by Kay Mares
Murder and Mayhem for Mr. Darcy
Kay Mares
Cover Art by Jaylin Paullus
Chapter 1
Laughter rings out over the green field as two horses and their riders canter along. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and his wife, Elizabeth, are enjoying the warmth of the day, the exhilarating feeling of racing their horses and close companionship. Married for about three years now, they are the parents of Bennet Darcy, heir to Pemberley and the Darcy fortune, David, the second son and Ester, an infant daughter. Contentment reigns at Pemberley as Darcy now smiles often and laughs easily, the lonely bitter years before Elizabeth came into his life, a distant memory. Others have commented about the changed manner of the Master of Pemberley, who no longer scowls and glowers. Elizabeth delights in the warm, witty man she has married.
As Elizabeth easily lopes her grey horse, Zephyr, she watches her husband whirl his powerful black stallion around to quickly and cleanly jump a downed large log. Elizabeth had fretted in the past about her supposedly shy spouse’s willingness to engage in a certain degree of recklessness without thought to himself. She convinced him mostly to rein in some of his impulsiveness, however before their ride today; Darcy already soiled his clothing when he helped some of the tenant farmers remove large fallen branches from the stream. Barnabas, Darcy’s valet, was exasperated once again as he viewed the ruined garments but Darcy merely shrugged and smiled his twisted grin. He will always be a hands-on Master. But Darcy really allows himself freedom when he tears across the ground on Tempest, his great stallion. After he neatly clears the log, Elizabeth urges her mount forward to race alongside her husband. She was gaining ground when the unthinkable occurred.
Zephyr stumbled and fell to the ground heavily. Elizabeth catapulted out of her saddle and struck the ground forcefully; the wind knocked from her lungs. Darcy pulled Tempest around when he noted the absence of hoof beats and the unmistakable sound of a heavy body hitting the ground. The scene he witnesses makes his heart leap to his throat, and his chest tighten. Elizabeth is on her hands and knees, her hair dangling around her face with her clothing torn and dirty. Zephyr writhes on the ground, unable to stand with a useless foreleg swinging at a grotesque angle, obviously broken.
With one smooth motion, Darcy dismounts his horse and comes to his wife’s side. “Elizabeth! Have you broken any bones? Allow me to look.”
As Darcy speaks, he looks at Zephyr who has stopped her struggles but is lying on her side expelling great gasping breaths. Elizabeth shakes her head in the negative to Darcy’s anxious questions as she sits on the ground. Her dirt-caked face holds tiny rivulets of blood seeping through the grime which alarms Darcy further.
“Have you struck your head, are you in any great pain?” Darcy asks while he runs his hands over her limbs and body, searching for any hidden injuries.
“I have not broken any bones, but I feel wretched. I hit the ground hard. I did not expect Zephyr to fall as she did. Is she well?” Elizabeth searches her husband’s face for the answer, but she already knows, her horse is not well. Darcy strokes her cheek as her tears come.
“I fear she has broken her left front leg. There is nothing to be done.” Darcy tells her softly. “First though, I need to assure myself that you are not injured.”
“I just need to catch my breath.” Elizabeth glances over at the form of her beloved horse stretched out on the ground. She can see the animal suffering. She fixes her eyes back on her worried spouse’s face.
“Do what you need to do, so that her suffering will end.” Darcy nods once then encourages Elizabeth to turn away from the scene then withdraws his pistol. Once he comes near enough to the horse, a single shot rings out, and Elizabeth starts. The tears she held back pour out. Zephyr is dead.
“Are you able to stand?” Darcy asks her. Elizabeth stands with his help, but she feels dizzy. In the next instant, Darcy sweeps her up and starts to carry her back to the house. It will be a long, tedious walk, but he does not have any other option. After sniffing at Zephyr, Tempest follows behind his Master. Elizabeth buries her face into Darcy’s strong chest, allowing his protection to sweep over her. Stalwart as always, Darcy makes her feel safe regardless of the circumstances. She trusts him to see her home.
