The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (44 page)

The Scot paled. “I be there only once. It was I who found Lady Esme below and told Domhnall about the lass. I be curious, but…” His head dropped as if in sorrow. “A man should not see such evils and not go blind.”

MacBethan's words caused Darcy's shoulders to stiffen. His heart lurched in his chest. “Explain, Mr. MacBethan.”

“The men held there…they be allowed to die.”

All the air in the room fled as his dread mounted. “Were those who found themselves placed in Normanna's lower levels…did they find themselves in the same situation as the appropriated animals of which we spoke earlier?” Darcy's voice betrayed his emotions.

“Aye, Sir.” The Scot sobbed.

Edward was on his feet in an angry explosion. He caught MacBethan up by his lapels. With his face inches from their captive's, Darcy's cousin snarled, “Men were held as a source of food? You expect us to believe such preposterous lies?” He gave MacBethan a good shake.

Darcy pried his cousin's hands from the Scot's body. “We need to hear MacBethan's story, Edward,” he said as he placed himself between their only source of information and the Major General.

Edward glared at him, but he accepted Darcy's warning. With a curt nod, he strode away. Darcy turned to MacBethan and patted the man's shoulder. “Your tale is not an easy one to swallow for several reasons. The Major General worries for his wife.” He would offer no other excuse for his cousin's actions. The man they had taken prisoner had an active knowledge of the atrocities perpetrated by the MacBethan household on innocent travelers, but he had done nothing to bring a halt to those reprehensible activities. How could he trust such a person to speak the whole truth? Yet, he possessed no other leads to the mystery of his sister's disappearance. He gestured to MacBethan to return to his seat, and he took the one Edward had abandoned. “How long have the cells been in use?”

“Donnae know fer certain. I dinnae come to stay at Normanna until Domhnall's father Coll passed, and even then I be traveling back and forth between Normanna and Islav's place in Crieff. Coll be ill a long time, and Aunt Dolina ran the keep. I dinnae learn of wot happened below until after Domhnall's return.”

“Does Lord Wotherspoon know of this travesty?” Darcy initially thought the man a tormented soul, but now he considered Normanna's lord as evil as the others.

“Domhnall and Dolina have had a battle of wills of late. As with the animals, I assume me cousin negligent by ignorance, not by intent. Wot man wud consider his mother capable of such evil? He seemed surprised when I told him of the girl's presence. He swore he wud get to the bottom of what went on under his roof. I wud guess that Domhnall has possessed only limited knowledge until recently.”

“And what has Lord Wotherspoon done to correct the wrongs?” Edward demanded coldly.

MacBethan shook his head in disgust. “Not enough to please the likes of you.” He swallowed hard. “Domhnall tried to avoid the scandal.”

Edward ran his fingers through his hair. “Why not allow the local authorities to deal with Lady Wotherspoon's madness?”

“Me aunt holds great sway in the neighborhood. Normanna be the largest house, and she be its mistress the last quarter century. Plus, her brother be respected in the village. She 'as a smatterin' of cousins in the area. I suspect Domhnall knows not whom he can trust. Many of me cousin's servants express their loyalty to Aunt Dolina.”

Something still did not feel right. “Besides the shame of his mother's treachery, what else does Lord Wotherspoon have to hide?” he demanded. “What scandal haunts Normanna's master?”

“Me family not be always MacBethans. Some five hundred years prior, we be Beans and MacBeans. Our roots be in East Lothian, near Edinburgh.”

Edward tersely demanded, “What does this have to do with these alleged heinous crimes?”

The Scot appeared irritated that the major general did not make the connections. He countered, “We became Bethans because the name means ‘life,' and after our most famous ancestors' antics it seemed only appropriate.”

Darcy asked cautiously, “And those ancestors would be?”

MacBethan returned Darcy's steady gaze. “Have ye not heard of Sawney Bean, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy pressed his lips together. His forehead crinkled in a puckered brow. “Unfortunately, Mr. MacBethan, I have. Are you saying your aunt mimicked the celebrated escapades of a fourteenth century legend?”

