Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley

by Kelly Miller

  He leaned away. “If you wish to accompany me, I shall not stop you, but I truly think it will be wearisome for you.”

  She flashed a dazzling smile and touched his arm. “I cannot imagine ever being weary in your presence. I expect I shall find it fascinating to see how the owner of a prosperous estate spends his day.”

  It is certain one of us shall be made weary. With a serious aspect, he said, “Very well, but I hope you will change into something more suited to walking outdoors.”

  She looked down at her dress. “Alas, my maid neglected to pack my morning dresses. I shall have to make do with this one. I assure you it is suitable for walking.”

  With raised eyebrows, he took a swift glance at her lacy garment. “If you say so.” His head turned at Elizabeth’s entrance, and all else was forgotten. She was breathless but otherwise seemed serene, and her limp was less pronounced.

  “Forgive me for being late, but I had a slight mishap on my walk this morning.”

  Lady Catherine’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “Ah yes, Mrs. Darcy is known to be fond of solitary walks. She once did quite a bit of walking all around Rosings Park, though she was not always alone.”

  Feigning ignorance of Lady Catherine’s pointed barb, Elizabeth directed a placid smile at her husband’s aunt. “You are correct, walking is a favourite pastime of mine, and I remember several trails around Rosings Park quite well.” To Graham, she said, “Rosings Park, Lady Catherine’s estate in Kent, is happily situated in an area surrounded by beautiful woods and meadows.”

  “Yes, the woods around Rosings are pretty, and my grounds are landscaped with meticulous care, but I dare say you had another motive for extending your walks to the farthest, darkest, and most secluded areas.” Her visage reflected a mixture of haughtiness and defiance.

  Darcy’s lips constricted. To what did his aunt allude?

  Elizabeth took an unhurried sip of tea before making her reply. “Well, other than the lure of the beautiful sights around your estate, I was inspired to walk for the exercise it provides; it is restorative for both the mind and the body. After each long walk around Rosings, I felt much better than when I started out.”

  Lady Catherine mumbled under her breath, “I would wager you did.”

  ***

  After breakfast, Rebecca shared a smug smile with Lady Catherine when Mrs. Darcy and the dashing, handsome Mr. Graham left in a carriage for Lambton. She gave the older lady a discreet nod as she exited the house on the arm of Mr. Darcy. She licked her lips and leaned into her handsome host’s muscular frame several times as she pretended to lose her footing on the way to their carriage.

  Mr. Darcy introduced her to a short, lean man waiting next to the carriage: his assistant steward, Mr. Cross. Her smile faded at the realization that the man was to accompany them. She almost begged off entirely since the excursion was sure to be tedious, but she would not pass up a possible opportunity for time with Mr. Darcy. In the carriage, the two men sat across from her. She nonchalantly moved her foot forward once so it rubbed against Mr. Darcy’s boot. He stiffened and moved his foot away.

  What a singular gentleman this Mr. Darcy was! Not many men would resist such a glaring overture, yet there could be no mistaking his reaction. Until now, she had been following the advice of Lady Catherine without success. It was clear that a different course of action was necessary to achieve her objective with this man. Mr. Darcy did not appreciate it when she was flirtatious, so she would be more subtle in future.

  She was determined to be successful in her assignment and earn the money promised to her. After meeting Mr. Darcy, she gained a new enthusiasm for her task. He was an attractive, tall, robust gentleman. His commanding presence, his rich, baritone voice, and his dark, expressive eyes—everything about him was alluring. In fact, other than his extraordinary friend, Mr. Graham, he was the most handsome man of her acquaintance.

  ***

  London

  Three weeks earlier

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh attended the gathering given by her friend Lady Juliet Comerford with low expectations. Over the last ten years, Lady Juliet had relaxed her standards to an alarming extent. At one of Lady Juliet’s dinner parties last year, Lady Catherine had been importuned for over twenty minutes in conversation with a fellow guest only to find out that the man was not a gentleman at all but a tradesman! After giving her friend a piece of her mind, she had received a proper apology, but she had insisted upon approving the list of guests before attending any of her friend’s future social events.

