“Even so, we cannot simply leave.”
“Yes, we can. We can quit Northanger tomorrow morning—our trunks are even packed. Please, Darcy. We have been gone from Pemberley many weeks. I just want to go home.” Away from Captain Tilney, away from Lady Catherine, away from Wickham and Lydia and all the other vexations that had comprised their trip.
Darcy studied her face a long time before replying. She knew that her request asked him to ignore his sense of propriety, to place her wishes above his natural inclination.
“Very well,” he said finally. “In truth, now that we have met Captain Tilney, I am not certain I want to cultivate his acquaintance to a high degree. Nonetheless, we must take care to avoid giving offense.”
She thanked him with an embrace. “We shall invent a plausible excuse.”
Outside, the wind moaned its protest and rain furiously assaulted the windows. Though morning offered the promise of returning home, it would be a long night.
“I suppose,” he said, stepping out of her arms, “an early departure reduces the likelihood of our finding a black veil requiring my examination.” He drew closed a set of curtains to shut out the storm.
“Not necessarily. This room holds numerous draperies, two tablecloths, and a canopy to occupy you before we leave.”
“Those also fall under my province?”
“Your sphere includes all hanging fabric.”
“All?” His eyes dropped to the hem of her nightdress. He released an exaggerated sigh and met her gaze. “With that much responsibility, I could be up half the night investigating.”
Eight
Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively resolved.
—Pride and Prejudice
M orning saw no end to the gloom that engulfed Northanger. Dawn could scarcely be said to have broken, so dark did the sky remain. The rain continued, less violent but steady, and one could not determine where the mist ended and the clouds began. An equally melancholy atmosphere pervaded the house.
Darcy and Elizabeth helped each other dress. Their personal servants were still nowhere to be found, and further enquiries to Dorothy regarding their whereabouts produced only more paltering. After dining alone in the breakfast parlor, they returned to the drawing room for another audience with the captain.
He sat in the same chair, his white bandages a stark contrast to the purple velvet. “Well, now, this is a dreary start to the day, is it not? Thought surely the storm would blow itself out after keeping me awake half the night, but the rain simply will not quit. I believe it continues solely to vex us. Oh, well—I suppose it saves you the obligation of asking for a tour of Northanger Park this morning, and me the trouble of showing it to you. We instead can remain indoors and talk more of your mother and Mrs. Tilney.”
Darcy had little desire to reopen that conversation. He conveyed to their host that, to their deep regret, they would have to cut their visit short. “Business calls us home.”
“No, no—I will not hear of it! Your business cannot be of great consequence. You must remain at least another day or two.”
“I am afraid we cannot tarry.”
“But this weather has made the roads unfit for travel. I would not take my carriage out upon them for anything! It will pour all day—see if it does not!”
Though Darcy himself harbored concerns about the condition of the roads, he held fast to his resolve. His own wish to leave had begun to match Elizabeth’s, and increased with every hour. “Further, we would not intrude on your privacy whilst you recover from your accident—”
“Upon my soul, your presence is no imposition. On the contrary, it boosts my spirits! Would you abandon an injured man to recuperate in isolation, with none but servants for company?”
The thought of leaving the captain to the haphazard care of Dorothy indeed inspired sympathy on Darcy’s part, but not a reversal. He again offered their apologies.
Captain Tilney became ill-tempered. “I can only interpret your insistence upon leaving to a rejection of my overtures of friendship. Is this how my hospitality is repaid? You discredit your mother’s memory, Mr. Darcy, by inflicting such insult upon the family of her dear friend. Indeed you do! I would not behave so unkindly toward you for all the world.”
“You are too hard on my husband,” Elizabeth interjected. “Please do not blame him. Before coming here, I learned of a matter requiring my attention back at Pemberley. After our conversation last evening, I was kept awake by the storm and spent the night in contemplation. I awoke with the conviction that the matter ought not be deferred. In departing this morning, he indulges me.”
“Indeed? Our conversation last night inspired this decision?” The captain studied her with his good eye. “Then go, Mrs. Darcy, and take care of your business. The devil take me, I would not cause a lady delay in attending to affairs urgent to her.”
So released, Darcy wished to effect their exit without further delay. The horses were ordered. A final stop in their chamber discovered their missing servants, returned and repacking the disorganized trunks.
“Lucy!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Wherever have you been?”
“It was the strangest thing, ma’am. When we first arrived, the housekeeper told me I was not needed in your apartment right away. I knew you were in haste to prepare for dinner, but—well, it would not be the first time Mr. Darcy helped you dress instead of me. So I stayed in the servants’ hall, and the housekeeper gave me and Graham our dinner. Then she showed me where I was to sleep. I felt a little dizzy and shaky, so I sat down on the bed for just a moment. Next I knew, I woke up about half an hour ago. I am so sorry, ma’am! The damp ride yesterday must have given me a chill, I suppose. I still feel a bit shaky, but nothing of concern—I can travel.”
Graham, Darcy’s valet, reported a similar experience and offered his most humble apologies. It was the first time in twenty years of service that he had failed to perform his duties, and he felt the failure acutely.
