The Phantom of Pemberley

by Regina Jeffers

  Within moments, Murray had opened the door of the adjoining chamber. Despite expecting it, Jatson had still flinched when Murray jerked the door from its frame and spoke to him.“Did you see anything?” the other footman demanded.

  “No…no one. I be in this hall since I found the locked door. No one else come this way.”

  Murray disappeared back the way he had come, but Jatson did not desert his post. He stood his ground even when he heard Mr. Darcy obviously take his frustration out on the bedchamber’s furniture.

  Patiently, he waited for the next order from Pemberley’s master. His job paid better than any similar position in the area, and Jatson, whose wife had recently delivered a son, would do nothing to jeopardize his child’s future. They were saving for a small cottage. Deep in thought, daydreaming of his wife and child, at first he was unaware of danger until he observed the long, reflected shadows from the wall sconce. Someone stood behind him.

  Jatson wanted to move, but he had heard tales of the Shadow Man all his life, and a small part of him-—the part that controlled his feet—believed the legends. His body stiffened as the shadow came closer.Then the phantom raised his hands above his head, and Jatson saw the image of a sword ready to exact justice, and he could no longer remain rooted to the spot.

  Swiftly as the sword made its descent, he twirled around, knocking the weapon to the side.The intruder was closer than he had anticipated, and Jatson found himself stumbling backward against the wall. The sword found a home—his arm burned with the weight of the cut.

  He raised the blade above his head and brought it down hard. But Darcy’s footman turned at the last second, as if the man knew his peril.The watchman staggered from the momentum, and the sword took a jagged chunk from the man’s arm.

  Knowing he had only seconds to escape, James used the hilt of the weapon to deliver a blow across the side of the man’s head, knocking the footman to the floor. Dropping the sword, he fled through the bedchamber door, closing it quickly behind him and rushing to the open hearth. He swung the secret entry closed and grabbed the candle he had left on the inside step. Purposefully, he made his way to the lowest level.While Darcy tended the wounded footman, James would raid the cold cellar again in anticipation of a long day. Hopefully, he could find a loaf of Mrs. Jennings’s bread or a few boiled eggs. He would be enclosed in the secret passage until he was ready to make a stand against Darcy—maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

  The sound of the thud brought Darcy’s attention to the hall.“What the hell!” he grumbled as he turned toward the door. “Jatson!” he called, seeing the footman lying prostrate upon the carpet runner. Darcy rushed forward, kneeling by his man. “Jatson,” he said again as he lifted his servant’s head. His hand came back covered in blood. “Murray, tear one of the sheets from the bed. Jatson needs a bandage.”

  Murray rushed to the room they just vacated and returned with a sheet trailing behind him. He tore at the material, pulling off long strips.

  Darcy reached for the strips and began to wrap them around the footman’s head. “Mr. Baldwin, we will need help moving him to one of the other rooms. And send for Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”The butler rushed to do his bidding.

  “Murray, come here. Hold the bandage—press here to stop the blood flow.” Darcy released the folded cloth to his trusted servant. Then he grabbed the torn sheet, stripping off another long piece. He wrapped the man’s arm. “This one looks bad, but it does not seem too deep.” He tied the piece to secure it in place.

  Mr. Baldwin and two others returned at a run.“Let us place him in one of the main hallway rooms,” Darcy ordered as the men positioned themselves where they might lift Jatson’s unconscious body. “I will tell Mrs. Darcy of our trials and then come to his room.”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”

  He leaned against the inside wall, trying to stay out of their way. Watching them go, Darcy gave a silent prayer of thanks that no one had lost his life in tonight’s altercation. Instinctively, he picked up the sword. It was his sword; he recognized it immediately. Motioning for another of his men to see to the clean up, Darcy made his way to his wife’s chambers. What would he tell her? Would Elizabeth see things he did not, or had her previous admonishments opened his eyes to the evil that had invaded his home?

  He tapped lightly on her door. “Elizabeth,” he whispered.

  She threw the door open and pulled him into the room, embracing him. “Thank God you are well!” Her tears streamed down her cheeks. “I was terrified.” She encircled his waist with her arms and snuggled into his warmth.

