Chapter 3 A Most Unpleasant Surprise
Darcy
Iremained motionless as my valet, Winston, tied my cravat, and did my best to sound dispassionate. “Do you know if our guest, Mr. Graham, has returned?”
“No, sir.” Winston’s sight did not stray from his task. “No one has seen him since last night.”
“I see. Thank you.” At this intelligence, the tension left my jaw. I did not question my valet’s account, for he took pride in being better informed than anyone else in my employ. With luck, I should be spared from Graham’s intrusion for the entire morning.
Starting today, I should recommence taking morning walks with Elizabeth—an activity I had forsaken with estate matters demanding my time. First, though, she and I stopped in the nursery for a visit with Bennet.
Upon leaving the house, we took a path along a lush shade cloaked in vivid variations of oranges, yellows, and reds that emerged from the trees towards a steep grade offering vistas of the valley.
Perhaps an hour into our ramble, as Elizabeth shared tidings from Mrs. Collins’s most recent letter, a vague discomfort invaded my peace.
Understanding came to me when we rounded the next turn and my eyes locked upon the path across the way.
Is that where it happened? I glanced up to my left at the group of elders on the hill above us.
Yes, moments before my fall two days ago, I had viewed those trees from the other side of the ravine.
My sight focused on the barren path and the familiar bend in the walk.
My heart pounded as those terrifying moments came back to me.
I almost pointed out the spot to Elizabeth but dismissed the idea; no good would come from such an action—on the contrary, it might dampen her high spirits.
Instead, I directed my thoughts to her comely, buoyant presence.
Elizabeth’s every energetic step evidenced her enthusiasm for the activity.
Between her effortless beauty and the dulcet tones of her speech, every trace of anxiety soon left me.
We discussed the aforementioned plans to visit the Green family and agreed to go after breakfast.
Elizabeth
Upon our return to the house, I met with Mrs. Reynolds in her office and informed her of Sally’s conduct during last night’s meal.
She sank in her seat, and vertical furrows formed between her brows. “I apologize, madam. I shall call all the maids together after breakfast and admonish them.”
“Very well.”
“Would you like to review the menus now for the next few days?”
“Yes, I should.”
She gave me a handwritten list, and I skimmed the entries. “These will do very well.” I set the paper down. “Let our cook know that Mr. Graham has been delighted with her preparations.”
“Yes, madam.”
“Speaking of Mr. Graham, do you know if he has left his chamber yet?”
Mrs. Reynolds coughed. “Well…um…as a matter of fact, he has not returned to his room since yesterday.”
“Oh, I see. He went to Lambton after dinner, so it seems he spent the night there.”
“Yes, madam.”
I left Mrs. Reynolds’s office and sauntered towards the stairs.
How had Graham spent the evening? With his uncommon gift for making friends, he could have formed an instant affinity with a new acquaintance and remained with that person until a late hour.
This new friend could have offered Graham a bed for the night to save him from travelling back to Pemberley in the dark. Yes, that made perfect sense.
Later, Fitzwilliam met me in my chambers, and we proceeded towards the breakfast parlour.
A commotion in the front of the house prompted us to stop and turn towards the main entrance.
Graham stood in the vestibule receiving a bustle of attention—although our footman John stood ready to attend our guest, two maids, Sally and Ruth, pushed past John to vie for the honour of performing the service.
For his part, Graham observed the pair of maids with a roguish grin.
“Allow me, sir.” Sally shoved Ruth aside and reached for Graham’s hat and coat.
“No, pray allow me!” Ruth rebounded and, by virtue of her superior height, reached over Sally to snatch the coveted items.
My hand covered my mouth. What a deplorable farce! Sally stamped away while Ruth stared at Graham, his hat and coat pressed to her bosom. She continued to ogle him, moving backwards in a languid gait.
In the verge of my vision, I glimpsed my husband’s severe deportment. I had never before witnessed Pemberley servants in such an embarrassing display. This unbridled behaviour could not be allowed to continue.
Mrs. Reynolds strode in from the next passage.
She wore an abashed expression, her complexion crimson, and she raised her hand towards us.
“Sir, madam, I cannot apologize enough for the maids’ conduct just now.
It is apparent that my meeting with the servants must be held at once.
This will not happen again.” She marched away with a militant air.
When I next glanced at Fitzwilliam, he followed Graham’s approach with an inscrutable gaze. Maybe his friend would shed light upon what had occurred between them last night.
