The Phantom of Pemberley (47 page)

“When I leave, I will transport the lady to the nearest gaol.” A tone of resignation coloring his words, Sir Phillip added, “It is a crying shame that a woman might love a man to such a degree of distraction that she justifies an unjustifiable act in her own mind.”

“People have given themselves up to such perversions since the beginning of time—from the Bible to Shakespeare to our country’s history, we observe tragedy in everything we do. Only those few moments of love allow us to travel on in life; otherwise, we would all run screaming into the nearest mire—allowing the quicksand to suckle us into its darkness.”

The baronet scowled; the morass surrounding Pemberley went straight to its roots, and Sir Phillip wondered if the tree might finally be uprooted. At the moment, it appeared the Darcys were in way over their heads. The magistrate’s eyes burned with curiosity. “You must know, Darcy, that Mrs. Harwood is not your Pemberley phantom. Her demented reasons for doing away with Mrs. Jenkinson have nothing to do with the murders of your staff members, nor of the lieutenant. First, those were acts of
force
and of
might
. Neither of those words describes the lady.
Pity
, maybe.
Shame
, most definitely.
Passion
, absolutely. But not
violence
. Mrs. Harwood is simply a hard survivor of a difficult life.”

“Will the lady hang for this?” Darcy saw what the older man saw—a life to be pitied.

“More than likely.” Sir Phillip shifted uncomfortably. “I despise this part of my duties. Give me a rousing argument between neighbors over sheep in the garden, and I go happily into the fracas, but this type of matter is not open to human reason. No logic lingers in such cases—no one can explain the enigma of murder.”

Darcy pushed forward, banishing the maudlin atmosphere filling the room. “Yet, we must solve that puzzle, Sir Phillip, and we must do so before someone else in this house meets his Maker. I sent for you—for your expertise in this matter. I need your level-headed, no-nonsense reasoning to rid Pemberley of this pox.”

The baronet looked about shamefacedly. “Of course, Darcy. We must put our heads together to clear your name of this blight. Let us summon the viscount and your cousin.We will need all the raison d’être and common sense to be found in this house to create understanding out of iniquity.”

“If we want reason, then we should send for Mrs. Darcy also,” Darcy declared.

The corner of the magistrate’s mouth turned up in amusement. “You believe your wife capable of handling herself in a man’s domain?”

“Mrs. Darcy has at least as fine a mind as many of the men of my acquaintance, but my wife possesses something more important. She has a strong intuition—a way of choosing the right course—except where I am concerned, that is.” Darcy chuckled.

An eyebrow rose in curiosity. “Mrs. Darcy did not readily succumb to your many charms?” The baronet gestured to the room’s accoutrements.

“The lady also had the acquaintance of one Lieutenant George Wickham,” Darcy admitted. “It took her some months to see past the man’s
natural
affability and perceive his lies for what they were.”

The baronet nervously shuffled the papers he had left on Darcy’s desk. “Evidently, Mrs. Darcy’s sister lacks your wife’s ability to see beyond a handsome countenance. I noted a bit of melancholy in the lady’s demeanor.”

Darcy would not share Lydia Wickham’s story, but he said, “I cannot imagine living with Mr. Wickham to be an easy task for any woman, especially one of Mrs. Wickham’s exuberant nature. The lady’s husband, as you well know, is one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain.”

“I do not believe I have heard you speak so openly of Mr.Wickham’s wickedness before, Darcy. When he was a boy, I knew that he was a bad seed, although your dear father tried—supporting him at school, and afterward at Cambridge—most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman’s education. And the elder Mr. Wickham…he never knew how to handle the boy. Whether to use the cane or offer a pat on the back.”

Darcy added to the story. “My father was not only fond of the younger Mr. Wickham’s society, whose manners were always engaging;
he had also the highest opinion of him, and, hoping the Church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it.”

“How might one imagine a man such as George Wickham taking to the church?” The baronet took a sip of the tepid tea he nursed.

“As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner.The vicious propensities, the want of principle, which Mr.Wickham was careful to guard from my father, could not escape the observations of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which my father could not have.”