  Darcy kissed the top of her head. “I have only a few minutes. Jatson was hurt, and I must see to his care. Hopefully, he saw the man and can tell us more.”

  “Then our mysterious visitor was there?” She tilted her head back so she might see Darcy’s face.

  “He barricaded himself in one of the east wing guest chambers. Evidently, he slept in the room. Murray and I had to push back the desk and a chair before we could enter the room. By the time we did, our phantom had disappeared. I saw a flash of color—actually of his coat when we first made our foray, but that was all.The window stood wide open, but we both know he had not jumped out the window.” Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement. “Within a few minutes, we heard a noise in the hall. Jatson was unconscious; he had a head wound and a slice across his arm.The intruder used the sword from the armor.”

  “The one in the hallway leading to the conservatory?”

  “I believe so. I left the sword in the hall; I did not want to frighten you unnecessarily.There is blood on the blade.”

  Elizabeth released her hold on him.“I want to go with you. Mrs. Reynolds may need my assistance. Help me with my dress.” She untied the belt of her robe.“I will wear my old muslin over my chemise.” She reached for the dark gray dress.“You will lace me up?”

  Darcy took off his own robe and slipped a shirt on. He donned his stockings and boots while Elizabeth put on the day dress.Then he moved behind her to tighten the laces. “You should abandon your corset. It cannot be good for the child.” His voice sounded distant; his mind was elsewhere.

  “I will as soon as this situation resolves itself. Then we can tell everyone our news.” She turned toward the door. “Let us do what is necessary, and then we will find comfort in each other’s arms.”

  The adrenaline gone from his body, Darcy nearly dragged himself along behind her, but his energy revived when he saw Jatson awake and sitting up in bed. Elizabeth led the way into the room, rushing to Mrs. Reynolds’s side. “How may I help?”

  The housekeeper looked up and smiled. “I knew you would come, Mistress.” She handed Elizabeth the bowl of soapy water. “Clean the arm wound so I might bind it.”

  “Certainly.” Elizabeth sat on the bed’s edge. She gently touched the servant’s arm. “Mr. Darcy and I are remorseful that you were injured, Mr. St. Denis.” Elizabeth dabbed at the wound, cleaning away the blood and the loose skin. “And we are very thankful for your dedication to the estate.”

  “It be nothing, Mrs. Darcy.”The man felt the honor of Pemberley’s mistress tending to him personally. “I be sorry I did not catch the blighter meself.”

  “Your safety is more important.” Elizabeth soothed the area with the balm Mrs. Reynolds had handed her. “Is it not, my Husband?”

  Darcy stood in the open doorway, framed by the hall lights. He watched with pride as his wife assumed the responsibility of tending to his man. He had known all along that Elizabeth Bennet would love his estate and would tend to Pemberley as he did, but to observe her kindness and charity firsthand made him love her even more—made him thankful that he had won her heart—made him count the blessings of having Elizabeth as his child’s mother. “Absolutely,” he said as he entered the room. “And you are not to worry. We will see that you and Mrs. St. Denis are well taken care of while you heal.”

  “Thank ye, Master. My Dorothea will sleep better, knowin’ our young’un will
not suffer while I not be workin’.”

  Darcy came to the bed’s other side.“Do you suppose you might tell us what happened?” He noted how Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds continued to work in tandem while tending Jatson’s wounds. They did not speak, but a nod of the head or a gentle touch did it all.

  “Well,” Jatson began, his head turned away from the women’s ministrations. “Ye be knowin’ how Murray be comin’ to ask if I sees anyone.”

  “Yes…yes, we know all that.”

  “I be standin’ where’s ye left me, Mr. Darcy. And I be thinkin’ how this be a good job, and how my missus be happy to have the extra pay now that we havin’ our Jobe.”

  Elizabeth looked up from her bandaging duties. Mrs. Reynolds had slipped from the room to get some laudanum from her medicine pantry. “That is right! I had totally forgotten about your new son, Mr. St. Denis. I hope the boy is doing well.”

  “He be growin’ stronger every day, Mistress.”

  “I am pleased to hear it.” Elizabeth tightened the bandage to hold it in place.

