Preserving Pemberley
Carrie Mollenkopf
Additional titles by Carrie Mollenkopf
The Redemption of Caroline Bingley
The Vocation of Mary Bennet
The Soulmate of Kitty Bennet
The Stubborn Pride of Lydia Bennet
Lizzie Bennet’s Choice
Elizabeth of Pemberley
Matchmaking at Pemberley
Darcy’s Heart
The Supernatural
The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy
In the Shadows of Pemberley
Mary of Longbourn Series
Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress
Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor
Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier
Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar
~1~
Pemberley, Spring 1814
Elizabeth Darcy woke with a start for the third time that week. Reaching across the counterpane, she hoped to feel the comforting presence of her husband, but the space was empty. The indentation of where he had lain, just a few hours prior, was cold. Where had he gone? In the weeks since her marriage, life had been a state of bliss beyond what words could adequately describe. They had only just returned from their extended wedding trip, a tour of Italy and Greece, and she had to admit to feeling a bit disappointed. The endless sunshine, combined with turquoise seas and pristine white sands, was a far cry from England in the midst of late winter. Not that her new home was not a pleasant place. On the contrary, Pemberley was positively magnificent, boasting classical architecture with complimentary beautiful gardens. But upon their return, it had rained steadily for a fortnight, keeping everyone indoors to escape the perpetual feeling of damp. However, inside was a comfortable warmth provided by the best of furnishings and a fire in every chamber. Pemberley possessed every modern convenience a person could possibly dream of having. This, in addition to the regular arrival of pleasant and stimulating company, created the best of environments. But at the moment, just as the hall clock chimed the wee hour of two in the morning, the most important part of this heaven was missing. Where was her husband?
The first time she had awoken alone, it was only to immediately return to her dreams. Having assumed that Darcy had risen to take care of personal needs, she had not given his absence further thought. The second time, just a day ago, it was near daybreak and she had found him asleep in the library, a book on some sort of machinery lying open in his hands. Still in the process of learning her new husband’s personal habits, Elizabeth wondered if this was to become her norm. The thought was a bit disconcerting. What kept him away in the middle of the night? Shivering slightly despite the warmth of the glowing embers that remained in the hearth, Elizabeth pondered this only for a moment before donning the silk wrapper that lay across the foot of the bed. Rising, she reached for the bedside table, expecting the traditional candleholder and flint, but her fingers only touched empty space. Pemberley required no such relics of antiquity, much unlike Longbourn, her former home. Gas lines to provide lighting had been installed nearly a decade ago. The glass globes adorned every hallway and chamber, giving an ambient light. Feeling her way along the wall, Elizabeth reached once such fixture and turned the small knob that allowed the odorless fuel to hiss freely. However, having no flame to provide ignition, she turned it off again and groped her way to the chamber door, vowing to insist upon a candle at her bedside from now on. In the hall, the gaslights had been dimmed, but it was easy to see in the gloom and make her way to the library. As she had previously found Darcy there, it was a logical first choice, but this time it was empty and dark. Returning to the main hall, Elizabeth stubbed her toe on the ornately carved leg of a chair placed directly outside the library. Swearing softly, she was not aware of being overheard until a discreet cough altered her to the presence of another. Stepping from his post at the front door, a liveried young man bowed formally despite the strange hour and his mistress’ lack of proper clothing.
“Madam? May I provide any assistance?”
“Er… no…I was just…uh... looking for the kitchens. I fancied a glass of milk and did not want to wake anyone. Thankyou…” Elizabeth replied as she searched her memory in vain for the young man’s name. Her words rang hollow as she knew her lie fell short of sincerity, but no one would dare question the new mistress.
“Edwin Stokes, Madam, at your service,” he supplied with a click of his heels before continuing. “You are quite a distance. Perhaps I can escort you back above stairs and have it sent up?”
“Oh no… that is not necessary…” Elizabeth said and tightened the belt on her wrapper as she suddenly realized her dishabille and questioned her own logic. What was she doing, rambling about in the dark? Surely it would be a simple matter to simply ask Darcy in the morning? Feeling a bit foolish, Elizabeth decided to return to her bed, but the sound of the library door opening startled them both. Emerging from what she had thought to be an empty chamber, was her husband, looking disheveled in his dressing gown. Frowning, Darcy looked from his wife to the footman and back again before speaking. For a moment, Elizabeth believed she caught a glance of disapproval in the direction of the young guard, before his features softened and he took her hand.
“Elizabeth? Whatever are you doing down here?”
“I was just a bit thirsty and did not wish to wake anyone. It seems that I got turned about, but Mr. Stokes came to my assistance.”
“Indeed, well thankyou Stokes, you may return to your post. I shall see Mrs. Darcy above.”
