Page 25 of Conundrums & Coincidences

At least those two are still alive…or were as of last night. Who knows what this day will bring. Elizabeth scolded herself for treating a serious matter with unbecoming levity.

Earlier that morning, Rachel had brought her a steaming cup of chocolate flavoured with cinnamon. “To begin your day in a positive way, Miss Bennet.” The maid had come also with a summons from Mr Monroe, and she emphasised that it was not to be taken lightly. “Each and every beneficiary is to arrive in the breakfast room at precisely a quarter to ten this morning. No exceptions, Mr Monroe said. Even if one is indisposed or has important business to attend. Those were his exact words, miss.”

At the foot of the stairs, Elizabeth noticed Alfred was not at his usual post in the corner between the front door and the parlour. His brother was there instead. Glancing at the vestibule’s tall pendulum clock, she saw it was yet early and decided to go for a short stroll in the gardens. She knew from their days together at Netherfield that, like her, Mr Darcy was an early riser.

“Miss Bennet, good morning to you!” It was not Mr Darcy but Mr Hadley. “I have just come from wandering in the great hall. Seeing you now, I remember my promise to show you the portraits of Biscuit on display in the gallery. Would you care to do so while we await breakfast?” He crooked his elbow.

Beyond the windows, a clear sky beckoned. Turning her back on sunshine, verdure, and the possibility of encountering Mr Darcy, Elizabeth nodded her agreement.

They spent half an hour viewing oil paintings in a gallery rich in specimens of plant life, floral arrangements, fruit, and Biscuits. Lots and lots of Biscuits! Elizabeth admitted the Pomeranian had an agreeable face. To be polite, she enquired about the dog’s temperament.

“Good old Biscuit. Thereby hangs a tale, no pun intended,” said Mr Hadley, pointing to a painting. He then addressed the subject with his usual enthusiasm, telling of the dog’s misdeeds and ending with, “He was playful, intelligent, sociable, and affectionate. Most of all he just wanted attention, pats, and belly rubs. Miss Armstrong doted on the rapscallion and spoilt him terribly. He was her only family, you see. She had no one else.”

Elizabeth’s eyes welled up at such a melancholy thought. “But she had you…as well as Miss Kensett and Mr Fordham, did she not?”

The question seemed to have made Mr Hadley uncomfortable. As they walked on, his countenance took on an unusual solemnity. “I came here frequently and often saw Mr Fordham lurking about the place. I was told he had offered to have Miss Armstrong’s belongings—particularly the heirlooms—inventoried and valued for her. Apparently, he is an antiques collector himself and somewhat of an expert in the field.”

If Mr Fordham is spying on us through the peep-hole, so be it. These walls have eyes and ears, and listeners never hear any good of themselves.

“And what of Miss Kensett?”

“In all the many visits I made here since that day in Cheapside, I encountered Miss Kensett only the once. Other than that, Miss Armstrong never even mentioned her—though she did speak of the lady’s grandmother a couple of times.”

The gross duplicity of that woman! Leading us to believe she was such a good friend to the elderly lady. “I am very glad Miss Armstrong had your pleasant and frequent company, Mr Hadley.”

A lingering feeling of melancholy left Elizabeth no peace, and she belittled her own contribution to the late Miss Armstrong’s well-being. “I am undeserving of inclusion in this competition, sir. I spent but minutes in her presence.”

“But it was you who saved her from injury or worse! You are the most deserving of us all.”

“You are too kind, sir.”

They spent awhile longer in the great hall, admiring the old tapestries and sharing their thoughts about the revelries that might have been held there in olden times.

Standing then in the vestibule, Elizabeth said, “I understand your progress in this tournament was hindered by the disappearance of a certain vase. I hope that impediment has been rectified.”

“It has, indeed! Mr Monroe keeps a master list of all our puzzles, and he was able to duplicate the missing one for me.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I probably should not disclose this, but I have made remarkable headway since that setback.”

“You should not have mentioned that to one of your opponents, and you would do well to remember that in future. Now, I shall have to double my own efforts.” Elizabeth smiled fondly at him.

But what am I to do with a poser that says only ‘Hearts shall weave’? There is no loom here at Oakwood. Is there?

Christopher cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, Miss Bennet, Mr Hadley, but the others are gathering in the breakfast room now.”

As it had been each day, a large table laden with food had been placed in front of the breakfast room’s crackling fire, and Christoper stood at the ready to toast muffins over the grate. In pretty pots, honey and preserves sat waiting to be spread upon warm, freshly baked bread or rolls. Guests helped themselves to a selection of fruit, eggs, meat, fowl, and fish; and on the set table there was tea, coffee, chocolate, and even a pitcher of ale.

It was, however, the first occasion since their arrival that everyone was gathered for breakfast at the same time. With one exception. Mr Darcy had not come down.

Mr Monroe waited for him, rather impatiently in Elizabeth’s opinion, until ten o’clock. “This is most irregular and unacceptable.”

Elizabeth silently agreed it was irregular. Mr Darcy was never late. Anything like a breach of punctuality was, to him, a great offence. At Netherfield, at Rosings, and there at Oakwood, he had always arrived at least fifteen minutes prior to dinner being served.

“Christopher, go and find your brother. He was assigned to act as Mr Darcy’s valet this morning.” As the footman hied from the room, the attorney frowned. “I trust everyone here is capable of toasting their own muffins in the interim.”

In less than a quarter of an hour, Christopher returned. “Alfred reports that the gentleman is unwell, sir. My brother tried to rouse him hours ago in order to deliver your summons, but Mr Darcy mumbled something incoherent and went back to sleep. Earlier than that, one of the chambermaids went in to light the fire in his room. She said he was drowsy then and stirring restlessly.”

Mr Monroe rang for the housekeeper and charged Mrs Vincent with ensuring Mr Darcy received the very best care. “Do not hesitate to summon a physician if such is deemed necessary.”

Although not prone to irrational fear, Elizabeth could not but be concerned. Mr Darcy always seemed so robust.