Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley

by Kelly Miller

  Regal snorted and laid his ears back as Graham rode beside them on Rusty, but when Darcy spoke to his horse in a calm, steady voice, the steed soon quieted. As the two men made their way out of the paddock, Graham explained that certain animals were uneasy around him. “I always have trouble with horses. They are too damned sensitive. With dogs, I tend to have better luck. I suppose you could say they are not as selective.” He grinned at the joke made to his own detriment.

  In the field where the sheep were kept, several men worked on a shelter, and a couple of others repaired a fence. Graham asked a series of questions as they went along pertaining to the sheep, their care, and the frequency of their shearing. Darcy dealt with each query with a growing curiosity. What interest could an angel of death have in sheep?

  A number of lambs had been born earlier in the year, and they examined each one to ensure they were thriving. As they were scrutinizing the last of the lambs, Graham turned towards the road. “Darcy, I see your wife.”

  Elizabeth was making her way towards them with Rory at her side. The collie burst forth with a series of excited barks as was his wont when within sight of the sheep. The vision of his wife brought an automatic smile to Darcy’s face. At her wave, he raised his arm and waved back.

  As she drew near, his spine stiffened. His happiness at seeing her was eclipsed by Graham’s unsettling presence. Darcy made an effort to smile. “I should have known you would be back to see the lambs this morning.”

  “They are so adorable, and they will be grown soon, so I want to see them as often as possible.” Elizabeth faced the blond gentleman. “Mr. Graham, I hope you like our little herd. In the last year, we have attempted to expand our flock. Their wool is extremely fine and a popular material for pelisses and stockings.”

  A smile lit up the man’s face as he stepped nearer to her. “Mrs. Darcy, your sheep are impressive, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would call me Graham. Darcy and I are so close that calling you Mrs. Darcy and your calling me Mr. Graham would feel wrong.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Although he maintained his countenance, Darcy cringed at the man’s presumption. However, he held his tongue; certainly, a more grievous reason to challenge him would present itself before long.

  Graham’s words flowed out with eloquence. “I realize it might not be considered the height of propriety here, but I beg your indulgence. You see, in the section of Calabria where I live, we use given names unless we do not like each other. I am quite a vain man, and I cannot bear the thought that my hostess, and wife of my dearest old friend, dislikes me.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, and he fought to keep his unease from showing on his countenance. He was tempted to state his objection, yet it was a small enough thing. His instincts told him to cooperate with the man for now.

  Her easy smile had returned. “I have no objection to your request, Graham. Please feel free to call me Elizabeth.”

  Graham’s smile widened. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth looked over the area. Her brow creased as she fixed her gaze upon the collie sitting on the road a fair distance away. “Rory, what are you doing there? Come here.”

  Rory took halting steps towards her for a short distance. The dog stopped and sat again.

  She turned to Darcy and pointed at the dog. “Do you see that? Is it not odd? Most of the time, Rory cannot wait to meet new people. I often need to restrain him from being too friendly and boisterous.”

  “Yes, it is unusual behaviour for him.” Did Rory sense Graham’s uncanny nature?

  Graham presented an ingratiating smile. “He may be too distracted by the sheep. A collie is a herding dog after all.”

  Darcy examined his wife’s expression as her eyes focused upon Graham. Her sight remained riveted upon him as the sunlight illuminated the blond man’s striking blue eyes. Whatever she had been prepared to utter appeared to have died on her lips as she continued to stare at the man.

  With a start, Elizabeth looked around herself as her composure returned though her cheeks blazed a deep red. She shook her head as if to clear it and addressed Darcy in a bright, cheery cadence. “Have you seen the lambs? Are they well?”

