He grasped her more tenderly this time, taking exquisite care of her as he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her hair. “I suppose I should take greater care with you in your condition. We would not wish to cause harm to the babe.”
“No, we would not,” said Elizabeth, drawing back from him again. “Please remember that I am not made of fine china. It will be some time before the presence of the babe will be detectable to our family; I am still capable of everything I could do before.”
“Trust me, Elizabeth,” replied her wry husband, “I know enough of your spirit to understand you would not appreciate me trying to protect you in layers of fine cotton.”
“So long as you remember, I shall be content.”
NOTHING COULD BE SOgreat a blessing as to learn that he would become a father. Unlike Elizabeth, Darcy was bursting with the desire to inform everyone of his good fortune. Elizabeth’s admonition about speaking of the matter when it was yet uncertain stayed his hand, so Darcy kept silent, though not with any grace. Soon, however, he discovered thatboth their mothers knew, and each, seeing his sudden joy, congratulated him with understated words of pleasure. In time, Darcy considered it a secret shared with only his wife and their mothers, and his desire to trumpet it from the housetops diminished. Somehow, the notion that it was a secret others would learn in due time made it all that much more precious.
It is the desire of every man with a wife, and especially when he learns he is to become a father, to wish to protect his family with every ounce of his strength, and Darcy was no different. The physical needs of his family were assured with his inheritance of Pemberley and were not in doubt even before. The one blemish on Darcy’s ability to protect his family was the situation with their London intruder. Though perhaps that situation was not directed at Darcy and Elizabeth, and was instead focused on Georgiana, the notion brought no comfort, for Darcy was determined to protect her the same as he would his wife and children.
The knowledge of his impending fatherhood drove his thoughts to further consideration about what had forced them from London, and soon Darcy thought there was something they were all missing. Nothing was clear in his mind, the mists of uncertainty clouding his vision, but soon he reflected on other options than a criminal wishing to steal Georgiana’s dowry or hold her for ransom. In time, another idea made itself known, such that he brought the subject to Fitzwilliam’s attention.
“Tell me, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy that day after he invited his friend into his study for a serious conversation, “what do you think of this business in London now that we have left it behind?”
“I am not certain wehaveleft it behind,” confessed Fitzwilliam. “If those responsible are determined enough, they may even dare to follow us here, though intrusion into Pemberley will be far more difficult than in London.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Darcy. “There is one thing of which I am yet uncertain—the entail on Pemberley.”
Fitzwilliam leaned forward, regarding him with open curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I was aware of the entail, of course, as I was the heir. According to your father, however, it was not at all known in society.”
“That is because the Darcy family desires privacy.” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Not even most of the nobility guard their privacy with such jealousy as the Darcys.”
“Exactly. That means that anyone who meant the family harm would not know that the property was to pass to me should something happen to my cousin.”
Fitzwilliam frowned. “You are suggesting something darker, Darcy.”
“I suggest nothing. Yet it strikes me that there may be more to this than someone attempting to profit by spiriting Georgiana away. Was there anything strange about Jameson’s death?”
“Not that I can recall,” said Fitzwilliam after a moment’s thought. “Darcy had mounted his horse to ride out to a tenant farm, from what I understand. Gentlemen do not ride their estates so much in the winter, yet at times it is necessary.”
“That it is,” agreed Darcy.
“Darcy rode a short distance from the house,” continued Fitzwilliam. “A little later, the horse bolted back to the stables. The hands searched for their master and found him soon after. There was little snow on the ground, but they suspected a fox or some other wildlife had startled the horse.”
Darcy frowned. “From what I understand, my cousin was an excellent horseman. Would such a man be so easily thrown?”
Fitzwilliam spread his arms out wide. “I cannot say, Darcy. Even the best among us might be caught off guard by an unexpected fright.”
“Did you inspect the horse, the saddle, or anything else?”
“I did not,” said Fitzwilliam. “By the time I arrived, Georgiana was inconsolable with grief, and I had other matters to concern myself.” Fitzwilliam eyed him. “This is troubling, Darcy. What you are suggesting is beyond a plot to gain ransom—you are suggesting nothing less than murder.”
“I know I am,” said Darcy.
“What has led you to it?”
“I scarcely know,” confessed Darcy. “The matter of the entail has been growing on my mind. If no one knew the estate would devolve to me, might my cousin’s death have resulted from an attempt to gain control over it?”
“Through Georgiana,” said Fitzwilliam, his eyes widening. “Darcy has no other close family remaining. You were his closest cousin, though there are several others more distant—most of those he did not even know. Had Darcy the choice, he would have left the estate to Georgiana. She would have needed to choose a man willing to assume the Darcy name, but it would have kept the estate in the family.”
“Which would give a man looking to gain an estate by clandestine means a motive.”
Darcy peered at the other man, who was deep in thought. “The question is who? Is there anyone you suppose might attempt such a thing?”
“There is one man who may be audacious enough to suppose he might succeed at such a scheme.” Fitzwilliam’s face was stony. “Before we discuss this any further, we must investigate. Have you considered the possibility that you might be a target should your conjecture be true?”
