Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley

by Kelly Miller

  Mr. Graham’s expression was impassive. “My sole object was to help you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. It is natural for you to doubt what I say. But before you dismiss it, I ask you to consult Elizabeth and Darcy for their opinions on whether my word can be trusted.” With that, Mr. Graham bowed and left the room, leaving him to ruminate in solitude.

  Swallowing the rest of the brandy in one gulp, Richard rose and took fumbling steps to refill his glass.

  ***

  Elizabeth knocked on the door of Jane’s bedchamber and entered upon her sister’s words of invitation. They settled into a pair of chairs near the large window, which afforded a picturesque view of the river and the woods behind it. Both took a moment to admire the prospect.

  Jane said, “Rooms with stunning views are abundant at Pemberley, but I am gratified to have this one; it is one of my personal favourites.”

  She rested a hand on her sister’s arm. “My dear Jane. I could not be happier that the room pleases you. I can think of no one more worthy of being pleased in my home, but alas, I can claim no responsibility for placing you here. Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Reynolds plotted in secret.” Elizabeth paused. Was it her imagination, or had a momentary expression of sadness flashed upon her sister’s countenance? If aught was troubling Jane, she would not scruple to pry to encourage her sister to speak of it. “Although I just saw Charlie a couple of months ago, children change so much at this age. Tell me what has occupied him of late.”

  Jane’s eyes crinkled as she spoke with fondness of her son, elaborating on the toys and activities he favoured of late, the books he loved to have read to him, and the latest words he had learned. When she asked whether Jane enjoyed the picnic today, she was assured that she had. With a rosy tint darkening her cheeks, her sister admitted to having been flustered upon her introduction to Graham.

  Jane leaned towards her, using an undertone. “You did not exaggerate when you described the man as singular. I have never before seen a man so attractive!”

  With an airy cadence, she said, “Well, I have had the advantage of several days to become accustomed to the gentleman. By now, I am so inured to him that I find him quite ordinary.”

  Jane raised her brows, her visage expressive of disbelief. “Ordinary, Lizzy?”

  Elizabeth twisted a loose curl at the back of her neck around her fingers. “Maybe ordinary is not the best word to describe the man, but behind the flashy clothes, abundant charm, and dashing countenance is a kind and thoughtful man. I was puzzled at first that Fitzwilliam had ever befriended a man who appeared to be so different from him, but now I see the traits they have in common.”

  “I was charmed by Bennet this afternoon when he handed me my flower. He appeared so serious, and he seemed like a much older boy.”

  She laughed. “Pray do not say such things. As wondrous as it is to watch him grow and learn, it is also sad to lose the baby he once was. Soon he will not allow us to carry him any longer, and it will break my heart.” Her smile faltered. It happened again: her sister had lowered her gaze to her hands, and furrows lined her forehead, but a moment later, she smiled again. Elizabeth’s voice was soft and gentle. “I comprehend that you are distressed. Please tell me of it.”

  Jane brought her hand to her mouth, and she exhaled in a muffled gasp. She faced the window and lowered her chin. “It is your birthday, Lizzy. The last thing I want to do is burden you on this day.”

  In an emphatic tone, she said, “What sort of nonsense it this? You are my dearest sister and oldest friend. I hope you will always feel you can confide in me.”

  Her sister met her eyes for a moment before lowering her gaze. “It is possible I am concerned for nothing, but Charles has taken several trips to London these past six months. When I suggested I might accompany him, he gave me excuses for why I should remain at the estate. He told me he needed to attend several meetings to discuss a business investment he was considering. During his most recent trip, Caroline and her husband, Mr. Ridlington, came for a short visit on the way to their estate. They stayed with me for two nights. One afternoon, Caroline and I were strolling around the estate when she asked whether Charles had been spending a great deal of time in London. When I told Caroline of the other trips he had made, she said she believed he had taken a mistress.” Jane had uttered the last word in little more than a whisper.

