Chapter 31 Clues
On their way home, Mr. Darcy asked, “Sweetling, how did you enjoy your day with Miss Elizabeth?”
“Fitzwilliam, I have never met such a kind or more interesting woman in all my life.”
“What is it that makes you think so?”
“She certainly bears no resemblance to Aunt Catherine or Aunt Helen. Surely, Brother, you do not consider them the kindest women you have ever known.”
He chuckled. “You are right, dear. Both women can be exceedingly rude.”
“Yes, because they hold such elevated stations. One is the daughter of an earl, and the other is married to an earl. They both believe their rank makes everything they think and say wise and proper, and everyone else must bend to their wishes and endure their foibles.”
Darcy frowned. “What you say would be comical if it were not the bitter truth.”
“And Cousin Anne has nothing to say at all. When we visited the week before Easter, I wished to know her better, but no matter how often I attempted to engage her in conversation, she made scarcely any response. She only gave a slight inclination of her head to acknowledge that she heard me. Is there something wrong with Cousin Anne?”
“I do not believe so, Georgie. Her mind appears sound enough, but to my knowledge, our cousin Anne has never studied much of anything. Perhaps she has little conversation because of it.”
“Perhaps if she once had conversation or opinions of her own, Aunt Catherine crushed them out of her,” Georgie opined.
He twisted his lips. “Little sister, I believe you may be right. Since I visit Rosings only from obligation and but once a year, I have made little effort to draw cousin Anne out of her reserve. Perhaps beneath it, she has opinions, personality, and conversation.”
“Perhaps, Brother, but it may be too late for her.”
“Very well, Sister. We have established Miss Elizabeth as the kindest and cleverest woman you have ever known. How did your morning pass?” He worked his hat between his hands.
“What could possibly have kept you both so bound to your books? When I entered the drawing room, it was as silent as a tomb. I should not have known two lively young women occupied the room if I had not seen you with my own eyes.”
“We are trying to unravel a mystery.” She paused to consider.
“Lizzy and I are searching through her books for subjects concerning the mysterious, miraculous, magical, or mystical. When she asked if I understood our task, I asked whether it included enchantments, fairies, and any fairy tales which might apply. She was so taken with my understanding that she declared us kindred spirits.”
“Indeed? How so?”
“I offered two tales as my contribution to her search. Thomas the Rhymer and Tam Lin.”
“Thomas the Rhymer and Tam Lin? What do those tales have to do with her interest in Arbor Low?”
“Brother, I should have thought the connection obvious. Elizabeth has recorded three disappearances at the henge.”
“Ah, yes. I understand. Thomas the Rhymer is said to have disappeared at Huntly Bank, beneath the Eildon Tree.”
“Yes. He disappeared into another realm. The Queen of Elfland took him to her kingdom. And in the tale of Tam Lin, he became a prisoner of the Fairy Queen in the woodland of Carterhaugh.”
“Georgiana, does Miss Elizabeth believe Arbor Low is another such place where people disappear into Elfland?”
“Fitzwilliam, she did not say so to me. When I offered the two tales, she added them to her list. Sir Orfeo was the only other one written in her notebook.”
“Sir Orfeo?”
“Yes, do you know it, brother?”
“I do. According to the tale, Sir Orfeo was a king. His Queen falls asleep beneath a tree in an orchard and has a distressing dream. In the dream, the King of the Fairies appears to her and commands her to return to the same place the following day. He intends to take her away. The king and his guards accompany her, but she disappears beneath the very tree where she had the dream. Years later, Sir Orfeo encounters a company of fairy riders and follows them through a rocky passage into the fairy realm. He carries his harp with him and plays for the King of the Fairies, who takes such pleasure in the music that he promises Orfeo anything he wishes. Orfeo asks for his wife, and they return together from the fairy realm.”
“That is a disturbing tale, Brother.”
“Yes, I agree. I am certainly glad fairies do not exist, particularly those who carry people away.”
Georgiana said, “So, Lizzy has three accounts of people who disappeared at Arbor Low, and we have three tales of people who passed into another realm and returned.”
