The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (5 page)

Darcy shook his head in disbelief. It was a crazy world in which they lived, one where a person's final resting place was not respected. He asked incredulously, “How did the man broach Cousin Samuel's crypt?”

Stowbridge explained, “This area suffered a series of storms in early March. Your cousin's intended resting place had been extensively damaged by a fallen tree. The curate and I thought it best to bury Samuel in the founders' section of the village cemetery until the repairs to his crypt could be sanctioned by the estate.”

“I see,” Darcy said tersely. But he really did not “see” how something as simple as addressing a man's final needs could have gone so wrong.

“You will excuse me, Mr. Stowbridge, but I fear I am decidedly confused. How do we know the man you have just described was the late Mr. Darcy's attacker?” Elizabeth asked before Darcy could utter the words.

“Who else could he have been? Most likely thought we had buried dear Samuel with his many treasures,” Stowbridge persisted.

“Yet, Mrs. Ridgeway assured us that robbery was not the cause of Cousin Samuel's demise,” Darcy argued.

Stowbridge's chest expanded with pride. “Mrs. Ridgeway knows nothing of my investigation. I have not spoken more than a dozen words to the lady regarding Samuel's passing. We initially assumed the incident leading to your cousin's death was not precipitated by a robbery. However, Samuel Darcy was known to carry one jewel or another in his pockets. Your cousin was always sharing glimpses of his latest treasure with the curious.”

Darcy noted the line of Elizabeth's lips flattened in disapproval. He intercepted her likely chiding of the squire. Stowbridge appeared to have little tolerance for intelligent women, and the man's brusque replies only intensified the situation. “Let us assume for the moment that my cousin lost his life because of his eccentric habits, and let us also assume that the deceased man you found in the village cemetery truly wished to rob Cousin Samuel's coffin. Given these circumstances, please explain how the man was killed and who killed him.”

Stowbridge frowned dramatically. “Unfortunately, beyond speculation, we have few clues as to what happened, and as the deceased was one of the gypsies...”

“A Rom?” Darcy scowled. “The man discovered as part of this madness was one of the band of gypsies currently camping on my cousin's property?”

Stowbridge said in contempt, “The gypsy leader awaits justice for the loss of his brother.”

“I see,” Darcy said evenly. This time his vision was clearer. He suspected that the squire had no intention of meeting the Roma leader's demands, nor would the magistrate escort the gypsy band from Darcy land. The fate of the gypsy band remained in Darcy's hands. “One thing more,” he asked after a brief pause. “Were there treasures hidden in my cousin's gravesite?”

Stowbridge's eyes looked everywhere but at Darcy. “No treasures, Mr. Darcy. Other than his signet ring and a diamond pin, Samuel's body was unadorned.”

“Then it is safe for Mrs. Darcy and I to visit the cemetery to pay our respects?” Darcy reached for his gloves. If the squire had known Darcy better, the man would have seen how difficult it was for his guest to remain calm. Darcy despised those of an insensible nature, and Stowbridge screamed of imprudence.

Stowbridge grimaced. “There is one issue of which you should be made aware, Mr. Darcy. Although we found the gypsy's brother lying across your cousin's opened gravesite, we found no body in Samuel Darcy's coffin.”

Darcy was on his feet immediately. “No body!” he exclaimed. “How long ago did this travesty occur?”

“Only a day after your cousin's service.”

His hands fisted at his side, and Darcy's heart seemed to falter, along with his reason. He shot a quick pleading glance at his wife, and, fortunately, she understood his need to be away from Stowbridge. “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly before placing her hand across her heart for effect, “I fear this situation has plagued me more than I anticipated.” With her keen receptiveness, Elizabeth had sensed his tension and had come to his rescue.

With a deep steadying breath to calm his composure, Darcy gently caught her elbow and assisted Elizabeth to her feet. “Of course, my dear. The circumstances of Cousin Samuel's passing have played havoc with each of us. Permit me to escort you to our quarters.” He gave Stowbridge a curt bow. “Please excuse us, Sir. I will call again once I am certain of Mrs. Darcy's well-being.”

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” Stowbridge declared. “Our womenfolk possess a different disposition from us men.”

Elizabeth clung to him until Darcy followed her into the darkness of the coach. “A different disposition!” she hissed. “One more word of female frailty, and I would have...”

“Have what, my darling?” His wife's testiness provided Darcy a brief respite from the craziness surrounding Samuel Darcy's passing.

“I swear, Fitzwilliam, I have never resorted to physicality, but Mr. Stowbridge brings out the worst of my faults.”

Darcy slid an arm about his wife's shoulders. “I am very blessed to know all of your faults, Mrs. Darcy.”