“Very good sir,” the footman replied and did as bid, but watched curiously as the Master of Pemberley led his new bride up the stair. In his short term of employment, he had no cause to complain, nor would he. The Darcy family had saved him from the streets when his parents died, providing odd jobs, even teaching him to read until he was old enough for a position. Mr. Darcy was the best of men, even if he was rather odd. As the newest footman, it was the responsibility of Edwin Stokes to keep the overnight watch on the front door. While this was not a task required by every great house, it was not uncommon, especially if the residence was in the city. However, with country estates, it was often not even necessary to lock doors, let alone keep a night watch. But this was Pemberley, and it was a most unusual place. Visitors arrived at all hours of the night, and his orders were always the same. Escort them to the library where Mr. Darcy would be waiting with brandy and refreshments. Questions were not to be asked, nor were the visitors to be mentioned to anyone…. ever. Even when the very same persons arrived at regular hours as expected guests for social events, he was not to display any prior recognition of their identity.
However, this time it was different, for the ruse now involved the new mistress. What if Mrs. Darcy were to ask him a direct question? Was he to lie? Tonight, any such issue had been avoided by Mr. Darcy’s timely arrival, but it had been rather quiet and his current guests had left nearly an hour ago. But this was not generally the norm. On most evenings, strange noises accompanied by loud arguing voices could be overheard. How would he have explained such a thing to Mrs. Darcy? Once, he had dared to peek through a small crack where the door had not completely closed, but the library had been empty. A single lamp had cast an eerie glow, making the sounds seem to echo from their unknown location. Where had Mr. Darcy taken his strange visitors? To his knowledge, the only other exit from the chamber was to the garden terrace, but that would be a strange place to entertain in the middle of the night, especially when the visits were to be kept so secret. Although the new Mrs. Darcy had only been in residence a short time, his first impressions of her were that she was a most unusual lady. Outspoken and inquisitive, but with a pleasant demeanor, Mrs. Darcy ha
d become an instant favorite with all the servants at Pemberley. It would only be a matter of time before she became suspicious about her husband’s nocturnal meetings. And, if Mr. Darcy was not more careful, it would be sooner than later, for despite his mussed hair and dressing gown, the master had still been wearing his boots when he had entered the hall. A sooty residue now marked the marble tiles, giving evidence to wanderings beyond the spotless interior of Pemberley. Taking a cloth from inside a box kept under the watchman’s chair, Edwin Stokes wiped away all traces of Mr. Darcy’s feet before retaking his seat. With some hours before dawn, he pushed away all thoughts of unease and tried to get some sleep. What the master did in his own home was none of his business.
~2~
Four hours later…
Fitzwilliam Darcy leaned back against the pillows and stared at the lacework canopy that stretched from the posters of the bed he shared. Elizabeth, deeply asleep, murmured his name softly as she snuggled closer to him. It was a feeling he relished and daily thanked all that was holy for his great fortune. He loved her more than life itself. It was this fathomless emotion that had kept him awake long after she had drifted off. He hated lies, believing that complete honesty between married persons was critical to a successful union, yet that was exactly what he had done just hours earlier. It had been a close call, finding Elizabeth wandering in search of him, for that was what she had been doing and had admitted as much once they returned to their chamber.
“I awoke to find you gone. Is there something that troubles your mind to keep you away?” she had prodded gently, but he had only taken her in his arms and kissed her. While he had every intention of revealing his nocturnal actions, now was not the time. They had been married just a few short months. And while he had never discussed his finances directly with her, Darcy knew that Elizabeth believed them to be exceedingly well situated. It was a truth, he was every bit worth the near ten thousand annual income, but it was not an easy life of idleness. Managing an estate the size of Pemberley was as an immense a responsibility as it was a benison. Over five hundred persons relied upon his sound judgement for their livelihood and that was just within the grounds and tenant farms. It required constant change and innovation to keep the place profitable, even more so as the world changed so rapidly about them. Oh, perhaps in the past, even as recent as his grandfather’s era, it had been a simple thing to collect rents and profits with each harvest season. However, that was long ago; industry, laws and the pull of city amusements had altered the once idyllic pastoral way of life. Preserving a place like Pemberley was a delicate battle between tradition and progressive new ideas.
Now, as he cradled his new bride’s head against his shoulder, he pondered Elizabeth’s reaction when she realized that her husband actually worked for a living. Would she laugh and demand to inspect his hands for callouses? Or, would she worry about every cent that was spent upon the household and begin rationing the sugar? He doubted it, but his Elizabeth would definitely be curious and demand to know what exactly he did, perhaps even insisting upon providing her assistance. Shaking off the vision with a chuckle, Darcy knew that he had chosen well in a wife. Many of his peers had gently chided him for his choice. The Bennet’s of Longbourn, while of the status bequeathed to landed gentlemen and their families, were only barely so. Her father’s estate was in poor condition, no dowries accompanied his daughters and no accommodation was made should his demise arrive early. Longbourn was entailed to male heirs only, leaving Elizabeth and her sisters dependent upon good marriages for survival. However, what she lacked in funds, Elizabeth had intelligence in abundance. This, in addition to a quick wit and handsome appearance, had made her endearing to many. A woman such as she was exactly what Pemberley needed, she was the best thing to happen to them both.