Darcy said, “I did not realize Miss Elizabeth could be so fanciful. I pray she does not believe these tales to be true.”
“Fitzwilliam, the works of the antiquarians occupied much of the time she and her father spent together during the months before his death. Perhaps she is not so much fanciful as sorrowful and finds comfort in continuing their studies.”
“Perhaps.”
“She has four volumes and means to study them all, but she has allowed me to help her.”
“You are helping her?”
“Yes. She says she need not read the sections I have already examined because she trusts me to record anything which meets her requirements.”
He raised a brow. “What exactly are her requirements?”
“Fitzwilliam, you are not attending. Remember, I said subjects concerning the mysterious, miraculous, magical, or mystical, including enchantments, fairies, and fairy tales.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. Georgiana, this begins to sound rather fanciful. I am not certain I ought to have allowed you to study with her. Should I fear you will soon believe in fairies and Elven folk?” He was grinning.
“Fitzwilliam, I am serious. She is searching for clues to a mystery, and I want to help her. Tonight, after dinner, will you ask if I may join her in her studies each morning?”
“I will, Sweetling, since it means so much to you. I am certain she will welcome your company, particularly since you did not hinder her work. From what I observed, you appeared every bit as engrossed in those books as she.”
“I certainly was, Brother. She has become so dear to me that helping her has become my greatest wish.”
“That reminds me. Georgie, I promised her we would ride to the gate every morning and accompany her while she takes her morning exercise.”
Georgiana regarded him askance.
“She runs each morning, for she never learned to ride. Since she should not venture out alone, I offered our services. We may enjoy our usual ride while keeping near enough to be of service to her.”
“That is very generous of you, Fitzwilliam, and it makes me very happy.”
* * *
That evening at dinner, Mr. Darcy could scarcely keep his eyes from Elizabeth. Everyone noticed except his sister and, for a time, Elizabeth herself.
They sat side by side, and Elizabeth listened as Georgiana recounted all she had learned of Thomas the Rhymer.
“I remember the tale from our childhood fairy stories, but so many years have passed that I hardly recall the particulars,” Elizabeth said.
“He lived in Scotland, Lizzy, and the stories claim he truly existed.”
As the two young women discussed the fairy story, conversation continued easily around them. The Gardiners would return to London in the morning, and no one seemed eager for the visit to end.
Mr. Darcy sat almost directly across from Elizabeth, eating his dinner. By the time the meal was half over, Elizabeth became aware of his earnest regard, for each time she raised her eyes, she caught his gaze fixed on her.
His marked attentions troubled her, for if his feelings matched hers, he would suffer when he learned of Lydia and realized there was no honorable path forward.
If she could be at the henge on December 21, though nothing happened, she would at least know she had done everything within her power to save her family. And if fate granted her another chance to live those months again, she would begin with Lydia.
Perhaps then, if she met Mr. Darcy under happier circumstances, they might have the chance to know one another as they should have from the beginning.
But all of that belonged to another time, if a second chance ever came. For now, she must concentrate on finding a way into the past.
Mr. Darcy’s voice drew her from her thoughts. She raised her eyes from her plate.
“Miss Elizabeth, are you quite well? Did you have too much sun today?”
She met his concern with a pleasant expression, and the tension left his brow. “No, sir, I feel quite well. I was thinking of the lovely day we enjoyed, though when my thoughts returned to our studies, I became mired in them.” She laughed at herself.
“Lizzy, may I join you in your studies each morning? I promise I will not speak out of turn, and I will take very detailed notes.”
“You wish to cage yourself up in the house and pore over books, my dear?”
“I do, Lizzy. I should like it very much. I should like it above all things.”
“Well then, you are welcome to join me. You may continue with Camden while I struggle my way through Brand.”
Mr. Darcy said, “I find your work most interesting, ma’am. May I stay for a quarter hour when I bring my sister tomorrow? I should like to examine your collection and study your notes more closely.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. He wished to examine her books and notes. Perhaps he feared his sister might be led astray by such unusual studies. She would work to ease his fears.
“Yes, sir, you are welcome. I know my studies are unusual, and I imagine you wish to assure yourself the subject is appropriate for a young lady of your sister’s age.”
