Darcy Meets Elizabeth In Kentucky

by Glenna Mason

  “Hi, Elizabeth.”

  “Hi, Claire,” Elizabeth said, getting out of the car and joining Claire in her garden. “I was just on my way home from school, and I wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  “Come on in, Elizabeth. Let's have a glass of iced tea. I'm thirsty. I’ve been weeding.”

  After they sat down in the parlor, Claire asked her maid to bring them the tea as well as some biscuits and sherry.

  “It is good to see a neighbor after being infiltrated for two weeks by well-intentioned house guests,” stated Claire.

  “Yes, neighbors are like grandchildren. They can be enjoyed, and then they can go home,” Elizabeth said with a smile. They both laughed at the truth of Elizabeth's analogy.

  The tea arrived and the two chatted casually about the weather and the flowers, anything but Jimmy Joyce's death. Elizabeth had determined that topic would be taboo on this day of reconciliation.

  Finally Elizabeth asked, “Are you enjoying teaching the Joyce classes?”

  “I am. It is easy as you know. Just show up and read out Jimmy Joyce's words. I do look forward to creating my own lectures in the fall. I'll be teaching two creative writing classes as an artist in residence. It will be fun.”

  “It will be a blessing to have someone of your talent teaching creative writing at the university, Claire.”

  Eventually Claire inquired about the progress of the investigation into the horse thefts. “Nothing new is apparently standard fare for the police,” Claire commented. “How are the amateurs doing? Any better?”

  Having no intention of mentioning anything about the new direction their inquiries had led, to anyone at any time and especially not to Claire, Elizabeth truthfully admitted that Sir William had requested that they desist as amateur detectives and let the police handle it. That was in fact not a lie; he had made the request. Elizabeth had no intention of admitting that she and Tish had ignored the admonition.

  “And how is the blogger friend of Jimmy Joyce’s? I understand she too was threatened with vehicular homicide.”

  Elizabeth was totally taken aback. She had purposely not told Claire that Jimmy Joyce’s e-mail pal was a woman, and she had certainly not mentioned anything to Claire about Minerva being run off the road. How did Claire learn these two pieces of information? Elizabeth lied, saying, “Oh, I didn't know. I never got very far with Jimmy Joyce's files.”

  Claire was a little disconcerted. “Oh, I thought you told me. I guess it was Jane or Maria.”

  Elizabeth was irritated that her sister or friend would break her confidence and relate Minerva's mishap to Claire. It was so unlike either of them. Elizabeth decided it must have been an inadvertent slip. Elizabeth knew that neither of them would expose the secret purposely, so she decided not to mention it to either. The mistake could not be undone and would just cause consternation and embarrassment.

  These thoughts flashed through her mind quickly, but even so Elizabeth realized suddenly that Claire was watching her closely. “I am such an open book,” Elizabeth reminded herself. “She knows that I am lying.” Yet Elizabeth sensed that Claire appeared equally ready to dismiss the subject, when she turned the conversation back to weeds and spring flowers.

  A few minutes later Elizabeth excused herself, inviting Claire to come across the road for a return visit at her earliest convenience, hoping that Claire would never take her up on the offer. Claire accompanied Elizabeth off the porch to her car. As she was getting in, Elizabeth noticed a bright red Honda Civic in front of Claire's detached garage, which was located at the rear of the house.

  “What a lovely automobile,” Elizabeth commented. “Is it new?”

  “Yes, the day Jimmy Joyce died, after Jane's tranquillizers wore off, I had so many condolence calls I just had to escape the house. I took Jimmy Joyce's car. I was so conflicted, that I just drove mindlessly. I ended up in Lexington. On a lark I drove into a Honda lot. Bingo! There she was. It was love at first sight, so I took her out for a test drive.” Claire smiled at the car, obviously quite pleased with her purchase.

  “When my brother arrived on Saturday, he and I took my car over too. I signed the papers, traded in two gas guzzlers and got one gas saver and didn't pay a cent.”

  Claire paused and then added, “Jimmy Joyce didn't like red cars. Too often ticketed he claimed. But I like them. He drove fast. I seldom speed, so I should be fine.” Claire smirked, as if she had had the last word on her husband.

