by Wells, Linda
“Of course. That is a … wise way to regard her, Mrs. Darcy.” Mrs. Annesley felt her heart clenching for Georgiana as she remembered the gathering of ladies and the idle and sometimes unkind gossip. She thought of riding to Pemberley with the newborn baby and Mrs. Darcy’s joy contrasted with the judge’s obvious relief to put Scotland behind them. Elizabeth did not say a word, but Mrs. Annesley read everything in her eyes and knew what she was asking of her. “I would not have given another thought to her had you not mentioned it, madam. I … believe that she must have a wonderful family.”
“I believe that she does, too.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and felt relief wash over her, and then took the next step. “Miss Darcy was witness to a heated conversation at Matlock concerning what should be done with fallen girls, and the opinions of her relatives were disturbing to her. It was then followed by Mrs. Kelly’s mention of Miss Cargill and speculation of her condition, and the … gentleman who was seen with her …”
“Oh my.” Mrs. Annesley shook her head. “I do not believe that Mr. Dar … the gentleman … was held responsible by most, as …” She hesitated and looked to her lap, “You were obviously happy with him and would not have tolerated hosting the girl he had … You were simply providing … a place of sanctuary at her time of need.”
“By most, the gentleman was considered innocent.” Elizabeth shook it off and opened her eyes. “As I said, Miss Darcy was witness to this discussion by family who have not seen her for a long time, and I believe that it has brought home to her how fortunate she is to be living here at Pemberley. I imagine that it makes her reluctant to leave, and hesitant to see what she might encounter in the future. It is Mr. Darcy’s and my opinion that as much as we love her and welcome her to live out her days in our home, she must step out into the world, even if it is only for a brief time, or else she will never …”
“Recover.” The women looked at each other.
“You understand.”
“Yes, Mrs. Darcy. I do. May I say that I had no idea? Your efforts have been exceptionally successful at Pemberley for a staff so committed to your family not to know.”
“Well. Thank heaven for that.” Elizabeth at last managed a small smile. “We debated what to tell you, and when. And if it had not been for your connection to Mrs. Kelly and the likelihood of her sending a letter to you, I would have left it for Georgiana to determine when you would be told. I hope that our trust in you is well-placed, and I hope that if she ever chooses to tell you all, that you manage to convince her that it is the first you have heard of it.”
“Would that not be a lie to her? Would it help her to know that I am aware so that she can be open with me of her feelings?”
“No, I have come to know my sister, and she will speak when she feels safe with you. Do not force the issue. Be her friend and it will come, if she wishes.”
“Will you tell me how this came to pass? I have a terrible sense that this was worse than a moment of foolishness on the part of a naive girl.”
“It was … foolishness was certainly involved, but it was not a matter of moments. My husband endured … a living hell …” Her eyes welled up, “Please forgive my language, he still has yet to reveal to me everything that happened. I think that the pain of it all is too wrenching for him, and Georgiana has kept much of it to herself as well.” She closed her eyes as thoughts of her husband intruded. She knew that he was keeping something from her, and the worry was becoming difficult to bear. Mrs. Annesley put a supporting hand on her forearm, and opened her eyes to see the companion’s attention. Determinedly shaking it off, she cleared her throat. “How it happened is not my concern now. We must address the present and the future.” Standing, she searched her gown for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “My goodness this is damp already. How many times today have I found myself close to tears?”
“Are you well, Mrs. Darcy? I am sorry that your plans were cancelled.” Mrs. Annesley asked with a gentle smile. “Mr. Darcy looks at you with such happiness.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth blushed and tucking away her handkerchief, walked to the door with her. “He is famous for looking at me.”
I TOLD UNCLE that we needed to go home. Darcy nodded to himself as he guided Bruin over the old familiar path to the farthest field of the home farm and towards his waiting steward. His mind was miles away from his worries, and he was completely, utterly, relaxed. The entire way, his imagination had been at work, reliving their frenzied encounter and envisioning what exactly she had planned for their day together. He knew that she was as sated as he, but he also knew that she was not in the least through. That sent a new thrill through him, wondering when and how she would strike. There was no question of if. He had foiled her plans and Elizabeth was not a woman to have her desires put off. The anticipation was exquisite, even if the pain of riding his headstrong stallion while aroused was not.
