Chapter Twelve
It was almost two hours after he and Miss Bennet had breakfasted that Mrs. Bennet and Georgiana hurried out the front door of Hollydale.
Georgiana, who had been nervous about such an excursion only last evening, smiled fondly at Mrs. Bennet, who was chattering gaily as she approached the waiting carriage. Her voice carried across the drive.
“Oh, Miss Darcy, what a kind brother you have. Such a lovely day for shopping! I am anticipating how darling you will look in one of these . . .” She waved a coloured plate she had removed from The Repository, which she had been pouring over with Georgiana.
Darcy had to admit, it would be a fetching style on his sister.
Georgiana followed Mrs. Bennet more sedately, glancing back at Darcy and Miss Bennet as they approached the steps up into the conveyance.
“Brother, I hope you do not mind,” she said, her voice pitched so low that no one else could hear.
He turned away from the other ladies to focus on his sister. “Mind?”
“I know that having left school, I ought not be spending my time shopping.”
Darcy was surprised. “Is that the reason you were uncomfortable when Mrs. Bennet suggested this outing?”
Georgiana nodded solemnly. They were so much alike, he thought as he gazed down at the face that reminded him so much of his mother.
They both looked for blame to shoulder where none existed.
He would have to improve himself so that Georgiana would have a better example.
“My only concern was saving you from a trip you did not wish to make. If you are happy, Georgiana, then so am I.”
The shy smile on her face told Darcy he had, thank goodness, said the right thing. Freedman helped the ladies into the coach and then climbed on the back.
Mrs. Bennet opened the carriage window. “Now, Mr. Darcy, you need not worry about a thing. I will take excellent care of your sister, and we shall have a wonderful time.” The window remained open long enough for them to hear her say to Georgiana, “After the milliner’s, I shall require your assistance at the bookshop, Miss Darcy.
I have an idea for a present, you see, perhaps more than one, and you are just the person to assist me. ”
Miss Bennet held up a hand in farewell as the carriage trundled away at last. “You have given my mother a gift, Mr. Darcy.”
“How so?”
“She has always wished to have untold wealth at her disposal to dress a daughter. It may not be her wealth or her daughter, but it is close enough.”
He did not move. “Untold wealth?”
“Oh dear,” she said, lowering her arm and turning her attention to him. “You do have a limit on your accounts, I hope?”
He was still for a moment longer. “You are teasing me.”
She laughed lightly. “I am, a bit. Your account at the milliner’s might be strained before the day is out, but Mamma will not make you a bankrupt.”
Miss Bennet had inherited a portion of her father’s teasing humour, though she was kinder when employing it.
He shook his head ruefully. How effortless it was for her to lift his mood with her good cheer, to strip away the formality that he so carefully maintained.
And how dangerous it was, for with each passing day, his admiration grew more difficult to hide.
How he wished he could confess how he felt about her.
But it would not be right to do so until the matter at hand was resolved and he had left Hollydale.
Only then could he be certain. He would not have her response influenced by any sense of obligation or expectation.
“Shall we begin?” he asked.
They turned back toward the house.
Ten minutes later, Darcy found himself in the grand foyer of Hollydale surrounded by a small group of servants as Miss Bennet addressed them.
“Mrs. Riggs will give each of you a part of the house to search,” she said. “We are looking for all the silver candlesticks that Mr. Ellis may have hidden. Be careful, but be thorough.”
As Mrs. Riggs sent each servant to a different part of the house, Darcy found himself alone with Miss Bennet. He was acutely aware of her presence. A subtle scent drifted up to him—jasmine. It suited her.
“Shall we begin in the library, Miss Bennet?” he suggested.
She nodded and led the way. Elizabeth loved the library. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, their shelves crowded with leather-bound volumes in muted tones of brown, burgundy, and green. It held nearly five times as many books as Mr. Ellis's study had.
As they entered, they were greeted with the familiar, welcoming smell of leather and old paper.
They began their search in silence, methodically examining every shelf and drawer—he searched the higher shelves and Miss Bennet the lower.
After this revealed nothing, Miss Bennet even began pulling the books forward to see whether anything had been hidden behind them, and Darcy did the same for the higher shelves.
