Page 45 of Pemberley's Imposter
“May I offer you a cup of tea while your chamber is readied, Mrs Darcy?”
“No, I thank you. We have only travelled from my brother’s house on Grosvenor Street. Is Mr Darcy at home?”
The butler looked somewhat bothered.
“He is not, ma’am.”
“Do you know when he will return?”
“No, but I am certain it will not be in the immediate future.”
“Whyever not?”
“Mr Darcy left several weeks ago and gave no indication of when he would be back.”
A heavy stone settled in Elizabeth’s stomach. He was not there. Her journey had been for naught. But where could he have gone? He had estates everywhere. He could be in Scotland, Ireland, or, heaven forfend, France!
“Do you know Mr Darcy’s location? I have a letter I would like to send.”
“I am not at liberty to say, Mrs Darcy.”
“Did he expressly state that I was not to know?”
“He did not, but he implored me to tell no one. I cannot help but think he might not have meant you, Mrs Darcy, but I cannot overrule the master’s strict instruction. I could send him a letter to clarify whether he meant to include you.”
“Let me consider it. I shall let you know when I decide.”
Her chamber was ready shortly thereafter. It was as if she had been expected. Perhaps Mr Darcy had anticipated her sojourn to town after Mr Knightley had brought her the deed to half of Pemberley and the copy of his will. Elizabeth acknowledged that it might beherMr Darcy was avoiding, leaving instructions to keep his whereabouts a secret.
Sleep does not come easily to those with a heavy heart and a burdened mind. Elizabeth pulled a dressing robe over her shift and crept downstairs in the dead of night with a single candle to light her path. She was no longer concerned about what the servants might think of her.
She found the library easily enough. Despite the ample size of the house, Mr Darcy had no separate study; a large oak desk was situated amidst the bookshelves. It was impossible to resist sitting in his chair and smelling the leather; his scent still lingered vaguely on the back.
A notebook lay in front of her. The temptation proved too great, and Elizabeth opened it. The book was empty, but sheets had been torn out. Elizabeth let her fingers brush over the empty page. It was blank, but she could feel the indentions from the words he had jotted on the previous sheet. Elizabeth felt astrong impulse to unravel what his last thoughts had been. She rummaged through the desk and found the drying sand. She spilt a little on the page and blew gently. The fine sand filled the indentions, and a repetitive mantra emerged. Elizabeth knew exactly what she must do, but first, she needed to sleep.
#
Hurst House, the following morning
“Jane, I have a big favour to ask of you.”
“Yes?”
“May Ellie spend the day with Charlie tomorrow—possibly the night too? I do not expect to be gone for long.”
“Certainly, but where are you going?” Jane asked.
“I cannot tell you,” Elizabeth replied cryptically.
“It is nothing dangerous, is it?” Jane pressed with evident concern.
“No, not at all.”
Jane moved closer and whispered in her ear.
“You are not going to see the colonel?”
“Certainly not!” Elizabeth retorted, aghast. She had no wish to ever lay eyes on Colonel Fitzwilliam again. “Please, do not ask more of me. Mr Darcy is not at home, and I am reluctant to leave Ellie in an unfamiliar house after our trouble with the colonel. I feel she would be safer here than at Darcy House with only the servants for protection. I would much rather leave her with you and your husband. Your Mr Bingley has grown much in my esteem since he married you, dear Jane. Your influence has been the making of the man. I am certain of it.”