  Her heart beat at a rapid pace. Poor Jane—unlike herself, her sister had married a man with vain and, at times, malicious sisters, and Caroline was the worst of the two. For the sake of her sister’s sensibilities, she took several deep breaths and maintained a moderate tone. “What would make Caroline come to such an improbable conclusion?”

  Jane’s lips tightened into a frown. “You must be aware that it is common for married gentlemen to take mistresses. Even our mother has mentioned it as a possibility.”

  “Yes, dear Jane, but our mother is often not sensible and makes many frivolous statements. It is a common enough occurrence in the ton, but that is because marriages of convenience are so prevalent. We are more fortunate than most; our husbands married us for love. Why would you imagine Charles might take a mistress?”

  “Caroline speculated that Charles was not the sort to be satisfied with any one woman for long. She spoke of the many times he had thought himself in love before meeting me, only to switch his affections to another in a moment.” Jane’s fingers held the skirt of her dress in a tight, twisting grip. “She also said he had always looked up to their father and was influenced by him; he was a man who had had many mistresses.”

  Elizabeth pulled her brows into a slight frown. In the letter Fitzwilliam had written after his disastrous first proposal several years before, he, too, had commented that he had seen Charles in love many times. Nevertheless, Charles had not chosen to marry any of the other ladies; no doubt, they had been nothing more than passing fancies. What Caroline had said with regard to their father might give her pause were it not so plain by his every word and action that Charles loved her sister. “How can you take Caroline’s words so seriously? Do not forget how she once tried to convince you that Charles was soon to become betrothed to Georgiana. You must know she cannot be trusted.”

  “Caroline was deceptive before Charles and I were married, and we know she was against the match at first. However, once she learned of your engagement to Darcy, her perspective changed, albeit for selfish reasons. Yet what motive could she have to mislead me now? I am Charles’s wife and the mother of his child.” Jane took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

  Elizabeth’s own eyes grew moist at the sight of her beautiful sister’s tear-stained face. Under her breath, she murmured a silent curse on the former Caroline Bingley. “I cannot begin to guess her motive for telling you this, but she is not a true friend. I caution you not to believe her words. We know that Charles’s affections for you endured a separation of almost a year—from the day after the Netherfield ball until the following autumn. Have you spoken to him of your suspicion?”

  Jane gasped—her eyes wide. “Of course not! I could never ask Charles whether he has a mistress.”

  “His recent actions and his sister’s discourse have been distressing you. You must raise the subject with Charles; he alone can ease your mind.”

  Jane folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “I could not. What if it were true? I could not bear to hear him say it. If it is not true, he would be hurt that I even asked.”

  “He will understand why you asked when you give him an account of what Caroline told you.”

  “I cannot ask him.”

  Elizabeth directed her eyes out the window for a few moments. “Mayhap Fitzwilliam could speak to him.”

  Her sister hissed, “Lizzy, no! You must not involve your husband.” She leaned forward and grabbed her arm. “Promise me you will not!”

  “No, Jane, fear not; I was voicing an idle though
t. The only solution is for you to ask him yourself. It will be an uncomfortable conversation, but he is your husband. You should be able to speak to him of your troubles. You must! I noticed your anguish; sooner or later, so will he. Mayhap Charles will be hurt that you did not trust him enough to raise the subject with him sooner.”

  “I am not as bold as you are, Lizzy. I know not whether I can do this.”

  Elizabeth took both of her sister’s hands in her own. “You can do this. You are stronger than you know. You have kept this inside long enough. You must talk to him tonight.”

  Jane’s forehead crinkled into an uncharacteristic frown. “At times I believe anything would be better than to continue to go on with this suspicion. Perhaps you are right. I shall think on it.”

  ***

  Anne hummed to herself as she strolled through the kitchen garden.

  “Miss de Bourgh.”

  She halted and turned around at the sound of a melodious voice calling her name.

