Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley

by Kelly Miller

  What? The food he was swallowing caught in his throat, necessitating a hurried drink of wine to help it down. His words were loud and rushed. “We? Did Graham accompany you?”

  Her smile faltered. “Yes, I assumed you were aware. Graham was a big help. He suggested music for several festive Italian songs I had never heard before, and assisted me in picking out books for Bennet at the bookstore. At Birk’s, I obtained a jar of Pomfret cakes, and Graham insisted on purchasing a couple of things for Bennet. I had told him that our son’s birthday was later this month.”

  Darcy drew his lips into a thin line. What was Graham’s object? He had said he wished to explore the estate, not go to Lambton with Elizabeth. A chill crept through him as images flooded his mind of the two of them alone together. Was he being unreasonable? He trusted his wife; she would never betray him, and he was certain they had not been alone in truth; they had been in public view, accompanied by his footmen. Even if one or two of the townspeople spread gossip concerning the two of them, it would die down once Graham was gone. He endeavoured to temper his tone. “I know you despise Pomfret cakes. Who are they for?”

  A crease appeared on her brow. “Mrs. Green. I shall visit the Greens tomorrow. As you know, the elder Mrs. Green has a weak heart, and I am afraid she is not expected to live much longer. When I spoke to her daughter-in-law, Selina, on my last visit, she mentioned her mother-in-law’s great fondness for Pomfret cakes.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Though I was aware Mrs. Green had been ailing for months now, I did not realize it had become so serious. I am sorry to hear it. I wish to accompany you when you visit them.”

  She reached out and covered his hand with her own under the table. “Yes, I am sure they will appreciate that.”

  Graham tore himself away from his food long enough to glance their way. “I should be happy to go along as well.”

  Darcy clenched his jaw. It was clear he needed to talk to the blond man; his recent actions did not coincide with his averred purpose.

  When dinner was over, Darcy fidgeted in his seat as the dishes were cleared away. Elizabeth rose and left them with the stated intention of proceeding to the drawing room.

  He waited until the door to the dining room closed behind her. “Graham, I need to speak with you in my study.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded severe—more so than he had intended.

  A slight lift of the man’s brows was the sole inkling of any reaction to his tone. “By all means. Let us go there now.”

  ***

  Once they were in the study, Darcy directed Graham to a comfortable chair and offered him a glass of brandy.

  Upon accepting the proffered glass and taking a sip, he nodded. “This has an excellent taste, Darcy. I thank you.”

  He stretched himself into his tallest, most erect position as he stood over Graham. “I want you to tell me why you are spending time with my wife. You said I was to be your guide, not Elizabeth.”

  Graham shrugged. “I did say that. I still mean to spend time with you, but it has occurred to me that it makes sense to spend just as much time with your wife. After all, if I am not mistaken, she is a significant reason you are so content. Do you deny that she has a huge effect on the state of your happiness?”

  His hands curled into fists, and the muscles along his spine tensed. “I have no wish to deny it! Elizabeth is my wife. She is everything wonderful; I am aware of how lucky I am to have her, and I love her with all my heart. I want you to stay away from her.”

  As he continued to take slow, savouring sips of his brandy, Graham peered at him with his head tilted. “My, such a strong reaction. Of what are you afraid? Do you suppose, if she spends too much time in my company, she will fall in love with me?”

  Darcy turned away and poured a brandy for himself. Elizabeth would never fall in love with a man such as Graham; that was ridiculous! It was evident she was attracted to him, but that was very different from love. However, it upset his equanimity to have the words said aloud. Attempting to ignore his racing heart, he scoffed, “No, of course not. I trust Elizabeth. It is you I do not trust.”

  Graham raised his eyebrows. “What do you imagine I shall do?”

  He took a healthy swig of brandy. “I have no way of knowing, but I do know you have powers to do things that should be impossible. You could take advantage of her, scare her, confuse her, or hurt her.”

