Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley

by Kelly Miller

  Lady Catherine lifted her chin as she smiled at Mr. Graham. Now there is a gentleman who knows what he is about. “You are a perceptive young man. It is true that I win more often than not.”

  To her immense satisfaction—though no other result could have been predicted—she emerged as the winner at quadrille. In an unusual example of amazing good fortune, Elizabeth ended up as the next highest scoring player. The worst player of the evening was Darcy. Her nephew’s lack of dedication to the pastime was a disappointment. He had needed to be reminded of the rules several times throughout the game. However, it was of little importance; she won, and that was what mattered.

  Once the agreed upon forty deals were complete, Mr. Graham rose from his chair. He congratulated her on her win and took his leave of the group.

  With a rigid attitude, her gaze followed the blond gentleman as he left the room. Before his sudden departure, she might have suggested an abbreviated game of whist. “Where is he going in such haste?”

  Darcy said, “Graham is going to Lambton.”

  She directed a glance towards the mantle clock. “At this hour? Is he not a guest at Pemberley?”

  “He is, but he has a good friend in Lambton and is dividing his time between here and there.”

  She sniffed. “His friend’s house in Lambton could not compare to the accommodations you provide here. It is a peculiar choice if you ask me.”

  Later, as Lady Catherine was drifting off to sleep in her guest room, the evening’s entertainment remained in the forefront of her mind. When was the last time she had enjoyed herself as much as she did during that game of quadrille? She could not bring to mind even one instance in recent years. Mr. Graham had proved himself to be an admirable card player, and his amiable presence and uncommon attractiveness made him a captivating companion. Even Darcy, after an initial lack of enthusiasm and despite his indifferent performance as a player, had seemed to relax and enjoy the last several deals and spoke more than usual. Yes, despite Elizabeth’s participation, it had been a thoroughly delightful experience.

  ***

  Monday, September 18

  Darcy and Elizabeth, as was their wont, started their day with a stop in the nursery. They sat together at a table with Bennet, who was putting together a puzzle. Darcy so savoured these moments when the three of them were alone together. Darcy’s own father had seen him seldom when he was Bennet’s age, yet every quirk in his son’s habits, his every action, and each syllable his child uttered fascinated him.

  Elizabeth described the visit she and Bennet had the day before with Lady Catherine. “Bennet and I went over his practice cards. He was correct in naming all except the Bs and Ds. Afterwards, Bennet brought me his favourite book, and I read it to him.” Her eyes held a vivid spark. “Lady Catherine pretended to ignore us and continue reading her magazine, but I observed her sneaking glances at us, and I am certain she never once turned a page.”

  He covered her hand with his own and conferred a gaze indicative of his adoration for her. How extraordinary she was; what other woman would make such an effort for his sake? “I greatly appreciate what you are doing. I hate that my aunt is so stubborn and unbending. No reasonable person could spend any amount of time with you and Bennet without loving you both.”

  Cocking her head, she displayed a smile that lit up her countenance. “Not that you are biased in any way.”

  His answering smile was effortless. It had become the common way of things when in her presence. The two fell into silence as Bennet’s progress stole their notice. Moments later, a sobering thought took his focus from his son. The surprise guests would arrive tomorrow; Elizabeth must be at home when that occurred. Had she made any plans? “If you have no other engagements tomorrow, I thought we could take Bennet on a picnic—perhaps in the north meadow near the stream?”

  At her prompt agreement to the scheme, he released his breath.

  Bennet finished his puzzle. He wore a glowing grin as he received enthusiastic approval from Darcy and Elizabeth.

  ***

  Darcy had informed Elizabeth of the arrival of Bennet’s pony. Due to his wife’s eagerness to see him, they started their morning walk with a stop at the stables. It had been a struggle to persuade his wife that the Darcy tradition of introducing their children to riding at the tender age of two years was not, as she put it, “madness.” He had conveyed, over a series of discussions that were at times heated, the importance of establishing a strong affinity for horses; an estate owner depended upon his horses each day of his life.

  Rushing ahead to the large stall, Elizabeth, her countenance glowing and flushed with colour, opened the gate and entered. The pony ate his breakfast of oats and hay, sparing her the briefest of glances before continuing to feed. She took slow steps to the pony’s side and stroked his neck. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, he is so beautiful! Bennet will love him. I do not believe any child could fail to be pleased by this pony.”

  He walked in to stand beside her. If she proved as delighted to see her own new mare, he would be well satisfied. “He is just shy of fourteen hands, almost as big as a horse. Bennet shall be able to ride him for many years to come. This pony can carry an adult male with ease.”

  Her brow arched. “You could not have chosen a worse attribute to promote if your object is to enamour me of your choice. You know that if it had been up to me, Bennet’s gift would have been the smallest Shetland pony in England!”

  She teased him, of course. He had assured her when Bennet was ready to learn how to control a horse on his own, he would train on Georgiana’s old Shetland pony. His first riding lessons on his new pony would be primarily to create a bond between Bennet and his pony and accustom him to the feel of sitting upon a moving horse.

  Slipping her hand into his, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “Nevertheless, I have no doubt our son shall be delighted with your choice.”