  Elizabeth could not help but once again be appalled at Claire and her disloyalty to Jimmy Joyce. However she merely rejoined, “I am glad you got such a special bargain.”

  “I had to have a lift, Elizabeth. I gave myself a big one. I tend to be spontaneous you know.”

  “Spontaneity is a plus oftentimes.”

  “I guess it is just my creative-centered-self, which seems to control my every thought and action.”

  “Self-centered is more like it,” Elizabeth thought, then admonished herself silently with, “Will you stop it?”

  She said aloud, “I am glad you treated yourself, Claire. You deserve it. And the car looks like a joy to drive.”

  “It is. I'll keep you posted on the progress of my novel,” Claire shouted, as Elizabeth pulled away.

  “Oh, great!” Elizabeth stated quite loud, when she was out of Claire’s hearing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Saturday in the early evening, Elizabeth's family along with the Castles and Tish Pope were to meet at Sir William's to finalize the next stage of their overall agenda. Kitty, Maria and Tish, having completed their investigations into Fitzwilliam Darcy, Twin Spirals Farm and JUUUMP, had all reported to Sir William by Friday evening, so that he had time to organize his thoughts for the all-important owner luncheon on Saturday. Hence Sir William had been well-armed to approach his fellow owners with a business proposition, when they arrived at Stantonfield for lunch at noon on Saturday.

  As soon as the men left, Sir William phoned Tish. “I didn't get as much money as I wanted,” he reported, “but the important thing is that all are amenable to our reasoning of not prosecuting Mr. Darcy and are in fact being exceedingly generous to boot. I believe by the time I add some other interested altruists from the horse world—I have a few on board already—and pony up some extra myself, we will accrue as much as the ransom money.”

  “Oh, my dear, how wonderful! I am so relieved, but I knew you would carry it off.” said Tish. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

  “There is something special you can do for me, my darling. I have a request the next time we have some quality time alone together,” Sir William cryptically replied. “It is not something that I wish to discuss over the phone.”

  “Anything, any time, any place, my sweet,” Tish said.

  “See you tonight then?” Sir William asked.

  “Yes, Elizabeth is picking me up. That way you can bring me home.”

  “Tish, you are at home at my place,” said Sir William.

  “I can stay over, if you like.”

  “Tish, I always like for you to stay over.”

  “Until tonight then,” she responded sweetly and rang off.

  *****

  As twilight descended, Sir William's family room blew hot and cold, with little temperate in between, as a roaring fire competed with the late March coolness flooding in through eight open windows. Gage and Maria and Trey, along with Sir William, huddled around the fireplace, so when Cameron arrived to escort Minerva and Mickey into the room, Sir William, rising to welcome them, ordered, “Cameron, let's close the windows now. The temperature is dropping precipitously.”

  “Yes, sir. I'll send in Hughes immediately,” Cameron responded, closing windows being way below his pay grade, and then inquired, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “We will have drinks and hors d'oeuvres as soon as Master Trey goes to the nursery, Cameron—approximately a half hour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Soon, the windows closed and the roo
m filled with toasty warmth, Sir William instructed Trey on a game of tossing pine cones into the glowing flames to create a cacophony of crackling magic, accompanied by pungent autumnal fragrance, which effectively mesmerized the youngster, with a spectacle of sight, sound and smell.

  Both eventually became flushed with the heat, so Sir William picked the lad up and sank with him into his favorite chair, which was, naturally, located a perfect distance from the flames. The two nestled deep into the supple luxury of the bronze leather, basically forgetting the other four, who chatted comfortably nearby.

  “Miss Pope and Dr. Elizabeth,” Cameron formally announced. Sir William's eyes suddenly sparkled as bright as the blazing fire at the knowledge that Tish was here at last.

  Sir William wrested himself and Trey from the depths of the chair and, handing the baby off to his dad Gage, crossed the room and positioned himself between Tish and Elizabeth.