  Graham’s facial muscles tightened, giving him a staid cast. “I can understand your concerns. I am not of your world. Where I come from, we do not follow your rules or laws. However, I know the expected behaviour of a gentleman and give you my word that I shall behave as a proper gentleman at all times with Elizabeth. I shall not hurt her in any way—or your son for that matter.”

  His shoulders lost some of their tension at Graham’s assurances. Having the man’s company inflicted upon his family was intolerable, but if he was to be believed, he posed no danger to them. At any rate, it seemed he did not have a choice in the matter.

  “Furthermore, I have plans in Lambton for this evening, and I do not expect to return until tomorrow.”

  He almost smiled at the promise of Graham’s absence from Pemberley until a possible explanation occurred to him. His breathing grew rapid and shallow. “You—you cannot know anyone in Lambton. Does this mean—is someone going to die?”

  Graham grinned and a redness infused his cheeks; the angel was blushing. “No, not at all. I do not mean to work while I am here; this is to be my holiday. I happen to have met a lady today who I anticipate will welcome my company. She was one of a number of ladies I was introduced to this afternoon at the Lambton Inn.”

  He frowned. Elizabeth had not mentioned this. “Why were you at the inn?”

  With an unstudied air, Graham said, “Elizabeth and I stopped for bit of tea and cake. She was made uncomfortable when all of the ladies in the place stared at us, so I invited all of them to join our table.”

  “Indeed?”

  Graham gazed out the window with a fanciful expression as if moonstruck. “Oh yes. I met quite a few charming ladies today, but Mrs. Mead stood out as one who could use a friend like me.”

  Darcy coughed, choking on the brandy he had just sipped.

  Mrs. Sarah Mead, a lady of six and twenty years, was a tragic figure whose sad story was known to all the inhabitants around Lambton. She had been widowed five years ago when her beloved husband, Nicholas, was killed in a carriage accident. Left with a small estate within the town of Lambton, Mrs. Mead, though bereaved and heart-broken, was not without means.

  Her friendship with Elizabeth had begun soon after their marriage. Like many other wives and daughters of the local gentry, Mrs. Mead had assisted Elizabeth many times in various charitable projects. Through those shared activities, the two had formed a cordial bond.

  He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “Mrs. Mead? But she is a respectable widow. Elizabeth thinks well of her and considers her a friend. What do you intend to do?”

  The blond man’s piercing eyes beheld him with a significant sheen. “I shall not go back to my old life without sampling all the pleasures that gentlemen enjoy on earth.”

  Darcy’s face diffused with heat as his mouth formed a sneer. “What you propose to do is unconscionable. What of the consequences to Mrs. Mead? What of her reputation? What if she becomes with child?”

  “One advantage to being an angel of death is that I am incapable of making a woman enceinte. As for Mrs. Mead’s reputation, I will use my powers if necessary to ensure it remains spotless. Lest you imagine I shall take unfair advantage of her, I give you my word that I shall do nothing with Mrs. Mead—or any other lady—unless she consents.” Graham set his empty brandy glass down and stood. The corners of his lips lifted in a smirk. “It is gallant of you, Darcy, to be so concerned for a lady you have no connection to, but you n
eed not be. I assure you, I shall leave Mrs. Mead happier for having met me.”

  Darcy rubbed the nape of his neck. “I cannot be comfortable with the idea of your using Mrs. Mead in such a way, no matter how you try to justify your actions. What of the promise you made minutes ago to behave as a gentleman?”

  “I am behaving as a gentleman. You know very well that gentlemen enjoy the company of ladies in this manner all the time; it is an open secret in your society. Now then, I shall take my leave and see you in the morning.” Graham bowed and left the room.

  His rapid breaths took on a more usual pattern as Graham’s footsteps continued down the main hall towards the front door. Despite his objections to the man’s intentions with regard to Mrs. Mead, he would rest easier with Graham away from Pemberley.

  Nevertheless, Graham, the blasted rapscallion, had left him with a dilemma: What, if anything, should he tell Elizabeth concerning her friend?

  ***

  Elizabeth glanced up from the book she was reading and set it aside when Fitzwilliam entered the drawing room. Her brows moved up as she fixed her eyes upon him. “Where is Graham?”