Fortunately, some groundsmen are working a short distance away, and they have with them a work wagon. Darcy carefully situates Elizabeth on the wagon bed then climbs in to hold onto her as one of the men drives to the manor. Elizabeth notes Darcy’s tight look along with the clenched jaw.
“I will be fine, Love.” She tells him as she strokes his cheek. “For once you will not be in trouble with Barnabas for ruining a shirt, but I may be in a bit of a fix with Ada for the condition of this dress.”
A slight softening creeps into Darcy’s face as his intense blue eyes stare at Elizabeth. For as long as she has known him, they have had a running joke about his propensity of trashing his clothing. Barnabas, Darcy’s valet, becomes exasperated with him as still yet another garment meets its end usually because Darcy became involved in some sort of emergency or other crisis.
“Indeed,” Darcy allows a small guarded smile. “Barnabas will not have any further reason to be vexed with me.”
“I fear my riding ensemble is beyond repair.” Elizabeth gestures to the tears and stains on her clothing.
Darcy kisses her temple as he whispers. “I will buy you another. It matters not as long as you are well.”
Chapter 2
Once they pulled up in front of the mansion, Darcy scrambles servants to summon Mrs. Reynolds and Ada. He picks Elizabeth up once more and carries her into the house. Ada and Mrs. Reynolds come quickly and they draw bath water and gather supplies for their Mistress. Elizabeth assures Darcy that she will be well cared for and urges him to change into fresh clothing while she cleans up. Darcy’s assessing and intelligent stare pierces her. She knows he is aware she has diverted him with idle chatter about ruined garments. He often does the same when a situation becomes dire, and he seeks to alleviate the tension with humor. Darcy always protects those within his care.
While Darcy changes his clothing, Elizabeth seeks Mrs. Reynolds’ opinion. Elizabeth noted the blood in her undergarments, and she dreads the truth. Her accident caused her to miscarry her baby. She had only spoken of the possibility of pregnancy to Darcy about a week ago when she was late with her courses. His happiness at the possibility of a fourth child was palpable, and his unique blue eyes glowed. Elizabeth knows the pain he will suffer from this distressing intelligence.
“Well, Mrs. Reynolds?” Elizabeth watches the housekeeper’s face as Elizabeth finishes telling her about her symptoms and the bleeding.
“I believe that we should summon the doctor, Mrs. Darcy, but first we should let the Master know. He will not be easy until you tell him and certainly he will not wait to hear the news from the doctor. It is my feeling that you have suffered a miscarriage based on the amount of bleeding and the pains you have reported, but again that is for the doctor to say.”
“Very well. Summon Mr. Darcy and while I speak with him, have a footman alert Dr. Linnington.” Elizabeth sighs as she awaits her husband. She is in their massive four poster bed, in a nightgown, and under some light covers. Mrs. Reynolds left to carry out her Mistress’ orders. How will she tell Darcy she lost their child? Poor Fitzwilliam already suffered so much loss during his life, and he had been profoundly alone especially from the time he was two and twenty until he reached eight and twenty. Six long lonely bitter years when he was imprisoned by the barriers he had erected around himself to protect himself from the world. It was during this time that the gentle and humorous man Elizabeth came to love had almost been buried forever by the cold, stern, and t
aciturn Mr. Darcy.
The door swings open and Darcy steps into the room. Before Elizabeth can begin to speak, he addresses her. “I have already summoned Dr. Linnington, and he should be here shortly. Tell me, Lizzy, what is wrong with you? I understand you have been bumped up, and you have lost your horse, but there is more than that in your eyes. What else is distressing you?” He always knows, she can hide nothing from him, so the tears fall in earnest.
“After I had sat on the ground and you were taking…well, doing what needed to be done for Zephyr, the pains started. Minor at first but then they became intense. Cramps and pulling. By the time we arrived at the manor, I knew something was amiss.” Elizabeth meets his worried blue eyes with her haunted hazel ones, “I am bleeding Fitzwilliam and based on what Mrs. Reynolds believes and my own knowledge, I am fairly certain that I am losing the baby we spoke of last week.” Sobs shake her shoulders as Darcy wraps his arms around her. He strokes her back while rocking her and then he begins to sing to her. Every now and again, he interrupts his song to assure her of his love and devotion. He urges her not to fret that he is with her and they will face this tragedy together.
