Perfidy & Promises

by Abbey North

  3

  The smell of smoke woke Lizzy, and a quick glance out her window revealed a fire across the grounds. It seemed to be coming from the stables, and she quickly threw on her night-rail and shoved her feet into slippers as she hurried into the hallway. Other guests had gathered as well, save for Lady Catherine, and they all rushed downstairs.

  Even her mother was in attendance, and Fanny made no complaint as Mr. Darcy directed them all to line up to join the bucket brigade. First, he selected Mr. Bingley and a few of the male servants to help him enter the stables and bring out the horses.

  Lizzy stood by Anne, who seemed poised to run in. Lizzy was certain she was concerned for her horse, but she was obviously far more concerned for Carlos. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Only the stablemaster sleeps in the stables, and only at his discretion. Carlos will have his own quarters.”

  Anne nodded, seeming to cling to the hope, and there was a tortured sob that escaped her when Carlos emerged moments later leading two horses by the reins.

  As soon as the men had emptied the stables of the horses, they joined the line as well. There was nothing so egalitarian as trying to put out a fire, and the group worked as seamlessly as possible for the next two hours to extinguish the flames before they could spread to the nearby foliage, other outbuildings, or reach Pemberley’s main house.

  While in the midst of it, Lizzy hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, but once they were done passing buckets, her arms trembled, and her chest ached. There was a spasm in her back, and she longed for nothing more than a soak in a hot tub, though that was a luxury she wouldn’t request tonight. After all the work the servants had done alongside them, she could hardly expect them to carry in the copper tub and multiple pails of hot water.

  She would have to content herself with washing up in the basin, and she thought longingly of the spring that flowed near their house at Longbourn. Her mother had long ago deemed she and her sisters too old to swim there, but that didn’t stop them most of the time on a hot summer’s day. Even though it would be a cool experience plunging into the water at night, she wished she had the opportunity now.

  Furtive whispers caught her attention, and she realized one of the servants was quietly consulting with Mr. Darcy. Lizzy moved closer without even trying to hide she was eavesdropping. Fitzwilliam shot her a look, but he didn’t dissuade her, and she learned soon enough there was a body in the stables. “Your stablemaster didn’t escape the fire?” She felt a wave of sadness for the man she had met earlier.

  Darcy nodded to his servant, excusing him before putting a hand on Lizzy’s arm. “It appears the stablemaster was dead before the fire began.” He lowered his voice. “He has been stabbed through the heart.”

  Lizzy’s eyes widened. “I take it there is not much to be gleaned from the remnants?” How could one pose that question delicately?

  He hesitated and then shook his head. “I very much doubt you would see anything that would lead you to finding a clue.”

  She let out a sigh of relief at not having to ask to examine the body. “Have you sent for the constable?”

  Fitzwilliam nodded. “I have, and Constable Smith is passably competent. I have also sent one of my people to fetch a Runner. I am hopeful Mr. Kenton will visit Pemberley at my behest.”

  Lizzy frowned. “If your constable is competent, do you really believe we need a Runner?”

  “It is not just the question of how Mr. Terrence came to have a knife through his heart. There have been other incidences of late that make me suspect someone is targeting Pemberley.”

  She frowned. “Such as?”

  “Last week, one of the grooms discovered my saddle had been cut. Not completely, but enough to fray loose and likely send me to my death if I were in the middle of a rapid ride, as I enjoy most days of the week.”

  Lizzy scowled at that news. “Someone tried to kill you?”

  He hesitated, but then he nodded. “The evidence suggests that, for certain.”

  “What other incidents?”

  “Several different servants have come to me to report seeing a shadowy figure skulking about the grounds at various times of the day and night. I have had no luck yet catching the person, but I trust the accounts and the people giving them.”

  Lizzy nodded. “Of course you do, especially with more than one giving the same story. Have there been other incidences?”

