The carriage pulled up, coming to an abrupt stop and mercifully pulling Darcy from a too familiar spiral of inner turmoil. He threw the door open and jumped out, not caring at first why they’d stopped. He was happy to be jolted from the disorder in his mind, and heart.
“Darcy, what’s the trouble?” Richard called, leaning out the door.
Darcy shook his head, not answering, and looked to his aged driver, who was climbing down from the seat. “Alderson?”
“I think one of the horses threw a shoe, sir,” Alderson said. He walked up to the horse in question, leaning against it and running a hand down its foreleg so it would lift its hoof. “Yup, thrown a shoe, sir. We’ll have to walk ‘um till we can come to a town with a smith.”
“Fine,” Darcy said, ignoring the mild curse Richard muttered. The next town wasn’t near, nor was the previous. Darcy climbed back into the carriage, resigning himself to hours of listening to his own unproductive thoughts.
“If you were traveling with your usual entourage, we could switch carriages,” Richard said, referring to Darcy’s typical cases, valet and other servants, usually allotted their own carriage for longer trips.
“Stevens won’t be along for several days,” Darcy said, referring to his valet. He saw no reason to expound on that, ignoring Richard’s raised brow. The truth was, his valet’s wife had recently granted the man a son and Darcy had given him several days leave. Darcy was only to wear black, after all, and perfectly capable of dressing himself. The staff at Rosings could attend to his needs. Most gentlemen didn’t encourage their hired men to have families, often sacking them for doing so, but Darcy had always found that a man with a family was a more stable sort of person. For stability and loyalty, he was more than willing to put up with the occasional inconvenience to his person.
By the time they found a blacksmith, he’d already let his coals cool for the day. Darcy had to pay extra to get him to rekindle the fire. He would have rented a team instead, but there weren’t any to be had.
“At least we’ve plenty of time for dinner,” Richard said as they seated themselves in a private room at the only inn the town had to offer, to wait on the smith.
His tone was light. Darcy suspected his cousin was perfectly aware of his dark mood. He sighed, deliberately forcing his mind away from Kent and the possibility of seeing Elizabeth. Richard was making every effort to be a pleasant travel companion, and it behooved Darcy to act in kind.
It turned out they had excessive time for a leisurely dinner, which, Darcy had to admit, wasn’t bad. Hearty would be the most appropriate word for the fare, and it was better than was typical of the sort of establishment. Once the forge was fired up, Alderson checked all fifteen other shoes on the team, deeming that two more needed replacing. Darcy rather thought that was something his driver should have done before embarking on the trip, but he knew he’d been in a hurry to leave and hadn’t given the man time.
Even with the long hours of May daylight, it was after dark when they arrived as Rosings. Darcy had rarely been so pleased to see the place and he knew it wasn’t only because the journey had been long. Rosings seemed somehow less grim than usual. He wasn’t sure if he should account the feeling to knowing his aunt wasn’t waiting to torment him, or to his memories of spending time there with Elizabeth.
He and Richard both disembarked as soon as the carriage came near to a halt. Darcy suspected his cousin was as eager to leave the cramped interior as he. They jogged up the steps side by side, to be greeted by a footman.
“Miss de Bourgh has already retired, sirs,” the man said.
Darcy nodded and headed for the staircase.
“Thank you,” he heard Richard say behind him. “I was wondering if you could have a nightcap sent up for me?”
“Yes, Colonel,” the footman said. “I’ll see to it in a moment. If you’ll excuse me, I must . . .”
Darcy lost whatever else the footman had to say. He was eager to gain the sanctuary of his room. It was a weakness, he knew, but hours spent in company wore on him like a slow torture. Even if the company was one of his closest companions, as Richard was. A flaw in his character, to be sure, but one he didn’t feel the need to rectify at that moment.
Of course, there was one person whose company never seemed to tire him. Rather the opposite. Her, he could spend days with . . . and nights. A smile slipped across his face as he reached the refuge of his usual room and opened the door, his mind flirting with the idea of nights with—
“Elizabeth?” Darcy said, stunned into immobility where he stood on the threshold of his room, the door half open.
