The Phantom of Pemberley (12 page)

“What happened?” Darcy asked as he knelt beside Adam Lawrence.

Lawrence did not look up—his concentration was on the woman as he began to check for broken bones.“I am not certain—I heard a scream.”

Darcy looked up to see three women staring down at them. “Might any of you speak to what occurred?” He stood slowly to survey the area.

“I saw Miss Donnel lose her balance,” Evelyn Williams said. “But I could not reach her in time.”

Anne stared in disbelief at Miss Donnel. “I do not believe that either Mrs.Wickham or I can add anything, Fitzwilliam.”

 

Mrs. Jenkinson had followed Anne de Bourgh from the room. She had returned to their adjoining chambers to retrieve a shawl for the woman she admired and respected. Mrs. Mildred Jenkinson had served as a companion to Anne de Bourgh since before the girl turned sixteen, nearly twelve years earlier. As much as possible, she shielded Anne from Lady Catherine. Her Ladyship was a difficult employer, but Mildred stayed because she thought that otherwise Anne might crumble in submission to her mother.With Mr. Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, Lady Catherine had become harder to predict. In her anger at her nephew, Her Ladyship often lashed out at the closest person—her daughter Anne.

Lady Catherine had for years planned a union between the cousins, despite the daughter’s subtle objections and Mr. Darcy’s open refusals. In Mrs. Jenkinson’s opinion, such a joining would be marital suicide: their dispositions were too much in opposition for a relationship to succeed. Mildred had watched Mr. Darcy’s reaction during that ill-fated Easter dinner when Miss Elizabeth Bennet visited the Collinses and dined at Rosings. She had been amused by Mr. Darcy’s response to the interactions between his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy, usually so cool and reserved, had left his aunt in midsentence in order to station himself by Miss Bennet’s side. Unfortunately, Lady Catherine had observed this, also. Her Ladyship immediately launched a campaign to belittle Miss Bennet at every opportunity.

Yet it had all been for naught. Mr. Darcy had married Miss Bennet, finding the happiness that eluded him for years. Now, if her dear Anne could prove so lucky, Mildred could rest easy. She understood everyone’s concern regarding Lieutenant Harwood because Anne knew so little about the man. But Mildred Jenkinson
could not harbor ill feelings toward him. Farce or not, the lieutenant’s mindfulness of Anne’s good qualities brought sparkle into the life of the woman Mrs. Jenkinson so dearly loved. Only Lady Catherine saw the situation as deplorable, and her disapproval had driven Anne to a desperate act: Anne arranged a tryst. Mildred did not approve, but she understood.

Shawl in hand, she had followed Anne at a more leisurely pace. However, when she had heard the scream, she rushed forward, fearing the worst, but found only a man in the Pemberley livery blocking her way. “What is going on?” she cried. She peered around the man’s shoulder. He stood perfectly still. “Move!” she ordered as she tried to press past him.

“I would not,” he growled.

Mildred looked up into his eyes, which were red with anger. The man frightened her, but she mustered her best duenna voice—the one she had used years earlier for misbehaving children—and ordered,“See to your duties, sir, and remove yourself from my way.”

The man leaned menacingly over her, but he said no more. When she raised her chin in defiance, he whispered in a gravelly voice, sounding much older than his appearance indicated, “Beware, old woman!” And then he left, disappearing in the direction of the family quarters.

Mildred stared after him for a few brief seconds, overpowered by his rudeness, but as he withdrew, her sensibility returned, and she rushed to Anne’s side.

Darcy glanced down to where Lawrence continued to tend to his mistress. “Can she be moved?” he asked as he knelt again.

“I can find no obvious injuries, but I am no physician,” Lawrence said. “Yet, I think we can move Cathleen to her room.”

Darcy started to motion for a waiting footman, but Lawrence shook off the offer. The viscount circled to the opposite side of the woman, where he might lift her without hurting Cathleen or himself. However, before he had made a move, his eyes fell on the first step. “What is that?” He indicated with his eyes for Darcy to
look to what he saw.

