Chapter Eight #2
“I have heard there is a great deal of snow.”
The footman nodded. “And temperatures that could freeze a man solid. Today is like spring in comparison. You need not concern yourself for me.”
Elizabeth shivered at the thought. “I admit, I am fond of a warm fire and a sturdy roof. You make me feel quite spoiled.”
Thatcher just smiled and motioned back towards the house. Elizabeth wrapped her cloak tighter around her. Despite the peacefulness of the morning, a strange sense of unease began to creep over her. She could not place the cause, but it lingered there, like a shadow at the edge of her mind.
As they turned away from the river, Elizabeth heard Thatcher’s steps slow.
She glanced over her shoulder to see what was keeping him.
He stood still, as though he was listening for something.
She followed his gaze into the woods but saw nothing out of the ordinary—just branches swaying gently in the breeze.
“Is something amiss, Thatcher?” she inquired, attempting a lightness she did not feel.
Thatcher shook his head, though his eyes remained fixed on the trees for a moment longer. “No, Miss Bennet. Just ensuring all is well.”
Elizabeth frowned but said nothing. Papa trusted Thatcher to care for her, and if Thatcher was on edge, there must be a reason. Yet as they resumed their walk, she could not help but feel foolish. What could be amiss here at Hollydale, so far from the troubles of the world?
As they reached the drive, Elizabeth took one more look behind her.
There was nothing there—no movement, no sign of anything out of place.
And yet the feeling of something or someone unseen, observing her, remained.
She chided herself. Hollydale was as safe as Longbourn had always been, and she would be foolish to allow something as vague as a feeling to unsettle her.
Darcy rode down the road to Hollydale House as it wound through a dense wood.
When he reached the old stone wall, he knew he was close.
The trees were almost bare now, allowing for an excellent view of the soft blue sky.
The chill in the air was another reminder that winter was fast approaching, and he would soon need to make these visits by carriage.
He had spoken with Mr. Bennet over a game of chess before the older man’s departure.
The new master of Hollydale had asked Darcy to call on the ladies each week while he was away.
He intended to return closer to the festive season with a the rest of his family once his obligations to his other estate were completed.
Darcy had been perfectly happy to agree. He enjoyed Mr. Bennet’s company, but the frequency of his visits was largely for the opportunity to sit with his daughter for half an hour, and he would have been quite disappointed to lose the privilege.
Miss Bennet stirred his emotions in a way he had not felt before.
Perhaps it was a protective instinct, awakened the moment he saw her about to take a fall, but he thought it more than that.
Her wit was charming. She was strong, capable, intelligent, good-humoured—and he had noticed from the first that she was uncommonly pretty.
He could not say how far these feelings went, but he did wish to know her better.
Thus, a week after Mr. Bennet’s departure, he rode over to Hollydale.
As he approached the house, he noticed Miss Bennet walking up from the river path, her cloak wrapped tightly around her to keep out the cold.
A footman—Thatcher, if he recalled correctly—was a few paces behind her, ever watchful.
He dismounted, handing his reins to a stable hand before making his way to Miss Bennet. She greeted him with a polite smile.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, inclining his head. “Good day. I trust you are well?”
“I am, sir, thank you. Please come in.”
Miss Bennet led the way into the house, her steps deliberate.
Mr. Riggs took her cloak and turned to Darcy.
After he had handed the butler his greatcoat and followed Miss Bennet into the drawing room, he saw Miss Bennet’s eyes move to the window as if searching for something outside before she returned to offer him a seat.
Thatcher, who had followed her in, nodded slightly, signalling, Darcy thought, that all was well.
Thatcher bowed and exited, leaving them alone with the door open.
Darcy waited until Miss Bennet settled into a chair across from him before speaking. “Miss Bennet, your father charged me with visiting you and your mother while he is gone. Forgive me, but I cannot help but see you are uneasy. Is all well?”
Miss Bennet hesitated, her hands smoothing the fabric of her dress though there were no wrinkles. She lifted her chin. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Darcy. Hollydale is beautiful, and we are settling in well, for the most part.”
He leaned forward a little. “For the most part?”
She pressed her lips together and hesitated, as if deliberating upon what she wished to say. “There have been some small . . . incidents this past week.”
His alarm heightened. “Incidents?”
Miss Bennet sighed. “At first, I thought things had simply been misplaced, but it continues to happen. A shovel left by the stable door was found at the edge of the woods. A carriage lamp that had been hanging in the stables has disappeared altogether. Other tools are missing from the gardener’s shed. ”
“Only from the outbuildings?”
“Thus far.”
Darcy did not care for the sound of that. “Have you told anyone else?”
“Thatcher knows, and Freedman. They have been watching, but so far, there is no explanation. The things that have been taken are not of great value, but their disappearance is troubling.”