“Mr. Darcy,” she gasped, snatching up a quilt to clutch before her nightgown-clad form.
Darcy immediately swung the door closed. He stood there, shocked. Elizabeth Bennet. In his room. In a state of undress.
“Sir,” a voice called from the end of the hall.
Darcy turned his head to see the footman who’d greeted them, looking frazzled.
“Sir, don’t open the door,” the man gasped, hurrying down the hall. “That room has been given to Miss Bennet, at Miss de Bourgh’s request.”
Darcy looked down at his hand, finding it still on the latch. He pulled it back, realizing the footman had no idea he was already too late. If the man had come a few seconds earlier . . . Darcy turned from the door, schooling his features into a frown. “Miss Bennet is staying here?”
“Yes, sir, at Miss de Bourgh’s invitation,” the footman said. “A room was prepared for you this way, sir.”
He gestured, turning down the hall. Darcy followed automatically, the image of Elizabeth in her nightgown, her hair in a single braid down her back, etched into his vision. Did she leave it braided while she slept, or did she free it to spread out about her head, draping her pillow in luxurious dark strands?
“This room, sir,” the footman said, jolting Darcy back to reality in time to keep from walking into him.
“Thank you,” Darcy said. “That will be all.”
The footman bowed and turned away. Darcy let himself into the room, finding it smaller than the one he was accustomed to and too ornate. It had taken him years to maneuver furnishings he cared for into his usual room. What was Elizabeth doing in it? What was she doing in Rosings at all?
He stuck his head back out into the hallway, but the footman was long gone. Likely, the man wouldn’t know the answers to Darcy’s question anyhow and it wouldn’t really be appropriate to ask. He closed the door again and began to undress. He would have to wait until morning to learn what was transpiring. One thing was certain, though: With the image of Elizabeth standing beside his bed in her nightgown seared into his mind, it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Four
The following morning Darcy sat in his room waiting for the hour he knew Richard preferred to dine. Darcy suspected Elizabeth was the type to breakfast early and he didn’t want to add to the awkwardness of the incident the night before by forcing her to be alone with him. Not that any encounter with her wouldn’t be awkward, the night before having only added to the list of shared secrets between them.
He felt the decided need to apologize for walking in on her and to explain that the room was normally reserved for him. He didn’t know if she would welcome him referencing the incident, however, even to apologize. He also didn’t know if she would be comfortable being alone with a man who’d both proposed to her and opened her bedroom door unannounced, but it wasn’t an apology that could be made in public. Not unless he wanted to force her to marry him.
He amused himself by toying with that idea until he heard the tread of Richard’s boot-shod feet in the hall. Crossing to the door of his room, Darcy placed the idea of manipulating Elizabeth into marrying him firmly out of his mind, where it belonged. He opened the door to a moderately surprised looking Richard and stepped out into the hall.
“A bit late for you, isn’t it?” Richard asked as Darcy fell in step with him.
“Yesterday was a long day,
” Darcy said.
“I know. I was there, you’ll recall.”
Darcy nodded, not feeling that was meant to be replied to.
“That wasn’t your usual room,” Richard said. “Anne set you in your place, has she?”
Darcy shrugged, definitely not wanting to go into any details about rooms.
“Good thing is, it shows she was never serious about that idea of you proposing. Wouldn’t have moved you down so many doors if she was.”
Darcy frowned. They were nearing the breakfast parlor. Richard’s choice of topics was questionable under any circumstances, but doubly unacceptable when someone might overhear them. He turned a repressive glare on the colonel, only to find Richard wasn’t looking his way.
“Miss Bennet, what a pleasant surprise,” Richard said as they entered the breakfast parlor.
Darcy forced his eyes to go to Anne, who was looking weary and drawn. “Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, Miss Bennet,” he said. He turned immediately to the sideboard, finding himself unable to look at Elizabeth without picturing her as he’d seen her the night before.