  Darcy exhaled a large burst of air. Elizabeth’s approval for his choice of the handsome Welsh pony for their son was a welcome assertion. He was seized with the impulse to show her the mare today—but no—he could wait one more day.

  ***

  Back at the house, Elizabeth stopped by Lady Rebecca’s chamber. At her knock, the lady’s maid answered the door and let her in. Lady Rebecca was seated on the sofa in her dressing gown with her legs stretched out.

  Elizabeth stepped near her, and her words of greeting caught in her throat. The woman was almost unrecognisable! Her ashen complexion and infirm deportment made her appear more diminutive than usual. It was clear the woman suffered from a painful ailment. “Please excuse my intrusion. I was sorry to hear you have been ill, and I wished to inquire if there is anything you need. Should I call for the apothecary?”

  Lady Rebecca gaped at her for a moment. She lowered her gaze. “I thank you, Mrs. Darcy. I am troubled by nothing other than the customary cramps that are disposed to accompany my courses. It is my misfortune that they can be severe, but it is nothing I have not faced many times before. I have no need for an apothecary. My maid knows how to take care of me, and I assure you that your servants have supplied her with everything she has requested.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I have never been afflicted in such a way myself, but one of my sisters used to suffer from severe cramps with her courses, and she found ginger tea provided relief. It might help you as well. Shall I have a pot sent up?”

  Lady Rebecca’s face flushed with colour; her speech was rushed. “Yes, that would be welcome. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Darcy. Now if you will excuse me, I believe I shall try to take a nap.”

  Elizabeth took a step back; it was clear the woman wished her gone. “Of course, Lady Rebecca. I hope to see you feeling better soon.”

  ***

  Graham whistled a cheery tune as his legs carried him with an energetic gait towards Pemberley. His mind was agreeably e
ngaged in recollection of the pleasant evening he had spent with Sarah Mead. Sarah’s delightful company never failed to gratify him; he could not have chosen a better companion for his evenings. Of course, he had been enjoying his time at Pemberley just as much. This holiday was proving to be an enlightening and pleasurable diversion—so pleasurable, in fact, that he was giving serious consideration to—

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  Jerking to a stop, he angled his head towards the gentleman who had appeared beside him out of nowhere. He was a nondescript man of thirty or so years of age, average looking in every way. His spine tensed. Why was he here? Did he hope to convince him to leave? This was the last thing he needed! Well, I shall not be intimidated.

  In a flippant tone, he said, “This is so like you, Clive; you chose the most ordinary body you could find to inhabit.”

  Emitting a rude noise, Clive scoffed, “You are flashy enough for both of us. My object was to meet with you here without causing undue attention. You could use a lesson in that.”

  Graham blew out his breath. This was his holiday. Why should he not choose the body in which he wanted to spend it? Besides, the Italian man’s accoutrements were splendid. He ran his hand over his Italian wool coat. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  “You must have known your actions here would not go unnoticed. You are causing our father a great deal of anxiety. You have interfered with a mortal’s destiny. You have never gone to such lengths before. You must have known that would get Father’s attention. Why did you do it?”

  Invoking an air of indifference, Graham shrugged. “It was an impulsive decision. I was not otherwise occupied at the time, so I had been observing several people to amuse myself. One particular man caught my notice. In this man, I sensed such extraordinary happiness and contentment that I was intrigued. I wished to know what gave him that satisfaction. As you know, I have seen countless people die—a number of whom were happy—but this man was different. Once I began observing him, I wished to know more of his life. I got a glimpse of it as he grew up and discovered he had suffered more than the usual losses in his life.”

  Graham kicked at several nearby stones as he spoke. “It was not until I had watched the man for upwards of an hour that I was witness to the fall that would have killed him. I was seized with the desire to spend time with him and learn what made his life so fulfilling. I wished to experience living for a time as a mortal.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to interfere in this man’s fate. We are allowed to delay a mortal’s death but seven days.” Clive cocked his head. “You know that, do you not?”

  He pressed his lips together. Did Clive think him so lacking in understanding?

  Clive nudged his shoulder. “Graham?”

  His breath puffed out sending wisps of his blond hair aloft. “Yes, yes. I am aware of that rule. I still have time. Perchance I can think of a way to prevent the man’s death.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Clive’s eyes took on the appearance of steel slits. “Do you hope to take another person in the man’s place?”

  “I, ah, it is a possibility. I understand it can be done. I can substitute another individual as long the person is in close proximity to him. It should not be difficult to arrange. I have an individual in mind; the man’s aunt is visiting the estate.” The wizened and disapproving visage of Lady Catherine appeared in his mind.

  Clive jabbed him in the upper chest with his finger. “That is not the sole plan you have considered. I imagine you have a different person in mind. Were you thinking you might take his wife instead, give her the gift of immortality, and keep her with you as your companion?”

  He took a heaving breath. How did he know what I had been thinking? Damn his eyes!

  “I can see from your reaction that you have thought of it.”

