Elizabeth packed away the cloth. “Very well, sir. I am ready for an adventure.”
The path was more a goat track than a walk, little more than a scar in the wilderness. Stones slipped underfoot, and Darcy offered his arm. “Take care. The shale is loose. Lady Catherine has neglected this corner of the grounds.”
As they went, he spoke. “Sir Louis de Bourgh built this folly and the gardens below for his first wife, a woman of uncommon beauty. They married young, and though they had no children, they were devoted to one another and lived happily until she perished in a carriage accident. Sir Louis never wholly recovered from the blow. When he did remarry, it was late in life, and Lady Catherine was chosen more for prudence than for affection. My father often said Sir Louis’s heart was buried with his first wife. Yet when Lady Catherine was delivered of Anne, he learned to love again, and all that remained of his former warmth he lavished upon his daughter. Perhaps it is the reason my aunt cannot abide Anne, for jealousy is a powerful mistress.”
Elizabeth felt sympathy for Miss de Bourgh. Suddenly, her foot slipped on the loose shale. Darcy caught her by the waist. She regained her footing, but with the next step, her foot slid out from under her again. He did not release her until they reached the level ground below.
The sight before them made her forget all else. They stood in an oak grove, where ferns clustered thickly along a brook that meandered through the trees. Mr. Darcy told her that in the spring, climbing roses covered the stone wall that rose beyond the grove. She looked and saw the tangled web of rose bushes, now bare, but which would be in full bloom when the season returned.
He gestured to the far edge. “Sir Louis planted ornamental trees along there. They are called Japanese silk trees. When covered in pink blossoms, they are a sight not soon forgotten. You willremember them long after you have seen this garden in its full glory.”
He then led her to the edge of the bluff, where the eastern side of the valley spread before them like a patchwork quilt of green fields, hedges, and tenant farms.
“How beautiful,” Elizabeth breathed. “If I tried hard enough, I believe I should see the sea.”
Darcy did not answer at once. He had been watching her, not the view. But she soon drew his attention to a narrow track far below.
“Mr. Darcy, do I see mules?”
He started, looked where she indicated, and frowned. “Yes. And those are kegs strapped to their backs.” His eyes narrowed. “If I did not know better, I should say we are looking upon smugglers.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Smugglers in broad daylight? And the kegs are filled with spirits?”
“Brandy, most likely. And yes, they appear to be coming this way.” He stepped closer to the edge, scanning downward. A large barn stood at the foot of the bluff. “That barn is on Rosings’ land, but I have never been inside it. It looks new. Too new.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Do you think…”
“I think,” Darcy interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp, “that this is no place for you. Come.” He took her by the elbow, lowering his voice. “We make ourselves too obvious here. I do not want them to know they have been seen. Miss Elizabeth, you are likely looking at members of the North Kent Gang. They are violent men. They will kill to protect their trade.”
Elizabeth bristled at his tone. “I am not a child, sir.”
“No,” he agreed grimly. “But even the wisest may die by a stray shot. Promise me you will say nothing of this to anyone. Especially not to Miss Kitty. She could not be trusted to keep her tongue still.”
Elizabeth, sobered by the gravity in his eyes, inclined her head. “I understand. You have my word.”
He studied her face, his expression softening. “Forgive me. I would spare you such darkness, yet you should know the dangers, even here, in a place that seems so fair.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I understand.”
“Very well. Lean upon me, Elizabeth. Although the incline is not steep, I see that the shale has become treacherous.” He offered her his arm, and Elizabeth clung to him.
They climbed together, and though her feet slipped more than once, she never fell to the ground, for he thought it best to steady her by the waist. Within a few minutes, they reached the grove, and Darcy walked at her side until they came to the road that led to the parsonage. There he halted.
“I shall leave you here, Miss Elizabeth. We have been together nearly two hours, and if I take you farther, we may be seen, and rumors could begin of secret assignations and the like.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “We seem to spend all our lives avoiding rumor and scandal, do we not? Thank you for showing me the hidden garden, sir.”
“Please give me your word that you will not return to the hidden garden alone. Had I known how dangerous the old trail had become, I would not have taken you there.” His eyes held hers.
“You have my word. Shall I stay away from the folly as well?”
“No. The folly faces west, and I doubt there is any smuggling activity on that side. It is much more populated.” He looked down at her, his expression grave. “Do not trouble yourself about the smugglers. You are safe here on the grounds. I will see to the matter.”
With that, he turned back toward the house, his stride brisk, his shoulders squared. Elizabeth continued to the parsonage, wondering whether the folly would ever be a place for quiet breakfasts again.
At the table, Darcy found his cousin. The gentlemen breakfasted without the ladies, who both took breakfast above stairs. Richard had just poured a second cup of coffee when Darcy recounted what he and Elizabeth had seen.
“They are still two hours off,” Darcy concluded. “The pace is slow. The mules are heavily laden, and the track is rough.”