For a brief second, Elizabeth glared at him as if she meant to argue, but then she smiled and swatted his chest. “You have long suffered at my hand, Mr. Darcy. I am thankful you have forgiven my foibles.” With that, she moved quickly into his welcoming embrace. The distraction would do him well for Darcy could not leave behind the idea that he had failed his cousin Samuel.

Darcy had arranged for a seaside cottage for their privacy. He had also hired a temporary staff to meet their needs. Despite his desire to analyze what they did and did not know of his cousin's mysterious death, he dutifully escorted his wife for a walk along the shoreline.

“Is it not magnificent?” Elizabeth sighed as she gazed out over the harbor's expanse.

Darcy had been staring at her, rather than the water's glassy surface. “I find it the most beautiful sight in the world,” he said huskily.

Elizabeth glanced up at him. With her countenance no longer partially hidden by her bonnet's brim, he could enjoy the flush of color creeping across her cheeks. “I meant the harbor and the ocean beyond,” she chastised, but her fingers caressed his forearm.

“And what makes you believe that I spoke of something beyond God's hand?” he said wryly.

Elizabeth tutted her disapproval. “Do not think me a simpleton, Mr. Darcy. I know your most excellent mind, and I recognize that particular tone.”

Darcy smiled easily. “And what tone would that be, my love?”

“The one you use before...” she said with another blush, this one bringing a deeper red.

Darcy brought her gloved fingertips to his lips. “Before what?” he asked seductively.

Elizabeth leaned into him, and he gloried in how his wife responded to him. During April of the previous year, he had returned to Pemberley with his hopes of making Elizabeth Bennet his wife dashed by her venomous refusal. God! How he had pined for her! For months, he had suffered before discovering Elizabeth at Pemberley on a holiday in Derbyshire. His desire for her rekindled during those early days of August, and then his dreams were slashed to shreds by the elopement of his worst enemy, George Wickham, with Elizabeth's youngest sister, Lydia. Making Elizabeth his wife would have created a family bond with Mr. Wickham, and Darcy knew he could not place his sister Georgiana in such a fragile situation. However, Georgiana had insisted that Darcy should find love. He still did not understand where his often shy little sister found her strength, but he was thankful to have Georgiana in his life. He could learn a great deal about adversity from her.

Ironically, he and Elizabeth were indebted for their present good understanding to the efforts of his aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, who had called on him at his London residence, and had there related the story of her journey to Elizabeth's home of Longbourn. Her Ladyship intended to stifle a rumor regarding Darcy's affection for Miss Elizabeth, and to discuss the substance of Lady Catherine's conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on every expression of the latter, which in Her Ladyship's apprehension, peculiarly denoted Elizabeth's perverseness and assurance; in the belief that such a relation must assist Lady Catherine's endeavors to obtain that promise from Darcy which Elizabeth had refused to give. But, unfortunately for Her Ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. It had taught Darcy to hope as he scarcely ever allowed himself to hope before.

He had consulted both his sister and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and receiving their approval, as well as their encouragement, Darcy had immediately set out for Hertfordshire with the purpose of renewing his addresses to Elizabeth Bennet. Happily, she gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period of Darcy's first proposal, as to make Elizabeth receive with gratitude and pleasure his continued assurances. The happiness which this reply had produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and Darcy expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love could be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but though she did not meet his eyes, Elizabeth listened, and Darcy told her of feelings which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

“Be...before...” she stammered. Elizabeth cleared her throat, hesitated, and then playfully struck his arm with her fan. “Before you...” Another blush touched her cheeks.

Darcy leaned closer, where he might whisper into her ear. “Before I take you in my embrace and have my...”

However, before he could finish, Elizabeth struck him again, this time with more emphasis. “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed in protest. “I am not some trollop, Sir.”

Darcy tightened his grip on her arm. “Elizabeth, you know that I delight in provoking a response from you, but I would never disparage your name. I love you more than life.”

She paused, and a frown crossed her countenance. “I know, Fitzwilliam,” she said contritely. “I truly have taken no offense. I suppose my mind remains on today's revelations. Perhaps we should curtail our walk and return to our quarters. Until we resolve this dilemma, I doubt we shall be at our best.”

“Are you certain, Elizabeth?” he asked in concern. “I will not have you neglected.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she began her mild chastisement. “How might I enjoy the area's beauty if I know you suffer? We will put aside our pleasures until you have satisfied your cousin's affairs.”

“If I have not told you previously, you are a remarkable woman, Mrs. Darcy. How I ever laid claim to your affections, I do not pretend to understand, but I am fortunate among men.”

“Some day, I shall share my secrets, Mr. Darcy.” She turned him toward the cottages. “For now, come along, Fitzwilliam. We have much to discuss.”