The Phantom of Pemberley (3 page)

Elizabeth scrambled from his lap when she heard the servants outside the door. “I am sure Georgiana waits for me by now. We will return in a few hours.”

“Do not go far, my Love. The winter weather looms; we are in for a bad spell.”

“Listen to you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth joked as she headed toward the door.“You sound like one of the old hags who claim they can tell the weather from their rheumatism.”

Darcy cleared his throat, stopping her exit. “Elizabeth, I have lived my whole life in Derbyshire. I understand the harshness of the winters.Trust me, my Love.”

She stopped in her tracks. “If you are serious, Fitzwilliam, I will follow your lead,” she assured him.

“I think only of you and Georgiana.”

“Do you suppose Lydia will arrive before this weather changes?” Elizabeth now expressed the same concern as he.

Darcy stood and came to where she waited. “A rider brought me some papers from Liverpool today, and he said that the weather
turned bad quickly. If he is correct, the storm is at least a day out, but it is likely to be here by early in the day tomorrow. Mrs.Wickham’s coach will be driving into the storm.Your sister may have some uncomfortable hours, but I am relatively certain she will arrive safely.”

“You will go with me to Lambton—I mean to bring Lydia to Pemberley?” Elizabeth inquired.

“I will not leave you to your own devices.” Darcy kissed her fingers. “Have a good visit with the tenants.”

“Mrs. Hudson needs someone to repair her window,” Elizabeth reminded him as she prepared to leave.

Darcy followed her to the door. “I will see to it immediately.”

 

Elizabeth and Georgiana took Darcy’s small coach for their visits. Often they made their rounds on horseback or in an open curricle, but Georgiana suffered from a head cold, and Elizabeth would take no chances with Miss Darcy’s health in the bitter weather. “We have only two more baskets,” Elizabeth said. She accepted Murray’s hand as she climbed into the coach. He closed the steps, setting them inside. “Thank you, Murray. Tell Mr. Stalling we will see the Baines and the Taylors.”

“Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”

Mr. Stalling turned the carriage toward the hedgerow leading to the main drive. “We will keep our visits short,” Elizabeth told Darcy’s sister. “I can tell you are not at your best today.”

“My head feels so full. Perhaps I should remain in the carriage. Both the Baines and the Taylors have a houseful of children. It would not be the Christian thing to share my illness.” Georgiana sniffled and reached for her handkerchief.

“That might be best.” Elizabeth straightened the seam of her dress. “I will make the call; you stay in the carriage and keep your feet on the warming brick. Then I will see you home. I am sure Mrs. Reynolds has a special poultice to make you feel better.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” Georgiana sniffed again.

Elizabeth adjusted the blanket across Georgiana’s lap. “Fitzwilliam will be distressed to know you feel poorly.”

“He does worry about me.” Georgiana Darcy leaned back into the thick squabs of her brother’s carriage. Elizabeth remembered the first time she had seen the girl, who had been little more than sixteen at the time. Darcy had brought his sister to the inn in Lambton to meet Elizabeth after finding Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle visiting Pemberley on holiday. It had been the beginning of her life together with Darcy.

Although Elizabeth was four years her senior, Darcy’s sister was taller and on a larger scale. She was less handsome than her brother, but there was sense and good humor in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Everyone who knew Georgiana Darcy esteemed her for her compassion and her goodness. Elizabeth treasured having Georgiana in the household. Having left a houseful of sisters in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth appreciated having female companionship.

“Your brother has spent his adult life caring for you.”

Georgiana closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on feeling the brick’s warmth, but a shiver shook her body. “I will be happy to find my own bed.”

Elizabeth touched the girl’s forehead with the back of her hand. “You are not warm—no fever.”

“I simply ache all over, and my head is so tight with pressure,” Georgiana rasped out.

The carriage came to a bone-jolting halt. “I will be only a few minutes.” Elizabeth opened the door. Murray assisted her to the ground before handing Elizabeth one of the two remaining baskets he carried.