“It should be a fine harvest, sir.” Barnes pulled out a small leather bound book from a saddle bag and opening to a page, handed it over to his master. If he noticed that Darcy started when he spoke and kept his reins over his breeches, the steward made no sign of it. “I compared the yields from the last few seasons. If we manage to bring all of this in before the rains come, we will have tripled the profit.”
“Well then, our decisions about the farming were wise.” Darcy murmured and focussing on the book, read over the numbers, tracing his finger down the columns describing the wheat, maize, and oats. His brow creased at the barley numbers and seeing his master’s concern, Barnes smiled and turned the page. “You ran out of room.”
“Yes, sir.” He laughed. Where are you really, Mr. Darcy, surely it is not here.
Darcy shot him a sideways glance and cleared his throat, “Well done. I will have to write to Mr. Ferguson and tell him of our success.”
“I hope that you do not mind sir, but I invited him to visit when his crops are in next week. Now that the rotation has proven successful on the home farm, I know that you will be anxious to implement it everywhere. He was curious to see how much the harvesting machine eases the work. I am certain that the labourers on the rest of Pemberley will be, as well.” He nodded to the crowd of men gathered by the field.
“As we suspected, we have observers? Has everything been cordial thus far?”
“Thus far, it is only the first day. But I am ready if necessary.” He patted the pistol at his side.
“I sincerely hope it does not come to that.” Darcy said quietly.
“As do I. I have sent out your orders to be restrained. But if it comes, I think that our conjectures are correct, it will be another day, after they have sized up the competition, or maybe striking in the dark to destroy the machine. I think that is more likely.”
“I hope that we are preparing for nothing and the violence seen elsewhere will not be repeated here. I hope that our efforts to care for our people will be enough to allay their fears. It is just on the home farm, after all.” Watching the men and then looking to the machine at work, he ordered softly, “Let’s put some men in the storage shed at night.” Darcy lifted his brows. “Just in case.”
“Yes, sir.” Barnes agreed.
His sharp eyes focussed on the fields and he immersed himself again in the problems of the estate, “Mrs. Darcy thought it would be a fine idea to come and observe with me today.” They both looked at the workers standing at the edge of the field with crossed arms and then at each other. “Some other day, perhaps.”
“ARE YOU TAKING INVENTORY?” Mr. Walker demanded as Ferguson made another note in his ledger.
“I am guardian of the estate in the master’s absence, Mr. Walker. He will receive a full accounting of every item that was removed from his home.” Ferguson nodded to the bookshelf. “I do not believe that any of those are yours.”
Walker’s hand went back to his side. “Why?”
“All of the bindings match. They were purchased as a complete set as a showpiece for the library. My father told me all about it; Mr.
Darcy’s grandfather bought them.” Raising his brow, he looked around the study. “Have you everything?”
“There is something missing. A vase that I purchased for my wife’s birthday. It was sitting on a small table …” He looked around. “That is missing as well.”
Ferguson knew full well where the table was, glued together, it sat in his office supporting an assortment of whiskey bottles. “Mrs. Shaw.” Ferguson called to the hovering housekeeper. “Do you know anything of a vase that was once here?”
As she had disposed of the shards herself, she looked at the steward and then to Mr. Walker. “No, Mr. Ferguson.”
“I thought that it was broken. Mr. Darcy smashed it.” Ferguson shrugged and looked back down at his ledger. “Perhaps I was wrong. He was rather infuriated after receiving a letter from his uncle. Lord Matlock …”
“Lord Matlock.” Mr. Walker swallowed and shot a look at the housekeeper. “No matter, no matter, it was a poor piece in any case.”
“You gave your wife a poorly made vase for her birthday?” Ferguson looked up and then back to his ledger.