“Richard, Darcy,” he hear Anne say behind him. Neither Elizabeth nor Anne’s companion spoke.
“Anne, dearest cousin,” Richard said. “My heartfelt condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you, Richard,” Anne said.
Darcy winced, realizing he should have delivered a similar condolence. He’d already begun to assemble food on a plate, though. It would have to wait until he sat.
“It surprises me to find you here, Miss Bennet, and in black as well,” Richard continued. “You couldn’t have had such a gown with you for the occasion.”
“It’s one of Lady Catherine’s gowns,” Elizabeth said. “Miss de Bourgh insisted I wear it. It took quite the combined effort to make the conversion.”
“Elizabeth was very clever about it,” Anne said. “She managed to save several seams so we didn’t have to redo them all.”
Darcy closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, before willing all expression from his face and turning around.
“It’s Anne who we should have fitted it for,” Elizabeth said. “She’ll need to wear black for quite some time.”
She was every bit as enchanting as he recalled, even in unrelenting black. Darcy walked toward the table, realizing Richard had taken the seat across from Elizabeth, leaving him only one choice, to sit beside her or take a seat farther down the table and appear deliberately rude. He deposited his plate at the setting next to Elizabeth and spoke to Anne. “I’m very sorry for the loss of your mother.”
She looked up at him through tired eyes. “Thank you, Darcy.” Anne gave him a sad smile and turned back to the others, freeing him to take his seat. “I need an entirely new wardrobe of black. There was nothing to be gained by modifying one dress for my sake. Besides, it was a chance to do something for you, Elizabeth.”
“I don’t mean to pry, cousin, or come across as displeased to see the lovely Miss Bennet in any way, but why is she here?” Richard asked. He turned to look at Elizabeth. “I can’t believe you’ve grown so found of my aunt that you’re here solely to mourn her.”
“Indeed, while I sincerely mourn for Anne’s loss, I can claim no greater affection sprang up between Lady Catherine and me after you departed than existed before,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy sipped his coffee to hide his smile. He’d missed her evasive answers, sweet sounding but with a core of hard truth. Elizabeth turned away from Richard, looking to Anne, and Darcy realized she was wondering if his cousin would provide an answer to Richard’s real question.
“I asked Elizabeth to stay for a time,” Anne said. “I feel the need of her opinion on several matters.”
Interesting, Darcy thought. What of his opinion, or Richard’s? Apparently, Elizabeth’s thoughts were more valuable, or at least equally so. Darcy could concur with that, but he was surprised Anne had come to the idea.
“And what of you, Richard?” Anne said. “I hope this summons was not too inconvenient, with you only just having been away.”
Richard started into a familiar diatribe about the life of an officer, Anne’s questions encouraging him. In spite of her haggard appearance, Darcy hadn’t seen his cousin so animated since she was a child. He didn’t know how much of Anne’s loquaciousness was due to Elizabeth’s influence and how much came from the absence of her domineering mother, but he was pleased to see it. Anne would have the running of Rosings, after all, and would need to assert herself.
As they lingered over what was already a late breakfast, a footman entered the room, bowing. “I beg your pardons, sirs, misses, but a Mr. Hayes is here, Lady Catherine’s attorney. He said he wouldn’t have come yet if he’d known you weren’t through dining and that he can return later.”
“Tell him to stay,” Darcy said, standing. As much as he was enjoying sitting beside Elizabeth, taking in her occasional remark, he was tired of inactivity. “Richard, with me, if you will.”
“Right,” Richard said, rising from the table with a lingering look at the remains of his meal. “Ladies,” he added with a bow.
Darcy strode from the room, Richard’s footsteps following him. Behind them, Darcy could hear the rustle of skirts and murmuring voices. He frowned, sensing displeasure in the tones, though he couldn’t make out the words. Shrugging, he realized it likely had little to do with him and lengthened his stride.
