The Phantom of Pemberley (25 page)

“More aggressively than we have done so to date. We need to make it harder for him to find food…to find a place to sleep. We must flush our phantom out. Right now, we are reacting to his appearances—to
his attacks. We need to be the pursuers, rather than the pursued.”

Darcy did not respond right away, taking time to reflect on what she had proposed. “What else might we do?”

“We need for Mrs. Jennings to take stock of the supplies in the pantries.We need to block off entrances to the root cellar and cold cellar. I refuse to fill the stomach that wreaks havoc in my household.” Her chin rose in defiance.

Darcy took note of her declaration that this was her household. It was what he had always wanted—a woman with the same devotion to Pemberley as he. Elizabeth had made the place her own, and even though she had ordered only subtle changes in the décor, she filled Pemberley’s walls with her personality. Since the day he had first walked her up the front steps and into the main foyer, the place carried her mark. She possessed him as much as she did his home. “I will see to it first thing in the morning,” Darcy agreed. “Have you other suggestions?”

“We need a pattern of where our intruder has been seen. The east wing is obvious, but which rooms?” Elizabeth knitted her brow. “He was in Georgiana’s room. That disturbs me…She may be in danger.”

Darcy stiffened with the thought of his sister’s possible peril. “You believe Georgiana did not have a nightmare?”

“At first, I took much of what she said as nerves, but I felt the cold air rushing through her room, Fitzwilliam. Yes, I believe the light she saw was our
ghost.
”

“She needs someone else sleeping in her room. I will assign two maids to sleep on pallets until we find this man, and Georgiana is not to pay midnight visits to the music room.You and I must insist on it.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, indicating she had other ideas. Finally, she found her voice. “I know you well enough, my Husband, to know that you have made the connection.We had no problems at Pemberley until we opened our doors to strangers.”

Darcy looked relieved. He had drawn similar conclusions the preceding evening. “I have considered,” he began slowly, “that one of our guests could be our practitioner—he is one of them. Yet, our so-called
madman
is just that—a man. I cannot give merit to the belief that either Lord Stafford or Mr. Worth creates such chaos. I do not know His Lordship well, but the worst that is said is he is an immature young man, overly fond of his own pleasures. But I also know he treats his servants well, and he contributes regularly to several charities. He does not have the nature of a murderer.”

“And Mr.Worth?” Elizabeth prompted.

“I met Worth several years ago when I settled Mr. Wickham’s numerous debts in Cheshire.” Darcy paused, choosing his words carefully.

“What is it, Fitzwilliam? You must tell me what you know.”

Darcy lovingly caressed her cheek and brushed the hair from Elizabeth’s face before he spoke. “Mr. Worth was returning from Newcastle, where a colleague had summoned him. It was purely by happenstance that he traveled in the same coach as Mrs. Wickham. Your sister’s husband has accumulated additional debt. Much more debt than I can assume without borrowing from Georgiana’s dowry or jeopardizing our child’s inheritance. I will do neither to save the man. Plus,Worth also reports that Mr.Wickham’s adultery and his physical abuse of Mrs.Wickham are now common knowledge among those stationed at Newcastle. We cannot disassociate ourselves from your family, but we must find a way to minimize their impact on us—for Georgiana’s sake.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, fighting back the tears flooding her eyes. Her shame when she had shared with Darcy the news of Lydia’s elopement returned. Her husband had acted honorably, saving her and the rest of her sisters from public humiliation. Her husband had done it all without taking credit and without her knowledge—because it required an explanation that would rob her Uncle Gardiner of his borrowed feathers and give the praise where it was due and because Darcy loved her more than even she had realized at
the time. Her aunt and uncle had given way to Darcy because they had given him credit for another interest in the affair—her heart, which he owned completely. “Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she moaned, “My family and I cannot repay you for how you saved our reputation.”