“Not exactly,” the Scot said evenly. “But the saga of Coll's predecessors gave me aunt her motivation. Rather than dine on her captives' pickled flesh herself, she mixed the pickings with that of the other animals and Normanna's Galloway cattle. It doubled the profits.”

“I thought Bean's legend to be the creation of last century's broadsheets and chapbooks. We often played at mysterious caves and bloody executions as young boys when we stayed at Alpin.”

“There be more truth to it than the family cares to admit, Mr. Darcy,” MacBethan assured. “Ayrshire wud never forgive the MacBethans for revisiting such scandalous misdeeds. Domhnall tries to save the family name.”

“By doing nothing?” Edward accused. “By holding an innocent woman in a medieval cell. As if she…as if none of the Normanna prisoners had a right to a life of his own.”

Darcy directed his words toward his cousin. “We must access Normanna Hall, and I doubt Wotherspoon will invite us through the front door a second time.”

Edward's expression remained unfathomable. “Our newest friend,” he nodded toward MacBethan, “will assist us with a means in.”

“Just a minute,” MacBethan protested. “I agreed to tell ye wot ye required. Dolina will 'ave me killed if'n she discovered wot I did.”

“Then tell us how to reach the cells without being seen.” Darcy insisted.

MacBethan ignored Edward's glare. “There be a karst,” he said at last. “Some parts be too narrow to stand straight, but the passage will bring ye into the monastery's ruins.”

Darcy spoke to his cousin. “I shall leave it to you to make the arrangements for what we require. Perhaps, Weir should ride over to the next village for a few extra men.”

Edward picked up his sword. “I will see to it.” He put the gun in a holster under his jacket. “I assume you have a weapon, Darcy.” He did not wait for a response before he strode to the door. Without turning around he said, “If anyone has laid a finger on Georgiana, he will know my fury.” The sound of the door slamming throughout the small inn brought the world to a stand still.

“YOU HAVE A MESSAGE from Mr. Darcy, Ma'am.” Mr. Jacks presented Elizabeth a note on a silver salver.

She watched as her son rolled from his stomach to his back. Bennet had learned the skill perhaps a week prior. Unfortunately, Darcy had been absent when their son had reached this milestone, and she had yet to share it with her husband. It would grieve him not to have seen Bennet's accomplishment. “At least, you have not mastered a complete rollover.” She chuckled as she placed Bennet on his stomach once more. The child seemed never to tire of this half rotation. “I hope your father will discover on his own how strong you are becoming, my son.” She patted Bennet's small bottom while he pulled up his knees as leverage to roll to his back once more.

Elizabeth loved the way Bennet babbled, congratulating himself on his new skill. Her son amused himself with a variety of new sounds. She placed a rattle close by to see if he would reach for the colorful gourd filled with dried beans. He cooed and waved his arms about in excitement. She bent to kiss his forehead, and Bennet stilled to accept her sign of affection. “Just like your father,” she said softly. Rising from the floor, she sat in the wing chair she had abandoned earlier. Reaching for the note Darcy had seen fit to send her regarding his investigation, Elizabeth knew before she read her dear husband's words that he had not located Georgiana. She had known somehow that Darcy and Edward's quest would be more difficult than either man anticipated.

She read his summary of his meeting with Lord Wotherspoon and the recovery of the horse Georgiana had ridden that fateful
day that her sister had gone missing. “They should all have listened to their hearts,” she murmured. “One cannot love the way I love Darcy and not know of his loved one being in danger.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and easily brought the image of her husband's countenance to mind. “Always frowning,” she chuckled, but did not open her eyes. “Probably why I find the man's smile so addictive. He uses it so rarely.”

She opened her eyes to watch Bennet wave around the colorful scarf that her son had taken a liking to. In fact, the boy would not sleep unless he held the end of the scarf in his tiny fist. “Too fastidious,” Darcy had grumbled when he had seen his son's choice, but Elizabeth had noted her husband's fighting an amused grin.