  He stood with a stern, stiff bearing near the doorway. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but Graham is to spend the evening in Lambton.” His tone was sharp.

  That was uncalled-for! She pressed her lips together and would have fashioned a retort, but his expression softened as if he regretted his mode of speech. She posed her question with a quiet tone. “Did the two of you argue?”

  “No, not as such. Graham has a—that is—an appointment in Lambton.”

  “I must say I am surprised you had never mentioned Graham before he showed up without prior notice.”

  He shrugged, his gaze veering downward. “We were good friends at university, but after that we did not keep up a correspondence. I suppose I forgot him.”

  Biting her lower lip, she perused her husband’s rigid attitude. His statement did not sound truthful; it did not seem possible one could forget knowing Graham.

  “In any case, he is gone for the evening.” His eyes now studied her.

  What kind of appointment could Graham have in Lambton, and why had he never mentioned it? As much as she was tempted, she resisted the impulse to ask. It appeared at the moment that her husband was touchy on the subject of that gentleman. “What would you like to do? Shall I play a few songs for you?”

  Fitzwilliam’s mien softened at her suggestion and a small smile brightened his countenance. “Yes, I should like that.”

  They adjourned to the music room where she played a couple of his favourite pieces on the pianoforte and, upon his request, sang a couple of tunes for him. By the time she had finished, it was clear her playing had achieved the desired effect of nudging him out of any remaining petulance.

  ***

  That night in their chambers, Darcy made love to Elizabeth with a desperation and possessiveness that he had suppressed most of the day. Afterward, he held her against his chest and moved his hand through her hair. The pulse of her rapid heartbeat soothed him as it matched his own.

  “Fitzwilliam, please tell me what is wrong.”

  He froze. “What do you mean?”

  Her voice was soft and hesitant. “Earlier, it seemed as though you were trying to prove something. You were so—intense.”

  His heart lurched, and a pall destroyed his earlier calm. Oppressed with dread, he said, “Elizabeth, did I hurt you?”

  “No, not at all, but I am concerned for you. I know you are not at ease. Please talk to me.”

  He huffed out a deep breath. Could he talk of it? Would giving voice to the issue make it worse as if bringing it to life? But the alternative was to deny her request or be untruthful. He had never done so with her, and he would not start now.

  His voice was thick with emotion. “You must know it bothers me that you are so attracted to Graham.”

  She pulled back to view him in the dim light of the fire; her visage manifested her surprise. “I assure you, I am not.”

  How could she say that? “Pray, do not dissemble with me. I would rather hear the truth. I saw you with him today at the sheep pasture. You could not take your eyes away from the man.”

  Exhaling a burst of air, she smiled. “Oh, I see what you mean. It is true I stared at Graham then. I was quite embarrassed when I realized I was doing so. You must allow for the fact that I did not get more than a hasty glance at him earlier when I first met him. When I got a good look at him in the bright light of day, I was amazed. You must admit he is extraordinary in appearance. It was a bit like seeing a new, colourful species of butterfly that you did not know existed before.”

  “So you admit you are attracted to him!”

  She placed her hand on his heaving chest and shook her head. “No, my love. I am saying Graham is remarkable in appearance. He is unlike any other man I have seen before, but it does not follow that I am attracted to him. As it happens, I am quite partial to your looks and all the unique inner qualities that make you the person you are. You are my love, my husband, and the father of our beautiful child. You are the man who elevates my spirits and owns my heart.” She took a trembling breath and lowered her voice to an undertone. “In my eyes, no other man can hope to compare to you.”

  His body collapsed against the bedclothes. How he loved her! Her words wiped away every bit of unease he had been harbouring since Graham’s arrival. With Elizabeth beside him, nothing—not even Graham—could trouble him. He pulled his wife back against him. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  Illuminated by the flickering firelight, her skin acquired a mystical shine. “I love you, Fitzwilliam.”