  “I hope you do not mind if I join you for a short while.” Mr. Graham strode towards her, displaying a dazzling smile.

  She presented a small, shy smile of her own. “Not at all. I had wished to take a walk around the grounds.” She directed her sight at the herbs, fruits, and vegetables growing on either side of the stone walkway. “It has been many years since I have been here. The familiar sights have reminded me of past visits. Pemberley has gone through a number of changes since the deaths of Darcy’s mother nearly twenty years past and his father eight years ago. For a time, this estate had become a sombre place, and visits here made me uneasy, but now it is a joyful home again. My late Aunt Anne would approve, I believe, of Elizabeth.”

  The blond gentleman held out his arm, and she wrapped her arm around it. When they exited the kitchen garden, he led her towards a large pond full of murky water teeming with life. “I do not imagine you knew your arrival would coincide with a birthday party for Elizabeth and Bennet.”

  Her smile diminished at this reminder that both she and her mother had appeared at Pemberley without prior notice. “No. I did not. I am sorry to have intruded at such a time.”

  Mr. Graham spoke with great energy. “What nonsense! I have no doubt that the Darcys are pleased to have you here. I noticed how well you got on with young Bennet. Have you been around many children?”

  Anne released his arm to step closer to the pond. She crouched to inspect a pair of tadpoles resting at the verge of the pond. “I was ten when Georgiana was born. I used to see her once or twice each year. But since I was fourteen or so, my mother began keeping me away from all children, including Georgiana. It was her view that the expected boisterous behaviour of children would be draining on me and bad for my health.”

  “Miss de Bourgh.” Mr. Graham directed her attention to a vivid swallowtail butterfly that rested on a flowering shrub near the pond.

  She wished to get close to the creature, but held herself back, lest she scare it off. “Such a beautiful creature! I have never seen the like in Kent.”

  “Your mother’s theory may contain an iota of logic, but I cannot say I agree with her. My beliefs are quite the opposite; from what I have observed, children and pets can enrich the lives of people beyond measure. If they can exert an effect on a person’s health, I expect that it is positive one.”

  Their discussion dredged up desires and wishes that had been abandoned long ago. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attitude of wistfulness. “Since I was a young child, I have longed to have a dog of my own as a companion. One of our tenants has a delightful, small cocker spaniel. It is adorable, has an engaging disposition, and is an ideal size. I should love to have one like it. Of course, my mother would not consider allowing such a ‘filthy beast’ in the house. She is certain that dogs must carry terrible diseases.” It was an irony of circumstances that she had envied the children of Rosings’s tenants as she grew up. They had always appeared frisky, strong, and content in their lives. They worked and played out of doors while her exposure to the world outside had occurred almost entirely from the windows of an ornate carriage. Taking Mr. Graham’s arm again, they continued on the path.

  They walked in companionable silence for a time before he spoke again. “Miss de Bourgh, if you will pardon the insolence of my question, are you not the heir to Rosings Park?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Yes, since I reached the age of five and twenty, four years ago, I have been the official owner of Rosings, but due to my ill health, I allowed my mother to carry on as mistress.”

  “And do you feel your mother is doing a good job in overseeing the estate?”

  “She is far too intrusive in her dealings with her tenants, just as she is with her parson and all in her employ. I have long believed she does not treat those she considers beneath herself as well as she should. I am now healthy enough to take over many of the responsibilities of Rosings, but I fear my mother’s reaction. I do not imagine she will give up control unless she is forced to do so.” The concept of taking on management duties at Rosings stimulated a burst of anticipation within her. This—not marrying her cousin—should have been her focus in life all along! Darcy, however, could play an important role both in the transition of duties and in providing guidance to her. No other person could better assist her in that endeavour than he. Until his engagement, her mother had often sought Darcy’s counsel in reference to estate matters. It had been a common occurrence that her mother would object to a plan of action proposed by her steward, and later agree to it after obtaining Darcy’s assenting opinion.

