam patted Cathleen’s hand. “I suggest we ask Mrs. Reynolds for a tray. Once you have eaten, the laudanum will not have such a dramatic after effect. I will remain with you until you are asleep.”

  “Thank you, Adam.” Cathleen knew he felt affection for her: Adam Lawrence would protect her even though she was no more than his mistress.

  “Let me see to a tray, Your Lordship. I will be back in a few minutes.” Darcy’s servant disappeared.

  Adam shifted to sit on the edge of Cathleen’s bed. “I am so sorry, Sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. “I wish I could change this for you.”

  “I will recover,” Cathleen assured him. “I will be able to escape the possible censure of Mr. Darcy’s relatives if
I remain in bed and out of sight.”

  “I beg your forgiveness for that also.” He traced lines up and down her arm with his fingertips.

  “For what must you ask forgiveness? You went beyond the boundaries most men would offer in a relationship such as ours. You tried to see me to Cheshire to be with my family. Only Nature’s full fury stopped us; I will never forget your kindness.” Cathleen caught his hand and brought the back of it to her lips.

  Adam leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are a beautiful woman, my Dear—both inside and out.” He returned to his seat in the nearby chair before someone saw them acting like lovers, not cousins. “Can you tell me what you remember of your accident?”

  Cathleen’s brow frowned in concentration. “I do not believe there is much to tell. Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh both entered the hallway about the same time as I.We all moved toward the top of the stairs. Mrs. Williams came last.When the widow opened her door, Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh paused to wait for the lady, but I continued on.When I started to descend the steps, I lost my balance.”

  “Then any of you could have been the first one down the steps? I mean…Mrs. Wickham did not purposely hold Miss de Bourgh back or vice versa?”Adam attempted to visualize what she described.

  “Mrs. Wickham was already in the hall when I left my room.” Cathleen tried to see the action in her head.

  Adam reasoned aloud, “Really? I wonder for how long.”

  Cathleen looked puzzled.“I assumed it was for only a second or two. It was time for the afternoon meal.”

  “But it could have been longer?” Adam put together the pieces of the mystery.

  “Miss de Bourgh came after I started for the dining room. I remember her coming from the right hallway, where your room is.”

  Adam’s countenance turned grim. “Someone rigged a thin line of rope across the step. It was difficult to see it in the dim light. I suspect that you were not the intended victim, but purely an innocent bystander. Now, I am trying to determine who might have had the opportunity to do so.”

  “You suspect Mrs. Wickham?” Cathleen tried to reason it out, but could not fathom the purpose of such a trap.

  Adam’s voice spoke of anger—of regret—and of determination. “I suspect everyone until I know otherwise.”

  CHAPTER 6

  FITZWILLIAM DARCY SILENTLY FUMED as he oversaw the afternoon meal. Mrs. Reynolds had informed him of Lord Stafford’s request for a tray for himself and Miss Donnel. Darcy understood the man’s concern, but he did not relish the idea of pretending a disinterested calm before the rest of his guests. It was bad enough that in addition to the viscount and his mistress, three others had witnessed what was evidently an attempt to cause someone real harm. Between the recent disappearances, Georgiana’s nighttime “visitor,” and now this staged trap, Darcy’s nerves strained for control.

  “I came down thirty minutes earlier,” Mr.Worth bemoaned missing the incident.“I took no note of anything unusual at that time.”

  Mrs. Williams sipped her soup. “I pray Miss Donnel suffers no continuing injury.”

  “My housekeeper reports that the lady has a badly bruised ankle and a sizable bump on the back of her head, but Miss Donnel should recover quickly,” Darcy assured everyone.

  Georgiana offered, “I think it admirable that His Lordship sees to his cousin personally. I imagine that Edward would be as attentive for Anne or me.”

  Darcy noted Elizabeth’s questioning stare, but he ignored her silent demand for answers. “Lord Stafford does seem most concerned. The family is suffering with the illness of a loved one, compounded by the inconvenience of being stranded by the storm.”

  “I still say the man affects his cousin,” Lady Catherine remarked to no one in particular.

  “It should be none of our concern,” Anne said evenly.

  The fact that his cousin offered an opinion of any kind caught Darcy off guard. He had no time to intercept his aunt’s response. “One could hardly help but take notice,” Lady Catherine snarled. “And who are you to correct me? Since when do you censure me—your mother—the woman who suffered to bring you into the world?”

  “And what a lovely world it is, Mother!” Anne stood suddenly, throwing her napkin on the table. “If you will excuse me, Fitzwilliam,” she mumbled as she rushed from the room.

  “Well, I never!” Lady Catherine began.

  However, Darcy cut her remarks short.“I am sure,Aunt, that my cousin meant no harm. It could have been Anne or Mrs. Jenkinson or Mrs. Williams or Mrs. Wickham lying in that bed right now or even worse. Anne is sensitive; I beg you not to dwell on her unintended aspersion.”

