The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (31 page)

Stowbridge cleared his throat. “Mrs. Darcy, I suggest you wait in the library.”

Els clutched at Elizabeth's hand. “Oh, no, Ma'am. Ye kinnae leave me.”

Elizabeth announced, “If Mr. Darcy holds no objections, I prefer to remain.” She knew Stowbridge would not oppose a man of Darcy's consequence. Her husband's determinateness and his power seemed to make allies unnecessary.

Darcy said cautiously, “For the moment, I will tolerate your presence, but I would caution you, Mrs. Darcy, to permit Mr. Stowbridge and Mr. Cowan to conduct their investigation without interruption.”

Elizabeth nodded mutely. Her husband rarely used his infamous authoritative tone with her. She had placed him in an awkward position, but Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that if she departed too quickly, poor Els would be on the first ship to Australia.

Edward closed the door to eliminate the possibility of eavesdropping servants. Stowbridge stood before the girl. “We have matched the shoes you wear with prints upon the floor in the late Mr. Darcy's chamber.”

“I be knowin' nothing of any chamber until we be enterin' this room a few hours prior. Mrs. Ridgeway be tellin' us of the gaping hole in Mr. Darcy's library, but I's never seen any sich room,” the girl protested.

Stowbridge stepped closer, and Elizabeth wished he would not lord his position over the girl. “Did you know there was an opening in the garden which leads to Samuel Darcy's treasure room?”

“I swears, Mr. Stowbridge, Sir, I be knowin' nothing of any openings or any secret rooms.”

Cowan placed a hand on Stowbridge's shoulder, and the older man gave way. The former Runner knelt before Els, and Elizabeth appreciated Mr. Cowan's compassionate approach. “I will ask you specific questions, Els, and I require the truth.”

“Yes, Sir,” the maid said weakly. Elizabeth noted the tremor, which ran through the girl's body.

“First, I have often observed your comings and goings through the kitchen garden. The opening of which Mr. Stowbridge speaks is nearby. What do you do in the garden? You are not a kitchen maid.”

The girl swallowed hard. “When I have a few minutes to meself, I like to go out in the fresh air. I miss me family and the farm,” her voice quavered.

Cowan continued, “And what of when you go out late in the night? Where do you go then?” The Runner sat on a hammock at the girl's feet.

As if she were not certain how to answer, Els shot a glance to Elizabeth. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Cowan encouraged, “You must speak the whole truth if you expect not to be charged with theft from your employer. Now, I will ask you again. Where do you go late at night? To a field by Mr. Rupp's farm, or to the forest?”

Elizabeth darted a quick glance at the young girl. Had it been Els Elizabeth had espied from her chamber window? The little maid shivered, and Elizabeth tightened her hold about the girl's shoulders. “No field and no forest,” she declared adamantly. “I swear, Mr. Cowan. I go...I go to meet Toby...Toby Ritter from Mr. Skeet's farm. He be my friend since we be children in Crampmoor. We be happy to find one 'nother in Wimborne. We sits, and we talks about friends and home.”

“So you have midnight assignations with this Toby character?” Stowbridge accused.

“Oh, no, Sir,” the girl pleaded. “I be a good girl. I jist be so sick fer home, and Toby be too. We keep each other company, and it don't seem so bad the next day. That be all we do. Jist sit and talk and dream of home.”

Elizabeth declared, “I believe her.”

“I appreciate your confidence in the young lady, Mrs. Darcy, but I think it best that Mr. Cowan and I continue our questioning at the gaol.”

“Fitzwilliam, you cannot permit them to take Els away,” Elizabeth pleaded.

Darcy reached for her, and Elizabeth reluctantly joined him. “It is best if we permit the gentlemen to execute their duties,” he said solemnly.

“But Fitz...” Elizabeth began; however, one of Darcy's scowls stifled her protest.

Cowan assisted the maid to her feet. “I will protect Els, Mrs. Darcy,” he said softly. “You have my word on it.”

The colonel said, “I believe I will accompany the magistrate. This may be one of those times when being an earl's son proves beneficial.” Before he departed, Edward suggested, “It would be advisable if Mrs. Darcy conducted another search of the maid's quarters.”

Darcy nodded his agreement as his cousin slipped from the room. Edward judiciously closed the door behind him. Darcy still held his wife's hand, but Elizabeth refused to look at him. Darcy said softly, “Perhaps it would be best if you retired, my dear.”

“I would prefer to follow the colonel's suggestion, if you hold no objections,” Elizabeth said obediently. His wife shifted her weight uneasily.

Darcy recognized how assuming a subordinate attitude would rub hard against Elizabeth's normally exuberant disposition. He certainly did not enjoy exerting his will over her, but Darcy could not permit Elizabeth to place herself in the middle of a neverending mystery. It was too dangerous. There were too many unknowns. “Would you accept my assistance?”

Her eyes finally met his, and for once, Darcy could not read her thoughts, and that set his nerves on edge. “It would be best if I completed the task alone, and you oversaw the gentlemen from the Society,” she said without emotion.

Darcy's mouth thinned as he chose his words carefully. “Elizabeth, I treasure your empathy for others—it is a quality which convinced me you would do well as Georgiana's sister—but I will not permit you to become the maid's advocate.
None of us
,” and Darcy stressed the words, “know the depth of deception being practiced in this house.”