“Oh, my boy,” she said softly. “You can do no wrong in your father's eyes.” Her praise brought several loud squeals and a hard shake of the blood-red cloth. Elizabeth chuckled at his antics. “Shall you be willing to share your favorite things with a younger brother or sister? Somehow, I doubt it shall be necessary. Mr. Darcy shall likely buy each of you your own suite full of toys.” She allowed her fingers to stroke the place where a new baby grew within her womb. She had missed her second menses, and a familiar tenderness had returned to her breasts. “When this madness is complete, I shall share the good news with your father.”

Mrs. Prulock appeared at the door. “Shall I take the young master to the nursery, Ma'am?”

Elizabeth sighed deeply. “It is probably best. I did not sleep well last evening. I may revisit my bed for a few hours.” She bent to lift Bennet from the floor. “I love you, Little One,” she said as she kissed the hand holding tightly to the silk scarf. She handed the boy to his nurse. “Mr. Darcy and his cousin still seek Mrs. Fitzwilliam. So we shall dine together. Would you mind bringing Bennet to me a bit later?”

“Yes, Ma'am, and I shall ask Cook to set us a table in yer rooms. No sense in keeping a full dining room for just us two. Never mind the fact,” the woman said with confidence, “that you need to conserve yer energies for the new baby.”

Elizabeth's head snapped around in surprise. “What makes you believe I am with child?”

Mrs. Prulock chuckled lightly. “The fact that ye did not deny me words speaks the truth of what I say. Besides, I be tending babes for years. I know when a woman's body houses a wee one.” She cradled Bennet close to her. “Mr. Darcy will be beside himself with joy when he discovers yer secret.”

Elizabeth smiled in earnest. “The man was built to be a father many times over.”

Lydia stood looking out the window of her let rooms onto the busy street below. “I do not think Mr. Wickham is ever coming home,” she said dejectedly. “I have completed all this work for nothing.” She gestured to the sparkling clean rooms.

Mrs. Bennet, head bowed over a pair of the lieutenant's socks, said calmly, “Lieutenant Wickham is not required to report for duty until Monday next. We should not expect the man before that time. Permit your husband time to howl at the moon. Lieutenant Wickham will not risk being labeled a traitor by deserting his post.”

“Where might he be?” Lydia's attention returned to the street. She brushed away her tears and sniffed loudly for the dramatic effect that Lydia preferred in her interactions.

Mrs. Bennet swallowed her true thoughts of the man her youngest daughter had married. This trip had been a real lesson in what happens to one who does not think before acting. “Mr. Bennet writes that a man resembling Lieutenant Wickham played cards
with many of the temporary servers employed by Mr. Darcy for Kitty's engagement party. Your husband reportedly won the pay owed two of the men.”

“Then you think that George is trying to earn enough for his fare to Carlisle?” Lydia said hopefully. She attempted to convince herself of her mother's version of the truth.

Mrs. Bennet no longer held such delusions regarding Lieutenant Wickham's good intentions. She knew the man for what he was—a scoundrel, a gambler, a womanizer, and a blackguard. Lydia. Poor, poor Lydia. Her daughter's impetuous choice would be Lydia's life sentence. Nothing would change the fact that her darling child would live a life of misery. Over the past few days, Marjory had instructed her daughter in ways to keep a cleaner house, to stretch her husband's pay to keep them from debt, and to find her own worth in something besides Lieutenant Wickham's praise. If only the lessons would stick, then Lydia might survive her joining to the infamous Lieutenant Wickham. She had never before wished someone to his grave—not even Mr. Collins, who would jerk her beloved Longbourn from under her feet when Mr. Bennet passed. Yet, she wished Lieutenant Wickham to perdition. Anything to free Lydia from her husband's hold on the girl. “I imagine Lieutenant Wickham knows his duty and is doing what is necessary to return to his home.”