“Mr. Worth seemed chagrined to have brought news of Mr. Wickham’s continued debasement,” Sir Phillip added cautiously.

Darcy picked at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. “Mr. Wickham appears determined to bring shame to his own name.”

“And to yours, Darcy,” his father’s long-time friend cautioned.

“Elizabeth and I will distance ourselves from the connection by remaining in Derbyshire and by not acknowledging the connection unless absolutely necessary. We have discussed it and are in accord. Yet, I fear Mrs. Bennet will not be so astute. My wife’s mother is singular in her devotion to her daughters, especially to Mrs.Wickham.”

The baronet frowned. “And the lady’s husband? What of Mr. Bennet?”

“Elizabeth’s father will see the folly of supporting Mr. Wickham’s reputation, but he is not likely to rein in his wife. He prefers to take refuge in his library and to allow the world to pass by unbridled.”

“I pray for your wife’s sake that you are wrong, sir.”

Before Darcy could respond,Worth tapped on the door.“Might I rejoin you?”

Darcy motioned the man forward. “How is my cousin?” Unsurprisingly, Worth had excused himself when Sir Phillip escorted Mrs. Harwood to her chamber. He had privately asked permission
to apprise Anne of the news, knowing she would need comfort when she discovered what they had all suspected.

“I left her in Miss Donnel’s care. Anne took the news better than I had expected. Of course, we all knew the truth before the lady’s confession. Miss de Bourgh insisted on speaking with her mother privately.”

“Anne has matured from this experience although I would have her learn less harsh lessons in the future.” Darcy’s gaze swung back to the baronet, relief spreading across his face. “You recall, Sir Phillip, how belabored Anne was as a child.”

“The girl withdrew under Her Ladyship’s ministrations, very much as Sir Lewis did. If Miss de Bourgh has opened herself to a touch more of society’s polish because of Lieutenant Harwood’s attentions, then I will find it in my heart to forgive him some of his sins.” He sighed deeply.

A quiet stillness surrounded them as the three men digested the ramifications of their discoveries. “I wish for my cousin to make a match—a love match—with a man whom she truly deserves and who truly deserves Anne. I wish her the same type of happiness I have found with Mrs. Darcy.” Fitzwilliam Darcy set his shoulders with determination.“Speaking of my wife, let me send for the lady, along with the viscount and Colonel Fitzwilliam.” He forced his voice to sound calm, but an agitation remained that shook him to his core.

 

“You sent for me, Lizzy?” Lydia Wickham breezed into the music room, bringing annoyance with her.

Elizabeth ignored her sister’s petulant attitude. “Yes, Lyddie. Please come join us. Allow me to pour you tea.” Elizabeth gestured toward a nearby chair and waited for her youngest sister to settle herself before she continued. “Miss Darcy and I slipped in here to be away from the baronet’s investigation. Truthfully, we have been having a serious discussion, and I had hoped to recruit you to our efforts.We need desperately to return a sense of normalcy to Pemberley as soon
as it is possible to do so.We have allowed the bleakness of the storm and the mystery of the deaths to blacken our days. I will not permit evil to take over my household,” Elizabeth asserted.“Georgiana and I have decided to attend the Midwinter Celebration in Bakewell next week.We will make new gowns for the assembly and enjoy a day of winter crafts at the church. I know how you so love a social, and we must plan our lives after these days.”

Lydia’s disposition brightened immediately. “You were always one, Lizzy, to quickly revive your spirits. I remember how all the young ladies in the neighborhood were drooping apace with the removal of the regiment from Meryton.You and Jane were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of your employments, while for us the dejection was almost universal.” Elizabeth wished Lydia would speak of something besides the time when Mr. Wickham resided in Meryton, especially for Georgiana’s sake, but a quick glance at Darcy’s sister showed an unexpected detachment. “So very frequently Kitty and I reproached your insensibility.”

Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head.

Before Lydia could take up her tale again, Georgiana interrupted. “Do you suppose, Elizabeth, that you might prevail upon our cousin Edward to stay long enough to join us at Bakewell?” The girl spoke with a calm confidence.“It would be advantageous to have an additional dance partner. Fitzwilliam does not care for my dancing with strangers.”