“Murray, I want to see Miss Darcy to the house as soon as possible. Would you mind delivering the basket you carry to the Taylors? Give them our regards and explain the situation. I will call on Mrs. Baine.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy.” The footman headed toward the Taylors’ cottage, less than a quarter mile down the main drive.

Elizabeth glanced quickly at Georgiana to assure herself the girl would be well while alone in the coach.Then she strode toward the
small, white washed cottage. Before she reached the door, it swung open, and a burly-looking man greeted her.

“Mrs. Darcy, let me be helpin’ ye with that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Baine.” Elizabeth entered the house and removed her gloves. She glanced around quickly to inspect how well the Baines maintained their home. Darcy did well by his tenants, but he expected the cottagers to uphold the property and not to destroy what he gave them.

“Ye be alone, Mistress?” Mrs. Baine looked to the threshold.

Elizabeth gestured toward the coach. “Miss Darcy feels poorly. We both thought it best to not bring an illness into your house. In fact, I only have a few minutes. I wish to see Mr. Darcy’s sister in her own bed’s comfort.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy.” Mr. Baine set the basket on the table.

“There is flour, sugar, some potatoes, ham, and turnips in the basket.” Elizabeth slipped her gloves on, preparing to leave.

“We be thankin’ ye,” Mrs. Baine said and lifted the cloth to peer at the things the Great House had sent to them.

“Of course, there are sweets for the children.” Elizabeth touched a tow-headed boy of four. “You may dole them out when you deem appropriate.”

Mr. Baine picked up a blonde girl of two. “The little ones be our greatest gift.”

The Baines had six children, and Elizabeth chuckled at the irony of the statement. “Then you are indeed blessed, Mr. Baine. Mr. Darcy says the weather will turn dangerous, so be sure everyone is inside. Maybe you should bring in some extra wood for the fire.”

“We be thinkin’ the same, Mistress.” Baine stroked the child’s head as it rested on his shoulder. “We be well, ma’am.”

“You know if you need anything, just send someone to Pemberley. Mr. Darcy will help if he can.”

“We be knowin’ it, ma’am.” Mrs. Baine joined them as they stood by the door.

Elizabeth glanced toward the carriage. “I really must see Miss Darcy home. Please excuse me; we will visit longer the next time.”

“You see to the master’s sister,” Mrs. Baine said as she reached for the door handle. “We be puttin’ Miss Darcy in our prayers.”

“My sister will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

 

Georgiana Darcy pulled the blanket closer. She hoped Elizabeth would not be long. She really just wanted to go to bed and sleep for a few hours—maybe even have Mrs. Jennings heat up some chicken broth.

Reluctantly, she sat forward to check on Elizabeth’s return, but saw no one. Georgiana scooted the warming brick closer; it quickly lost its heat in the chilly air. She reached out and slid the curtain aside to look for Elizabeth again.Then she saw him, and a different kind of shiver ran down her spine. He just stood there in the tree line. A blond-haired man, wrapped in a black cloak and wearing a floppy-brimmed hat, leaned against a tree. Georgiana felt her heart skip a beat, and her breathing became labored.

The sound of Elizabeth’s approach drew the girl’s attention for a fraction of a second, and when her eyes returned to the trees, the man was no longer there.

“Did you see him?” she pleaded as Mr. Stalling helped Elizabeth into the coach.

“See who?” Elizabeth turned expectantly. “Was someone there?” She searched where Georgiana stared, but all they saw was a bare headed Murray walking toward them, slapping his jacket to keep himself warm.

Elizabeth sat next to Georgiana, and slid her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Might we take Miss Darcy home, Mr. Stalling?”

“Yes, Mrs. Darcy.” The driver stored the coach’s step inside before motioning Murray to climb aboard the back of the coach.

As the carriage circled to return to the house, both women stared out the opposite window, looking for something neither of them hoped to see again. “He is not there,” Georgiana whispered.

“No one is there, Georgiana.” Elizabeth let the curtain fall in place. “Would you tell me what you saw?”

“A man—all in black—wearing an unusual hat—like those in the books from America.” Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Do you believe me?”

