Elizabeth’s return spared them from further banter, or a sharp retort from Balfour. As lively and amiable as he was, Balfour had no talent or inclination for serious study, public life, or the responsibilities of a great landowner. Utterson was no better, and he lacked even the amiable nature. Balfour and Utterson both had great inclination for expense and none for profession. The question if either of them were capable of theft or violence pressed uncomfortably, painfully, on Darcy’s mind, and he pushed it away.
As the other men rose to leave with Elizabeth, she said, giving him a tender look, “I suppose you have too much to do today, with organising watches and rebuilding bridges, to walk with me?”
She knew his answer even as she asked the question, but as she stood by the door, giving him a hopeful smile and looking into his eyes, Darcy was certain that Utterson was a fool. Elizabeth had more perfection of form, of expression, of intelligence than he had ever seen before. He was certain he saw the same longing in her expression that was at this moment cutting his heart to pieces.
“I am exceedingly sorry,” he said softly, “that my responsibilities must keep me from your company.”
“Do you need us?” Balfour asked, surprised. “I am not certain if I would be a good watchman, but I can help in the village again.”
Utterson had been walking to the door, but upon hearing this, he turned back and gave a little bow.
Darcy shook his head. “There are enough men in the village to take turns keeping watch for a few days. I shall take my own turn tonight or perhaps tomorrow. I insist that your time at Pemberley is your own from now on.”
“If you truly have no need for us,” Balfour said in a questioning way, and Darcy iterated that he did not, “and since Fitzwilliam shall be here in the evening to draw you out”—he turned to his friend—“Utterson,shall we go to Tissington to visit Lord Poole after we walk with Miss Bennet? My travelling coach ought to be shown off.”
Utterson agreed quickly. “It is only fifteen miles, and Poole is always eager for company.”
“Is the Honourable Miss Newcomen equally eager for company?” Balfour asked, with a sly smile. Utterson threw him a dark look, and Darcy was certain it was only Elizabeth’s blush that ended a more ribald line of discussion. “We might go this afternoon and shoot there tomorrow morning.” He turned to Darcy. “We could return on Sunday in time for dinner?”
Darcy nodded. “As you like.”
He felt an ache of loneliness closing in on seeing Elizabeth go. She cast him a lingering look as she left, and the hope of commanding her attention for five minutes struck him before the guilt that quickly followed.How can I think of securing a lovely woman when death, destruction, and possibly murder have happened to those under my protection?
“I suppose I was lucky you came home to eat,” Fitzwilliam said, jolting into his thoughts. “Otherwise, I might not have seen you today.” He gave him a serious look. “You look worn down by all you must do in the wake of this storm. The expense, the anxiety of it, the cares of the people who live here, it all must be very great.”
Darcy shifted his weight and looked away. “No, it is not so bad as that.” He rose quickly. “I must set up a watch in the village to deter looters, and then I must organise the burning and clearing of the rest of the debris, and then meet with my steward about how best to pay for... for simply everything.” He gave his cousin a smile. “I shall see you before I take first watch in Lambton, though. The house is yours, of course. I shall return?—”
“Stop, stop, Darcy,” his cousin said, rising and throwing aside his napkin. “Let me organise the men into shifts to guard the village. I am not in the army for nothing. You can take care of the rest.”
“There is nothing for you to do that I cannot do myself. All I ask of you is to keep the ladies company tonight whilst I am keeping watch—no great trial for you.” Darcy suspected Mrs Lanyon would be the recipient of most of his cousin’s good will and friendliness.
Fitzwilliam gave him a look as though he were stupid. “Do youthink I came here to play cards and drink your claret? Stop acting as though I was some noble guest you have to impress!”
Darcy quietly apologised, and his cousin’s angry glare softened. Fitzwilliam clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “Iam going to set up a night watch in the village whilst you meet with your steward and see to whatever else has to be done today. And I doubt that you will be needed to keep watch yourself.” He only let go of his shoulder when Darcy agreed. “Besides, if you had your way, you would go to bed at candlelight. I suspect you would fall asleep and whatever that is left of value in Lambton would be taken under your watch.”
“Thank you,” he said, meaning it more than he could say with two simple words.
“What has happened here, my dear Darcy?” Fitzwilliam asked quietly.
Darcy threw up his hands. “Only a season of wet, cold weather that nearly ruined every crop before a storm on Monday finished the job. I have hundreds of people affected who are afraid they will be evicted or will starve and who doubt I can afford to repair their homes and shops, and I share the same fears. Scarcely an hour passes in which an application of some kind or another does not arrive, and... and I wonder how I shall manage it all.”
His cousin crossed his arms and gave him a searching look. “You may be the sort to hide away every concern you feel—hell, maybeeverything you feel—but you cannot deceive someone who truly knows you. I am trying to decide if you look haunted or are merely exhausted.”
Darcy closed his eyes and saw Carew’s body in the water.
“I have much to tell you, but it shall have to wait. There is more to this storm than the loss of crops and most of my income. Now there is looting, a theft of silver from the house, and, although there is no conclusive proof or a witness, I fear a murder as well.” Fitzwilliam’s face drained of colour. “I do not know what is happening, but I think the plot thickens fast.”
Dinner that eveningwas a quiet affair of mostly family topics that Elizabeth had little to contribute to, and Mrs Lanyon left early, claiming a headache. Elizabeth spent the hour apart from the men coaxing Miss Darcy to talk with her, and had admirable success, and when the gentlemen came in, they all played cards. After another hour, Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Mrs Lanyon. Rather than finding her abed, she was reading.
“Forgive me for intruding,” Elizabeth said, a little embarrassed. “I thought you were feeling unwell and might need something.”
Mrs Lanyon turned pink; she set aside her book and invited her to sit. “I am better now. I stayed away because I thought the Darcy family might want an evening to themselves since Colonel Fitzwilliam is here.”
Elizabeth thought that this bore little resemblance to the colonel’s wishes, since he looked crushed when Mrs Lanyon left the table. “Then you might have let me into your plan,” she said, smiling. “If they want a family evening, I would only ruin their peace. May I stay for a while to let them enjoy their time alone?”
“Of course. How was your walk with Lewis and Mr Utterson?”
It had been pleasant more for the scenery than the company. The stream’s course ran through the secluded dale that surrounded Pemberley, and its banks bent through dark woods, imposing rocks, and slopes of sunny verdure. Despite what had happened to Darcy’s land, and the troubling crimes committed on it, Derbyshire was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.
