Chapter Eleven #2
When she had seen Mrs. Travis on the green, the widow was wearing a shawl that had seen a great deal of wear.
Inside the package Elizabeth held was a new one, made of a thick wool, very soft, that she hoped the widow would love.
It was a deep blue, which she thought would set the woman’s eyes off well.
And then she had sewed a cushion from the remainder of the cloth and placed it in a basket so that Selina would have a matching bed.
The door was unlocked, and she just slipped it all inside, shut the door, and hurried back to Thatcher.
“Quickly,” she said with a laugh. “I do not wish to be seen.”
“I doubt anyone will see us all the way out here,” Thatcher replied, but he ushered her to a path through the trees anyway. She thought she saw him smile crookedly as she passed him.
It was the same at the Armstrong house. She had heard a few ladies at the bookshop talking about little Paul, only four, down with a terrible cough.
His parents had no money for his medicine.
Aunt Gardiner had taught Jane and Elizabeth how to make any number of remedies in their own stillrooms, and so Elizabeth had made two bottles of the syrup they used.
Horehound, honey, and water—it was a crime such a simple mixture was not affordable for any family.
She tiptoed up to the front door to leave the bottles, and then hurried away.
When they had completed their rounds—and thanks to Thatcher’s help, they did so in almost no time at all—she smiled brightly at the footman, and he touched the brim of his hat.
“Duchess,” he said quietly.
He meant the Christmas Duchess, of course. Elizabeth shook her head, but she was pleased.
That evening, Elizabeth sat in the drawing room, her needlework forgotten in her lap as she observed the domestic scene before her.
Her mother and Miss Darcy were engaged in an animated discussion about the fashion plates spread out on the table before them, while Mr. Darcy sat by the fire, a glass of wine next to him and a book open in his hand.
Her heart longed for him to look up, to see her gazing at him.
He turned a page.
“Oh, Miss Darcy,” Mamma exclaimed, “you simply must tell me more about these new bonnet styles, for I have not been to London in ever so long!”
Miss Darcy dipped her chin and touched one of the coloured plates with the tip of her finger. “I am afraid I cannot tell you much about what is current in London, Mrs. Bennet. I have always been at school, and the headmistress does not allow us out unless we are with family.”
Mr. Darcy stilled, the book still in his hand but his eyes no longer on the pages.
Elizabeth knew what was about to happen. One could not admit to a desire for shopping in her mother’s presence and not receive an immediate invitation.
“My goodness,” Mamma said, as if on cue. “A trip to the milliner’s is in order then.”
Miss Darcy’s eyes widened, her gaze darting to her brother. Mr. Darcy sensed his sister’s discomfort and set his book aside. “Perhaps we might consider a more modest excursion, Mrs. Bennet. You mentioned your hothouse before. I am certain my sister would enjoy seeing it.”
“Yes, Mamma,” Elizabeth said. “Miss Darcy, do you enjoy arranging flowers? For my mother is quite an expert.”
“What a splendid idea,” her mother said, her face lighting up. “We could gather some of the blooms and create a centrepiece for the dining room. Would you like that, Miss Darcy?”
The girl nodded, visibly relieved. “Yes, Mrs. Bennet. I would enjoy that very much.”
Mamma was soon discussing how the Long sisters back in Meryton always used flowers in their hair at the assemblies. “I must say, they look very well indeed, though the blooms do droop a bit before the end of the night.”
Elizabeth smiled to herself. When she looked up, Mr. Darcy caught her eye and mouthed a silent “Thank you.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement. She had been happy to ease his sister’s distress, but she did wonder why such a simple journey would not be to her liking.
“Lizzy,” her mother said, turning her attention back to Elizabeth, “you must join us. Your eye for colour is quite good, you know.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mamma.” Elizabeth set her needlework aside. “We might also take the time to gather some of the herbs for the stillroom while we are at it. Mrs. Riggs mentioned peppermint and elderflower specifically.”
The conversation turned back to the fashion plates, and Elizabeth found her gaze drawn once more to Mr. Darcy.
He had picked up his book again, but she noticed his eyes were not moving across the page.