  On this occasion, she was seated between Lady Juliet and a marquis deep into his cups when a stunning lady took the seat across from her. She found it difficult to tear her eyes from the woman. Her countenance was familiar, and yet she was certain she had never met the lady before. Realization dawned like a bolt of lightning, and she almost choked on the tea she had been trying to swallow. The woman’s resemblance to the former Elizabeth Bennet was remarkable. A rush of excitement surged through her as a scheme formed in her mind. That lady would be the perfect instrument for obtaining revenge against the woman who stood in her daughter’s rightful place as Mrs. Darcy. If she went to Pemberley with this similar, but better, version of his wife, Darcy would be forced to recognise his mistake in choosing a woman so below him in consequence.

  At Lady Catherine’s request, the hostess introduced the young woman as Lady Rebecca Seymour. After a short discussion with the lady, it was clear she had the intelligence, education, and talents to attract her nephew.

  When she found a moment alone with Lady Juliet, her friend provided all of the pertinent details of Lady Rebecca’s situation. She was a widow and the daughter of an impoverished marquis, now deceased. Her late husband, a baron, had left Lady Rebecca without sufficient funds to live comfortably; thus, she had been surviving on the generosity of family and friends.

  Several months prior, Lady Rebecca had inherited a small estate from an uncle. It had seemed her financial problems were over until it was discovered that the estate was in dire straits. The steward was a dishonest man who had been stealing from the estate for many years. After his elderly master passed away, the steward ran off with everything in the estate’s coffers: over four thousand pounds. Lady Catherine clasped her hands together, unable to contain her excitement. The situation was ideal! The lady was desperate for funds. If she offered Lady Rebecca money to execute a scheme of her design, she was sure to cooperate.

  Making use of a silvery vocal tone, Lady Catherine coaxed Lady Rebecca into walking with her in the gardens. Finding a bench in a corner that afforded privacy, she bade the woman to sit beside her. “I shall not waste time with inane pleasantries or idle chatter. I have a proposition that can provide an answer to your financial circumstances.”

  Lady Rebecca raised her brows but remained silent.

  “I invite you to accompany me to Pemberley in Derbyshire, the estate of my nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy. He married a woman who is far below him in wealth, social standing, and character. Your assignment is to seduce him. Preferably, you are to get him into bed. If it proves impossible, I shall settle for staging a situation to give the appearance that you and my nephew have engaged in carnal intimacy. My main object is to humiliate Mrs. Darcy by making her believe her husband has been unfaithful. If you agree to do this, I shall pay you five hundred pounds upon our arrival at Pemberley. After the successful completion of the task as assigned, I shall pay you an additional thousand pounds.” She resisted the desire to smile. Lady Rebecca would not turn her down. The way the lady’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the money gave her away; it was a foregone conclusion.

  “But—why ask me? If you wish to hire someone to sleep with your nephew, I imagine you can find any number of women capable of accomplishing this at the nearest brothel for a fraction of the cost.”

  Lady Catherine hesitated. It would not do to l
et the woman know how startling her resemblance was to Mrs. Darcy. “I, ah, could do that, of course. But my nephew is not like most men of the ton. He is not one to frequent brothels or have mistresses. If he is to stray from his wife, I am convinced it would take a lady of intelligence, good breeding, and education—a lady like yourself.”

  Lady Rebecca folded her arms in front of her. “I do not know about this. I have nothing against this Mrs. Darcy. I would not wish to be responsible for destroying anyone’s marriage.”

  What is this sanctimonious foolishness? Is it some ploy to get me to pay more money? This is insupportable! Her face flushed with heat. “You need not be concerned for Mrs. Darcy. She is a heartless harpy who contrived to steal the man who was engaged to my daughter! My nephew must be mired in regret for his foolish choice of a wife. If you wish to know all the sordid details, I shall apprise you during the journey to Derbyshire—that is, if you agree.”