“I told you before. Your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I thought only of you at the time. And you owe me nothing. I think only of you still. I love you with all that I am. I will love you with every ounce of my being until my last breath. And I will love you beyond that.”

“I do not deserve you.”

“Let us not dwell on these issues, Elizabeth,” he declared as he rolled her to her back and covered her body with his. “Tomorrow…” he murmured close to her lips. “Tomorrow we will deal with our problems.Tonight…tonight, I wish only to show the woman I love how very perfect I find her.” He claimed her mouth, deepening the kiss and losing himself in her passion.

 

Lydia Wickham spent another restless night at Pemberley. Her sister’s pure happiness made her own marriage seem that much worse. Elizabeth had chosen the most disagreeable of men, but her sister had proved them all wrong. Mr. Darcy devoted himself to Elizabeth’s happiness: Lizzy had a beautiful home and true love.

As for Lydia, she had chosen the more amiable George Wickham—a man who possessed a handsome face and a way of pleasing all onlookers. Her husband was the type of man toward almost every female eye turned, and Lydia had originally prided herself upon being the woman he had chosen. Initially, everyone in Meryton had believed her husband’s disgraceful lies regarding his relationship with Mr. Darcy. Even Elizabeth had accepted Wickham’s tales of malicious revenge and justice. It was only after Lydia’s ill-fated elopement with him that the world had known her Wickham for his true colors.

Yet even then, she had foolishly believed him—accepted his words of love as legitimate and rejected the efforts of her father and of her aunt and uncle and of Mr. Darcy to salvage her reputation—and
declared herself perfectly happy to remain with
her dear Wickham
until he could bring himself to marry her. Unfortunately, it had been only under duress that Wickham agreed to make her his bride—not a solid basis for a marriage.

They lived in rented rooms, surviving upon Jane’s and Elizabeth’s goodness. She did not know what else to do. She had never learned economy in her mother’s home—frivolity, yes; economy, no. She possessed no household arts. If she were in either of her sisters’ positions, she would have servants who knew how to maintain a household, and even though she realized it not fair to Jane or Elizabeth, Lydia thought it quite unreasonable that she should suffer alone. Only recently, her mother had written to announce that Mary had attracted the attentions of one of Uncle Philips’s clerks, and their mother expected the man to declare himself soon. Lydia felt the injustice of knowing that even plain, moralizing Mary might find contentment when she did not.

 

Evelyn Williams opened the cloth purse she hid each night under her pillow. It contained all she had of value in the world. Fifteen gold pieces caught the glint of the fire—solid gold—worth a small fortune. She lifted one of the circular discs and rolled it about in her fingers. Slowly, Evelyn brought it to her lips and kissed it for good luck.

Next, she took his ring into her palm. Somehow, it felt warm, as if it still held the heat of his hand in its metal. Again, she brought the item to her mouth, but this time it was his face she saw—the face of the man she loved. Their marriage certificate lay folded and small on the white bed sheet. Reverently, she unfolded it, smoothing out the edges, letting her fingertips trace the raised letters. Reading the solemn words silently, Evelyn placed her hand upon the page and drifted off to sleep.

 

“Adam?” Cathleen whispered as she turned in the man’s arms. They had made love and fallen asleep, arms and legs entangled. “I need to say something to you.”

“What is it, Darling?” Fully sated, Adam Lawrence would have preferred only to rest in her embrace.

“When this is over, I want to travel to Cheshire alone. My family would not understand my traveling in your company.”

Adam forced his eyes open, hearing a touch of finality in her tone. “Then you mean to leave me?” He stared deeply into her sea green eyes.

“I will never know a more generous man, and I will regret it all my life, but it is for the best. The fragile thread of life is too easily broken.The evil we have experienced at Pemberley convinces me I need to return to the girl I once was and to the life I once knew.” She tenderly caressed Adam’s face.

