Page 16 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Darcy mused, “And I found the note around a quarter to eight.” He thought some more and asked, “Obviously, you didnot see anyone lurking near my room, or you would have reported it, but I am wondering if you saw anyone—a servant, a guest, a resident—anywhere in the hallway when you left.”
Looking thoughtfully into the distance, Ryles shook his head. “When I was downstairs, I saw several servants, of course, but I did not see anyone on this floor or on the staircase.”
Showing his valet the note, Darcy asked, “And does this paper, or this handwriting, ring any bells for you? I feel as if there is no paper in the entire manor that is this rough. What think you?”
Ryles briefly stroked the paper between two fingers. “I have not seen anything like this poor quality of paper since we arrived, sir. And the only one here at Netherfield who writes with this many blots is—” the valet coughed, but Darcy nodded, acknowledging that the master of the house, Bingley, had horrific handwriting and regularly turned out pages with multiple blots. But then Ryles said, “But even he has better handwriting than this. I suppose it could be someone writing with the wrong hand, in an effort to disguise their handwriting.“
Darcy nodded again. It was a perfectly reasonable theory.
“And does the message or the initial letter ‘W’ mean anything to you?”
Ryles shrugged, looked Darcy in the eye, and said, “Of course, the idea of warning you off a young lady—anyyoung lady—points to Miss Bingley, who covets what only you can give her. And the initial ‘W’ makes me immediately think of Wickham, same as you, I imagine.”
Darcy passed his hand over his face, feeling all the weariness of a man with an enemy. “Yes, me as well. Yet I am not sure that this cheap paper and misspelled note is the style either of them would adopt. I very much doubt that they could be working together. Also, I assume that one lacks the knowledgeof my enemy’s name, and the other lacks the knowledge of this household. So…it is a puzzle.”
Setting his shoulders resolutely, Darcy added, “But thank you for your thoughts, Ryles. I would ask that you keep this completely between us. Also, would you be so good as to pass out a guinea to each of my servants, yourself included, and to each of the Netherfield servants. Everyone worked very hard last night.”
“Yes, sir. That is most generous of you.”
“Now, I am off to find Bingley.” Darcy shook his head, wondering if his younger friend was still peacefully sleeping while his servants and guests toiled to mitigate fire damage to his home—and while someone plotted and schemed for unknown gains.
Chapter 11
Elizabeth
As Elizabeth worked with the steward in the wrecked kitchen, she was pleased to hear from Georgiana that her message to Longbourn had been sent and that Jane was doing well. “Or so she claims,” Georgiana said. “She sneezed twice, and I was only in her room for a few minutes.”
“Thank you for being so kind as to check on Jane and bring me a report, Georgiana!”
“Again, you have my brother to thank. But now I am wondering how I can help you. Or help everyone. Might I take over your list-making duty so you can read to your sister? Should I get a book of poetry to read aloud to her, myself?”
Mr. Tomkins said, “Actually, Miss Elizabeth, we are pretty much done with the list. I was wondering….”
He hesitated long enough that Elizabeth asked, “Do you have an idea of something that needs to be done?”
“Well, it ought to be Miss Bingley or someone from the family doing this, but I wondered if you two young ladies might be able to check in with the tenants. Take some of the whiskey and the honey salve, which the servants have been using to clean and soothe cuts and scrapes and blisters, and see to all the folks that helped last night who do not have access to it.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Elizabeth said. “Georgiana, I will check in with Jane and Susan—or is it Molly right now?—to see if they can do without me for a few hours. Would you please check in with your brother? And make sure to inspect his cuts and scrapes and blisters!”
“I will,” Georgiana promised.
As Elizabeth was climbing the stairs, Mr. Hurst finally made an appearance. She politely asked after him and his wife. He thanked her and claimed that they were both well, and he asked, “Is the steward here at the house, Miss Elizabeth?” She nodded, and he said he intended to offer his help but—he admitted—he did not know the man’s name.
Elizabeth replied readily, “He is Mr. Tomkins. And I imagine he will have some ideas for you; there is much to do today!”
“Is Bingley awake?” Mr. Hurst asked.
“I was just about to ask you that,” Elizabeth replied. “I have seen neither him nor Miss Bingley. I hope everyone is well.”
Mr. Hurst rolled his eyes and said, “I am sure they arehealthyenough to be helping here.” Elizabeth let him know the location of the hot beverage station and the bakery selection, and he nodded and thanked her.
Soon, Georgiana and Elizabeth were away, briskly walking towards the closest tenant house. Each carried a basket with bottles of cheap whiskey, the honey salve Mr. Tomkins had suggested, clean bandaging materials, and a pair of scissors.
The tenant visits went as Elizabeth expected. Georgiana was almost silent with the adults, but she was eager to follow directions and managed to speak to the children with so much kindness, she ended up becoming a popular figure in each home they visited. Most of the men had blisters, and they came in from their fields to have their blisters and other wounds treated.
Some of the women and older children had slight injuries that Elizabeth and Georgiana cleaned and dressed as well. Asthey left, Elizabeth urged each tenant to come to the house for aid if any wounds became infected.
By the time they had visited all eleven tenant homes, Georgiana was exhausted. Elizabeth said, “Let us just walk slowly back, then. Even if there is still much to do, today, surely Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst can put some effort into recovery from the fire.”
