Hollydale appeared through the leafless trees. “But if their father wanted the candlesticks, would they not carry them back to him immediately, rather than try to store them here?”
Mr. Darcy lifted his shoulders. “I cannot say. Perhaps they did not wish to be caught with them. And this is all speculation, of course.”
Elizabeth groaned. “It is frustrating to think of those boys being so misused and yet being unable to help them.”
“It is, but you must do what you can and not berate yourself for what you cannot.” He did not look at her, but approbation rang from his words, and earning it was a heady feeling.
She glanced sidelong at him. “Advice you might take yourself.”
He chuckled. “You are right, of course.”
“I often am,” she said, sending his own words back at him.
Mr. Darcy only smiled.
Just as they reached the great house, the sound of carriage wheels on gravel reached their ears. Elizabeth’s heart sank—they were out of time. Miss Darcy and Mamma had returned from Lambton.
They quickened their pace, arriving at the front steps just as the carriage came to a stop. Mamma emerged, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh, Lizzy, we had a wonderful time.” She turned to Mr. Darcy and said brusquely, “Thank you for the lovely day, Mr. Darcy.” To Elizabeth’s surprise, she said no more.
“Of course, Mrs. Bennet. It was my pleasure,” Mr. Darcy told her.
As he helped Miss Darcy down from the carriage, Elizabeth could not help but wonder at her mother’s shortness with Mr. Darcy when she had been so effusive with him ever since his arrival. While she was still warm towards his sister, Mamma was now a little nervous, her eyes darting towards Mr. Darcy with a tremulous anxiety Elizabeth had not seen since before she inherited Hollydale.
“I hope,” Mamma said, her voice slightly higher than usual, “you do not mind that we indulged in a few more purchases than we originally intended. Your sister has such refined taste.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Darcy raised his eyebrows at his sister. “I am pleased you both enjoyed yourselves.”
“I did,” Miss Darcy said, aglow with her contentment. Elizabeth supposed that shopping for books and bonnets was far more congenial than lessons in mathematics and history, but there were things more important than accomplishments. The girl was blossoming under Mamma’s care, and Elizabeth idly wondered what it might have been like to have been raised by this version of her mother.
She hated the entail even more now she better understood what it had cost her family, her mother most of all.
As they all made their way into the house, Elizabeth hung back, her mind awhirl with the missing candlesticks, the Sykes boys, her mother’s sudden anxiety around Mr. Darcy—it was all mixed together, pieces of a puzzle she could not fit together.
Well, their investigation was not over. And as Elizabeth looked over at Mr. Darcy, currently engaged in listening to his sister’s blithe chatter as Freedman brought in numerous boxes and parcels, she was sure he felt the same. Whatever was happening at Hollydale, they would figure it out together.
Chapter Thirteen
An air of unease settled upon Hollydale over the next few days. They had no further word on the cache—no one appeared to have approached it since the candlesticks made their appearance. The men from Pemberley continued to work with Thatcher and Freedman to secure the house. But even more worryingly, Mamma’s typically effusive chatter had been replaced by an uncharacteristic reserve, particularly when addressing Mr. Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mamma said, her expression tight and her voice still unnaturally high, as it was whenever she addressed him now, “I trust you slept well?”
“I did, thank you.” His reply was gentle, as though he was speaking to an injured animal.
So he had noticed it too. Of course he had, he was a very observant man.
Elizabeth watched as her mother focused her attention on buttering her toast.
Miss Darcy attempted to bridge the gap. “Mrs. Bennet, might we look at those fabric samples for the new curtains this morning?”
“Yes, of course, my dear,” Mamma replied, her demeanour warming. “After breakfast, shall we?”
“Georgiana,” Mr. Darcy said, “did you not refurbish your chambers just last year?”
Miss Darcy reached for her teacup. “Yes, but I liked the curtains then, and did not replace them.”
“And you do not like them now?”
“I saw a few fabrics I liked better, that is all.”