  Darcy cleared his throat, bringing the man’s attention back to his story. Jatson blushed and continued.“Anyways, I be noticin’ an eerie feeling, and then I sees it—a shadow person standin’ behind me.”

  Darcy frowned.“How could you see someone behind you?” He purposely ignored the reference to a shadow man. He would give no credence to the superstition.

  “I be seein’ the man’s silhouette on the floor next to mine.Then he raises a sword above his head. I couldn’t move at first, but the sword skeered me, so I’s turned. I’s knocked the sword aways ’fore he be cuttin’ off’n me head with it, but it cuts me arm instead.”

  Darcy asked anxiously, “Did you see the man’s face?”

  “I sees it, Mr. Darcy, right’n before he’s hittin’ me head.”

  Darcy leaned closer, praying there was some logical clue. “Can you describe the man? Did you recognize him?”

  “He be lookin’ like what ye already be knowin’. I’s don’t suspect I kin tell ye anything new.” Darcy looked away in frustration. Jatson noted his employer’s disappointment. “But I’s kin tell ye I’s seen him before, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy’s head snapped around in anticipation. “Where? Where have you seen the man before?”

  Jatson dropped his eyes.“I kin’t be sayin’ for sure, but I sees him recently, sir. Maybe I’s kin study on it a bit.”

  “I would appreciate anything you can remember, Mr. St. Denis.” Darcy began to move away from the bed. “I see Mrs. Reynolds has prepared some medicine to help you rest. Mrs. Darcy and I will leave you to mend.” He reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “Mrs. Reynolds, you will let me know if Mr. St. Denis needs anything else.”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She spooned the laudanum into Jatson’s mouth. “In the morning, I will send Lucas to let Dorothea know why Jatson does not return home. I do not want her to bring the babe out in the cold when we are capable of taking care of her husband here.”

  “That is most thoughtful, Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth said as she returned to Darcy’s side. “We will see you in the morning.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”

  Silently, they returned to their shared chambers and remained silent as they prepared for bed a second time. Darcy stoked the fire and straightened the bed linens as Elizabeth released the loose braid of her hair. Finally, they crawled in bed, burrowing under the blankets, seeking warmth. Only when Darcy released the drapery from its tie-back did they venture to voice their thoughts. “We were so close, Elizabeth.” She rested her head on his shoulder while Darcy aimlessly stroked her arm. “I do not know what else to do. I feel that I cannot ensure Pemberley’s safety,” he confessed in a whisper.

  Elizabeth knew Darcy’s admittance came with great difficulty. “We are just overlooking something obvious,” she assured him. “Have we any enemies—anyone displeased with the way we have dealt with them of late?”

  “There is always someone.” Darcy rolled on his side, so he might look upon her face.“Yet, even though a merchant might complain, the anger is not enough to commit murder.” He caught her hand and brought it to his chest, pressing it to his heart. “Our intruder has likely taken one life—Lawson’s—and he tried to end Jatson’s this evening. I have known men to take revenge for a supposed wrongdoing, but I have never known such evil. It is beyond my way of thinking.Who sets out to murder another?”

  “A madman.”

  The impact of her words struck them both dumb for several moments. “How do we fight a madman?”

  “More aggressively than we have done so to date. We need to make it harder for him to find food…to find a place to sleep. We must flush our phantom out. Right now, we are reacting to his appearances—to his attacks. We need to be the pursuers, rather than the pursued.”

  Darcy did not respond right away, taking time to reflect on what she had proposed. “What else might we do?”

  “We need for Mrs. Jennings to take stock of the supplies in the pantries.We need to block off entrances to the root cellar and cold cellar. I refuse to fill the stomach that wreaks havoc in my household.” Her chin rose in defiance.

  Darcy took note of her declaration that this was her household. It was what he had always wanted—a woman with the same devotion to Pemberley as he. Elizabeth had made the place her own, and even though she had ordered only subtle changes in the décor, she filled Pemberley’s walls with her personality. Since the day he had first walked her up the front steps and into the main foyer, the place carried her mark. She possessed him as much as she did his home. “I will see to it first thing in the morning,” Darcy agreed. “Have you other suggestions?”

