CHAPTERFOURTEEN
MORE THAN STONES & MORTAR
Darcy paced the hall, stopping at every pass of the doors to check for the return of his carriage. He generally had more presence of mind, but that was precisely what Elizabeth had robbed him of almost from the first moment of their acquaintance. It was one of the reasons his feelings for her had alarmed him so at first, for never, before he met her, had he felt paralysed with despair or drunk with desire, nor any of the other emotions she mercilessly wrung from him. Pacing was a meagre frailty in comparison to some of the others to which she had driven him.
At last, he heard horses’ hooves and the rattle of traces and made his way outside, heart racing absurdly in anticipation. It seemed to take an inordinately long time for the carriage to come to a halt, the door to be opened, and the steps folded down. All the while, he could see Elizabeth’s anxious glances.
“Good morning,” he said, handing her down. “You are looking for my sister, I think?”
“Yes. She sent me a note—and a carriage!—inviting me to drink tea with her.”
“And pray be assured, she is greatly anticipating your call. I had only to mention the idea and she wrote the invitation directly.”
She started. “Yousent the carriage?”
“I did. And I beg you would allow me to steal a moment of your time before I take you to Georgiana, for there is something important I would say to you first.”
He regretted phrasing it thus when Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm. It was a sobering sight. Despite having forgiven enough of his past offences to resume the acquaintance, despite the electrifying moment that passed between them after last night’s dinner, Elizabeth was clearly not ready to receive a renewal of his addresses. He felt a stab of disappointment, though no surprise. The impression of him that he carelessly allowed her to form in Hertfordshire would have been difficult enough to undo; it was inevitable that it would take longer to atone for the insults, personal and unfeeling, that he thoughtlessly directed at her in Kent.
And now he must correct another slight, layered atop all the others last night through no fault of his own for once. With a gesture, he asked her to walk with him and led her away from the front door and onto the path that ran parallel to the front of the house towards the east wing.
“It has come to my attention that you were spoken to somewhat brusquely last night by my butler.” Relief and confusion warred with each other on Elizabeth’s countenance, giving her a charming appearance of innocence. “In the library.”
Embarrassment instantly eclipsed all her other sentiments. “I beg you would forgive me, sir. Some of the other ladies wished to explore the house, and—”
“There is absolutely nothing for you to apologise for,” he interrupted. “I know what happened. Bingley overheard his sisters discussing the matter after you left. It seems Miss Bingley…took steps not to be discovered.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I suspected as much, though I could not conceive of a reason why she should.”
“Because she knew neither of you were supposed to be in there. Which brings me to the reason I wished to speak to you.” They had turned the corner of the building, and he directed her off the path and out onto the lawn. Partly to avoid the gaggle of labourers standing with a glum-faced Ferguson beneath a library window. Partly because the stark black scar in the wall could be better seen from farther away. He knew the moment Elizabeth saw it, for she let out a soft gasp.
“That crack appeared last month,” he explained. “It is what brought me home early. My steward and I met with an architect on Monday to discuss it.”
“Can it be repaired?”
“It is too early to tell. Work is due to begin on Monday to try and determine the cause. For now, I have ordered this entire wing of the house closed off.”
Comprehension dawned on Elizabeth’s face, vindicating Darcy’s decision to bring her here, for she evidentlyhadbeen distressed by her unceremonious eviction.
“I wished for you to see for yourself, so you would understand the urgency with which Matthis ejected you from the library. It is not safe—or rather, it is potentially unsafe. But I would have you know, youmustknow, you are welcome in every part of Pemberley. Especially the library.”
“Thank you,” she said after a long pause. He knew not whether it was embarrassment or some other emotion over which she stumbled; it was gone before he could place it. “I did not see much of it in the dark,” she said more brightly, “but what I could make out was very impressive indeed. You told me once it was the work of generations, but I still had not imagined anything quite so extraordinary.”
“I hope to show you in daylight as soon as the site is secured. Though I have no idea when that will be.” Quite a while if Ferguson’s present fretting was any indication.
“What will the work involve?”
“Inside, they must assess the state of all the roof and floor timbers and remove some of the plaster from the walls to establish the integrity of the window lintels. Out here, trenches will be dug to expose the foundations and establish whether they are compromised. I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, would you excuse me for just a moment. I must have a quick word with my steward.”
He hated to abandon her, but Ferguson had progressed from shaking his head to glancing his way every few seconds with an expression that made it clear he wished to interrupt. Elizabeth assured him she did not mind, and Darcy strode to the foot of the wall. “What is it?”
“Another crack, sir,” Ferguson replied without preamble, and set off immediately towards the rear of the house.
Darcy followed, not a little alarmed that a second fault should have appeared so far from the first. He was obliged to peer closely to see what was causing Ferguson such consternation, but when his eyes found it, his stomach sank. Unlike the first crack, which had arced up the wall with such devastating force that a dozen or more of the heavy stone blocks of which Pemberley was built had been cleaved in two, this one zig-zagged more innocuously between the stones. There were places where mortar was crumbling out of the wall, however, preventing anyone from mistaking it for superficial.
“It might not be new. It could very well have been here for as long as the other one,” Ferguson went on. “’Tis difficult to see, what with ashlar mortar joints being so thin.”
That did not account for all the head shaking. “But?”
