The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy

by Regina Jeffers

  “I found it, Mrs. Darcy,” Hannah called as she bounded into the room. Elizabeth’s maid came to a stumbling halt when she saw the housekeeper. Hannah said cautiously, “I pray I did not keep you waiting, Ma’am.”

  Elizabeth gave her maid a thankful smile. “Mrs. Ridgeway brought me a pot of fresh tea. She was just leaving.”

  “I see, Ma’am.” Hannah moved between Elizabeth and the housekeeper. “I think it best, Ma’am, if you return to your bed. I promised Mr. Darcy that I would not permit you to overextend yourself.”

  Elizabeth smiled tenderly at her maid. In the short time they had been together, Hannah had learned the art of deflection well. “I would not have my husband cross with you.” Elizabeth accepted Hannah’s arm about her waist. They moved across the room as one—as if Elizabeth were an invalid.

  Hannah glanced to where Mrs. Ridgeway stood watching the interplay. “If there is nothing more, Mrs. Ridgeway, please close the door upon your exit. I shall return the tea tray to the kitchen.”

  The housekeeper hesitated, but the woman finally bestowed a curt nod upon Hannah and a brief curtsy in Elizabeth’s direction. “With your permission, I shall send Mr. Stowbridge a note regarding my arrival.”

  Elizabeth said without rancor, “Go with God, Mrs. Ridgeway.”

  “God has never seen fit to guide my steps previously, Mrs. Darcy. He has left me to find my way alone.”

  Elizabeth scowled. “I have found that those who doubt God in their lives often ignore God’s direction, especially if His wishes are contrary to theirs.”

  A deep red color came immediately to the woman’s cheeks. The housekeeper said brusquely, “Again, we shall agree to remain in disagreement, Mrs. Darcy.”

  When the door closed behind the lady, Elizabeth and Hannah caught each other up in a companionable embrace. “I do not trust that woman,” Hannah declared.

  The ruse of additional bed rest over, Elizabeth sat at the desk again. “On many levels, Mrs. Ridgeway destroys my best efforts to remain congenial; yet, in reality, the lady has done nothing more than to show poor judgment. She has overstepped her authority, but does that make her evil or just an opportunist?”

  Hannah picked up the fresh teapot. “Say what you wish, Mrs. Darcy, but I shall be glad when we leave this place.” Hannah marched purposely toward the open window.

  “Hannah?” Elizabeth asked with a burst of laughter that instantly irritated her throat. A coughing fit followed before she managed to ask, “What are you about?”

  Hannah turned from the window from which she poured the tea to the ground below. “You will not be drinking any tea prepared by that woman’s hands, Mrs. Darcy. Not as long as I am alive.”

  Chapter 19

  With no new upheavals, Darcy spent the remainder of the day with the archaeologists and the evening with cards and port and the company of the colonel and Tregonwell’s men. Mr. Franklyn had praised the caliber of Samuel’s finds and the care with which Darcy’s cousin had treated the most delicate discoveries. “We expect it will require another fortnight to catalog everything in your cousin’s collection, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy thought it very unlikely he would be at Woodvine as long as another fortnight, but he did not share that information with Franklyn. He would secure the services of Mr. Cowan, or Darcy would send word to Rardin for the earl’s man to oversee the collection until its removal to the Society’s headquarters. “I am certain Cousin Samuel’s excellent eye for detail held no bounds. What little I have seen of the displays was quite impressive.”

  “Indeed they are,” Sedgelock said with admiration.

  Darcy said in his own inimitable style, “Do not hesitate to call on me if you require my assistance.” He returned the Egyptian bracelet to a display cloth. “I have other pressing responsibilities, but do not doubt that I review the detailed list of Cousin Samuel’s treasures that you provide me each evening.” Because the Society men held an advantage due to their knowledge of the items displayed in his cousin’s “hidden” room, Darcy assured the Society men that he took an active interest in their studies. “Your diligence in your duties is admirable,” he added as a balm to the men’s egos.

  In the evening, after he had assured himself Elizabeth had not overextended her energies or her voice on her first day from her bed, Darcy had remained below stairs, enjoying his cousin’s company. “I understand you heard from Cowan,” he said as he smoked a cheroot after the meal.