Dr. Linnington comes, and his assessment agrees with Mrs. Reynolds, Elizabeth is miscarrying. He recommends rest and fluids while allowing Lizzy’s body to do what it must. “While this is a most unfortunate event, it does not mean that Mrs. Darcy will not be able to conceive and carry children in the future. More than likely the accident merely hastened what would have happened naturally. Although I understand that is of little comfort now, I will return in the morning to check on you, Mrs. Darcy. In the meantime, relax and drink plenty of liquids. The bleeding will slow then stop in the next few days.” Dr. Linnington bows to Darcy then makes his exit with a footman.
“I will sit with you, Elizabeth.” Darcy props himself up on the side of the mattress.
“No Fitzwilliam, that is not necessary. You have so much work to do. I should seek some rest while you work on estate matters.” Elizabeth avoids his eyes.
“Talk to me, Lizzy. Do not force me away. Only together we are strong. You have suffered, but you should not continue to do so alone. Trust me; it does not end well.” Darcy gives a wry smile. Shuttering away his feelings for so long before meeting Elizabeth had nearly destroyed him.
“I am sorry Fitzwilliam that my foolishness caused me to lose your child.” Elizabeth whispers but she still has not looked at him.
“Is that what you think? That I would somehow hold you to blame for what happened? Oh, Lizzy, you must believe me when I tell you that you hold no responsibility for what occurred. Zephyr had stepped into a rather deep hole which caused her to fall and break her leg. The longer grass hid the hole from view. It is an awful accident. We should be grateful you were not injured severely. Regarding the baby, we are not certain you were even with child. You have only missed one of your courses and had no other symptoms. Lizzy, you cannot take the blame for something which remains out of your control.” He rocks her again, and once she falls asleep, he leaves, only to return to the bedchamber with a stack of papers to peruse and ledgers to balance.
When Elizabeth awakens, it is to the sight of her spouse seated at a small desk they had moved into the bedchamber years ago. He smiles as he peers over his glasses and Elizabeth smiles back at him. Soon Darcy begins his running commentary about the work he is doing, gossip he has heard and anything else which springs up in his mind. Elizabeth finds the familiar routine to be comforting, and she laughs at his silly stories and witty remarks. He hands her a paper, and she shakes with mirth. It is another of his ridiculous stick drawings. This time he tried to sketch Pemberley house, and the rendition is as poor as any of his other drawings. Elizabeth appreciates his attempts to lighten her mood and finds herself in a better frame of mind due to his efforts.
The following morning after a light breakfast, Elizabeth is seated in the study waiting for Darcy to enter. Darcy is talking with Mr. Scovell about a small estate matter, and it is not long before he enters the room and sits behind his massive and imposing desk. Unknown to Darcy is that Elizabeth has been doing some writing when he is out on rounds or attending meetings and she usually prefers to sit at his desk while she works. Her stories are entertaining and contain some of her wit while also giving a commentary on women’s issues through the use of various characters. Elizabeth is shy about Darcy viewing her work, so she has always gathered up her supplies before Darcy spies them.
Today, she became distracted, and her efforts are on his desk, forgotten by Elizabeth when she went to retrieve her book. Darcy is fastidious about his desk, and he is aware when of any of his possessions or papers are out of the order he placed them in, so he quickly notes the stack of foolscap with Elizabeth’s writing on them.
“What are these, Elizabeth? I did not know that you wrote.” Darcy starts to read her words.
“Please, Fitzwilliam, no!” Elizabeth protests as she flushes a brilliant shade of red. “I only write as a hobby, as something fun to do when certain ideas present themselves. I do not have any intention of anyone reading those.”