  “There was a dead rat left on my bed several days ago.” Fitzwilliam shuddered slightly. “It had not simply died of natural causes. I shall spare you the details, but suffice to say, someone had left it in a gruesome display. It was a threat, I am certain.”

  “I see the wisdom in sending for a Runner. Do you know who might wish you harm?”

  Fitzwilliam’s mouth tightened. “I can think of only one person, and you know him as well.”

  Lizzy bit her lip for a moment before she said, “George Wickham.” It certainly made sense that he would be on a campaign for revenge, but was he really so shortsighted as to come back to Pemberley to torture Darcy when he could have had a chance to escape the country? “Would he be so imprudent to do such a thing? I understand there is acrimony between you, but would he not have left Britain entirely if he had the chance?”

  “That is what an intelligent man would do. Wickham is certainly intelligent, but he lacks logic. He is prone to be ruled by his emotions rather than rationality, and it would not surprise me at all to learn he had squandered his chance to escape in favor of returning to Pemberley to make my life hell.”

  She frowned. “But why would he target poor Mr. Terrence?” She remembered the kindly man she’d met yesterday, and another pang went through her. “Did he have some personal issue with your stablemaster?”

  “I do not see how. Mr. Terrence came to Pemberley about a year after Wickham’s banishment. To my knowledge, the two never even met, but that is not to say there is not something existing between them. Or perhaps, Mr. Terrence was simply collateral damage, a burden Wickham had to deal with before he could freely set the fire.”

  Lizzy frowned. “That does not seem like Wickham.”

  His eyebrows drew together in a heavy scowl. “You do not believe Wickham would commit murder? What of my saddle?”

  Lizzy hesitated. “Perhaps he would kill you. What I meant to say though, is it seems rather bold and far too direct an action for the Wickham I know. He is more inclined to prowl about, torturing you from the shadows. Perhaps he had an opportunity to cut your saddle and did so, but that is a rather hands-off way to kill someone. Waiting for the leather to inevitably break and not have to witness the results of his actions firsthand seems quite different than confronting someone and stabbing them directly.”

  He appeared to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I must disagree. He is certainly sly, but if pushed into a corner, I have no doubt he would act to save himself or to follow the course he had set.”

  “Nevertheless, I felt we should look into other matters concerning Mr. Terrence, just to ensure we are not overlooking a suspect.” She sounded so confident that she was proud of herself. After the incident in London, when Mr. Nobles had managed to kidnap her and almost kill her, she was afraid her confidence in investigating might have been forever marred, so it was good to feel a spark of interest at the challenge ahead of her, though she loathed that the opportunity existed at the cost of a man’s life.

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “I believe we would be better served waiting for the Runner.”

  She frowned at him. “It will take two or three days for Mr. Kenton to arrive, and we might lose all information or hope of finding it by then. Perhaps, we might even have the murder solved by the time Mr. Kenton arrives, and then he can focus on catching Wickham.”

  Lizzy still thought the two crimes might not necessarily both lay at Wickham’s feet, though she doubted Fitzwilliam was capable of seeing that possibility. She couldn’t fault him for having a blind spot when it came to Wickham, for the man had done
dastardly deeds, but she still thought he was far too cowardly to murder someone so directly.

  When he didn’t speak for a moment, she said, “Well, are you going to help me?”

  4

  Fitzwilliam hesitated about answering for a moment, but he’d already cast the dye the moment he took her into his confidence. There was no denying Lizzy had a talent for this sort of thing, and together, they were a strong team.

  With a small sigh, he nodded. “Of course, I shall assist you.” His lips twitched at the idea that he was assisting her. He preferred to view it as a partnership, but he suspected Lizzy regarded him as more of a subordinate. It was an unusual situation for a man like him, but he wasn’t going to quibble with her about status.

  “I suggest we begin by speaking with the people who work daily with Mr. Terrence.” Lizzy had seemed exhausted after they put out the fire, and Fitzwilliam felt the same, but now she appeared reinvigorated as she started walking toward what was left of the stables. He put out a hand to stop her, saying in a low voice, “If you wish to speak to the grooms, they are with the horses.”