  The ladies flashed him their most charming smiles. He escorted them to a seat near the hearth, positioning Tish in the arm chair next to his and Elizabeth on the couch directly across the coffee table from them. Almost immediately Cameron announced the arrival of Jane, Charles, Francine and Doc, ending formally with “Miss Libby Bell Bingley and Miss Millie Kay Bingley.” The two sisters entered, preening like a pair of peacocks. Kitty and Mary followed close behind.

  As soon as Trey viewed two friends close to his own age, he started to wriggle and screech in his father's arms. Jane immediately took pity on his father, saying to her daughters, “Darlings, would you please take charge of Trey and play with him in the nursery until his bedtime?” The three exited happily hand in hand.

  Cameron appeared at the doorway. Sir William nodded. Soon one of Cameron's footmen appeared and took the drink orders. Two maids arrived with silver trays of hors d'oeuvres.

  Francine and Doc settled down on a love seat, holding hands, as they waited for their drinks. Jane and Charles joined Elizabeth on the sofa. The Castles sat in a large arm chair, he in the seat, she resting leisurely on the arm.

  Sir William began his report, pausing occasionally for effect, “I have spoken to the owners of the stolen thoroughbreds. They are in accord with us. Since the thefts were evidently perpetuated for altruistic reasons by one of our own—to improve the plight of the jockeys, who risk their lives for our industry—and the horses, which allow it to thrive by their magnificence, and are all too often slated for slaughter—when they are deemed no longer useful—which we unanimously abhor—we are prepared to withdraw any and all charges—which has the added benefit of allowing the police to get on with their daily protections—as long as the ransom money is returned in full.”

  “Sir William, I am so grateful for your words. Mr. Darcy seems a most honorable man. His entire community thinks so. How could they all be wrong?” Minerva bravely asserted.

  “Thank you, Minerva, for that vote of confidence. But I have even better news. In addition, we owners are scheduled to provide the said charity with sizable tax deductible donations of up to two million dollars each, but not less than one million dollars, as long as the funds are administered by a foundation approved by the state of Kentucky.”

  The entire ensemble gasped audibly and smiled brightly.

  “We are under a time constraint because of the insurance companies, which I might add will be happy to forget the entire episode. We can always refuse their payments, after all. So basically, it is up to Mr. Darcy now.

  “This is an offer our friend, Mr. Darcy, as a gentleman and a horseman himself, should be willing to accept and grateful to administer, if everything we hear about him is true. I have already contacted several additional contributors, including the Bennets, Monsieur Chevalier, Marquis De Pres and several of their friends in France, who intend to add to our contributions with generous gifts of their own. Tish is, of course, considering donating her entire farm to the organization. Mr. Darcy has done well for his cause and can retire from Robin Hood-ery for good. And so I shall tell him in no uncertain terms.”

  “My main concern now,” Gage said, “is that a man of such stature in his community, and even beyond, will be loath to admit to being a common horse thief.”

  “That is a valid point, Gage. However, every indication is that Darcy is a solid citizen and a sensible thinker. We are offering exoneration and substantial financing of a possibly increasing nature. If he is a true philanthropist, he will be hard pressed to turn us down.”

  “Still. . .”

  “Still, I will have the lovely Miss Pope with me, who not only can identify him, but who also adheres to his grand philosophy and wants to donate an additional one thousand acres to his enterprise.”

  “April is around the corner, and the scuttlebutt is that he stays in Kentucky April through June,” Elizabeth said. “Could you wait a few days? I would like to go to Lancaster and meet him. Gage set me thinking. Maybe if I can get to know him a little and bring some personal level to the encounter, he will understand we mean him well.”

  “It cannot hurt, but go quickly; we cannot wait long. The insurance checks could arrive anytime. Although we owners are ready to return them, we will not do so until and unless Darcy is amenable to our offer.”

  Elizabeth was pleased. She wasn't sure why, but she had a burning desire to meet Fitzwilliam Darcy. She had no intention of waiting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Elizabeth's Freshman Composition class was putting the finishing touches on their research paper, and her Mystery in Drama class, having finished the dramatic reading of Witness for the Prosecution, was watching the famous movie version. No lesson planning needed there, so Elizabeth decided to leave immediately after Monday classes for Lancaster.

