Chapter Twelve #2
It was only a few minutes before Mrs. Kendrick returned with a servant carrying a box of items and a troubled expression. “I am so sorry, Miss Bennet. I know we had a lovely pair of silver candlesticks, but they are not here.”
“It is all right, Mrs. Kendrick,” Elizabeth said with a quick glance at Mr. Darcy. “We know where they are. Can you think of anyone who might have had access to them other than you and your husband?”
“Well, the servants, of course, but I am entirely certain of their honesty. They have all four of them been with us since our marriage.” She paused.
“But I did hire the Sykes boys from the church to help Frank with the firewood this year, and they come by once a week to assist with some of the chores.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. Matthew and little Harry. Could they be involved in this? She did not like to think so.
“Should I tell the boys not to come anymore?” Mrs. Kendrick asked uncertainly.
“I do not believe that is necessary at this point,” Elizabeth assured her. “We will inform you if anything changes.”
“They seem such good boys, so eager to work,” Mrs. Kendrick replied. “I do hope I am not wrong about them.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kendrick,” Mr. Darcy said. “We must be on our way.”
Mr. Darcy opened the front door and motioned to Thatcher, who relieved the Kendrick’s man of the box and tossed it up onto one shoulder.
“So, the candlesticks came from this house,” Elizabeth said. “But it may not be the case that there was any housebreaking involved. Do you think it might be the boys?”
Mr. Darcy contemplated the question, and while Elizabeth in her impatience wished for an immediate answer, she appreciated that he was taking the inquiry seriously. “I cannot read another’s heart, but it would make the most sense. I doubt, however, that it was done for their own benefit.”
Elizabeth was relieved. “And why is that?”
“I do not know the boys well, so understand that I may be in error.”
She nodded.
“I have a few reasons. The candlesticks are quite valuable. It is a hanging offence to have stolen them, though most thieves are transported rather than hanged these days. First, I do not believe the elder boy would do anything that would separate him from his younger brother. Second, because the consequences are so severe, the theft speaks of desperation—and I do not believe they are desperate. Not anymore.”
From what she recalled of the boys, Elizabeth thought he must be right.
“However, their father might have a hand in it.”
“Their father?”
“Mr. Sykes is a drunkard and a liar. One reason Mr. Milner gives the boys so little coin for their work is that their father would demand it of them. If their wages are spent on being fed and clothed by the church in exchange for their work, Mr. Milner can see they are cared for.”
Hollydale appeared through the leafless trees. “But if their father wanted the candlesticks, would they not carry them back to him immediately, rather than try to store them here?”
Mr. Darcy lifted his shoulders. “I cannot say. Perhaps they did not wish to be caught with them. And this is all speculation, of course.”
Elizabeth groaned. “It is frustrating to think of those boys being so misused and yet being unable to help them.”
“It is, but you must do what you can and not berate yourself for what you cannot.” He did not look at her, but approbation rang from his words, and earning it was a heady feeling.
She glanced sidelong at him. “Advice you might take yourself.”
He chuckled. “You are right, of course.”
“I often am,” she said, sending his own words back at him.
Mr. Darcy only smiled.
Just as they reached the great house, the sound of carriage wheels on gravel reached their ears. Elizabeth’s heart sank—they were out of time. Miss Darcy and Mamma had returned from Lambton.
They quickened their pace, arriving at the front steps just as the carriage came to a stop.
Mamma emerged, her face flushed with excitement.
“Oh, Lizzy, we had a wonderful time.” She turned to Mr. Darcy and said brusquely, “Thank you for the lovely day, Mr. Darcy.” To Elizabeth’s surprise, she said no more.
“Of course, Mrs. Bennet. It was my pleasure,” Mr. Darcy told her.
As he helped Miss Darcy down from the carriage, Elizabeth could not help but wonder at her mother’s shortness with Mr. Darcy when she had been so effusive with him ever since his arrival.
While she was still warm towards his sister, Mamma was now a little nervous, her eyes darting towards Mr. Darcy with a tremulous anxiety Elizabeth had not seen since before she inherited Hollydale.
“I hope,” Mamma said, her voice slightly higher than usual, “you do not mind that we indulged in a few more purchases than we originally intended. Your sister has such refined taste.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Darcy raised his eyebrows at his sister. “I am pleased you both enjoyed yourselves.”
“I did,” Miss Darcy said, aglow with her contentment.
Elizabeth supposed that shopping for books and bonnets was far more congenial than lessons in mathematics and history, but there were things more important than accomplishments.
The girl was blossoming under Mamma’s care, and Elizabeth idly wondered what it might have been like to have been raised by this version of her mother.
She hated the entail even more now she better understood what it had cost her family, her mother most of all.
As they all made their way into the house, Elizabeth hung back, her mind awhirl with the missing candlesticks, the Sykes boys, her mother’s sudden anxiety around Mr. Darcy—it was all mixed together, pieces of a puzzle she could not fit together.
Well, their investigation was not over. And as Elizabeth looked over at Mr. Darcy, currently engaged in listening to his sister’s blithe chatter as Freedman brought in numerous boxes and parcels, she was sure he felt the same. Whatever was happening at Hollydale, they would figure it out together.