Elizabeth tightened her hold on the girl.“Your brother thought that what I saw yesterday was a bear, but what you just described was what I saw in my mind’s eye. Except I could not make out the man’s face.”

“Neither could I,” Georgiana whispered although they were alone in the moving carriage.“What does it mean, Elizabeth?”The girl grabbed her sister’s hand.

Elizabeth did not answer; she simply pulled the blanket over both of them.“We will tell Fitzwilliam. He will know what to do.”

ADAM LAWRENCE, THE FUTURE earl of Greenwall, was traveling from London to Cheshire. Against his better judgment, he had agreed to escort his mistress, Cathleen Donnel, to her home country. Her uncle had taken ill, and the family had summoned relatives to his bedside. Cathleen had been his lover less than eight months, and Adam knew he should not cater to her, but despite his reputation as a rake, he never treated his women disrespectfully, and the news had greatly distressed her. She had considered not going, but Adam had known that she would regret it always, so he had insisted that she go and that he accompany her. His coachman, Morris Johnson, pressed the horses, as the party anticipated a winter storm, and Adam cursed himself for placing them in danger.

Green-eyed Cathleen Donnel was an actress of sorts. Actually, she had no talent in that respect, but she possessed a beautiful singing voice and previously made her living on the stage. And Cathleen was a most pleasing mistress. She had dallied with several other short-term patrons prior to Lawrence, but it was he who paid the rent on her upscale townhouse on Mayfair’s fringes. Adam preferred his women to have some experience but not be well worn, and Cathleen met those qualifications, as well as meeting his passion with her own. Besides, he thought that she possessed the greenest eyes he had ever seen this side of a spring meadow. Cathleen’s auburn Irish hair had attracted him at first, and her petite,
buxom figure, pouty mouth, and mesmerizing eyes ensured that he stayed infatuated with her.

Adam glanced at Cathleen as she slept on the opposite seat. Using her cloak as a blanket, she curled up on the coach’s bench. For a brief moment, he wondered why he let her have her way. It seemed he always let other people influence him—tell him what to do, actually. His father—his tutors—his professors at the university—his mistresses—his friends—they all made decisions for him. Easier, he supposed. It was easier when others assumed the responsibility for what happened.

Adam never discussed his aversion to responsibility with anyone. At five and twenty, he accepted no real accountability. His father, Robert Lawrence, made all the decisions: where Adam lived, where he attended school, how much money he could spend, and where he bought his clothes and his horses. His father never needed Adam to do more than be his heir. Most of the time, Adam felt quite useless. However, he never let anyone see that side of his personality. To the world, he showed an aristocratic face and an inscrutable nature. He received what he wanted, when he wanted it—so why complain.

Glancing at Cathleen again, Adam saw her stir. She looked exceedingly appealing with her disheveled hair and dress. Cathleen groaned and stretched before sitting up. “Did I sleep long?” she asked huskily, sleep still lingering on her tongue.

“Less than an hour,” Adam answered before moving next to her. He quickly gathered Cathleen into his arms. “You look delicious.” Adam brushed his lips across hers.

As she should, Cathleen laced her arms about his neck.After all, Lawrence was completely masculine—narrow waist; well-formed chest and back; muscular legs and hips; dark, straight hair—actually worn a bit too long for her taste; and gray—actually, silver—eyes. He was the kind of man that women desired immediately. And he was good to her. Only recently, Adam had bought her a gold-leaf
book, one she had seen in the window of an upscale bookstore and wanted immediately. A collection of fairy tales, most from the Brothers Grimm, the book was not a first edition but a limited printing, and Cathleen loved it more than many of the jewels and gowns she earned with her body. She had never owned a book—she read well, but her family lacked the wealth to own books other than the Bible.The uncle she rushed to comfort was a minor Irish nobleman—a baron, but nothing like the relatives that her handsome lover, Lord Stafford, claimed. Her uncle’s family worked the land; Cathleen was sure Lord Stafford would bolt if someone even suggested that he might dirty his hands.