  “We need a pattern of where our intruder has been seen. The east wing is obvious, but which rooms?” Elizabeth knitted her brow. “He was in Georgiana’s room. That disturbs me…She may be in danger.”

  Darcy stiffened with the thought of his sister’s possible peril. “You believe Georgiana did not have a nightmare?”

  “At first, I took much of what she said as nerves, but I felt the cold air rushing through her room, Fitzwilliam. Yes, I believe the light she saw was our ghost.”

  “She needs someone else sleeping in her room. I will assign two maids to sleep on pallets until we find this man, and Georgiana is not to pay midnight visits to the music room.You and I must insist on it.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, indicating she had other ideas. Finally, she found her voice. “I know you well enough, my Husband, to know that you have made the connection.We had no problems at Pemberley until we opened our doors to strangers.”

  Darcy looked relieved. He had drawn similar conclusions the preceding evening. “I have considered,” he began slowly, “that one of our guests could be our practitioner—he is one of them. Yet, our so-called madman is just that—a man. I cannot give merit to the belief that either Lord Stafford or Mr. Worth creates such chaos. I do not know His Lordship well, but the worst that is said is he is an immature young man, overly fond of his own pleasures. But I also know he treats his servants well, and he contributes regularly to several charities. He does not have the nature of a murderer.”

  “And Mr.Worth?” Elizabeth prompted.

  “I met Worth several years ago when I settled Mr. Wickham’s numerous debts in Cheshire.” Darcy paused, choosing his words carefully.

  “What is it, Fitzwilliam? You must tell me what you know.”

  Darcy lovingly caressed her cheek and brushed the hair from Elizabeth’s face before he spoke. “Mr. Worth was returning from Newcastle, where a colleague had summoned him. It was purely by happenstance that he traveled in the same coach as Mrs. Wickham. Your sister’s husband has accumulated additional debt. Much more debt than I can assume without borrowing from Georgiana’s dowry or jeopardizing our child’s inheritance. I will do neither to save the man. Plus,Worth also reports that Mr.Wickham’s adultery and his physical abuse of Mrs.Wickham are now common knowledge among those statione
d at Newcastle. We cannot disassociate ourselves from your family, but we must find a way to minimize their impact on us—for Georgiana’s sake.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard, fighting back the tears flooding her eyes. Her shame when she had shared with Darcy the news of Lydia’s elopement returned. Her husband had acted honorably, saving her and the rest of her sisters from public humiliation. Her husband had done it all without taking credit and without her knowledge—because it required an explanation that would rob her Uncle Gardiner of his borrowed feathers and give the praise where it was due and because Darcy loved her more than even she had realized at the time. Her aunt and uncle had given way to Darcy because they had given him credit for another interest in the affair—her heart, which he owned completely. “Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she moaned, “My family and I cannot repay you for how you saved our reputation.”

  “I told you before. Your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I thought only of you at the time. And you owe me nothing. I think only of you still. I love you with all that I am. I will love you with every ounce of my being until my last breath. And I will love you beyond that.”

  “I do not deserve you.”

  “Let us not dwell on these issues, Elizabeth,” he declared as he rolled her to her back and covered her body with his. “Tomorrow…” he murmured close to her lips. “Tomorrow we will deal with our problems.Tonight…tonight, I wish only to show the woman I love how very perfect I find her.” He claimed her mouth, deepening the kiss and losing himself in her passion.

  Lydia Wickham spent another restless night at Pemberley. Her sister’s pure happiness made her own marriage seem that much worse. Elizabeth had chosen the most disagreeable of men, but her sister had proved them all wrong. Mr. Darcy devoted himself to Elizabeth’s happiness: Lizzy had a beautiful home and true love.

  As for Lydia, she had chosen the more amiable George Wickham—a man who possessed a handsome face and a way of pleasing all onlookers. Her husband was the type of man toward almost every female eye turned, and Lydia had originally prided herself upon being the woman he had chosen. Initially, everyone in Meryton had believed her husband’s disgraceful lies regarding his relationship with Mr. Darcy. Even Elizabeth had accepted Wickham’s tales of malicious revenge and justice. It was only after Lydia’s ill-fated elopement with him that the world had known her Wickham for his true colors.