  Elizabeth's plans were vague, when she took off for Lancaster around two-thirty. Dashing from class before the students even, Elizabeth reached her Mercedes coupe in the faculty parking lot in record time, tossed her flats in the trunk and put on a low pair of riding boots. She hoped she could get her late afternoon ride out of Mr. Darcy; Elizabeth realized she shone brightest in the saddle.

  Elizabeth had Tish's directions to the Darcy home, so it should be easy to find. Elizabeth was so excited by the afternoon's prospects that she understood she will be devastated if he were not at home.

  By the time Elizabeth entered the Lancaster city limits, she was in high spirits. She had sped down the two lane road, the top down, her hair flying wildly. It was only three-thirty, when she pulled through the gates onto the drive leading up to the Southern style mansion; she could see it in the distance, resting on a slight hill deep inside the Darcy farmland.

  Horses looked up from the grazing, as she passed by them. “Just like Claysmount,” she said.

  A white barn, trimmed in blue, was located in a field to the left of the drive, a respectable distance from the yard of the house. It differed from most Claysmount properties in that a very large show ring encircled a lot next to the barn. Riding apparatuses, such as a harness rider would use, protruded from several accompanying sheds.

  There was significant activity at the barn, so Elizabeth ground to a stop near its gate, electing to try here first, rather than circle on around the perimeter to the house. She grabbed her baseball hat off her head and ran her fingers through her tangled locks.

  She waved to a stable boy, who moved in her direction.

  “Hi,” she shouted. “I'm looking for Mr. Darcy. Is he here?”

  “Yes'm,” replied the youth. “I'll fetch 'em for you.”

  Elizabeth, not knowing exactly why, felt her whole body quiver. “He's here!”

  “Mr. Darcy!” the boy yelled.

  At that moment a perfect model for the statue of a Greek God strolled out of the barn, leading an ebony stallion of exquisite beauty. The man was so spectacularly handsome that Elizabeth was temporarily speechless.

  “Mr. Darcy, you've a visitor,” the boy hollered across the distance.

  Elizabeth had been forewarned by Minerva. She had seen Tish's sketch. But
nothing in her mind's eye had prepared her for the astonishing good looks of the man quickly approaching her. His coal black, wavy hair was falling over his forehead; his brown eyes were dynamic and dimples were twinkling in both cheeks, as he smiled a welcome, striding up to the fence where she waited.

  “Hello,” he said. “I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy. May I please help you?”

  Elizabeth searched for her voice as Fitzwilliam Darcy stared, obviously a little startled to suddenly have such a pretty visitor. Elizabeth, who had memorized a strategy, could not remember anything. So she simply said, “I'm Elizabeth Bennet of Claysmount.”

  “Glad to meet you, Miss Bennet. Claysmount? You wouldn't be one of the Bennets, who used to raise saddlebreds and now breed thoroughbreds?”

  “Why, yes, Mr. Darcy. You've heard of us?”

  “Miss Bennet,—it is Miss, isn't it?”

  “Yes, Miss,” she assured him. “But please call me Elizabeth.”

  “Well, Elizabeth, who in the horse field hasn't had the pleasure of seeing some of your fine yearlings grow into multi-stakes winners? I'd be very remiss if I didn't know about Bennet Farms Ltd.”

  Elizabeth suddenly realized that she was hopping from one foot to the other, like some freshman school girl talking to the star football player. She forced herself to stand still.

  “I am so glad you stopped by,” Mr. Darcy continued, not sure where to go with the conversation, since Miss Bennet was not helping.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy—”

  “Fitzwilliam, please.”

  “Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, finally remembering her prepared speech, “my family is thinking about investing in your enterprise at Twin Spirals Farm. I volunteered to come down and meet you for the family. My sister, our accountant, and my brother-in-law, our veterinarian, actually do all the real work, but I am the face who meets the public.”

  “Well, they certainly chose a pretty one,” he said.

  The excitable stallion nudged Darcy and stomped his foot impatiently.

  “Miss Bennet . . .”

  “Elizabeth.”