  Lizzy flushed, and then she laughed slightly. “Of course, they are. Why would they be in the burned-out stables?” She looked sad for a moment. “Not only has this incident cost you a fine man, but a fine building as well. What shall you do with the horses?”

  “I am certain my men can rig up some sort of temporary shelter for them, and I will have to engage a builder to put up new stables as quickly as possible, at least before fall when the weather starts to turn. The horses will no doubt be all right in the interim.”

  She nodded, clearly satisfied with his plan, and headed in the direction of the horses in the field. Fitzwilliam followed her as the other guests started to dissipate, heading back to the house. Only Jane seemed slightly surprised that Lizzy was approaching the horses and the grooms with Mr. Darcy in tow. Apparently, her mother and other sisters were too exhausted to realize there was anything strange about Lizzy’s behavior.

  Lizzy approached the one Darcy pointed out as having worked there the longest, even preceding Mr. Terrence’s arrival. She went to him first, and having learned his name from Fitzwilliam, she said, “I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Wirth.”

  The older man seemed surprised by her compassionate tone. He moved forward with a pronounced limp, which was the main reason he had declined the offer of becoming stablemaster when the position had opened nine years ago, according to Fitzwilliam. “It is my loss and everyone’s,” said the man in a gruff tone. “Mr. Terrence was a fine gentleman, and he had a way with the horses.”

  “You must have been good friends, having worked together for so long,” said Lizzy.

  Mr. Wirth nodded. “Indeed, we were.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Mr. Terrence?”

  Darcy observed it for himself that several of the grooms froze for a moment, and Mr. Wirth’s gaze shifted slightly to the side. “I don’t know what you are talking about, miss.”

  “Perhaps you are not aware yet, but Mr. Terrence was killed before the fire was set.”

  That caused the men around them to stiffen, and Mr. Wirth’s bushy eyebrows drew together like two caterpillars intent on rendezvousing. “Are you saying someone murdered Mr. Terrence and then burned down the stables to cover it up?”

  “That is one theory we are working on,” said Darcy as he stepped forward. “We are not certain, other than we know Mr. Terrence was not killed in the fire.” There was hardly any point in trying to keep it quiet, for word would leak soon enough, and he felt it was better for the servants to hear it from him. “Someone stabbed Mr. Terrence, so it was unlikely he was alive when the fire started.”

  “That does make sense,” said one of the younger grooms.

  “How so?” asked Lizzy.

  “With all the sabotage that has been happening lately, and someone trying to light fire to the servants’ cottage with the thatched roof last week, Mr. Terrence was concerned for the horses. He was afraid someone might try to tamper with the stables, so he had taken to sleeping in the quarters off the tack room instead of his usual apartment. If he’d been alive when the fire started, he would have done his best to put it out. I doubt it would have ever reached such a rowing blaze.”

  “I concur,” said Mr. Wirth. “It is entirely conceivable Mr. Terrence would have lingered too long in the fire trying to put it out to save the horses, but if he had been alive when it started, he never would have allowed it to become the conflagration it did.”

  “That means someone killed Mr. Terrence, either because they wanted to set fire to the stables, or because they had a personal grievance with him.” Lizzy tipped her head slightly.

  Fitzwilliam suddenly found it amusing that she was standing in her night-rail and slippers interrogating his grooms, and seemingly without a hint of self-consciousness about it. Of course, she was amply covered, and her modesty was intact, but he admired that she could set aside such concerns to focus on far more important tasks. It was one of the many things he liked about her.

  “Do you think the figure that has been creeping around Pemberley had it in for Mr. Terrence?” asked one of the grooms.

  Darcy shook his head. “I believe that is a separate matter, though I have not ruled out the possibility both acts were done by the same person. I suspect Mr. Terrence might have simply been in the way and dealt with so the person could enact his plan to burn down the stables.”