  Chapter 3: A Most Unpleasant Surprise

  Friday, September 15

  Darcy’s request to his valet, Winston, was fulfilled, providing welcome intelligence: no one had seen Graham since the previous evening. At this news, the tension left his jaw, and his breathing resumed a more regular rhythm. Mayhap he would have the opportunity to enjoy time with his family today without Graham’s intrusion.

  Starting this morning, he would recommence taking morning walks with Elizabeth—an activity he had missed but forsaken while he was dealing with the loss of his steward. Having found a replacement, nothing would stop him from devoting more time to his wife and son.

  After stopping by the nursery for a visit with Bennet, he and Elizabeth left the house, opting for a steep trail that offered scenic vistas of the valley below, cloaked in the vibrant hues of autumn.

  Forty minutes into their walk, as Elizabeth shared details of her most recent letter from her sister Jane, a vague discomfort disturbed his peace. Understanding came to him when they rounded a turn. Was that the spot? It was. On the hill above them was the same group of elder trees he had viewed the other day from across the way. They were on the opposite side of the ravine into which he had almost dropped. He focused his sight upon the barren path where he had come close to losing his life. That familiar bend in the trail was where he had fallen from Regal. His heart pounded with wild abandon, and a blanket of dread invaded him. The notion entered his mind to point out the spot to Elizabeth, but he dismissed the idea. No good would come from such an action; on the contrary, it was certain to distress her.

  With the object of pushing his unease aside, he focused upon the comely, vivid presence beside him. Elizabeth’s every energetic step evidenced her love of the outdoors. Between her effortless beauty and the dulcet tones of her speech, it was not long before every trace of his anxiety dissipated. They discussed the aforementioned plans to visit the Green family, agreeing to go after breakfast.

  When they were within sight of the house, he was hailed by Mr. Cross, his assistant steward, who had been promoted to the position three months earlier. Mr. Cross requested that he look over a repair that had been completed to one of the barns. With a kiss to his
wife’s hand, he parted ways with her.

  ***

  Upon her return to the house, Elizabeth met with Mrs. Reynolds. Following a discussion of the menus for the coming days and matters concerning the servants, she inquired of the housekeeper whether Mr. Graham remained in his room.

  Mrs. Reynolds stuttered that the man had not spent the night in his chamber.

  As she blinked at the housekeeper, her cheeks grew warm, and then Fitzwilliam’s words from last night came to mind. She told Mrs. Reynolds of Graham’s appointment in town and ventured that he must have decided to spend the night there. She had witnessed the man’s uncommon gift for making friends. Perhaps, he was visiting with one of the neighbourhood men until a late hour, and they offered a room for the night to save him from having to travel back to Pemberley at such a time. Yes. That made perfect sense.

  ***

  Elizabeth walked alongside her husband in the hall towards the breakfast room when the sound of running feet prompted them to stop and peer behind them in the direction of the entryway, where Graham had entered from the front door. She tensed at the sight of two maids, Sally and Ruth, rushing towards Graham. Ignoring John, the footman, who stood ready to perform the task, Sally raced ahead of Ruth, stopped in front of John, and took Graham’s hat and coat with deft fingers. Ruth stomped off while Sally hesitated, her admiring gaze lingering on Graham until her languid steps sent her forth to dispose of the man’s hat and coat in its proper area.

  She exhaled a heavy breath. From the corner of her eye, her husband’s severe deportment was visible. She had never before witnessed Pemberley servants in such an embarrassing display. This unbridled behaviour must be addressed without delay.

  With an abashed expression, Mrs. Reynolds strode towards them. “Sir, madam, I apologize for the maids’ conduct just now. I shall hold a meeting with the servants at once. I promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

  Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgement, and the housekeeper strode off with a militant air. Thank goodness! Mrs. Reynolds would put an end to this unprecedented foolishness from the maids. Fitzwilliam’s eyes followed Graham’s approach with an inscrutable expression. She was reminded of her husband’s peculiar mood the night before. He had denied that he and his friend had fought, but she sensed he had not been entirely truthful. Was he angry with his friend?