  Avoiding her eyes, Darcy replied in a hollow tone. “Yes, they are all well, though I am certain you will want to get a closer look for yourself.” The pain in his chest was akin to having been smote with a dagger. He had always taken it for granted that he was considered handsome, having heard as much from family and friends all of his life—but not just from them. On countless occasions, ladies in Derbyshire or London whispered words of approval for his tall stature, pleasing, even features, and his thick, dark, curly hair—without bothering to wait until he was out of earshot. Yet unlike several vain men of his acquaintance, he never dwelt upon his appearance. Until Graham arrived, he had never encountered a man who so surpassed him in looks and stature. His wife’s reaction to Graham shook him to his core. It was unmistakable: she was attracted to this man, angel, or whatever he called himself.

  Sauntering off towards the penned area, Elizabeth entered the gate to get a closer look at the lambs that turned to peer at her while staying in close proximity to the comforting presence of their mothers.

  Graham’s eyes followed her as she cooed at the lambs. “As someone who has seen beautiful women all over the world, I can state with assurance that your wife has a quality that is compelling and rare. She is pretty, of course, but pretty woman are everywhere. Elizabeth has an unparalleled quality. What word best describes it? Effervescence? Sparkle? Your wife embodies these things in a way that transcends the meaning of the words.”

  His hands formed fists, and he confronted the man with a rigid posture. “I do not need you to tell me how special my wife is or why I should appreciate her. I assure you, I already do. I shall thank you to remember Elizabeth is my wife. See that you keep your hands off her.”

  Graham raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in submission. “Calm yourself, Darcy; my object was to compliment you on your taste in women. I am not here to take advantage of your wife.”

  His eyes narrowed as a new suspicion entered his mind. “You said you have been observing me since yesterday. Have you spied on my wife and me when we believed ourselves alone?”

  With a forceful exhale, the blond man put his hands on his hips. “Please, sir. Even an angel of death has scruples. I assure you, I shall act as a gentleman while I am here.”

  He regarded Graham with a savage glare.

  “Ease up, man; your wife is returning. I am certain you do not want to alarm her.”

  Darcy made every effort to soften his expression as Elizabeth moved towards them, but he had limited success.

  With a tilt of her head, his wife’s eyes met his. “The lambs appear happy and healthy to me. They all look a little bigger than the last time I saw them.”

  He managed to produce a small smile. “I plan to return early enough to spend time with you and Bennet before breakfast.”

  Her visage brightened. “Wonderful. I shall see you later.”

  Darcy kissed her hand before she turned and bid farewell to Graham, who bowed. She took brisk, lively steps on the road towards the main house.

  This time, when she called Rory, he bounded towards her at a full run and remained at her side. Rory turned to glance at Graham several times, but after a few minutes, the dog’s ears lowered, his tail wagged, and he resumed his more usual behaviour: scouring the area for interesting scents.

  Chapter 2: An Extraordinarily Popular Guest

  Seated on an outdoor bench with his wife, Darcy was captivated by the charming antics of Bennet and Rory. Graham was in a nearby chair.

  Darcy could not help but smile as the musical sound of Bennet’s laughter filled the air while the toddler ran through a field of grass with Rory. The collie moved from time to time as if
to nip at Bennet’s heels—inspiring squeals of excitement from the toddler—but refrained from making any actual contact. “Rory chase,” yelled Bennet, as he zigzagged in the grass. The child had not yet mastered the enunciation of the letter “R,” so the uninitiated may have taken the dog’s name to be “Wowy.” At random intervals, the toddler made sudden turns to become the pursuer.

  Graham said, “That dog makes an admirable nursemaid, and it has the added advantage of tiring the child.”

  Elizabeth smiled and waved to her son as he ran near her. “Yes, indeed. We had a collie at Longbourn where I was raised, so I have long known how gentle they tend to be with children. Rory has not been a disappointment.”

  Bennet’s slowing pace indicated the little one was in fact tiring and would soon be ready for his breakfast.