Darcy accepted his apology and, assured of his fitness for travel, told him to not give it another minute’s thought. Darcy did, however—many minutes’ worth. He did not like the suspicion that formed in his mind upon hearing the servants’ stories, and he found himself even more thankful that Elizabeth had pressed for an early departure from Northanger. When the housekeeper escorted them back to the hall, he enquired into the servants’ accounts of their experience.
“I understand both Lucy and Graham were taken ill last night.”
“Apparently so.”
“Did no one think to check their quarters when Mrs. Darcy and I questioned their absences?”
“I thought someone had. There must have been a misunderstanding.”
A misunderstanding, indeed. As Dorothy retrieved their cloaks, handed Darcy his cane, and disappeared once more, he reflected that she seemed to lack a great deal of understanding. He immensely looked forward to returning to a home maintained by a capable housekeeper. In fact, when they reached Pemberley, he would grant Mrs. Reynolds a raise in pay.
The wait seemed interminable. Though the postilion arrived with the horses, their carriage was not ready. No one came to offer them any reason for the delay, so they were left to their own speculation for over half an hour. Darcy grew more impatient with each passing minute, conscious that the later they set out, the fewer miles they would be able to travel before nightfall.
“You could have walked to Pemberley in the distance you have paced.”
Elizabeth’s observation stopped him short. He had not even realized he was pacing. “You know I abhor wasted time. I cannot imagine what causes this detainment.”
“Perhaps our servants have not finished packing the trunks.”
“As they were never unpacked, I do not know why that should take so long.” He caught himself starting to pace again. “I shall go see whether that is indeed the case.”
Cane still in hand, he mounted the stairs. He encountered no one on his way back to their apartment, which he f
ound empty of both trunks and servants. He returned to the hall, where his wife informed him that the carriage was at last ready.
As they climbed inside, Elizabeth shared the explanation she had been given. “Apparently, one of our trunks became misplaced.”
“How does one misplace something as large as a trunk?” he asked.
“In this house,” she responded, “I begin to think anything possible.”
Nine
“How very little trouble it can give you to understand the motive of other people’s actions.”
—Henry Tilney, Northanger Abbey
T hunder rumbled in the distance as they left Northanger Abbey, passed through the gate, and started a slow ascent up the steep, woody hills. The mist seemed to swallow the house almost directly they left it, so they soon had nothing upon which to fix their gazes save those trees close enough to the road to stand out from the fog. The rest of the outside world was naught but a grey haze, creating the surreal sense that they had entered a realm where time and movement were suspended.
It was a protracted, arduous journey. Though the rain abated, it had fallen so hard and so long that it had littered the ground with fallen branches and piles of dead leaves, and turned the roads to muck. The horses struggled to keep a steady pace, and the carriage seemed in perpetual danger of becoming permanently stuck in the mire.
Darcy looked at the ever-darkening sky. They had set out from Northanger much later than he had intended, and what little light penetrated the murkiness would not last much longer.
“How far do you estimate we have traveled?” Elizabeth asked him.
“I thought we would have passed through Cheltenham before now. It cannot lie too far distant.” He endeavored to withhold frustration from his voice. Not even to Cheltenham, and the day already nearly gone. “We will stop for the night at the next inn.”
She put a hand to her back and stretched as much as she could in the close space. “I am just as content to avoid Cheltenham. I had enough of spas in Bath.”
Despite his vexation, her response wrested a slight smile from him. “You do not wish to sample the waters for comparison?”
“I would sooner drink hemlock.”
Just as the waning light failed, the inn presented itself. Though the ostler of the Golden Crown informed them that the next post stop would indeed bring them to Cheltenham, where all the luxuries of a spa town might be enjoyed, Darcy believed it unwise to proceed any farther. In fact, he secured lodging for two nights, to give the roads a chance to improve before they continued home.
Exhausted from the day’s journey, they retired early and awoke to bright light streaming through the windows. Apparently, the gloom that had pervaded Gloucestershire from the moment they entered it had at last relinquished its hold, and now the sun’s rays warmed and restored the landscape.
Having already committed to postponing their travel, they enjoyed an unhurried breakfast and were just discussing how to employ the day when they heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, a loud knock sounded on their chamber door. Darcy opened it to discover a short, barrel-chested gentleman with a sword at his side. Sharp eyes peered from beneath the bushy grey eyebrows that dominated his ruddy face. Two other men, also carrying swords, accompanied him.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?”
Darcy bowed.
“I am Mr. Chase, constable of this region. An unfortunate situation has come to my attention, about which I believe you possess information. Might I have a word with you?”
“Of course.” Darcy admitted the constable and his companions. He moved one of the chairs away from the table, which still held the remains of their breakfast, and invited Mr. Chase to sit. Despite Darcy’s gesture toward other chairs, the constable’s associates remained standing. Darcy took a seat beside Elizabeth.
“I understand you reside in Derbyshire,” Mr. Chase said. “What business brings you to Gloucestershire at present?”
“My wife and I are returning home from Bath.”
“Upon which day did you depart Bath?”
