Page 8 of Pemberley's Imposter
“What am I looking for, Mr Darcy?”
“Mrs Darcy.”
She must be desperate to remain at Pemberley and had hidden to avoid eviction.
“She is not here, sir.”
“I see. Come out and follow me.”
The dressing room was next on his list of places to find his recalcitrant wife.
“She is not here either, sir,” Linney asserted after a thorough search.
The intractable woman was unfortunately clever and could be anywhere on his vast estate. It was perhaps best to establish whether she had taken anything before he roused all his servants to search the house from top to bottom.
“I know. Could you tell me whether any of her garments are missing?”
The girl rummaged through the articles of clothing.
“Yes, sir. All the old garments she brought from Longbourn are missing, while all her new and fashionable gowns are still here. Perhaps she has collected the items she meant to leave for the rag-and-bone man, sir?”
“I very much doubt it…”
Darcy stood in the middle of the room, scratching his head in indecision. The impulse to act prevailed, and he strode once more into his own chamber. He searched thoroughly for his wayward wife, but she was not there.
Of course, the servants’ stairs!
Darcy walked briskly through the narrow passages. He had familiarised himself with them during his childhood, playing hide and seek with his abominable cousin. He chose the shortest and easiest way out of the house and soon found himself out of doors on the bitterly cold December night. Finding the door unlocked irked him; the bolt should have been closed this latein the evening. It must be Mrs Darcy who had unlocked it and made her escape. He paused on the threshold and looked in every direction, searching for movement in the distance. There was no sign of the woman but plenty of footsteps in every direction. He chose the most plausible one, leading towards the front of the house. She was not so silly as to venture out into the unfamiliar woods.
Rounding the corner, he walked to the portico and proceeded up the steps to get a better view. She was nowhere to be seen, but she had run up the stairs nearly half an hour ago and could be a mile down the road.
He could send out a handful of men and the mastiffs, but that would defeat the purpose. She was gone, exactly as he had ordered. Finally, she had done as requested without any discussion. In his mind, it was about time. Never again would his decisions be called into question, disputed, or reasoned against. What a relief.
Darcy re-entered by the front door, called for a footman to have the colonel’s horse saddled, and went straight to the library where his cousin was no longer waiting.
“Richard Fitzwilliam!” Darcy shouted. He would not honour him with a title.
The colonel came running down the stairs. “Where is Elizabeth?”
“Gone. And so will you be. Your horse is being saddled as we speak.”
“Gone? What do you mean by gone? She cannot have ventured out into the cold by herself.”
“She obviously could and she has.”
Darcy’s patience had run out. He grabbed his cousin by the arm and dragged him out of the door. A footman handed him his greatcoat as he passed. Darcy let go of his arm as soon as he was on the front steps.
“I shall have your possessions packed and sent to Matlock in the morning. Please convey my regrets to your father. I shall not be joining him for Christmas this year.”
The door closed and the bolt was drawn.
The colonel shouted through the door. “I shall surely find Elizabeth on my way to Lambton, where we shall spend the night at the Rose and Crown.”
Darcy struck the door with his fist before he had the wherewithal to think. The thump echoed through the entrance hall, but the wood did not even crack. If only it had been his cousin’s head… His knuckles were bleeding, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he ordered a thorough search of the house, to be on the safe side. It would not do for him to suddenly encounter the hoyden in an unused room or a cupboard. This last thought made him chuckle mirthlessly. He flexed his aching hand and walked with his head raised past his servants, ascended the stairs, and retired to his chamber for a sleepless night in agony.
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Pemberley,the following morning, December 16th