Walker blustered, “It was not so poor …”
“mmmhmm.” Ferguson nodded and looked to Mrs. Shaw. “Could you look after things for a moment?”
“Yes, sir.” She watched him go and then turning to Mr. Walker, saw him close his eyes.
“This is humiliating, but I could not very well send a servant to do this.” He opened a desk drawer and poked at the contents. “Stupid fool.” He looked up and around the room. “I had myself convinced that this was mine. I sat behind this desk and thought myself lord of the manor. I liked being looked at with respect, and the longer we stayed, the more people forgot about the Darcys. This was our home.”
Mrs. Shaw whispered, “That is a fine thing to think, sir, but why did you tell your son such a lie? He would find out eventually that this was not to be his.”
“I was going to say that the true heir had been found … a mistake was made and … well, it is all for naught. Secrets and lies. I have sworn off them. Darcy has me caught out and I am a laughing stock.” He paused and looked to her. “What’s this I hear of Darcy stowing away a pregnant girl here this summer? Is it true? Is that why he wanted the place back? One of his dalliances? Brave man to have her under the same roof as his new bride. Mrs. Darcy must be a tartar to have demanded that.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Walker. I think that you should gather your things and put this sad chapter behind you.”
“Changed loyalties have you?” He picked up his satchel full of papers and mementos and looked around. “I have another night at the inn. I will hear it there sure enough.”
“Sir, you are letting your bitterness get away with you …”
“Sour grapes, Mr. Walker?” Ferguson reappeared with the portrait of a woman in hand. “I just remembered this. Mrs. Darcy had it removed from the master’s chambers.”
“Where was it?” He looked at his wife and then back at Ferguson.
“Does it matter?” He put a check on his list. “I believe that is everything, sir? Would you read this over and sign?”
“Sign?”
“Mr. Darcy asked his uncle the judge to draw it up before he left. It is a statement that you have inspected the premises and have removed all of your belongings. You will not return seeking any other forgotten items.”
“What of the vase! I should be paid for that!”
“You said that it was inferior?”
“I … I …”
“And you also signed a contract …” Ferguson pulled out a folded paper tied with a ribbon. “Ah here it is, you agreed that any damage to property left in the house is not the owner’s responsibility.”
Walker glanced at the contract, saw his signature and grunting, quickly signed off on the statement and left the room, stomping down the hallway and out the door to his waiting carriage.
“Oh Mr. Ferguson, he is most unhappy.”
Ferguson folded up the papers and retied the ribbon. “Good.”
“He talked of Miss Cargill; he must have heard something of her in the village.”
“I would like to know who gave her name there.” Ferguson looked at her pointedly. “That is the Darcys’ business, she was a sweet girl in trouble and they took care of her. I have nothing but respect for them, and for the elder Darcys for accepting the child to raise. I hope that Miss Cargill can go on to lead a happy life.” Slipping the papers into a valise, he nodded to her. “As Mr. Darcy said to me in his last letter, as far as Sommerwald is concerned, this is the end of it.”
“I KNEW IT!” Lady Catherine cried. Quickly, she glanced around the empty gallery and opened her reticule to retrieve her spectacles. Holding them up to her eyes, she bent forward and examined the portrait of her sister from the time of her coming out. The famous rubies encircled her throat, but that was not the subject of the Grande Dame’s scrutiny. She stared at her sister’s hand resting on the back of a chair, or rather the ring on her finger. “It is Anne’s ring! I knew that I could not be mistaken! A Fitzwilliam heirloom, on the hand of a minister’s wife! Misplaced indeed, Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was stolen and you are protecting some servant!”
“Aunt, what are you shrieking about?” Cathy looked into the long room and responding to her namesake’s waving hand, joined her at the portrait. “What is it?”
She fixed a cold eye upon her. “A lady does not shriek.”
“Do they bellow?” She unflinchingly met her eye, “What is wrong?”
“Hmmph.” Slamming her walking stick upon the floor, the sound echoed around them. “This ring! It was my sister’s, and now somehow my minister has acquired it. This is intolerable. I will not have it!”