He did not move. He had known this moment would come soon enough, although he had expected to be the one to end their relationship. Adam appreciated Cathleen for her alluring combination of innocence and sexuality. He found the woman most appealing, and he did not wish to replace her; yet, Adam would not beg her to stay. “I would prefer to remain with you until we are safely away from Pemberley. I will see to your journey and make an appropriate settlement upon you.”

“I remain in your debt, my Lord.” She slid her arms around his neck. Leaving him would be the hardest thing she ever did. She had been in love with him from their earliest days together; however, she had no choice but to leave him. Adam Lawrence must never know the depths of her love.

 

Nigel Worth turned over in bed. The mattress was a little softer than he liked, but tonight, he had no complaints about his accommodations—about the forced confinement of the storm—about missing his Cheshire appointments.

Tonight, he thought only of Miss Anne de Bourgh’s merits. Lovely and personable—thick-lashed eyes that saw the world as an innocent globe—a sharp mind, open to new ideas and new adventures. He felt like a young man with her, although he also wanted to protect and to father her at the same time. She created
a calmness deep in his soul, and also an exhilarating stimulation. Worth did not fool himself. He knew that others would see him as a fortune hunter, but he honestly had known very little of the woman’s financial situation when he had first found himself attracted to her. Now, he contemplated the possibility of wooing the lady and making her his own. Those thoughts rocked him to sleep—the mattress he had greatly despised on the previous evenings was less of an issue tonight.

PETER WATCHED LYDIA WICKHAM as she dressed for the day. The maid, known as Lucinda, laced up Lydia’s corset, but not to the woman’s specifications. James objected to his watching, but Peter took note of how much James had enjoyed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s coupling and, therefore, had ignored his friend’s warning. “I said tighter,” the girl demanded.

Behind her, Lucinda turned red in the face as she strained to meet the order. “Yes, Mrs.Wickham.”

“I would hate to tell my sister of your incompetence,” Lydia threatened.

The maid pulled again as Lydia sucked in her breath. “No, Mrs. Wickham.”

Corset finally in place, Lucinda stepped away to retrieve the long-sleeved dark violet dress, which Lydia indicated she would wear for the day. Another round of lacing followed. At last, Lydia’s appearance seemed to please her. “You have probably left me black and blue,” she chastised the maid as she preened before the long mirror,“but I do cut a nice figure, do you not think?” Lydia twirled in place, admiring herself from all angles.

“I be apologizin’, Mrs. Wickham. I never be dressin’ anyone before.”

Lydia took a quick look at the servant—a moment of regret making her take a kinder approach. “Well, we all must learn, I suppose.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wickham.” The maid turned to pick up the articles Lydia had left strewn across the bed and chair. “Might I be of service some other way, ma’am?”

Lydia headed toward the door. She gestured to the clothes to which the woman now attended. “Just iron some of those and see to my laundry.”

“Yes, Mrs.Wickham.”

Peter continued to watch all this from the security of his hiding place. Lydia Wickham’s condescending attitude did not sit well with him. His father insisted that quality people treated others well. The woman he watched today had never learned humility—never learned to value anyone else’s needs but her own. She had never learned to love herself. Consequently, she could not truly recognize the value of another. Maybe that was why he despised everything for which Lydia Wickham stood and why he continued to watch her—why her shallowness mesmerized him.
She should be taught a lesson,
he concluded. It was up to him to teach her—the way his father had taught him—with a good switch and a cane if necessary. “Later,” he whispered to the darkness.“Later today, she will know my wrath.”

 

“I will see to it, Mr. Darcy. Immediately, sir.” Darcy was meeting with both Mr. Baldwin and Mrs. Jennings. He had followed Elizabeth’s suggestions from last evening. His butler would scan the rooms once more and record any sightings of the Pemberley phantom.They already knew which staff members had seen or had spoken to their mysterious intruder. Now, the Pemberley butler would document the when, where, and time of day each encounter occurred. Darcy also instructed his man to remove from the rooms anything that might be used as a weapon.“We will not provide our mystery man with devices to bring about our own demise.”