  His aunt said grudgingly, “I suppose, Darcy.

  Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye. “Maybe Mrs. Jenkinson might see to Miss de Bourgh.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Elizabeth. Mrs. Jenkinson, please send us a report on Anne’s recovery when you deem her settled.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Thank you, sir.” The lady gave Elizabeth a quick nod of gratitude and followed Anne to their adjoining quarters.

  “Anne,” the older woman called as she came through their connected dressing rooms,“are you well?” Anne lay prostrate across her bed, clutching a lace handkerchief in her left hand—her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Mildred Jenkinson sat on the edge of the bed, lightly stroking Anne de Bourgh’s back. “Oh, Anne, my darling girl. I hate having you so distraught.”

  Sniffles and sobs escaped as Anne buried her face into the pillow. “I cannot go back there!” she wailed.“I simply cannot return to Rosings.” She sat up suddenly to look at the only friend she had ever had. “If I return to Kent, I must accept never having any freedom until my mother leaves this earthly world. I cannot bear it, Mildred.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson slid her arm around Anne’s shoulder. “We will think of something. Maybe Mr. Darcy can convince Lady Catherine to soften her reproaches.” Mildred rarely spoke honestly about what she observed in the de Bourgh household, but she knew that Anne would not chastise her for speaking aloud what they both thought. “Or perhaps the Darcys might extend an invitation for you to remain at Pemberley when Her Ladyship returns to Kent.”

  Anne grasped at this hope. “Oh, Mildred, do you believe that possible? Even though Lieutenant Harwood may not be here, it would be heavenly to simply have the peace that Pemberley provides. I could learn to play the pianoforte at last. I have always wanted to play.”

  “I know, my Girl.” Mildred tightened her embrace.

  Anne closed her eyes as if picturing a different future. “And I could take a long walk if I chose or read a novel by Mrs. Radcliffe or paint a picture.There would be no one to say ‘She is quite a little creature’ or anyone to remark that I might become quite accomplished if I applied myself.” Anne sighed.

  Mildred hesitated. “I must offer you a caution: Even Mr. Darcy may choose to accept Lady Catherine’s dominion over you.”

  Anne refused to give up on her dreams. She wiped the tears from her face. “Help me to freshen myself. I must speak to my cousin immediately. If Fitzwilliam refuses to help, then I need to know before this storm lessens. I must have all my options present.” She rushed to her dressing room and poured fresh water in the bowl. Taking a folded cloth from the stack on the dressing table, Anne dipped it in the water and wrung it out. Dabbing at her eyes, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I hate the way my lids swell when I cry.” She pressed the cool cloth to her eyes and held it there. It was as if she washed away her troubles. “You will come with me, Mildred, when I speak to Mr. Darcy.”

  “I am sure the gentleman would prefer not to discuss familial relationships in my presence.” Mildred watched Anne’s demeanor. She had noted the subtle difference in Georgiana Darcy now that she was under Mrs. Darcy’s care. She would like to see Anne earn some confidence of her own.

  Anne came to kneel before her companion. “Oh, Mildred, you must come with me. I would not be able to approach Fitzwilliam without your support.”
She took the older woman’s hand and brought it to her cheek. “You are my only true friend; you know my deepest secrets.”

  Mildred Jenkinson stood, bringing Anne to her feet also.“Come, my Girl.You know I can never deny you.”

  Forty-five minutes later, they sat with Darcy in his study. Mrs. Jenkinson appreciated the kindness that Mr. Darcy showed as he listened carefully to Anne’s plea for asylum. He made no commitment, saying that he would need to speak to Mrs. Darcy and to the Fitzwilliam faction of the family before he chose to involve them in what would likely be another tiff with Lady Catherine.

  He questioned Anne regarding Lieutenant Harwood, specifically asking whether the man offered marriage and asking about anything else she might know of him. “It cheered me to know the good colonel was the one who introduced you to Harwood. I trust Edward’s opinion of a man’s character.” Darcy spoke the truth—he did trust his cousin’s judgment. But he also paid Harwood an indirect compliment to gain Anne’s confidence. Attacking the man had gotten Lady Catherine nowhere.

  “You would like the lieutenant, Fitzwilliam. One finds the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper. He is just what a young man ought to be: sensible, good-humored, lively, and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

  “Then Harwood is of family?” Darcy still wanted to know more of the man than his cousin’s idealized opinions.The fact that Harwood had met Anne privately at an inn bothered Darcy.Theoretically, the man compromised his naïve cousin; he chose to learn more of the man because Anne needed protecting.

  “The lieutenant is a second son; his brother Rowland will inherit. Robert has two sisters—one still at home and the other married to another officer in the service.”