  With her head bowed, lines formed between Lady Rebecca’s eyebrows. At length, she raised her head. “What is your nephew like? Is he at all attractive?”

  Aha—now I have her! “My nephew is uncommonly handsome. In fact, most of the other guests are familiar with him and shall tell you the same. He is one and thirty and in top physical form.”

  A knot was visible in the lady’s forehead. “Were it not for my financial situation, I would never consider such an outrageous scheme, but I cannot deny I need the money. I accept your offer.”

  Lady Catherine allowed her posture to dip. Her exhalation was rushed, but quiet. The smile she presented to Lady Rebecca was measured and genial. “I am pleased to hear it.”

  Chapter 5: Elizabeth Fixes upon a Lofty Goal

  Upon his return to the house that afternoon, Darcy went to the nursery to spend time with Bennet. As he sat in a nearby chair and watched Bennet play on the floor with his two favourite stuffed animals, a feeling of lightness pervaded him despite his continuing distress over the argument with his wife. His son had learned to amuse himself with his toys, but it would be wonderful to be blessed with several siblings for him. His own early life had been lonely at times, but he had benefited from a close relationship with his Fitzwilliam cousins, Richard and Henry. It would be ideal if Bennet grew up with cousins too. So far, he had but one, two-year-old Charlie Bingley. His heart warmed at the thought of his sister, Georgiana, becoming a parent.

  Six months ago, Georgiana had married their cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, a former British Army general. Upon their engagement four months before the marriage, Richard retired from the military and sold his commission.

  The couple had settled into a small estate, Willow Manor, thirty miles from Pemberley and a similar distance from the Fitzwilliam family estate, Bellwood Hall. Willow Manor, a property that had belonged to Richard’s mother, was given to him on the occasion of his wedding.

  Richard’s declaration to Darcy—made with uncharacteristic stuttering and hesitation towards the end of Georgiana’s second season in London—of his deep and enduring love for her had come as a relief. The assessment of prospective suitors for his sister was a duty he had ceded with pleasure. Up until then, his dear sister had done him a service by finding reasons to reject the several gentlemen who had demonstrated an interest in courting her. Upon his sister’s assurance that she returned Richard’s love, he had welcomed the notion of his closest cousin and most trusted friend becoming his brother. It was a blessing to have his sister settled nearby with a man who was certain to take good care of her.

  Darcy did not doubt that Richard was the ideal husband for Georgiana. His cousin was nothing if not articulate and reasonable—unlike himself. His behaviour last night had been a prime demonstration of his worst shortcomings.

  His chest heaved in a sigh as his argument with Elizabeth revolved again in his mind. He should not have allowed his anger to overrule him; walking out on her had been a mistake. But what should he have said in response to her outrageous accusations? Since their marriage, he had seldom slept apart from his wife. He could not sleep well without her, and last night had been no exception.

  Another review of their conversation failed to settle anything in his mind. Her allegations had rent him like a thousand shards of glass, hobbling his ruminations. They were reminiscent of her words following his first proposal, and they had generated similar feelings of hurt, anger, and outrage that had assailed him on that terrible evening when she had accused him of, among other things, having “selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”

  His chin fell to his chest at the notion of her considering him in such a way now after all they had been through together. Did she still see him as selfish? Did she not realize he was not the same arrogant man who had once insulted her at the Meryton assembly? Did she think he had encouraged his aunt in her belief that he would marry Anne? He most certainly had not. And yet…was it possible he had encouraged Lady Catherine by not voicing an objection on any of the occasions when she had mentioned some hint of it in his presence?

  Had he ever contemplated the possibility that speaking up to deny he would ever marry his cousin Anne might have led to her enjoying a better, less sheltered life? He could not deny that the concept, however briefly, had crossed his mind over the years only to be brushed aside and forgotten. Did that not give him a portion of culpability?