“Tuesday.”
“And when did you arrive at this inn?”
“Yester eve.”
“Yesterday was Wednesday. Where did you pass Tuesday night?”
“At Northanger Abbey.”
Although of substantial girth, Mr. Chase bore himself with the air of a little man with a lot of authority. It was a trait Darcy had encountered before.
“I am familiar with Northanger. It is remotely situated—certainly off the main roads for a traveler headed from Bath to Derbyshire. What business took you there?”
“We were the guests of Captain Frederick Tilney.”
“Indeed? And what is your connection with Captain Tilney? How long have you been acquainted with him?”
Darcy disliked the tenor of Mr. Chase’s enquiries. “Might I ask to what this interrogation pertains?”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Darcy, I shall ask the questions.”
Darcy did mind, but saw little to be gained by antagonizing the local lawman. “We met Captain Tilney in person for the first time on Tuesday, but our families have a longer association.”
“I see.” The constable reclined against the back of his chair and folded his arms across his ample belly. “So, passing through Gloucestershire, you decided to call upon him?”
“He invited us.”
“Had you ever visited Northanger Abbey before?”
“Never.”
“It is a large house, and your stay was rather brief. Where did you pass most of your time?”
“In our own chamber,” Darcy said. “We had endured a long day’s travel, due to the storm, and retired early.”
The constable nodded, his second chin spilling over the folds of his simply tied neckcloth. “And where were your quarters?”
“Upstairs, in the back of the house.”
“The late Mrs. Tilney’s apartment?”
“So we were told.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth to see whether she seemed any better able to grasp Mr. Chase’s purpose than he, but she appeared equally perplexed.
“While occupying the apartment, did you remove or relocate any objects?”
“No. We left all as it was.”
“And you left in haste, did you not?”
The sharpness of Mr. Chase’s tone raised Darcy’s defenses. What intelligence did the constable truly seek, and why did he not simply ask for it? Darcy began to doubt whether full cooperation were in his and Elizabeth’s best interest.
“What causes you to believe we departed in haste?”
“Perhaps I should have said ‘urgency’ As you stated, the storm rendered travel hazardous. Only necessity could have induced you to risk the roads yesterday. What prompted your departure?”
Darcy hesitated to state that there had been no specific reason other than a sense that nothing at Northanger seemed quite as it should. “Business calls us home.”
The constable gestured to the remains of their breakfast. “Yet I find you enjoying a leisurely morning. Are you no longer in a hurry to reach Derbyshire?”
“We thought it best to postpone further travel until the roads improve.”
“They are greatly improved now—I just traveled them myself to come here. But I am afraid your journey home will be delayed regardless.”
At a look from Mr. Chase, one of his companions moved to stand in front of the door. Too late, Darcy wondered whether Mr. Chase were indeed a constable. He instinctively shifted to place himself more squarely between Mr. Chase and Elizabeth.
Noting his movement, Mr. Chase chuckled humorlessly. “Fear not, Mr. Darcy. So long as you cooperate, this will not become a physical confrontation.”
Darcy suddenly felt like cornered prey. His pulse quickened as his mind scrambled to assimilate the nature of the threat Mr. Chase posed.
“Cooperate in what?”
Mr. Chase rose, walked behind his chair, and rested his hands on its back. “I received an anonymous
letter this morning advising me that a crime had been committed at Northanger Abbey. It seems that a collection of diamonds once belonging to the late Mrs. Tilney has vanished from the premises, and that their disappearance coincides with your visit at Northanger. Can you offer any enlightenment on this matter?”
Elizabeth gasped and looked at Darcy. “The diamonds . . .”
Mr. Chase seized upon the utterance as if it were a confession. He leaned forward and regarded Darcy with increased antagonism. “So you do possess information. Where are the diamonds?”
Initial relief that Mr. Chase indeed represented the law rapidly gave way to resentment at the suggestion that Darcy had broken it. “We know nothing about any missing diamonds,” he said. “We discovered a set of jewelry in Mrs. Tilney’s chamber, but we left it in the drawer in which we found it.”
“When did you make this discovery?”
“Almost directly upon our arrival. My wife happened upon them while seeking a hairbrush as we dressed for dinner.”
“Did you mention them to anyone?”
“I was going to mention them to Captain Tilney,” Elizabeth said. “But he interrupted me and our discourse shifted to other subjects.”
“You did not think the discovery of a valuable set of jewelry merited redirecting the conversation?”
“We were not in the captain’s company much longer.”
“By your own management. And you claim that the diamonds were still in their drawer when you left Northanger?”
“I presume so,” Elizabeth said. “We never looked in the drawer a second time.”
“You did not need to. The two of you discovered the diamonds and decided to take them for yourselves.”
The accusation so appalled Darcy that he momentarily lost the power of speech. “Nay, sir,” he practically sputtered when he recovered himself. “We most certainly did not.”
“By your own admission, you spent the majority of your time in your chamber—even retiring early. Thus you not only had ample opportunity to hide the diamonds among your belongings, but your presence in the chamber restricted the access of any other party.”
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