  The colonel blew a twisting puff of smoke through his tight lips. The ends of the smoke curled in on themselves. “Arrived about three.” Edward inhaled again and attempted a different design in the smoke. “The Runner has asked me to join him in Manchester. Cowan says it is important.”

  Darcy’s countenance hardened. He did not approve of the idea of Edward’s withdrawal, even for a few days. As the death toll had risen, Darcy had come to depend heavily on his cousin’s reason. “Do you know any of the details of Cowan’s task?”

  Edward shook his head. “I have no guess as to Cowan’s intentions, but what I do know is he requires my influence as a colonel in the King’s service, and likely as Matlock’s son. Trust me. Cowan is never one to seek another man’s assistance unless he holds no other alternative.”

  “When will you depart?” Darcy conceded the inevitable.

  “I thought shortly after services tomorrow. It is not ideal to travel on the Sabbath, but if I avoid the turnpike roads, I could be in Manchester by late Monday,” Edward reasoned.

  Darcy calculated. “Then you could return to Dorset by Thursday next.”

  “You do not intend for me to know any rest from the saddle, Cousin.” Edward chuckled good-naturedly.

  The colonel’s jest had caused some smarting of Darcy’s principles, but he placed his qualms aside. “You prefer to be of use,” Darcy countered. “And you are well aware of my dependence on your logical mind and your most excellent company.”

  “Of course, I will speed my return, and if I am to be delayed, I will send word.”

  “Mr. Williamson appears quite pale,” Elizabeth observed as Darcy had escorted her to his cousin Samuel’s family pew.

  He spoke for her ears only. “The curate has such a strict sense of propriety, so much of that true delicacy of spirit, which one seldom meets with nowadays, and, unfortunately, we have given the man more work than is normally within his realm of duties.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him lovingly. “We have done no such thing. The deaths we have uncovered took place long before we arrived in Dorsetshire. If the citizens of this village had kept their houses in order, we would have come and gone by now.”

  Darcy smiled easily. “I am addicted to your loyalty, my love.”

  Edward joined them. “The word has spread of the additional gravesites in the church’s cemetery,” he said quietly.

  Darcy nodded to Elizabeth. “Mrs. Darcy refuses any blame on our part,” he teased with a bit of left over admiration.

  The colonel leaned closer. “Your wife’s opinion, Cousin, is the only one which truly matters.” A short parley of compliments ensued.

  Darcy seated Elizabeth between them. “Do not forget to survey the congregation,” Darcy whispered.

  “Whatever for?” Elizabeth looked at him inquiringly.

  Edward was all honey. “Do not fret yourself, Mrs. Darcy. My cousin only has eyes for his wife.” Elizabeth rapped Edward’s arm with her fan, while Darcy enjoyed the flush on his wife’s cheeks. It had driven away the pasty color across Elizabeth’s cheekbones.

  “It is true,” Darcy readily admitted.

  His cousin ignored Darcy’s profession of affection for his wife. Instead, Edward explained, “We are looking for a woman.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose in anticipation. “For you, Colonel?” she asked playfully.

  Edward’s smile widened. “If only, Mrs. Darcy,” he feigned solemnity. In reality, Darcy saw the familiar agreeableness return to his cousin’s countenance as he looked upon Elizabeth. As usual, Darcy
found a twinge of jealousy resting upon his shoulders. Edward continued as he glanced about those already seated, “We search for any woman who resembles the description Mr. Williamson provided us.”

  “One woman?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

  Edward said, “We had wished for one, but it appears there are multiple ladies of interest in the community.”

  Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye. “You, Mr. Darcy, have my permission to look upon other women, but only just this once, Sir. Mind you that my confidence would be destroyed if you took too much pleasure in the process.”

  A crack of laughter escaped Darcy’s lips before he could stifle the sound. “You are incomparable, Mrs. Darcy.” He brought the back of her gloved hand to his lips.

  After the service, Mr. Williamson motioned Darcy away from the others in the congregation. “I thought you should know, Sir, one of the local families has claimed a victim from Mr. Holbrook’s wooded find.”