Instead, he observed the interaction between her mother and Georgiana with a wistful expression upon his countenance.
Her parents were not always proper, but since she had inherited Hollydale, they were more affectionate with and kind to one another. And most importantly, she still had them in her life. Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy had only one another. No wonder Miss Darcy had gravitated to Mamma’s effusive warmth.
When the clock chimed ten, Mamma stifled a yawn. “Oh my, the time has flown. It is time for me to retire. Miss Darcy, shall we plan our excursion to the hothouse sometime after breakfast?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bennet,” Miss Darcy said, rising from her seat at the table. “I shall look forward to it.”
Good nights were exchanged, and their small party began to disperse. Mr. Darcy was taking his time closing his book and setting his wineglass on the salver. Elizabeth lingered behind to tidy up the fashion plates.
When they were alone, he approached her, his voice low. “Miss Bennet, I want to thank you for your assistance with my sister. She returned from school before the end of term and has not yet confided in me. She seems more confident in her duties, but less confident . . .”
“In herself?” Elizabeth supplied.
“Precisely.”
“You are certainly welcome, Mr. Darcy, but I suspect she will come to you before she is meant to return to school. Be patient, listen to her concerns, and all will be well.”
“You speak as someone who has experience.”
“I do have four sisters.”
“Ah, yes. I had nearly forgotten.” His smile was fleeting.
Mamma’s voice filtered in from the hall, calling Elizabeth’s name.
Mr. Darcy frowned. “Might I have a word with you in private tomorrow? There are some matters to discuss regarding the . . . situation.”
She nodded, her heart quickening at his proximity. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. Mamma is a late riser, and your sister is as well, I think?”
He inclined his head in agreement.
“Let us simply happen to arrive at breakfast a little early, then?”
“That would be perfect.” His eyes met hers. For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them charged with unspoken thoughts.
But then she recalled Mr. Darcy was only here because of his promise to her father, and she spoke to break the spell. “Good night, Mr. Darcy.”
“Good night, Miss Bennet. Sleep well.”
As Elizabeth made her way to her chambers, she found herself both anticipating and dreading their meeting tomorrow. What new development might Mr. Darcy have to share? He could not give his entire life over to a prolonged visit at Hollydale.
Papa had reached Longbourn less than a week ago. She had hoped she would not need to write him before everything was resolved but depending upon what Mr. Darcy had to say tomorrow, she might not have a choice.
The morning light was just beginning to filter through the windows of Hollydale’s breakfast room when Elizabeth entered.
She had risen earlier than usual, hoping to steal a few moments of solitude before her meeting with Mr. Darcy.
She was still attracted to the man—more now than ever—and she wished to prepare herself to be alone with him.
He did not share her feelings, or, if he did, he was unwilling to act upon them.
He was fulfilling a promise to her father, nothing more, and she must reconcile herself to that truth.
To her surprise and chagrin, she found Mr. Darcy already in the breakfast room, standing by the window with a cup of coffee in his hand.
She found herself admiring the picture he made, his tall, proud form framed by the soft glow of the early morning light.
There was something almost peaceful about him.
Elizabeth took a breath and stepped forward.
Mr. Darcy turned at the sound of her entrance, and for a moment, they simply regarded one another. “Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he said, his voice low and warm. “I hope I am not disturbing your routine.”
Elizabeth shook her head, moving further into the room. “Not at all, Mr. Darcy. As I said last night, I am an early riser by nature.”
She made her way to the sideboard to pour herself a cup of tea. The room was quiet save for the distant rumblings of the servants making the house ready for the day.
They were alone for now. “I believe you had some information for me, Mr. Darcy?”
He moved closer, setting his cup down on the table before speaking. “I am afraid there has been another incident, though I cannot be sure it involves Hollydale.”
Elizabeth carried her teacup to the table and sat down across from Mr. Darcy, who took his own chair. “What is it?”
“A set of silver candlesticks appeared in the cache yesterday.” Mr. Darcy’s expression was grave. “Have you noticed anything like that missing from the house?”
She stared at him for a moment before she managed to ask, “Do you mean he has been inside?”