  When Darcy and Graham met up with Elizabeth again minutes earlier, he was alert to his wife’s every movement. The tightness in his chest had abated when her manner towards Graham did not betray anything beyond the interest she showed towards any guest. This observation had provided relief, but his mind continued to torture him at odd moments. Was she hiding her feelings of attraction?

  While he drank in the sight of his son and relished the close presence of his wife, a bitter taste invaded his mouth at having Graham’s company thrust upon him and his family—even if the angel did save his life.

  He had come so close to losing everything the day before; life seemed even more precious than before. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he was reminded of the ease with which he could have lost all that was important. Each moment with his son was a joy—a gift to be treasured. He looked forward to seeing him grow and teaching him to run the estate.

  Above all else, Darcy anticipated a long, happy life with his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. With a grim twist to his mouth, he reasserted his intention. For all of these reasons, I shall put up with Graham as best I can. When the week is through, he will be gone.

  His thoughts were interrupted as Bennet came running up to him and Elizabeth, taking each of them by the hand and tugging. “Mama, Papa, go see horses!”

  She grinned at him. “Shall we take him?”

  “Why not?”—then for Graham’s benefit—“We are taking Bennet to the stables.”

  With a wave, he said, “Go ahead. I shall see you when you return.”

  Elizabeth added, “We shall have breakfast in thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to it.”

  As the three of them moved towards the stables, Rory barked and raced on ahead. After Bennet ran for a time to keep pace with his parents, he reached his arms up to Darcy to indicate he wanted to be carried.

  Smiling, he scooped the boy into his arms. “Of course—now you are tired.” With his son held against him, he walked with renewed energy. Nothing compared to the cherished pleasure of holding his son while he could. Soon enough, the boy would be too old to be carried.

  Bouncing with glee in Darcy’s arms, Bennet gave a merry shout at the sight of the horses as his son was now at a more convenient height to view and pet the animals. Bennet called out their names as they moved from stall to stall. All but a few of them came forward to be petted. He lifted his son higher, enabling him to reach the ones that greeted them. Bennet’s face reflected his delight as he pet the horses’ soft, velvety noses. His son always gave marked attention to Regal, in part because the black steed was “Papa’s horse” but also because the stallion never failed to greet him and tolerated his attentions with remarkable patience.

  Darcy had informed Elizabeth of the Welsh pony he had purchased for their son that would arrive soon, but the fine sorrel Arabian mare he had chosen for her would be a surprise. As she stroked Regal’s neck, various images came to his mind of the reaction she might have upon seeing her gift. Would she be pleased? She was content with her usual mount, Daisy, an older, dapple-grey mare, yet a younger, more spirited horse would be a more challenging and interesting mount. Since their marriage, her skill as a rider had undergone a marked improvement. He looked forward to the moment she caught her first glimpse of the new mare.

  The trio soon returned to the house, and Bennet was given to the care of Miss Hunter, the nurse.

  ***

  Elizabeth’s attention was diverted by her guest, seated across from her. Graham dove into his plate laden with meats, eggs, muffins, toast, and slices of baked apple, making the food disappear at an amazing rate. It was a struggle for Elizabeth to keep her countenance. Oh my! Did he always eat like this? How did he keep from gaining weight? For goodness sake, the man was consuming twice as much food as her husband, and he ate huge portions! With a wry smile, she inquired, “Is everything to your liking, Graham?”

  Swallowing a large mouthful of food with the aid of a sip of ale, Graham spoke with feeling. “Oh, yes. You have a very skilled cook. I feel as though I have not had such a good meal in decades.”

  Her eyes flitted from Graham to her husband. “How did the two of you become friends?”

  Fitzwilliam coughed, appearing to choke on his ale. Bringing a napkin to his mouth, he cleared his throat. “We, ah, we both went to Cambridge.”

  That was the one bit of information her husband had already told her. Why did he seem so uncomfortable in his friend’s society?

  Graham had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Darcy and I were inseparable back in school. We did everything together. I could tell you tales to make you blush.”