  With a cheery cadence, she said, “Perhaps while I am here, I shall request my cousin Darcy’s help. If he and Elizabeth agreed to come to Rosings for a se’nnight or so as I made the transition to mistress of Rosings, it would be of tremendous help to me.”

  Graham’s face darkened, and his bearing tensed. “I do not think it is a viable plan for you to count on Darcy’s assistance.”

  Anne angled her head to face him as her hand brushed over the nape of her neck. “Do you believe it would be asking too much of him? I am certain he is busy, but he used to stay at Rosings every Easter and go over the estate books for my mother.”

  “Forgive me, Miss de Bourgh. I did not intend to signify he would be unwilling to help, but he has other obligations just now that I fear will not permit him to visit your estate in the near future. Notwithstanding, Darcy could write a letter on your behalf to your uncle, Lord Matlock, giving his recommendation that you take over as mistress of Rosings and requesting his help with your mother, if necessary. Between Lord Matlock, your cousin Richard, and your cousin Henry you shall have plenty of family support against any resistance from your mother. I had intended to see Darcy after this. Shall I appeal to him on your behalf and ask him to write to your uncle?”

  She examined Mr. Graham’s mien. He was a strange man indeed. What had caused his cheerful mood to turn so solemn? His offer held appeal. She was not yet so easy in company with the new, improved Darcy that she was comfortable with the notion of asking a favour of him. “Yes, Mr. Graham. I should appreciate it. I dare say my uncle trusts Darcy’s judgement in most matters more than he does his own sons.”

  The blond gentleman nodded, the whisper of a smile on his lips. “If you shall allow me, I have one other piece of advice for you.”

  Anne inclined her head. “Please. I should like to hear it.”

  “I have noticed your companion is fond of you. I imagine she has been with you for a long time?”

  “Over twelve years.”

  He spoke in a measured inflexion. “With your renewed health, a better choice for you might be a younger companion. It might be preferable to you now to have a woman closer to your own age who can give you instruction, should you wish it, in music, literature, and languages and be more of a friend than a maternal figure.”

  Anne took in a deep
breath and released it. Mr. Graham’s idea had merit. As dear as she was, Mrs. Jenkinson was old and frail; she was no longer the best companion for her. A young, healthy woman who would accompany her on her walks would be much preferable, and her companion deserved a comfortable, quiet retirement for her many years of good service. Anne spoke with great energy. “You are correct. As fond as I am of Mrs. Jenkinson, she is no longer the best fit for me as a companion. I believe I shall ask my aunt, Lady Matlock, if she will recommend a candidate for me. Once we have returned to Rosings, I shall have a talk with Mrs. Jenkinson and explain my intentions. I am certain she will be happy to retire. I shall provide her with an annuity to allow her to live in comfort near her son and grandchildren.”

  With his engaging smile back in place, the return of Mr. Graham’s high spirits was conspicuous. “Mrs. Jenkinson will appreciate your generosity.”

  ***

  When Darcy entered the billiards room, his cousin sat staring into space with an empty glass in his hand. His eyes fell upon the decanter, and his muscles tensed—it had been full that morning. It appeared that Richard had consumed an alarming volume of brandy. His cousin had been in fine spirits during the picnic. Had he received bad news? “You wanted to see me?”

  His cousin’s head jerked at his voice as if he had not noticed him enter, and he made an unsteady shift in his chair. It seemed a struggle for him to remain upright even while seated. “Yes, I did. I had an interesting conversation with your friend Mr. Graham.”

  He froze for a moment at Richard’s slurred speech and his mention of Graham’s name. What had Graham said to upset his cousin? He reached for the brandy decanter and moved it to a cabinet. “You have had too much of this. You need coffee.” He rang for a servant and ordered a pot of coffee before taking a seat opposite his cousin. “Tell me what is on your mind.”