“I do not know,” Mr. Darcy admitted. “But whether it is Hollydale or another home, the candlesticks are far more valuable than any of the other items. The man is growing bolder. We must take some additional precautions.”
Her mind was racing, but she managed to nod. “What do you suggest?”
Mr. Darcy leaned forward. “First, we must conduct an inventory of Hollydale’s valuables.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Mrs. Riggs is an efficient housekeeper. She began updating it before Mr. Ellis’s death with the understanding there would be a new owner.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Darcy finished what was left of his coffee. “Would you mind if I sent Mr. Riggs to fetch her?”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said. She waited for a time so they could eat together, but he did not immediately return, and she was hungry. After a quarter of an hour, she served herself and sat down. But no sooner had she picked up her fork than Mr. Darcy returned with Mrs. Riggs in tow.
The housekeeper curtsied, and when she straightened and lifted her head, Elizabeth saw she wore a worried frown.
“Miss Bennet, Mr. Darcy has informed me of the situation with the silver candlesticks,” Mrs. Riggs said. “I have brought the inventory, but I fear it may not be as helpful as you might wish.”
Elizabeth set down her fork. “What do you mean, Mrs. Riggs?”
The housekeeper sighed. “In his later years, Mr. Ellis developed a habit of . . . hiding things. I have been attempting to locate everything since his passing, but I am not certain I have found all the items yet. There are several silver candlesticks listed here. I am still missing five pairs, but that does not necessarily mean any of them were taken.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Mr. Darcy inquired. “Hide things, I mean.”
“I am not entirely certain, sir,” Mrs. Riggs replied. “He became quite secretive near the end. We all considered it just an oddity of old age.” She hesitated. “But I do remember that he had received a visitor just before he developed the habit. Whether or not it was related, I cannot tell.”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Mr. Darcy. This bit of information made their already perplexing situation more complex.
She was both disappointed and relieved. The inventory’s inconclusiveness meant they were no closer to solving the problem of the thief, but it also meant Mr. Darcy would need to stay longer at Hollydale.
She chided herself as soon as the thought entered her head, for it was selfish to keep the man and his sister here when they had their own business to be getting on with.
“Thank you, Mrs. Riggs,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps we should conduct a thorough search of the house for the candlesticks on the list and see whether we can locate them all.”
Mrs. Riggs agreed and excused herself.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, “I believe it would be best if we could clear the house for the day to conduct a proper search. I was thinking your mother and Georgiana might enjoy a trip to town after all. If my sister is allowed to visit a bookshop as well as the milliner’s, I think she will be eager for the outing. ”
Elizabeth was pleased Mr. Darcy presumed she would remain. She would have done so in any case, but it was pleasant not to be required to quibble over it. “Your sister is much like you, I suspect.”
“Indeed she is,” he confirmed. “I too prefer books to bonnets.”
She half-smiled. “The only difficulty may be in convincing my mother Miss Darcy wants to visit the bookshop.” She paused. “I have an idea on that score.”
A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Between the length of time your mother shall have Georgiana in the milliner’s and the length of time Georgiana shall keep your mother in the bookshop, I believe we ought to be able to mount a credible exploration of the house.
I shall instruct your mother she may put all their purchases on my account at both establishments. ”
It was ridiculous how that little smile on his face made her feel warm.
Mr. Darcy was careful, clever, and thoughtful.
It was the little gestures like offering Mamma a chance to mother Miss Darcy that made it increasingly difficult for her to view him only as a neighbour whom she respected.
But she reminded herself his actions were due to his honour and his duty—something she was beginning to understand a great deal better herself now that the livelihoods of so many rested on the decisions she made.
He might think fondly of her as a friend, but it was foolish to allow herself to think it was anything more.
“That is quite generous of you, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I am sure Mamma will be thrilled at the prospect.”
He joined her for breakfast then, and as they planned the upcoming search, Elizabeth could not help but feel a growing sense of anticipation.
She and Mr. Darcy would be working closely together, and while she warned herself to temper her feelings, she could not entirely quell the hope that resided in her heart.