Throughout our exchange of greetings, I caught no hint from Graham that any unpleasantness had occurred between him and Fitzwilliam.
Rather, his every word and movement depicted esprit and cheerfulness.
We entered the breakfast-parlour and made our selections from the abundant food choices upon the sideboard before taking our seats.
Graham bent forwards to sniff the aroma from the fare on his plate. “Ah, what a delectable scent. I am pleased to have arrived in time to dine with you. I worked up an enormous appetite last night. I spent a strenuous evening in the company of Mrs.—”
“That is quite enough.” My husband raised his palm to Graham. “Your sense of decorum is deplorable. Desist from this ribald commentary in my wife’s presence.”
I snapped towards Fitzwilliam at his outburst. What was wrong with him? Why would he interrupt his friend in such a rude way?
Graham showed no sign of being perturbed by my husband’s censure.
On the contrary, he chuckled. “Darcy, my friend, you have no cause for concern. My sole intent had been to relate the assistance I provided Mrs. Mead with her furniture. I suggested improvements to ensure she made the best use of the natural light for reading and sewing work. Once I had moved the sofa, tables, and chairs, she took delight in the new arrangement.”
What was this? My breathing increased to a rapid drum-beat. “Am I to understand you called upon Mrs. Mead…at her residence?” Had he remained there the entire night?
“Why yes.” Graham gave me a placid smile, yet a frolicsome spark danced in his eyes. “Although our acquaintance is fresh, she and I have already formed a strong bond of…friendship.”
Good Lord. The sensation of flames ignited my face.
Did I mistake him, or did he imply much more than a platonic association?
I shot a look to my husband. Although his brows constricted, he displayed no sign of shock or surprise.
Had he been aware of his friend’s plans?
I took a moment to find the best phrasing to impart my concern.
“How considerate of you to provide assistance to Mrs. Mead.” I paused summoning a more emphatic tone.
“She is a friend of mine, a kind and respectable lady.”
“Ah yes. I am pleased to have had the opportunity to assist her.” Graham shifted in his chair. “And your praise of the lady is most correct. Sar—um…Mrs. Mead…”
I flinched at his faux pas—he almost used her given name.
“Ahem. Yes, Mrs. Mead is a most admirable lady, and she will continue to enjoy the esteem and fellowship of her neighbours.”
How could he be certain of that? A fluttering sensation beset my abdomen.
He and Mrs. Mead had met just yesterday.
Why would she have allowed him to be intimate with her?
Their liaison seemed so tawdry, so wrong.
Then again…maybe I was being missish. After all, how could I judge my friend’s actions?
She had endured an unimaginable hardship in losing her beloved husband.
After such a tragedy, her loneliness could have driven her to seek comfort wherever possible.
No doubt many widows had committed similar acts.
Graham remained quiet thereafter and focused on consuming the impressive pile of food on his plate.
My husband, meanwhile, partook of his own meal but continued to send glances my way. He and Graham must have discussed Mrs. Mead last night, and if so, the conversation would have become heated.
I caught Fitzwilliam’s gaze. “Shall we depart for the Green family’s home in an hour?”
“Yes, that will be convenient.”
Graham’s sight raised to me, and he took a sizable gulp. “Indeed, I shall be ready.”
I gave him a nod. On my left, my husband released an audible sigh.
Fitzwilliam, Graham, and I had reached the vestibule when a breathless and ruddy-complexioned Mr. Cross rushed towards us. Three months earlier, my husband had promoted the diligent young man to under-steward. What could be wrong? I stood by in a rigid bearing.
“Pardon me, sir.” Mr. Cross wrung his hands. “I hate to bother you, but Mr. Smith and Mr. Johnson came to blows moments ago over a missing dog. Mr. Johnson believes Mr. Smith has dispatched the animal in some way while Mr. Smith denies the charge. There has been talk of a duel.”
Dear me. A growing discord had developed between those tenants over the past year.
“Upon my life, those two are more trouble than they are worth.” Fitzwilliam rubbed his jaw. “I shall be there directly.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mr. Cross departed.
“The timing is unfortunate.” I met Fitzwilliam’s gaze. “Under the circumstances, I should rather not delay calling upon the Greens.”
“No, of course not.” Fitzwilliam took my hand. “Pray convey my regrets to the family, especially the elder Mrs. Green.”
“Yes, I shall.”