He and Richard met with the attorney in Lady Catherine’s study. Mr. Hayes was a small and exceedingly elderly gentleman who looked as if he should have passed from life long before their Aunt Catherine. They discussed some of the details of the estate, focusing on the few more pressing issues. Richard remained mostly silent, seeming content to allow Darcy to make any decisions that needed to be made, and Mr. Hayes agreed with everything excessively. It was wearing, but Darcy could only assume it was what his aunt had liked about the man.
After nearly an hour, Hayes seemed satisfied, standing to depart. “One last thing,” he said as he gathered up his papers. “When do you wish me to read the will?”
Darcy looked to his cousin, who shrugged. “I believe we should wait for Lady Catherine’s brother, Earl of Matlock, to arrive,” he said, turning back to Mr. Hayes.
“Most appropriate. Assuredly so,” Hayes said, nodding.
Darcy and Richard both stood, shaking the man’s hand. As he tottered from the room, Richard shot Darcy an amused look before retaking his seat. The colonel reached for the newspaper on Lady Catherine’s desk, likely placed there out of habit. With his cousin occupied, Darcy quit the room, feeling he should provide Anne with a summary of what they’d decided.
A footman directed him to the appropriate parlor where he found Anne, Elizabeth and Mrs. Jenkinson all busily sewing black garments. He was pleased to see them so well employed, but his cousin and Elizabeth both stopped working immediately when he entered. Anne fixed him with a surprisingly stern look.
“Darcy,” she said, nodding to him but not standing. “In the future, I would appreciate it if I be included in any meetings with my mother’s attorney concerning my estate.”
Darcy blinked, caught off guard on the verge of bowing in greeting. “Of course,” he said. He cast a glance at Elizabeth, wondering if this was her doing. “I came immediately to tell you what transpired.”
“And what did transpire while you, Richard and that little man were deciding what to do with my holdings?”
Darcy tried to rearrange his thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he would say Anne was angry. “We decided not to hold the reading of the will until the Earl of Matlock arrives,” he said, grasping at the first detail that came to mind.
“Is the Earl of Matlock in the will?” Elizabeth asked, exchanging a look with Anne.
Darcy frowned. He was right, this was Elizabeth’s doing and he was uncertain if he approved. “I don’t know.”
Elizabeth set aside her sewing and stood up. Darcy stayed where he was, a few feet into the parlor, wat
ching in bewilderment as she crossed the room to ring for a servant. Elizabeth returned to her chair, she and Anne sitting straight backed and intent looking. Mrs. Jenkinson kept sewing, her face downturned toward her work. In moments, a maid hurried into the room.
“See if you can catch the attorney before he leaves the property,” Elizabeth said. “If you can’t, send a groom after him.”
For a few seconds everything seemed frozen. The maid looked to Darcy, obviously unsure if she should carry out Elizabeth’s order. Darcy didn’t move, aware he’d somehow placed himself on precarious ground.
“Do it,” Anne said, tilting her chin up in an effort to look commanding.
The maid glanced at Anne before turning beseeching eyes back to Darcy. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but he wasn’t foolish enough to embroil himself any further in the issue. True, he and Richard were done speaking with the attorney, but this wasn’t Pemberley. Rosings was almost certainly Anne’s now, and the maid answered to her.
“I doubt Miss de Bourgh has much of a place in her household for servants who don’t obey her orders,” Elizabeth said quietly.
The maid was still looking at him. Darcy realized he would have to speak. “Quickly. He can’t have gone far,” he said. Wide-eyed, the maid scurried from the room. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, choosing his words carefully. “Why would Miss de Bourgh need to see the attorney?”
Elizabeth turned to Anne, but she shook her head, looking suddenly exhausted. “She should know her status as soon as possible,” Elizabeth replied.
“She is to inherit Rosings,” Darcy said. “It was in her father’s will.”
“Are there any other bequests?” Elizabeth asked.
Darcy looked between his cousin and Elizabeth. Anne nodded, signaling that he should answer the question. Was this why Anne had asked Elizabeth to stay, to teach her to be more willful? She likely couldn’t have found a better role model. “I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted.
A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 4