  “How so?” Darcy asked discreetly. He held his breath as he waited for the clergyman to deliver his latest revelation.

  Williamson’s eyes scanned the milling churchgoers. “I sent word to the Clarkson family. Old Mr. Clarkson has spent many hours and more money than the family can afford in a search for his eldest son Robert.”

  Darcy watched Edward lead Elizabeth toward the waiting carriage. “What happened to Robert Clarkson?” he asked privately.

  “Young Clarkson had been hiring himself out for day work on the adjoining farms. One day, he departed his family home with word that he had found a multiple-day position. He reportedly planned to be gone a week. When Robert did not return after a sennight, Aron Clarkson set out to visit all the local farms and estates, seeking word of his eldest child’s fate.” An expression of satisfaction settled on the curate’s countenance.

  “How long ago did Robert Clarkson go missing?”

  “During the Festive Days.”

  Darcy immediately thought of his time with Elizabeth at Pemberley and how gloriously happy he had been. Whilst he was cozy with his new wife, Robert Clarkson had been lying in a shallow grave upon Samuel Darcy’s property. “Some six months,” he mused. “How did the elder Mr. Clarkson recognize his son?” Darcy recalled how quickly the body decomposed, and he grieved for a father who had to look upon his eldest son in such a state.

  “The elder Clarkson had given his son five pence which Mrs. Clarkson had sewn into the lining of Robert’s jacket. He had told Robbie that no matter where he found himself, the boy could come home.”

  Darcy thanked the curate for his diligence in bringing a resolution to some part of the insanity in which they found themselves. He said honestly, “Your dedication to your congregation is duly noted, Mr. Williamson. I will share my praise with the Bishop when next I see him.”

  With a heavy heart, Darcy said his farewells to his cousin. “Ride safely,” he admonished.

  Edward glanced to the window where Darcy knew Elizabeth stood, observing his cousin’s departure. The colonel raised his hand in an abbreviated wave. “Your blessings are numerous, Cousin. Do not doubt your wealth.”

  Darcy’s eyes followed his cousin’s. As he expected, Elizabeth was turning away. “My life began the day I stepped foot in Hertfordshire.”

  Edward chuckled as he reached for his horse’s reins. “You give the woman too much domain over you. I never thought to see the day, Darcy,” the colonel teased.

  “Some day I expect to hear you praise your own wife.”

  Edward shook his head in denial. “I hold misgivings.” An unknowingly sad smile turned up his cousin’s lips. “Yet, even with my doubts, I have placed my hopes in Mrs. Darcy’s most capable hands.”

  “Then you will know success. Whatever Mrs. Darcy touches turns to gold.”

  With a brief handshake, the colonel was gone. Darcy returned to the house. He would spend the day proving his love to his wife with a walk about the grounds, a few stolen kisses, perhaps a highly contested game of chess, a few more kisses, a relaxing meal with good conversation, and a night of passion. It would be the perfect end to a very harrowing week.

  Somehow, Sunday foreshadowed the upcoming week. The five days which followed the colonel’s departure, had proved productive and lacking in drama. Yet, try as he might to enjoy this long-hoped-for normalcy, Darcy kept waiting for the other shoe to fall.

  He had ordered wooden crates constructed to protect Samuel’s treasures, and he and the three Antiquarians had transferred the first of the Darcy donations to the crates for shipment to London. As he examined each of the pieces of Samuel’s collection, Darcy’s enthusiasm grew by leagues. He had always held a deep-seated interest in the past, but this was different. His family—the Darcys—would present England with a grand gift from a man who Darcy revered. People would look upon Samuel’s donation with awe. “Perhaps some day I can escort my son into the Society’s museum and show him the greatness of his family’s name,” Darcy had told Elizabeth as they cuddled late into the night. He had regaled his wife with praise for his cousin’s intelligence and the magnificence of Samuel’s collection.

  “Shall the Antiquarians finish before the Earl of Rardin’s arrival?” On Tuesday, Darcy had received word of Rardin’s and the Countess’s intended journey. The Rardins, with three children in tow, were expected by the end of the following week.

  Darcy’s lips grazed his wife’s ear. “Personally, I believe Franklyn, Sedgelock, and Chetley are of the mind of an adventurous boy who has been presented with every toy of his imagination. They admire first one item and then another and another before returning to the original find. Then they start again.”