  “I do disagree slightly with Mr. Darcy, at least in theory.” Lizzy spoke with calm confidence, apparently uncaring or unaware of the undercurrent of unease her words caused.

  Fitzwilliam could well imagine the surprise and perhaps even outrage among the men that she would dare disagree with him, their employer, and a man of his standing. She was clearly unintimidated by that, and she stared them down in turn. “In case there is a possibility the two actions are not related, I feel we must look into Mr. Terrence’s personal life. Otherwise, we would never condone such an intrusion, but I hope you gentlemen can help us. Is there someone who would wish him harm?”

  Mr. Wirth took a step forward. “I do not say that there is someone who would wish him harm, but he did spend a lot of time at the tavern in Lambton. If you go to the Boar’s Tusk, they might be able to give you more information, miss.” He nodded his head respectfully as he said that.

  “Thank you for the information, Mr. Wirth.” Lizzy straightened her shoulders. “I do believe those are all the questions I have for now, but I would ask you to make yourselves available if the need arises for further inquiries.”

  Since Lizzy wasn’t looking at him, Darcy nodded subtly to indicate his support, though he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been able to acquire their cooperation on her own even without any official authority over them. She could be persuasive, and her confidence was difficult to ignore.

  “The horses should be all right for tonight, so everyone, get some rest. Tomorrow, I would like you to focus on trying to build them a makeshift shelter while I send to London for a builder.” Darcy issued the orders to the men and nodded before taking Lizzy’s arm to escort her back to the house. He wondered if she felt as bone-weary as he did, and he was certain she did, because her steps were slower and slower as they reached the steps of Pemberley.

  “What I would not give for a bath,” said Lizzy with a hint of wistfulness.

  “That would be most refreshing.”

  “Of course, I would never burden the servants with that request tonight after everyone has worked so hard. I was thinking of the spring at Longbourn and wondering if you have such an option here, Mr. Darcy?”

  His eyes widened at the suggestion. He cleared his throat as he shifted in his Hessians, aware his pants were growing tight at just the idea of her bathing in the moonlight. He cleared his throat. “There is a pond. I can show you where and keep watch for you.”

  She smiled at him, looking thankful as she nodded eagerly. “I would be most appreciative.
You will not tell anyone, will you, Mr. Darcy?” she asked with an impish smile. “We both know how improper the request is.”

  “I shall not say a word, on my honor.” It wasn’t simply to preserve her reputation. The idea of sharing with anyone else that Lizzy had bathed in the pond with him standing nearby was knowledge he didn’t want to reveal. He didn’t want to risk anyone else envisioning the image in their minds, an image of which he felt far too possessive.

  There were both still tired, but they managed the walk to the pond, which was a good half-mile from Pemberley. As promised, Mr. Darcy turned away from her, holding her night-rail and refusing even to take a small peek. The temptation was strong, and he was happy to have conquered the impulse as he heard her splash around in the water.

  Several minutes later, she emerged, reaching out a hand in front of him. He could see her bare arm, still wet with rivulets from the pond, and he quickly handed over her night-rail, maintaining his averted gaze.

  When she appeared before him a moment later, she was wrapped in the night-rail and carrying her sodden night dress. He assumed she must have worn it into the water and then removed it upon finishing her wash. Her hair hung around her face in damp brown waves, and he longed to reach out and touch them. That would be a violation of trust, and beyond all bounds of propriety, despite how far they had already stepped outside them this evening.

  She smiled. “Would you like me to stand guard for you while you take a swim, Fitzwilliam?”

  He was alarmed at the prospect of disrobing around Lizzy. It wasn’t that he feared she would sneak a peek, but because he wasn’t certain he could manage his own impulses when the last vestiges hiding his reaction disappeared. It would be far harder to control himself if he were naked, and she wore only the one layer. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I believe I am too tired for the endeavor. I shall simply settle for a washbasin of cold water.”