  In fact, he had allowed the years to go by without extinguishing his aunt’s hopes. Had he remained silent in part because he had considered it a possibility, albeit a remote one, that he might someday marry Anne? He could not deny the truth of it. Although the prospect had held no appeal, he had allowed that a certain logic could be attributed to the concept. Still, the notion of being bound to marry his cousin was one he had never shared; in his view, it had been his choice. However, it appeared that, to his Aunt Catherine and perhaps to Anne herself, it had not been a choice but a certainty.

  He collapsed against his chair. His culpability as a result of his past actions and inactions was now discernible. Never once had he broached the subject of their possible marriage with Anne, nor had he ever spared a thought to her feelings. Had Anne been sad or relieved when he married Elizabeth? He had no idea. The only fact with which he could have a measure of assurance was that she could not have been in love with him; his calculated avoidance of her must have prevented the forming of any significant attachment on her part. He had never behaved in the least way as a suitor to Anne with the expectation that it was enough to convey his lack of intentions towards her.

  The main reason he had never denied his aunt’s assertion that he would marry Anne was because he had wished to avoid the difficult confrontation that would have ensued. To save himself that discomfort, he had allowed his aunt, and possibly his cousin Anne as well, to anticipate for many years that he would someday marry her.

  A discomforting warmth permeated him as he owned the injustice of his past behaviour. What a coward he had been! In contrast to his conduct with his aunt, Elizabeth had been assured and decisive in her comportment; yet she had been but a maiden lady of twenty when she met Lady Catherine. She had faced the formidable woman, whom he had witnessed making grown men quake, and boldly stated her own contrary opinions. In contrast, he—at that time an educated man of seven and twenty—had not shown the fortitude necessary to deny his aunt’s assumption and face her displeasure.

  A leaden sensation settled in his gut. Another of his wife’s suppositions had not been wrong—not entirely. Had he perceived an advantage in his cousin being sheltered from the ton by her mother and thereby not finding a husband who truly suited her? The truth of it could no longer be denied. Had he not occasionally engaged in idle reflections that he could “always marry Anne”?

  The veracity of Elizabeth’s words now seemed undeniable. Lady Catherine had blamed her for steering him away from Anne, and he had blamed his aunt for not being able to accept his wife. However, in actuality, much of the responsibili
ty for the situation was his and his alone. His failure to accept any culpability for his aunt’s anger had allowed his wife to carry the guilt for being the cause of a rift in his family even though he had told her his aunt was to blame. His own actions had created an inadvertent complicity with his aunt that worked against his wife.

  He winced as other memories pervaded the forefront of his mind. On a couple of occasions, Elizabeth had broached the subject of his aunt, suggesting he write her a letter. Each time, he had been quick to reject her advice, employing a tone that did not invite further argument. How inconsiderate he had been towards her, his dear wife, whose sole inducement had been to benefit him. She could not have wished to re-establish a relationship with Lady Catherine for her own sake!

  As he reached a better understanding of the situation, the desire to resolve the argument with his wife surpassed all other concerns. Regrettably, Elizabeth remained out of doors, so that particular apology must wait. But his aunt was within; mayhap he could convey his regret to her for his past inaction and induce her to comprehend that she should not censure or blame his wife.

  He knelt on the floor next to Bennet and gathered him onto his lap. As his son’s little arms held on to him, he breathed deeply, inhaling his son’s scent. “Thank you, Bennet. Your papa needed a hug.” He kissed the top of his son’s head before he set him back on the floor and called for Miss Hunter to return to the nursery. Fuelled by a compelling determination, he told his son goodbye, waved at him from the door, and left to find his aunt.

  After a quick word with Mrs. Reynolds, Darcy learned that his aunt, after enjoying light refreshments in the sitting room attached to her favourite chamber, had ventured downstairs to the library. His servants had learned to be attentive to every detail related to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.