The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (25 page)

Edward grumbled, “Such as the English?”

His cousin's cynicism brought a smile to Darcy's lips. “It is not as if I doubt you, Mr. Cowan. Obviously, someone has gone to great lengths to conceal the body. The fact that this grave and the one in the field with the monoliths display similar symbols only adds to our body of knowledge regarding our culprit.”

Edward summarized, “If we all agree that the markings are not a coincidence, then we will exhume whoever rests below.” No one said a word as Murray, Jatson, and Edward's man Fletcher picked up the shovels, which Mr. Holbrook had retrieved from the stable. The four men set their backs to the task. Uncertain what they would uncover, Darcy had purposely left the Woodvine staff at the house. He did not trust those recently hired by his cousin Samuel.

Within minutes, the blanket-draped body lay before them. The grave had not been very deep, just deep enough to keep animal predators from abusing the body.

Keeping his voice low, Darcy leaned close to his wife to catch her gaze with his. “Step away for a moment, Mrs. Darcy. I will not have you look upon death.”

Surprisingly, Elizabeth did not argue. She walked away toward where he could hear water running. Darcy watched her departure to assure himself of her steady steps. When she was out of sight, he nodded to Holbrook to remove the thin wool dressing covering what remained of the body. Both Fletcher and Jatson turned away from the disgusting sight, but Darcy searched the disfigured countenance for the familiarity of Crescent's face. “From what I recall of the man, that is not Mr. Crescent,” he said solemnly.

Holbrook cleared his throat. “No, not Mr. Crescent. Me mother will be thankful. Crescent be a favorite of hers.” The groom leaned over for a closer examination. “It not be Crescent, but I thinks it might be Bieder Bates.”

Steel in his tone, Darcy demanded, “Who in bloody hell is Bieder Bates?”

Holbrook leaned against his shovel. “Bates bought the old Eastman place on the other side of the village. Haven't seen him for a while, but that not be unusual. He mostly kept to himself, excepting he came regular to the assembly. Bates liked to socialize with the ladies.”

Edward asked the obvious, “If this Mr. Bates was from a farm some five miles distant, why is his body on Woodvine land? And how did Bates lose his life?”

Darcy said skeptically, “I do not suppose it would do much good to ask Mr. Glover to provide his best assessment.”

Edward shook his head in disbelief. “Perhaps it might be best to send to London for a more competent surgeon.”

Darcy argued, “Perhaps there is one closer at Christchurch or Lyme Regis or Hampshire.” He gestured to the body. “Mr. Holbrook, do you suppose we might find some hearty parishioners who would prepare Mr. Bates for a proper burial?”

“I'll see to it, Mr. Darcy. The church's sexton will know who to trust.”

“Murray, please call upon the vicar and make him aware that we require his services again.”

“Immediately, Sir.”

“And summon the good doctor,” Darcy instructed as his servant moved away. “Jatson, you and Fletcher should make yourselves comfortable. You will watch over the body until Mr. Glover arrives.”

Edward said, “We should return to the house.”

Darcy started toward where his wife had disappeared. “I will retrieve Mrs. Darcy, and we will join you in a few minutes.” He did not wait for his cousin's agreement. The realization that Elizabeth was alone in the woods drove Darcy to lengthen his stride. He had not gone far before he found her staring off toward a small waterfall, a steady stream of water rushing through the rocks. The refreshing sound provided the feeling of a private grotto. The season, the scene, and the air were all favorable to tenderness and sentiment.

Darcy stepped up behind and encircled her waist in a comforting embrace. “We should return to the manor,” he said as she laid her head against his shoulder.

“I was saying a prayer for the soul of a man I did not know,” she confessed. “It seemed only appropriate to find God here in this beautifully heartening place.”

Darcy tightened his embrace. “Mr. Holbrook has identified our stranger as Mr. Bates, a farmer who lived on the other side of Wimborne.”

Elizabeth turned in his arms. “Then it was not your cousin's manservant?”

“No.” He kissed her forehead. “It may sound odd, but I pray Mr. Crescent escaped. I do not know what shadow has crossed Woodvine's threshold, but I would like to think someone survived this idiocy.”

Elizabeth asked, “Do you think Mrs. Ridgeway has practiced witchcraft? Could she have orchestrated these men's deaths?”

Darcy shook his head in disbelief. “It is frustrating that we are no closer to solving the mystery of Samuel's death than we were upon our arrival in Dorset. I suspect we may never know the truth.” He released Elizabeth before catching her hand to interlace their fingers. They would return to Woodvine to face the unknown together. “We now have two additional deaths,” he continued.

“With similarly marked graves,” Elizabeth added.

“A witch's bottle and unusual maps,” he recited.

Elizabeth thought aloud also, “A gypsy band and missing horses.”

Darcy muttered, “One of which has been killed.

“The Clavicula Salomonis.”

Darcy stopped suddenly. “The list never ends,” he declared. “How can we possibly create order out of such chaos? So much perfidy has made grievous inroads on the tranquility of all.”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw in determination. “We shall finish this, Mr. Darcy. There is one missing piece that will lead to multiple solutions.”

Despite his own frustration, Darcy smiled. She had shifted her shoulders and raised her chin in that adorable challenge that had won his heart at Netherfield. Perhaps his wife should provide ladies of the
ton
lessons on bringing a gentleman to the line. She was forever
his
Elizabeth. Levelheaded, yet impetuous. Calm, yet intractable. Always with his best interest at heart. “Yes, we will, Mrs. Darcy. Then I will take you sea bathing and to London for part of the Season and to Longbourn for a long-overdue visit.”