  Elizabeth smiled into his chest. Darcy could feel her lips part and her light breath on his skin. A hot palm grazed his hipbone. “You paint a lovely picture, my husband. Shall our children be spoiled so?” Her voice was slowly recovering, and Darcy had thanked God it was so.

  “Our children, Elizabeth, will be taught what is right. They will be given good principles, but unlike my parents, we will not leave them to follow those principles in pride and conceit.”

  After a breathy hesitation, Elizabeth said, “You are too severe on your perceived flaws, Fitzwilliam.” Before he could respond, she silenced him with a touch of her fingers to his lips. “Mr. Darcy, we have agreed not to dwell in the past. What I would prefer to hear from your lips is how we shall spoil our children with books and toys and dogs and...”

  “Horses,” he said into her hair. “Oh, Lizzy, how much I desire the world you describe. Before we departed Derbyshire, Sir Phillip’s best filly came to foal, and I thought, if only...”

  She kissed his neck and embraced him tighter. “I promise you,” she said on a sob. “I promise there shall be other foals, and our children will enjoy having their magnificent father teach them to ride. You will know such pleasures, Fitzwilliam Darcy. You were born to father a gaggle of children.”

  Darcy chuckled. A teasing glint entered his eyes. “A gaggle?” He paused dramatically as if considering her words. “I shall know contentment with each one with which we are blessed.” He kissed the top of her head. “How many is a gaggle exactly?”

  Elizabeth crawled up the length of his body. Propped up on one arm, she draped herself across Darcy. “I thought we might create a strong son, one who resembles his very handsome father.”

  Darcy thoroughly enjoyed these private bantering moments. He would cherish them always. Darcy kissed her long and hard, with a need he could not quench. “Let us create a thoroughly independent daughter, who wraps her father about her small finger,” he said as he kissed the column of Elizabeth’s neck.

  Elizabeth brushed her lips across his palm before guiding Darcy’s hand along her hip. “May we begin our journey, Mr. Darcy?” she murmured.

  “Oh, my dearest Lizzy...”

  As the woman had declared previously, Mrs. Ridgeway made her exit on Monday. The fact only Mrs. Holbrook had seen the housekeeper off spoke loudly of the lack of respect the woman had engendered in
those within the household. From his chamber window, Darcy had observed the interchange between the cook and the former housekeeper. Evidently, Mr. Stowbridge had sent a small coach for the woman. “Quite luxurious for a servant—even an upper one,” Mr. Sheffield said derisively from behind Darcy.

  In the privacy of his quarters, Darcy permitted Mr. Sheffield latitude in his opinions. After all, Sheffield had been with him since before the passing of Darcy’s mother. In fact, it had been Sheffield to whom a distraught boy of sixteen had turned to make sense of losing a beloved parent.

  “We both understand the situation the lady has accepted,” Darcy said honestly.

  “I have never cared for the woman’s sharp tongue,” Sheffield shared. Something in the man’s tone caused Darcy to regard him closely. “Yet, no female should be made into a whore,” his valet said bluntly. Darcy gazed at his long-time companion in shock; Sheffield rarely used crude language.

  “Perhaps Stowbridge means to make Mrs. Ridgeway an honest woman.” Darcy turned away as Stowbridge’s servant assisted the housekeeper into the carriage.

  Sheffield returned to his duties. “The woman possessed other options. It is not as if Mrs. Darcy turned the lady out without notice.”

  Darcy silently agreed. When he had learned of Mrs. Ridgeway’s plans, Darcy had searched for some sense behind the housekeeper’s decision. The woman could have gone to London or one of the more productive centers, such as Bath or Brighton or Liverpool, and easily found employment. Even without a reference, the housekeeper could have pretended a recent arrival from the Americas and have secured a position. Or Mrs. Ridgeway could have accepted Mr. Glover. Darcy was relatively certain the surgeon possessed an affection for the woman. Instead, she had accepted a tenuous situation under the magistrate’s roof. “No. Mrs. Darcy would never purposely send any woman into dire straits. My wife has a kind heart.”