  Groaning, he pressed his fingers into the back of his neck. Why did his brother have to be so bloody perceptive? “I confess I had considered such a plan, but I have since dismissed it. I would have had to first explain who I was and what it would mean. I imagine it would be rare for any mortal to accept such a change of circumstance with equanimity. But in this instance, she has a child, a boy soon to turn two. I do not believe she could be convinced to leave him.”

  Clive inched closer. “You are either naive or arrogant or both. Why would you think Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, a happily married woman, would wish to walk away from her husband and her life to accompany you to a sphere of existence beyond her comprehension, even if she did not have a child?”

  He pointed his finger in his brother’s face. “You—you know of Elizabeth. You have been spying on me! How dare you!”

  In an even tone, Clive said, “What do you expect? Father is incensed that you are imposing yourself on these mortals like this. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are good, decent people. You have no cause to toy with them.”

  “Toy with them? What can you mean? I have done Darcy a favour—a tremendous one! I know very well that he is a good person; it is why I chose him. It is also why I am conflicted.”

  “Doing him a favour? I think you are deluding yourself. You are indulging your own whims at this man’s expense. I know what you said, but I do not believe you. You do not want to learn from Mr. Darcy; you want to be him.”

  His brother thought he knew everything, but he was wrong. He did not wish to be Darcy. Did he? No, of course not! Graham rubbed his hands over his hair. “Despite the fact that I may have considered other options, my primary object now is to save Darcy’s life. I understand it is a complicated manoeuvre that must be timed with care. I cannot deny the thought crossed my mind that, if I failed in the endeavour, I would stay and be of comfort to Mrs. Darcy, who is sure to be devastated by the loss of her husband.”

  Clive’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “How very gallant of you. So you would spend the next fifty or so years here if need be to comfort Mrs. Darcy? Would you expect to marry her?”

  “Perhaps. I know not. I should not expect her to fall in love with me straight away. I realize she loves her husband very much, but this body I chose is exceedingly attractive to every female I have encountered and a great many males as well. I am confident I could win her love in time.” Graham’s poised, erect posture gave every appearance of confidence. In actuality, Elizabeth’s behaviour in his company had not assured him that she was destined to love him; she was not drawn to him the way most other females were.

  “Are you in love with Elizabeth Darcy?”

  Graham burst out in an effusive laugh. “What? In love? No, of course not. I admit I enjoy her company and find her attractive. Why would I not? Elizabeth has her own unique appeal. Her mind is sharp, she has a marvellous sense of humour, and she is extraordinarily kind and thoughtful.”

  “I see.” Clive raised his brows; his gaze probed him. “And what of the other lady with whom you have been spending your nights?”

  He swallowed. “Sarah? I made it clear from the beginning that my stay in town was temporary.”

  “Seeing you leave is one thing; seeing you leave her for another woman is quite another.”

  What did Clive mean to insinuate? He had done nothing wrong in cultivating a friendship with Sarah; he had not coerced her in any way! Graham lifted his chin. “Sarah is a woman of keen understanding. I have no concerns for her.”

  “You should know you cannot take Lady Catherine in place of Mr. Darcy. She is much older than he is. If you are to make a substitution, it must be someone within a few years of his age.”

  What? He bowed his head. Despite the fantasy he had been entertaining of a life with Elizabeth, in his heart he had not believed it would ever come to pass. However, it appeared that saving Darcy would be much more difficult than he had thought. “Blast! Why must there be so many complicated rules?”

  “To make it less appealing for you to interfere, I i
magine.” Clive leaned close and softened his tone. “Brother, I think I understand the desire to learn how mortals live and to experience life in their world, but though at times you may seem to fit in among these people, you are not one of them. You should remember that.”

  Standing tall and erect, Graham displayed a broad smile. “Do not be concerned for me. I am aware of who I am. During my stay here, I believe I can be of assistance to the Darcys and to the people around them. In fact, I believe I already have been. In revealing to Mr. Darcy my true identity and making him aware that I delayed his death, I have prepared him to face his own mortality. There must be an advantage in that.”

  Clive rubbed his eyes. Blinking, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but with a slight shake of his head, he seemed to think better of it. After a moment, he said, “Now that we have spoken, I shall speak to Father and do my best to placate him.”

  “Thank you. I assure you, I have everything in hand here. There is no cause for concern.” He drew in a deep breath and held it. Would his brother see through his flimsy attempt at feigning tranquillity?

  Clive’s eyes fixed upon him for a long moment. “Very well, Graham; I shall leave you now. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Clive.”

  Without the least bit of flourish—not even a cloud of dust—Clive vanished.

  Graham exhaled with force as he removed his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his damp forehead before resuming his walk to Pemberley. His customary smile was absent, and his stride lacked its usual vitality as the implications of his brother’s words revolved in his mind.

  Chapter 7: A Mother’s Bitter Remembrances

  Darcy and his wife stood on either side of the child on a large section of Pemberley’s lawns in front of the house. They took turns rolling a ball to the boy, who was in a fair way of learning to catch it and roll it back. The collie stood to the side, his body weight on his haunches, positioned to spring into action the moment the ball was thrown astray. On those occasions, the dog sprinted after the ball, picked it up, and ran with it for a time before bringing it back to Elizabeth or Darcy.