Darcy obeyed the urgency in the viscount’s eyes. “I do not know.” He bounded up the eight rises and reached for what he and Lawrence now realized had caused the accident. A thin piece of hemp—pulled tight—stretched from the banister’s spindle and hooked around a decorative nipple in the wall’s baseboard.

“What the hell?” The viscount ran his finger along the line. Angrily, Lawrence jerked on the looped thread and broke it.“Cathleen could have been seriously hurt,” he hissed. “Is this some sort of perverted trick?”

Darcy did not like the man’s accusation. “We have never experienced anything of this sort at Pemberley, sir—at least, not until we were beset with unscheduled visitors.We opened our doors out of kindness. If you and Miss Donnel wish to withdraw, I will make no an effort to stop you.” Darcy stood erect, arms akimbo—his fists opening and closing.

Lawrence, equally as tall, stood also—toe to toe; they took each other’s measure. “I shall see to
my cousin’s
well-being, and then you and I will speak of this at greater length, Darcy.”

“It would be
my pleasure
, sir,” Darcy snapped.

Adam returned to where Cathleen now pushed herself to a seated position.“Let me help you, Darling,” he murmured softly to her. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“My ankle,” she muttered. “And my head.”

“Let me see you to your room.” Adam lifted her to his chest and began to climb the steps again. When he reached the point where Darcy still stood, he snarled, “Might you send someone to my cousin’s room, sir?”

Darcy felt sorry for Miss Donnel’s injury, and he understood the viscount’s anger, but he objected to the man’s tone.“Mrs. Reynolds will see to it personally, Lord Stafford.”

When Adam reached the hallway, he let Lydia Wickham lead the way to Cathleen’s room. “Allow me to get the door and turn down the bed, Lord Stafford.”

“Thank you, Mrs.Wickham.”

Adam gingerly placed Cathleen on the bed. He wanted to examine his mistress’s ankle himself, but a gentleman would not conduct himself as such, even with a cousin. Luckily, Mrs. Reynolds rushed through the door, carrying bandages and several medicine bottles. “I will tend to Miss Donnel,Your Lordship.”

“I know this may be unseemly, Mrs. Reynolds, but I will wait on the other side of the screen in case you have need of my assistance.”

The housekeeper did not think that would prove likely; yet, she simply nodded her assent. “Where might be the most pain, Miss?” Mrs. Reynolds gently raised Cathleen’s chin to look in her eyes—to determine the clarity within them.

“The back of my head.” Cathleen reached to feel a raised lump behind her right ear.

Mrs. Reynolds replaced the woman’s hand with hers. Gently, she removed two pins from Miss Donnel’s hair and probed the affected area. “I see no laceration,” Mrs. Reynolds announced. “You should probably remain in bed for a day or two just to be sure—until the swelling goes down.” The housekeeper looked up to see Lydia Wickham still lurking by the door. “Mrs. Wickham, might I trouble you to send one of the maids to me?”

Curious about the interactions—Lord Stafford’s more-than-familiar relationship with Miss Donnel and his less-than-friendly confrontation with Mr. Darcy moments earlier—she volunteered, “I will find someone and return to help you also.”

Mrs. Reynolds had lost all respect for George Wickham many years earlier, and she fought to not transfer those feelings to the man’s wife; however, the girl’s foolish interference irritated her. “That will not be necessary, Mrs. Wickham,” she stressed. “Please join the master in the dining room; my staff and I can handle Miss Donnel’s injuries. I am sure that your sister—that Mrs. Darcy—will call on Miss Donnel herself. The mistress is all charity,” she pronounced with the assurance of a skilled servant long in her position.

Lydia wanted to speak to Lord Stafford—wanted to assess the situation personally—as this was the most interesting thing in the house right now—but she relented. “I will see to it.” She flounced from the room.

Seconds later, a maid entered.“You sent for me, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Miss Donnel will need cold compresses for her head, Betanne.”

“Probably for my ankle, as well,” Cathleen muttered from behind them.

Mrs. Reynolds jerked her head around.“Oh, my, Miss, I did not realize.” She lifted the sheet. “Which ankle, Miss Donnel?”

“The left.”

The housekeeper raised the woman’s lower leg and cradled the ankle in her hands. “Might I rotate it?” she asked as she touched the tender joint.