“Does Fitzwilliam know?” Cathy’s eyes involuntarily swept up to the rubies.
“He says it was misplaced.” Lady Catherine huffed. “It was stolen. And he is excusing some servant for filching it. I warned Mrs. Darcy of this, I heard her laughing with her maid one morning. They are servants, not your friends. She is far too companionable with them. That girl is likely the one who took the ring; she has access to the jewel box.”
Cathy spoke cautiously, “That is a serious accusation. She could be imprisoned or sent to Australia for such an offence.”
“She could be hung.” Lady Catherine said with a satisfied nod. “Anne has seen the ring; I will have her take a look at the painting. If she confirms it, I will know what to do.”
“What will you do?” Cathy asked with wide eyes.
“I will go to Pemberley and confront the wretch! Let her confess before Darcy! The judge can be there to hear it all and he will know where to take her.”
“But Aunt, perhaps it was misplaced or lost, rather.”
“Are you defending a thief?” Lady Catherine stared.
“No, Aunt. I … I just …” She looked at the rubies and to the ring. “Why do we not ask Anne her opinion before you become more upset? You saw how Elizabeth reacted to Mrs. Kelly talking about rumours; do you really want to hear what she will say to you about this?”
Lady Catherine said nothing as she considered Elizabeth’s likely response to her meddling. “Fine then, I will consult Anne. Where is she?” She looked to the doorway and back at her niece. “Well?”
“I saw her out on the lawn with Albert about a half hour ago. They were walking together.” Cathy watched the frown on her aunt’s face become a little less severe.
“Were they?” Lady Catherine took a deep breath through her nose and looked back at the portrait. “Well then, I suppose that this Anne can wait. There is no need to disturb them.” Lady Catherine’s critical eye rested upon her niece. “Now then, what are you doing to find a husband?”
“Aunt, please.” Cathy said tiredly. “I would like one day to pass where I am not faced with that question.”
She swept on, “You did notice that the Kelly men were far more interested in Georgiana than you.”
“I know, I know
, I am old!” She cried and glared at Anne Darcy. “Why could you not have two sons!”
“You would not have wanted her younger son. He would have been a clergyman or soldier like your brother. A physician, perhaps.” She said thoughtfully. “A barrister would be fine. I always admired Judge Darcy. Such a strong man would suit you well, I think.”
“You are telling me to lower my sights.” Cathy said quietly. “No peer, no wealthy landowner … A tradesman’s son?”
“We have not sunk that low.” Lady Catherine sniffed. “Samuel Darcy has potential and he could follow his father’s footsteps, but by then you will be far too old. I think that there must be a man with a smaller estate for you. That Kelly boy, the eldest …”
“He never looked at me. His eyes were elsewhere.”
“Georgiana is far too young for him.” Lady Catherine pronounced. Cathy said nothing. “Is there not one man you danced with who is suitable? Who your family could accept? Matlock’s name is improving; there is no need to shoot low. Think!” Lady Catherine demanded. “Did one try to further the acquaintance and you brushed him off?”
“Well …” Cathy sighed and thought of the scores of young men who she had discouraged and at last thought of one who had really tried, and had remained unattached at the Season’s end. “Mr. Manning. Mr. Roger Manning.”
“Manning?” Lady Catherine tilted her head. “Darcy travelled with a young Manning on his tour, just before his father died. His family is known to yours, and he is already friends with Darcy …”
Recalling their dance, she nodded, “He spoke fondly of meeting them at an inn while his family was travelling to London and Fitzwilliam was going to Scotland.”
Lady Catherine stuffed her spectacles back into her bag. “Come, we will speak to your mother. Your father will invite Mr. Manning and his family for some sport … no, better yet, the Darcys are to hold a ball in September. I will write to Mrs. Darcy and ask that she invite the Mannings. You will be staying there as well and will not appear desperate if you meet at Pemberley as another guest. This will be your opportunity.” Looking her over critically from head to toe, she nodded. “Do not waste it!”