  Her husband gave his friend a dark stare. “Graham is teasing, Elizabeth. I assure you the most I ever did in my college days was have a few drinks too many one night after we sat for examinations.”

  Was this the reason for her husband’s uneasiness? Had he participated in behaviour at university that he dreaded her ever knowing? Her eyes flickered to Graham. Would he deny Fitzwilliam’s assertion?

  Graham shrugged. “That is true. I was joking earlier.” He returned his attention to his plate of food.

  Fitzwilliam said, “I am expecting a man to arrive within the next hour, a Mr. Boyle. He is an applicant for the steward position. Based on the past experience detailed in the missive I received from the man, he seems to be a worthy candidate.”

  She sat up straighter, giving him a grin. “I am pleased to hear it. I hope he is even more impressive in person.”

  “And what of you? Have you any plans for the afternoon?”

  “I shall go into Lambton. I am inclined to do some shopping.”

  ***

  His wife had already left the breakfast room, and Darcy was finishing the last of his coffee when the butler, Mr. Rutley, announced that a Mr. Matthew Boyle had arrived to see him. As he rose to go to his study, Graham brushed his napkin across his mouth and stood with the evident intent to accompany him. His lips grew taut. What was the man really after? Despite the interest he had shown in the sheep, he seemed too much of a dandy to wish to focus his attention on a task as staid as interviewing a potential steward.

  Inside his study, Darcy said, “I am sure you will find this meeting dull.”

  “Oh, do not fret for my sake. I have not had a dull moment yet.”

  Before long, Mr. Boyle was shown in and introductions were made. In due course, Darcy’s inquiries to the prospective steward revealed the man’s current situation.

  Mr. Boyle was employed by Mr. Skinner, whose estate was situated sixty miles north of Pemberley. Mr. Boyle had been prevented from managing the property as it ought to be because of Mr. Skinner’s extreme reluctance to spend money on anything he did not deem necessary. Because of the unreasonable delay that tenants were forced to endure to get repairs made to their homes, many had opted to move out. The steward expressed his eagerness to find another situation.

  The way the man clasped his hands into a tight ball in front of him when describing the plight of the tenants unde
r his care convinced Darcy of the man’s compassion. He would not hire an unfeeling man as a steward no matter how knowledgeable the man was.

  His queries of Mr. Boyle moved on to estate issues of particular interest to him, including the selection of crops and the care and breeding of livestock. The man’s astute replies to his questions revealed an uncommon familiarity with the aspects of husbandry most pertinent to Pemberley.

  Darcy was in the midst of determining Mr. Boyle’s knowledge of land leases when movement at the corner of his eye caused him to turn to Graham, who stood waving his hands in a bid for his attention. What did he want now?

  Graham shifted his weight from one heel to the other. “I believe I shall venture outdoors. I have an inclination to wander around your marvellous estate and acquaint myself with it.”

  Of course, Graham had no patience for such a discussion. He had expected no less. “That is a fine idea.” And if the blond man stayed out all day, so much the better. With a curt nod to Graham, Darcy turned back to Mr. Boyle with the intent to resume his questioning. When the door to the study closed and the sound of footfalls grew fainter, his posture lost its stiffness and his breathing slowed. He had already managed to become wearisome to the angel. Dare he hope Graham would cut short his visit and take his suggestion of finding an actor or dandy of the ton with whom to stay in his stead?

  ***

  As Graham exited the house, Elizabeth prepared to enter her carriage. Descending the stairs two at a time, he called her name. She stopped and spun around, her features exhibiting surprise and delight.

  The woman’s smile was magnificent—such astounding beauty! No wonder Darcy had fallen for her. Could any mortal resist the opportunity to bask in her shining bloom? It was fortunate he was not a mortal; otherwise, he might have been in some danger. He took rapid steps towards her.

  “Elizabeth, would you mind if I joined you? I have a great desire to see the town of Lambton.”