Mr. Gardiner joined the conversation. “That is entirely reasonable, Darcy. I believe Lizzy’s studies to be quite harmless and see nothing in them to cause concern, but as her guardian, I think better of you for taking such care of your sister.”
A flush rose in Mr. Darcy’s face. “Thank you, sir.” He addressed Mr. Radcliff. “May I spend a quarter hour in your home tomorrow morning visiting with Miss Elizabeth?”
Mrs. Radcliff answered before her husband could speak. “You are welcome, Mr. Darcy. My sister leaves us tomorrow at ten, but I shall be here to chaperone. You may stay as long as you wish, for I shall spend the morning in the drawing room with my needlework.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Radcliff. I accept your hospitality.” He looked to Elizabeth. “At what hour shall I bring my sister?”
“Ten o’clock would suit me, sir.”
After dinner, Elizabeth and Georgiana played and sang for the company. The elders then settled to a game of whist while the Darcys and Elizabeth repaired to her worktable.
Elizabeth handed her notebook to Mr. Darcy. “Sir, here are my notes. Perhaps you will rest easier once you discover there is no cause to fear for your sister’s well-being.”
He accepted the notebook, his expression grave, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her teasing, and his expression softened as he opened the book.
Georgiana opened Camden to the page she had marked with a slip of paper, while Elizabeth returned to her own volume. Soon all three bent to their reading.
About twenty minutes later, Mr. Darcy bent his head nearer. “Miss Elizabeth, you did not note that when he was rescued, Tam Lin returned to the very wood from which he had been taken. You should also note that his rescue could occur only at the appointed time, midnight on the seventh Halloween.”
Elizabeth considered his remarks, then said, “In the Sir Orpheus tale, his wife vanished at a particular tree.”
Mr. Darcy added, “As did Thomas the Rhymer; he lay beneath the Eildon Tree when the Queen of Elfland took him.”
Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy, surprised he had devoted any thought to her quest. It might all prove nothing more than a collection of faradiddles, but he cared enough to offer his thoughts.
“Sir, you have considered these old tales.”
“Yes, ma’am. Georgiana and I discussed them on our way home to Pemberley, and you know how the mind works. Before long, one finds oneself trying to make sense of a thing.”
“Yes, sir. The accounts of disappearances from Arbor Low all occurred on the eve of December 21, on the eve of the winter solstice. Whereas in these three tales, the place holds particular importance, but no single time connects them, and fairies or elves play a part.”
“Of what importance are these accounts or folk tales, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Perhaps none at all, sir, but my father believed all stories, whether written or of the oral tradition, began with some truth. It falls to us to seek out the kernel of truth or the principle within and learn what we may from it.”
“And what do you think the truth might be?” he asked.
“I do not know, sir. Perhaps I never shall, but I intend to read through these books, take notes, and discover whether any patterns emerge.”
“I already see patterns,” Georgiana said. “Fitzwilliam has pointed out several. The clearest concerns the place itself. In the folk tales, the disappearances all involve trees, whereas at Arbor Low there are no trees, only stones and earthworks.”
Mr. Darcy asked, “What do you hope to find, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth did not answer. She could not trust him with the truth, not now.
He would think her fanciful, or worse, a pagan or a witch, perhaps even someone who might lead his sister into the dark arts.
She was doing no such thing, but how to convince him of her innocence?
No, she would not trust him. She kept her purpose to herself.
“I hope to finish the studies my father and I set for ourselves at the new year, when he still lived, and all was well in my world.”
At the other side of the room, Mr. Gardiner rose and excused himself and his wife. “We must rise early if we are to leave on time. We shall retire now.”
The Darcys also rose and made their farewells. Elizabeth and the Radcliffs accompanied them to the door.
The two young women walked behind the others, and Georgiana leaned into her friend, speaking in a low voice. “Lizzy, we shall meet you at the gate in the morning. What time shall we come for you?”
Elizabeth asked, “Is seven o’clock too early?”
“No. There will be ample light by then to ride with safety. We shall meet you at the gate at seven.”
The two friends embraced, and the Darcys departed.