Easing his arm from under her, Darcy rose and stood at the window that faced the great semicircle drive to the front of the house. From this vantage point, he could see the rising sun as it broke over the small copse of trees that bordered the reflecting pond. The house, wavering in its waters, seemed to nod in agreement. Soon, he would reveal all, including the secret workshop in the cellar. Whatever her reaction, he only hoped that Elizabeth would not think him mad. In an age of vast and strange inventions, he did not want to be known as the eccentric master of Pemberley, one who people gave polite smiles while they laughed behind closed doors. He could tolerate anything but that.
*****
Elizabeth, pretending to be asleep, peeked through the eyelashes of one eye as she watched her husband before the window. What was he thinking that gave such a serious cast to his features? Despite wearing his dressing gown last night, and tousled hair, she had not believed his tale of slight indigestion from dinner. One did not wear boots to walk off a sour stomach. And she had noticed them, despite Darcy’s efforts to conceal his tread. Making the excuse of requiring the necessary room when they had returned to the bedchamber, the ruse had allowed him to remove them without her observation. But that had not erased the dark stains of his footprints from the Aubusson carpet. Her own visit there some hours later had confirmed her suspicion as she spied the offending items tucked in a basket filled with clothing to be laundered. That, and a faint acrid smell, one more familiar to a blacksmith’s shop had lingered upon his hair. Darcy had been doing something altogether different and had chosen to hide it. That footman, what was his name? Edwin? He knew something, but had not dared to speak. Instead, made an offer to escort her away. But why? What could Darcy be doing that he was unwilling to share with her, yet divulge to a servant? A slight tremor of apprehension threatened to override Elizabeth’s rational thought and she forced calm to fill her senses. It was probably some matter he believed unworthy of mention. Surely there were hundreds of possibilities that could occur in a house of this size? No, that was utter nonsense, something in the center of her being whispered intuitively. Only emergencies required the master of the house to go traipsing about half dressed in the middle of the night. What sort of emergency could not be shared with her? She was not the sort of wife that would feign ignorance of her husband’s behaviors. Not that she suspected Darcy of anything sordid, he was the most respectable and honorable sort of person. Or at least she believed him to be so, but she had been mistaken about him before. Now, a true unhappiness, based upon fear, welled up inside. In the year of their courtship, if it could be called such, there had been many events to strengthen her trust in Darcy. But, one year was a terribly short time to truly know a person. There were so many things that they had yet to learn about one another. Was this one of them? Did the man she married live a double life, one for the day and one for the night? Not wanting to believe in the worst, yet unable to quell the rush of possibilities that filled her mind, Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly and buried her face in the comforter. She would wait… and watch. Whatever Darcy was hiding, she would discover. Unfortunately, it would have to wait, for Georgiana Darcy was to arrive home that very day. Surely, whatever kept her husband so busy in the dead of night, did not involve his seventeen-year-old sister. Finding resolve, Elizabeth threw off the bedcovers and quickly crossed the room, throwing her arms around her husband, startling him from his reverie.
“Good morning dearest! I cannot believe that I have stayed abed so long, it must be nearly ten ‘o clock. I do hope your digestive troubles have passed? I am positively famished and we must be presentable when your sister arrives home!”
Elizabeth knew she was prattling on, but Darcy seemed oblivious to her unusual chattiness. Smiling, he appeared pleased that she made no mention of the previous evening.
“I am quite recovered, perhaps enough so to consume enough to feed an army. Please do not mention my distress to cook, it may hurt her feelings.”
“I won’t. Now help me choose a dress… shall I wear my new rose silk or the hunter green linen?”
“I prefer you as you are…”
Elizabeth returned his smile as she dropped her dressing gown, revealing the thin nightrail sh
e wore underneath. It appeared that her husband was indeed recovered, and whatever had occupied his thoughts was long forgotten. For now, she would forget it as well. But later… well that was another matter entirely.
~3~
Hours later, respectably dressed and coifed, Elizabeth Darcy stood next to her husband as they awaited the arrival of Georgiana. Having only encountered Darcy’s sister less than five times before their marriage, yet had taken an instant liking, Elizabeth was optimistic for a companionable relationship with her new sister. At nearly eighteen, the young lady had seen the prudence in being away after the recent marriage of her brother, allowing a time for the new bride to become acquainted with her home before intruding upon their newlywed bliss. The month of her absence had been spent visiting her mother’s surviving brother, the Earl of Prestwick. A large family, with numerous children much younger than herself, Georgiana would be exhausted by their constant attentions and relished the peace of home. But now, home was forever changed by the arrival of Elizabeth.
Gazing down the drive, she could just begin to see the carriage as it moved slowly towards them. A messenger had ridden ahead to announce the arrival, allowing for the preparation of a proper greeting. Tea and cake stood waiting in the ladies’ parlor and her chamber had been aired and adorned with fresh flowers. In addition, Elizabeth had wrapped a small present, purchased as a token of friendship. The silver heart was beautifully wrought of twisted strands, yet open to allow a band of ribbon to thread for wearing. It was nearly identical to the ones possessed by herself and her four sisters. Feeling hopeful, Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s arm as the carriage pulled to a stop.
“There’s my girl!” Darcy exclaimed, waiving off the footman to assist his sister down.
Preserving Pemberley Page 1