Elizabeth nodded and turned her head away. “I know you mean well, Fitzwilliam,” she said wearily.

“But...”

“But I am not a child.” His wife lifted her chin in familiar defiance. It was his fault, this unusual gulf between them. Even when he held doubts of ever earning her love, he had not experienced the feeling of distance that he knew at this moment. Darcy had acted as a gentleman, so why did he feel so deeply disappointed in his performance? “If you will excuse me, I shall see to my duties.” With that, his wife was gone. Darcy suspected he had not heard the end of the argument. Even Elizabeth's silence spoke volumes.

Well over three hours later, he entered her bedchamber to find his wife curled in a tight ball in the bed's middle. It had taken him some two hours to convince the Society members that they need not catalog all of Samuel's treasures in one sitting. To allay their concerns, Darcy had made a grand display of securing both entrances to the hidden chamber.

His cousin had returned from the village and had added his voice to Darcy's assurances that all would be well. Edward had reasoned, “The culprit has been apprehended. Besides, the girl made no effort to remove the late Mr. Darcy's archaeological finds.”

Later, when Sedgelock had led Chetley and Franklyn away, the colonel explained how he had convinced Mr. Stowbridge to hold the maid under lock and key in the magistrate's root cellar rather than placing Els in the village gaol. “I saw no sense in tormenting the girl with more threats. I will speak to Mr. Ritter in the morning to confirm the maid's story.” A long silence followed. Finally, his cousin asked, “Did you apologize to Mrs. Darcy?”

Darcy reacted immediately, “Why would I apologize? I did nothing to merit censure.” He ignored the little voice which said,
but you accepted fault
.

Edward's lips turned up with amusement. “Will your bed be warmer if you claim righteousness, Cousin?”

Darcy felt the nuisance of the colonel's taunt. “I have never understood why a man must apologize to placate a woman's whims.”

Edward stretched out his legs before him. “Consider it, Darcy. If you apologize in private to Mrs. Darcy, you lose no face among the Woodvine staff, and your wife will accept your offer of vulnerability as a balm to her romantic heart. Everything will return to normal. You will once again be the man of Mrs. Darcy's dreams. However, if you do not apologize...” Edward grimaced, and Darcy found himself wanting to know what he would face if he refused; yet, his cousin left the consequences to Darcy's imagination.

Darcy forced a casual laugh. “I would be a
poisson d'avril
to take marital advice from a confirmed bachelor.” He did not wait for a response; instead, Darcy purposely changed the subject. “Please explain why you suggested that Mrs. Darcy reexamine the maid's quarters.”

Edward prepared to stand. “Simple. When Mrs. Darcy and I searched for the boots to match the imprints, we also took the liberty of seeking out the missing map. We had thought the map the stronger proof. It would be possible for both the maid's and another person's boots to have similar imperfections, especially if the boots came from the same cobbler; however, only one map exists.”

“I assume you discovered nothing unusual, or you and Mrs. Darcy would have mentioned it previously,” Darcy remarked.

Edward said without artifice, “I suspect that knowledge was the basis of Mrs. Darcy's allegiance to the maid.”

Darcy felt doubly wretched. “Then why instruct my wife to execute a second search?”

His cousin looked on in earnest sympathy. “First, it provided Mrs. Darcy with a diverting task. Your wife's objections could be proven legitimate if she recovered a map where one had not been previously.”

“I see,” Darcy said warily. “You would play Mrs. Darcy's hero?”

His cousin grinned. “If she required one, I would gladly play Elizabeth Darcy's hero, but not as you imply. I would serve any member of your family because you are my dearest friend.” Edward stood to depart. “If Mrs. Darcy found a map, it would prove someone else at Woodvine had decided to save herself by placing the blame on the maid.” The colonel bowed. “As I expect more chaos tomorrow, I will seek my bed. I suggest, Cousin, you find yours only after extending an honest apology to your wife.”

Darcy looked intently upon Elizabeth's small form. Sometimes he forgot how small she was. Her personality was so large that he often mistook her dominating individuality for her physical form. He placed the banyan he wore across the back of a chair and set the lamp he carried on the side table. It provided a mere trace of light and would quickly burn itself out. Darcy lifted the corner of the lightweight blanket and edged his way under the linens. The warmth of Elizabeth's body coated his chest as he inched her farther to her side of the bed.

She had not unfurled, but his wife huskily asked, “Fitzwilliam?”

He smiled at the familiar rasp in her voice as he answered her. “Yes, my love.” Darcy kissed her temple. “I am here. I will protect you.”

She rolled over in his embrace. Her silk gown felt cool along his skin. “I found it,” she mumbled half asleep.

Darcy smiled easily. “The map?”

“Yes, the stolen map,” she murmured against his chest. Her breath teased the line of hairs leading to his rapidly developing erection.

Darcy pushed his passion away. “We will discuss it in the morning. Sleep now, my love,” he whispered.

Elizabeth snuggled closer to him. He never tired of the feel of her against him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of lavender in her hair. As the light dimmed in a wick drowned by hot wax, sleep crept across his countenance. He buried his nose in her auburn locks and relaxed against the woman who held his heart in the palm of her small hand. He murmured, “I love you, Elizabeth. I am infinitely sorry I hurt you earlier.”