Their thorough examination of the room required nearly two hours.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“I am afraid not.” She nodded at a door on the far side of the room. “Let us go into the study.”
It felt strange being in the room without Mr. Bennet there, but desperate measures . . . Miss Bennet pulled open each of the drawers in the large oak desk until the bottom left drawer, which did not yield at a tug. She removed a key from a pocket on her gown and opened it.
Darcy almost protested, but then he recalled such a drawer might be the perfect place to . . .
“Success,” Miss Bennet said, withdrawing a small set of silver candlesticks. “Odd place to keep them. I had not noticed them before.”
Of course not, for this was her father’s desk. But then, Darcy had noticed that Mr. Bennet allowed his daughter a great many liberties regarding the estate.
They moved through the rest of the study to be certain there was only one pair of candlesticks, but eventually, their time was up.
They arrived in the dining room a little behind the others, Miss Bennet standing with him at one end of the long dining table while Mrs. Riggs directed the servants. Her voice rang out, clear and authoritative.
“Everyone, please bring forward what you have found and place them on the table.”
There was a momentary shuffle as the servants approached from various directions. Then, the rhythmic sound of metal meeting wood filled the room.
Thump. A footman set down an ornate pair of silver candlesticks.
Thump. Another set joined the first in quick succession.
Thump. Thump. A footman on one side of the table and a maid on the other placed a single candlestick each on the table.
Darcy nodded at Miss Bennet.
She set the fourth pair on the table with a dull finality. Thump.
An expectant hush fell over the room as they all looked at one another. Miss Bennet glanced up at him, both registering the same realization as Mrs. Riggs counted, identifying the mark on the bottom of each pair, and referencing it with the inventory.
“Well,” the housekeeper murmured. “These are all the correct items as listed on the inventory, but we are one pair short.”
Beside him, Miss Bennet took a deep breath as though preparing herself for what was to come.
He could only hope the candlesticks had not been removed from the manor house, or he should have to insist they all remove to Pemberley.
He simply did not see how anyone could have broken in, for the men had taken shifts all day and all night, watching the house.
“Have we explored every room?” Darcy asked.
Mrs. Riggs hesitated. “There is another place. Mr. Ellis was known to keep some valuables in the steward’s house, from time to time. But it was always temporary.”
The tension in Darcy’s shoulders eased a bit. “Then that is where we must go.” He held out his arm. “Miss Bennet, if you would accompany me?”
“I thank you all for your hard work and your discretion,” Miss Bennet said to the others before she placed her hand on his arm. “Mrs. Riggs, I will speak with you when we return.”
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy set out for the steward’s house, Thatcher trailing behind them.
The walk was brisk, filled with the tension of their deadline.
As they approached Mr. Kendrick’s handsome stone house, she could not shake the feeling they were on the verge of uncovering something significant.
She only hoped that whatever it was, it would not make Mr. Darcy insist on having them all decamp to Pemberley.
As much as she would like to see his home, she simply refused to abandon hers at the first sign of trouble. Mr. Ellis would not have wanted it.
Mr. Darcy knocked on the door, which was promptly answered by Mrs. Kendrick, a pleasant-looking woman whose eyes widened at the sight of her unexpected visitors.
“Miss Bennet!” she exclaimed. “My apologies, I did not expect you. Come in, come in!”
They stepped inside, and Thatcher took up his accustomed place at the door.
“Mrs. Kendrick,” Elizabeth began, “I felt the need for a bit of exercise, so Mr. Darcy offered to walk me here. We are conducting a thorough inventory at the great house, and Mrs. Riggs said Mr. Ellis sometimes left things here temporarily, for safekeeping.”
“He did, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Kendrick said, casting an uncertain glance at Mr. Darcy.
“Do you have the items in a box or stored away? We are searching for a set of silver candlesticks but would be pleased to take whatever remains so you may reclaim the space in your home.”
Mrs. Kendrick smiled a bit at this. “I would like that. Just a moment.”
“I would be pleased to carry the box for you, Mrs. Kendrick,” Mr. Darcy said. Elizabeth thought she might be as astonished by this offer as Mrs. Kendrick seemed to be.
The steward’s wife shook her head. “No sir, though I thank you. My man can carry it for you.”
He inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Of course.”