Elizabeth frowned but said nothing. Papa trusted Thatcher to care for her, and if Thatcher was on edge, there must be a reason. Yet as they resumed their walk, she could not help but feel foolish. What could be amiss here at Hollydale, so far from the troubles of the world?
As they reached the drive, Elizabeth took one more look behind her. There was nothing there—no movement, no sign of anything out of place. And yet the feeling of something or someone unseen, observing her, remained. She chided herself. Hollydale was as safe as Longbourn had always been, and she would be foolish to allow something as vague as a feeling to unsettle her.
Darcy rode down the road to Hollydale House as it wound through a dense wood. When he reached the old stone wall, he knew he was close. The trees were almost bare now, allowingfor an excellent view of the soft blue sky. The chill in the air was another reminder that winter was fast approaching, and he would soon need to make these visits by carriage.
He had spoken with Mr. Bennet over a game of chess before the older man’s departure. The new master of Hollydale had asked Darcy to call on the ladies each week while he was away. He intended to return closer to the festive season with a the rest of his family once his obligations to his other estate were completed.
Darcy had been perfectly happy to agree. He enjoyed Mr. Bennet’s company, but the frequency of his visits was largely for the opportunity to sit with his daughter for half an hour, and he would have been quite disappointed to lose the privilege.
Miss Bennet stirred his emotions in a way he had not felt before. Perhaps it was a protective instinct, awakened the moment he saw her about to take a fall, but he thought it more than that. Her wit was charming. She was strong, capable, intelligent, good-humoured—and he had noticed from the first that she was uncommonly pretty.
He could not say how far these feelings went, but he did wish to know her better. Thus, a week after Mr. Bennet’s departure, he rode over to Hollydale. As he approached the house, he noticed Miss Bennet walking up from the river path, her cloak wrapped tightly around her to keep out the cold. A footman—Thatcher, if he recalled correctly—was a few paces behind her, ever watchful.
He dismounted, handing his reins to a stable hand before making his way to Miss Bennet. She greeted him with a polite smile.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, inclining his head. “Good day. I trust you are well?”
“I am, sir, thank you. Please come in.”
Miss Bennet led the way into the house, her steps deliberate. Mr. Riggs took her cloak and turned to Darcy. After he had handed the butler his greatcoat and followed Miss Bennet into the drawing room, he saw Miss Bennet’s eyes move to the window as if searching for something outside before she returned to offer him a seat. Thatcher, who had followed her in, nodded slightly, signalling, Darcy thought, that all was well. Thatcher bowed and exited, leaving them alone with the door open.
Darcy waited until Miss Bennet settled into a chair across from him before speaking. “Miss Bennet, your father charged me with visiting you and your mother while he is gone. Forgive me, but I cannot help but see you are uneasy. Is all well?”
Miss Bennet hesitated, her hands smoothing the fabric of her dress though there were no wrinkles. She lifted her chin. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Darcy. Hollydale is beautiful, and we are settling in well, for the most part.”
He leaned forward a little. “For the most part?”
She pressed her lips together and hesitated, as if deliberating upon what she wished to say. “There have been some small . . . incidents this past week.”
His alarm heightened. “Incidents?”
Miss Bennet sighed. “At first, I thought things had simply been misplaced, but it continues to happen. A shovel left by the stable door was found at the edge of the woods. A carriage lamp that had been hanging in the stables has disappeared altogether. Other tools are missing from the gardener’s shed.”
“Only from the outbuildings?”
“Thus far.”
Darcy did not care for the sound of that. “Have you told anyone else?”
“Thatcher knows, and Freedman. They have been watching, but so far, there is no explanation. The things that havebeen taken are not of great value, but their disappearance is troubling.”
“Could it be the work of someone on the estate? A servant perhaps?”
Miss Bennet shook her head. “I do not believe so. We have hired few servants, and they each were recommended by Mr. or Mrs. Riggs. They have all been loyal and hardworking thus far. If anything, I believe it might be someone from outside the estate, someone who might be living in the woods.”
“In the woods?” Darcy’s concern deepened. “You mean a vagrant?”
She met his gaze, her voice firm but touched with uncertainty. “I have considered the possibility, Mr. Darcy, but I do not wish to be an alarmist. It could be someone in need, seeking shelter or food. I have not felt frightened, only . . . watched.”
That last word hung in the air.
“Watched?”
“When I am on my morning walks. Thatcher feels it as well, though we have not actually seen anyone.”
Darcy sat up straight. “You will allow me to make a search, will you not? Thatcher can join me if you remain here in the house with Freedman.”
She shook her head. “Mr. Darcy, I would not ask it of you. We do not have enough servants to mount a reasonable search, and in any case, I would not know where to tell you to begin. It is only a feeling.”