“Yes.”

Gingerly, the older woman circumvolved the injured foot, while bracing it from the back.“I observe no breakage, Miss.” She turned it again just to be sure.“The ankle is swollen and quite bruised.We should elevate it.” Mrs. Reynolds took several pillows and placed them where she might rest Miss Donnel’s foot on the cushions. “We will need compressions for the ankle as well, Betanne, and have Mrs. Jennings send up some oil of chamomile.”

“Yes, Mrs. Reynolds.”The girl curtsied and departed.

Mrs. Reynolds spread a blanket across the young woman’s lap. “You may join us,Your Lordship,” she called out to the viscount.

Adam reappeared immediately.

“I am assuming, sir, that you overheard what I have told your cousin.”

Adam sat beside the bed and took Cathleen’s hand in his.“I did, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“It seems important to keep your cousin in bed where she might rest. I would also like to give Miss Donnel a dose of laudanum ; the medicine will ease her pain.”

Adam patted Cathleen’s hand. “I suggest we ask Mrs. Reynolds
for a tray. Once you have eaten, the laudanum will not have such a dramatic after effect. I will remain with you until you are asleep.”

“Thank you, Adam.” Cathleen knew he felt affection for her: Adam Lawrence would protect her even though she was no more than his mistress.

“Let me see to a tray, Your Lordship. I will be back in a few minutes.” Darcy’s servant disappeared.

Adam shifted to sit on the edge of Cathleen’s bed. “I am so sorry, Sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. “I wish I could change this for you.”

“I will recover,” Cathleen assured him. “I will be able to escape the possible censure of Mr. Darcy’s relatives if I remain in bed and out of sight.”

“I beg your forgiveness for that also.” He traced lines up and down her arm with his fingertips.

“For what must you ask forgiveness? You went beyond the boundaries most men would offer in a relationship such as ours. You tried to see me to Cheshire to be with my family. Only Nature’s full fury stopped us; I will never forget your kindness.” Cathleen caught his hand and brought the back of it to her lips.

Adam leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are a beautiful woman, my Dear—both inside and out.” He returned to his seat in the nearby chair before someone saw them acting like lovers, not cousins. “Can you tell me what you remember of your accident?”

Cathleen’s brow frowned in concentration. “I do not believe there is much to tell. Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh both entered the hallway about the same time as I.We all moved toward the top of the stairs. Mrs. Williams came last.When the widow opened her door, Mrs. Wickham and Miss de Bourgh paused to wait for the lady, but I continued on.When I started to descend the steps, I lost my balance.”

“Then any of you could have been the first one down the steps? I mean…Mrs. Wickham did not purposely hold Miss de Bourgh back or vice versa?”Adam attempted to visualize what she described.

“Mrs. Wickham was already in the hall when I left my room.” Cathleen tried to see the action in her head.

Adam reasoned aloud, “Really? I wonder for how long.”

Cathleen looked puzzled.“I assumed it was for only a second or two. It was time for the afternoon meal.”

“But it could have been longer?” Adam put together the pieces of the mystery.

“Miss de Bourgh came after I started for the dining room. I remember her coming from the right hallway, where your room is.”

Adam’s countenance turned grim. “Someone rigged a thin line of rope across the step. It was difficult to see it in the dim light. I suspect that you were not the intended victim, but purely an innocent bystander. Now, I am trying to determine who might have had the opportunity to do so.”

“You suspect Mrs. Wickham?” Cathleen tried to reason it out, but could not fathom the purpose of such a trap.

Adam’s voice spoke of anger—of regret—and of determination. “I suspect everyone until I know otherwise.”

FITZWILLIAM DARCY SILENTLY FUMED as he oversaw the afternoon meal. Mrs. Reynolds had informed him of Lord Stafford’s request for a tray for himself and Miss Donnel. Darcy understood the man’s concern, but he did not relish the idea of pretending a disinterested calm before the rest of his guests. It was bad enough that in addition to the viscount and his mistress, three others had witnessed what was evidently an attempt to cause someone real harm. Between the recent disappearances, Georgiana’s nighttime “visitor,” and now this staged trap, Darcy’s nerves strained for control.