“I plan to hold you to those promises, Mr. Darcy,” she said as she caught his hand again.

They entered Woodvine through a side entrance only to be informed that Mr. Gry awaited Darcy in the small drawing room. “What could he want?” he grumbled. After instructing the servant to have Mrs. Holbrook deliver tea, Darcy brought the back of Elizabeth's hand to his lips. “Would you ask the colonel and Mr. Cowan to join me?”

Elizabeth observed, “I thought we had seen the last of the gypsy leader when he did not claim payment for the horse.”

“As did I,” Darcy said dryly.

Elizabeth caressed his cheek. “As I am certain Mr. Franklyn and company are engrossed in their relics, I plan to construct a list of what we do know and another of what we must still discover. The process will assist me in ordering my thoughts.”

“The ‘
must discover
's will greatly outnumber the ‘
do know
's,” Darcy said with a self-mocking smile. “Perhaps a third list of items we assume have some bearing on this mystery, but which we have no basis for connection.”

With an expectant expression, Elizabeth asked, “Such as why Mrs. Ridgeway has never set foot in the Wimborne church or what is her true relationship to the good doctor?”

“Or why the lady has chosen to set herself against me?”

Elizabeth ironically said, “It appears many of our ‘
some bearing
's are connected to Mrs. Ridgeway.”

Darcy squeezed her fingertips. “I will find you once I have finished my interview with Mr. Gry. I am most eager to view this list.”

“I shall see to the scientists' comforts and then retreat to my chambers, Mr. Darcy.”

He watched her walk away. The sway of her hips fascinated him. Although his wife was not a woman who required constant reminders of her fine looks, Darcy appreciated her form, and he made a point of assuring Elizabeth of her effect on him. He looked after her in an ecstasy of admiration of all her many virtues, from her obliging manners down to her light and graceful tread. “For it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance,” he had once told Caroline Bingley to ward off one of Miss Bingley's catty attacks on the woman Darcy loved with every fiber of his being. From the beginning, Darcy had found it charmingly refreshing to encounter a woman who would challenge him.
One who would not bore him with her inane chatter, and one who inflamed his passions. With a deep sigh of contentment, Darcy turned toward the sitting room and the awaiting gypsy leader.

“Mr. Gry,” he said as he entered the drawing room. Darcy purposely did not return the Rom's obeisance. Instead, he strode past the man to assume a seat of dominance. “I had not expected to see you again.” He motioned the man to a nearby chair.

“I saw no cause to intrude on your good humor,” the gypsy said sheepishly. “I came across the gelding shortly after your departure.” Of course, Darcy understood that Gry offered a false face. He was well aware the gypsy had called at Woodvine before being sent away by one of the maids. Darcy still did not know the gist of the conversation between Gry and Samuel's servant, but he meant to discover the truth of the matter.

The colonel and Cowan entered before Darcy could respond. “Ah, you are here,” he said to his cousin and the Runner. “It seems we erred in our estimation of Mr. Gry. He saw the dead animal and chose not to make a demand on my time.” Darcy spoke as if the man did not sit some five feet from him. It reminded him of Edward's father. The Earl of Matlock had perfected the art of the indirect cut.

“Is that not what we first surmised,” Edward said conspiratorially. The colonel and Cowan pulled over chairs to join the pair.

When everyone was settled, Darcy asked, “If your business is not the stallion, Gry, what brings you to Woodvine?”

The Rom shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I have come with news of our impending departure. I have promised my men that we will leave Dorset.”

Cowan asked suspiciously, “And your destination?”

The gypsy leader was not so successful in hiding his previous disdain for his Anglo tormentors when he spoke to the Runner. Darcy supposed that Gry saw Cowan as a man of little consequence, or perhaps, the Rom understood that Cowan's mind would not rest until the investigator knew the truth. “If it is of any importance, we will spend part of the summer in Wales.”

The colonel asked, “And your departure?”

“On Monday,” Gry said obligingly. “We will use the week's end to prepare food for the journey. We meant to stay until mid-May, but we will depart after the May Day celebration.”

After a pregnant pause, Darcy said, “I thought you had decided to remain in the area until details of your brother's death were disclosed.”

Gry shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “We Roma are accustomed to leaving before matters are settled. Overstaying our welcome in Wimborne will not bring my brother back to us, nor will it encourage justice.”

Darcy wondered if the second part of the Rom's statement was not more important than the first.

Cowan asked, “I do not suppose you are familiar with either Reuben Hotchkiss or Bieder Bates?”

Silence reigned, as a cloud of confusion crossed the gypsy's countenance. Finally, Gry said, “I assume Hotchkiss and Bates have something to do with Mr. Samuel's death, and you wish to connect the mystery to my men; but I assure you we Roma have completed no business with either man.”

Cowan said, “I did not ask if you conducted business with either Hotchkiss or Bates. I asked if you were familiar with either man.”

The Rom sighed heavily. “I know nothing of Mr. Bates and only know of Mr. Hotchkiss by reputation. I have not had the acquaintance of either man.” When no one else broke the tension, the gypsy leader stood. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” Darcy and Edward followed the man to his feet. At the door, the gypsy paused. “It is with an honest regard that I say the loss of Samuel Darcy leaves a great hole in this community. Your cousin treated the Roma as friends.” With that, Gry made his exit.

From where he remained seated behind them, Cowan said, “I still say Gry knows more than he pretends.”