“Could it be the work of someone on the estate? A servant perhaps?”
Miss Bennet shook her head. “I do not believe so. We have hired few servants, and they each were recommended by Mr. or Mrs. Riggs. They have all been loyal and hardworking thus far. If anything, I believe it might be someone from outside the estate, someone who might be living in the woods.”
“In the woods?” Darcy’s concern deepened. “You mean a vagrant?”
She met his gaze, her voice firm but touched with uncertainty. “I have considered the possibility, Mr. Darcy, but I do not wish to be an alarmist. It could be someone in need, seeking shelter or food. I have not felt frightened, only . . . watched.”
That last word hung in the air.
“Watched?”
“When I am on my morning walks. Thatcher feels it as well, though we have not actually seen anyone.”
Darcy sat up straight. “You will allow me to make a search, will you not? Thatcher can join me if you remain here in the house with Freedman.”
She shook her head. “Mr. Darcy, I would not ask it of you. We do not have enough servants to mount a reasonable search, and in any case, I would not know where to tell you to begin. It is only a feeling.”
And several missing items. “Miss Bennet,” he said quietly, pleased when her expression lost the stubborn cast it had been taking on.
“I will not rest easy knowing I have not at least searched the woods to be certain there is no threat. If the number of men you have here are insufficient, will you allow me to send for a few trusted men from Pemberley to join me and Thatcher?”
“I would feel rather foolish should you discover there is no one there.”
Darcy shook his head. “It is not foolish to investigate. I would be happy indeed were we to discover nothing.”
Miss Bennet was unnaturally serious. “And if you do?”
“I am a magistrate, if you recall, madam.”
He provoked a small smile with this pronouncement, which had been his aim.
“Very well then. Only—please be discreet. My mother does not know about any of this, and I do not wish to upset her.”
“Should not your mother be made aware?” As the mistress of the estate, it was more her mother’s place than Miss Bennet’s to ask for assistance. But Miss Bennet was always so self-assured he unthinkingly put the question to her.
“Once there is some decision to be made, perhaps.”
Had Miss Bennet not just made one? Still, Darcy had been given his way, and he did not mean to quibble over it. He asked for writing material and dashed off a note to Mrs. Reynolds, his housekeeper. She would know how to gather the men he had requested and see them on their way without delay.
They sat to breakfast—though it was late as she had been awaiting her mother’s pleasure only to be informed Mrs. Bennet would take a tray in her room. Her daughter appeared relieved when informed.
“I begin to think I am only imagining things, Mr. Darcy,” she said, shaking her head and moving her food around on her plate without eating anything. “I am sorry to be putting you to such trouble.”
“It is no trouble at all,” he assured her. “I promised Mr. Bennet I would look after you. And your mother, of course.”
“My father bestowed upon you the office of nursemaid?” Thank goodness she sounded more amused than annoyed.
“I would not call it that. He simply worries for you,” Darcy assured her. “I like your father. He is easy to converse with, despite the fact he is often teasing me for some time before I realise it.”
Miss Bennet chuckled. “I did warn you.”
They lingered a bit over the meal until Miss Bennet was called away on a matter of business by Mrs. Riggs. Darcy wandered to the front of the house to await word from Pemberley. They ought to be arriving shortly. He moved to watch out of the front window.
He had been waiting about ten minutes when four riders came down the drive.
Darcy asked Mr. Riggs to have his horse brought around and then stepped outside.
The first rider, a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, lifted a hand in greeting as they approached.
As the men dismounted, their boots hitting the ground with dull thuds, Darcy nodded to each in turn.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” the first man said, touching his cap. “We came as soon as Mrs. Reynolds relayed your message.”
“Thank you, Thompson. Did Mrs. Reynolds explain what you are to do?”
He and the other men nodded.
“Miss Bennet is feeling foolish about putting us to the trouble, but in my experience, she is not a missish woman. She believes someone has been watching the house, and indeed several tools and other items from the outbuildings are missing. If a vagrant is living in the woods, however, I wish to detain him, not harm him. Understood?”
Thompson responded with a quick, affirmative nod and indicated the neatly coiled rope attached to his saddlebags. “Aye, sir. We stand ready.” The men behind him nodded.
Darcy glanced towards the woods beyond the gardens. “The perimeter of the woods is square. I want each of you to choose a side and work inward. Thatcher and I will take the centre and work outward.”
The men exchanged looks, then each reached for the reins of their horses, preparing to set off. From the saddle, Thompson touched his cap again. “If there’s anyone hiding in those woods, Mr. Darcy, we’ll find ‘im.”
A groomsman strode up, leading Darcy’s mount. He swung himself up into the saddle and took the reins. “Very well. Let us be off.”