“Why on earth not? They are well-written from what I can see, a few of your observations are quite witty.” Darcy is amusedly smiling as he reads his wife’s words. However, the smile starts to evaporate, then soon his lips harden into a thin line. He begins to twist his signet ring, his agitation, and nervousness apparent. Next, he removes his glasses, twirls them twice in his fingers and replaces them on the bridge of his nose as a scowl begins to appear along with his piercing stare over his bifocals.
“Well, ah, Elizabeth, once more I must tell you that your writing is excellent, but I am concerned about your topic. With your intelligence, I am sure that you must at times be frustrated with the plight of women in England, but I did not think that I was such a man as the one you have described in this narrative. I strive to be a husband who understands his wife and allows her freedoms not normally found in most marriages, but it appears that perhaps you may not be content.”
Darcy’s expression is becoming downright surly, and Elizabeth realizes that he thinks she has written about him and his feelings are hurt! Elizabeth takes a deep breath as she steadies herself to address her complex yet lovable spouse. However, she cannot keep some mirth out of her voice.
“Fitzwilliam, I am utterly and completely content here with you at Pemberley. It is precisely because you are so wonderful that it calls to my attention how so many other men are sorely lacking compared to you.”
“Truly?”
Elizabeth goes to him where he still sits behind the desk, and she bends while placing her forehead against his so she may gaze into his eyes. “Most assuredly so. I love you.” The tension and stern look melts away as Elizabeth kisses him, but she starts to chuckle.
“Are you laughing at me?” Darcy asks as he pulls her on his lap.
“Only a little.”
“I hope you will continue to write.” Darcy’s comment is muffled as he returns Elizabeth’s kisses, and she nods her affirmation.
Chapter 3
The next few weeks passed. Elizabeth is healed fully from her ordeal, and the bleeding from the possible miscarriage halted. Marital intimacies have resumed, and Darcy is once more at ease. However, he notices that while Elizabeth is mostly returned to her usual perky and teasing manner, at times, she sports a certain sadness. Times with the children always bring a ready laugh and sparkle to her, but when she is alone, he watches as a melancholy engulfs her. Elizabeth has assured him that she accepted the loss of the baby although the pregnancy could not have been confirmed at such an early juncture. Darcy believes her intellect will serve her well and she will come to terms with the unfortunate event.
Darcy tries to interest her in selecting another mount to ride since they enjoy the activity, but she continues to put off a trip to the stables and once in a bout of anger, snaps at him while telling him to leave the matter rest. Her comments hurt but she came to him later and asked his forgiveness
which he willing granted. They spoke more of her feelings about loss, and much of the sadness seemed to disappear then. Darcy realizes Elizabeth sought out the comfort and protection only he can give her. Even so, he wishes to put the unpleasant feelings behind and a letter from Mr. Cullip, the solicitor, gives Darcy an idea.
Darcy is in his massive study reading his mail and watching the antics of three-year-old Bennet and his younger brother David. Lizzy is on the settee with the infant Ester, and she chuckles as the two boys try to build a small tower with their building blocks. The efforts lead to the blocks tumbling more often than not as small fingers along with impulsiveness on David’s part makes for frequent mistakes. Bennet puckers his lips, not unlike his father does, as he watches his sibling push over still yet another pile. Darcy’s blue eyes shine with warmth as he returns to the stack of papers on his desk.
“I have here a letter from Mr. Cullip, and he wishes for a meeting with me to go over the last details regarding the newest mill. It would mean a trip to London, but I hoped perhaps you would consider accompanying me. We need not stay long, and I would be thrilled to show you some of the diversions found in Town. The newsprint has an article about a smaller symphony performance, similar to one Henry and I attended years ago in which the music performed was taken from different composers from different times and countries. There is an explanation given before some of the pieces in which the history of the piece is told along with other facts. Lady Matlock has found these events to be most delightful.” Darcy leans back in his chair as he removes his glasses.
Elizabeth shifts Ester from her shoulder onto her lap as she smiles at the baby. Soft gurgles and mews issue forth as the baby fixes her eyes on her Mama’s face. “It sounds wonderful. I would enjoy spending some time alone with you, but what of the children?”