Elizabeth watched with amusement as Georgiana manipulated the situation. Darcy’s sister was taking on the hopes of every young lady. Elizabeth knew she would have to teach her formidable husband to release his tight grip on his sister’s future. “I most certainly will apply to the good colonel for the pleasure of his company. Perhaps if Miss de Bourgh tarries with us, we might also encourage Mr.Worth to attend. I suspect we will see a great deal of the man if Anne remains at Pemberley.”

“I think it romantic.” Georgiana sighed and flushed with color.

Lydia perked up with the prospect. “As a married lady, I can avoid society’s mandates for dancing with strangers.”

Recalling her sister’s poor behavior at the Netherfield Ball, Elizabeth cautioned, “We—none of us—will do anything that might bring shame on Pemberley or the Darcy name.” She took Georgiana’s hand in hers. “Yet, as your sister, I will see that you have an abundance of partners, and that your brother takes a less rigid stance.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” Georgiana squeezed her sister’s hand. She looked about shyly before whispering,“I have been to only one assembly, and I danced only twice, both times with Fitzwilliam.”

“Well, I promise a more pleasant evening this time.You have a big sister now, and I know what young girls like.”

“Plus, as a married woman, I, too, can serve as your chaperone,” Lydia offered.

“Thank you,” Georgiana said, covering the shock of Lydia Wickham being
her
chaperone. “Do you think, Elizabeth, with all that has happened at Pemberley that it might be a bit presumptuous of us to attend and make merry?”

“On the contrary,” Elizabeth asserted. “We will demonstrate quite impressively to Derbyshire for what Pemberley stands—for what the Darcys stand. None of what has happened here is our fault, and I will not have us hiding away as if we had guilty consciences.”

“There are times, Lizzy, when you sound very much like your husband!” Lydia exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled broadly. “I take that as the highest of compliments.” She placed her teacup on a nearby plate. “Now, Georgiana, I want you to fetch those new fashion plates from your dresser. Lydia, you are to bring the color board from the bottom of your wardrobe. It is my old one; I placed it there some time ago with other mementos from Longbourn.We will meet in Miss Darcy’s room in five minutes. Now, hurry, girls, we have party dresses to design.”

 

James’s fears raced as he observed the Pemberley staff hurrying about the halls, seeing to Darcy’s orders. He would leave the estate
tonight, under disguise of darkness. A thunderous scowl crisscrossed his face. Just like young Peter Whittington, he wanted to be a part of this world—wanted acceptance. It was truly all he had ever wanted. However, fighting the system tired him, and at moments such as these, he simply wanted to run away—to escape to his self-imposed penal compliancy.

“These passageways are not your only prison,” he mumbled. “Your soul will rot in hell,” he mimicked what Father Bertram had told him only a few weeks earlier.“Damned for all time.” He hated the priest, but he
religiously
attended the man’s mass, drawn to the belief of redemption, but never finding it.

He chastised himself for the blind rage that often controlled his actions—the beast he could not tame.
They
brought it out in him—his mother—her extravagant ways—his father—a weak man. People, especially those at the university who thought him an abomination—the joke of his graduating class—some thought him a rich man’s bastard. He had tried to keep Peter from the same stigma, but the boy insisted upon pomposity to still the unspoken threats; yet, all Peter’s indulgent ways did was to irritate respectable society.

Because of the intended and the unintended snubs, James had developed his own defenses, so in many ways he understood the boy’s manipulations. He supposed his hardness and his foul temper were no more effective. He bit back an oath as he considered the futility of coming to Pemberley.

The sound of the turning latch set his pulse pounding. He stepped behind the screen as the door swung open. Georgiana Darcy crossed to her dresser and pulled open a drawer. She removed a large book and then stopped to look into the mirror.

“You!” she gasped before springing for the door.

 

James remained frozen, praying she would not see him, but as she stood, he knew the moment that Miss Darcy obviously recognized him. In the reflection of the mirror, the girl could see him standing not ten feet behind her.