Willow Hall Romance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Series Page 4

  “What are you doing?” Lucy had crossed the room when he had begun to open her bag and now she snatched it from him.

  “Read my message, my dear.” He smiled wickedly at her as he tugged the bag out of her hands. “I would like to have my answer now, but since you will not obey me and read that letter as a good girl should, I will be forced to wait until tomorrow.” He pulled the book of poetry from the bag and opening it, tore out one page. “Disobedience must be punished. This was your mother’s book, was it not?”

  “How did you know?”

  He smiled that wicked grin again. “There is much you would be surprised that I know.” He tucked the torn page into her bag and the book into his coat. “One page every hour until I have my answer, Lucy. And if you speak of the contents of that letter to anyone. I will consign the entire book to the flames and that will merely be the beginning of your punishment.” He gave a bow and slipped out the door.

  Shaking, Lucy sat on the bed and took out the letter.

  I have two “requests” to make of you, my dear niece.

  First, I have need of your mother’s necklace — the one with the golden leaves. Leave it at her grave.

  Second, I have need of the living which your betrothed now has. A friend is in need of an income. Please do persuade your parson that he should seek another position. It would do me great pain to have to make your soiled state known to the public, but I will if need be.

  Ah, you are wondering at how I know of these things? I have in my possession a certain garment of yours which is worn close to the body. I believe you left it as a token of your affection the last time you visited your lover. And if I believe it, so will others.

  Convince him, and you shall be married as planned.

  There are yet two reading of the banns, are there not?

  Lucy let the letter fall into her lap as she pulled out the torn page and read some of what was written there.

  Farewell, farewell! but this I tell

  To thee, thou wedding guest!

  He prayeth well who loveth well

  Both man and bird and beast.

  He prayeth best who loveth best,

  All things both great and small:

  For the dear God, who loveth us,

  He made and loveth all.

  The Marinere, whose eye is bright,

  Whose beard with age is hoar,

  Is gone; and now the wedding-guest

  Turn’d from the bridegroom’s door.

  He went, like one that hath been stunn’d

  And is of sense forlorn:

  A sadder and a wiser man

  He rose the morrow morn.[2]

  Lucy folded the poem with great care and tucked it between her clothing. Then, she went to the wardrobe and took out another chemise. She ran her fingers over the delicate flowers she had embroidered on the neckline before tucking the garment into her bag. Her mother had taught her to do that stitch and had insisted that every undergarment have at least one flower on it. For, her mother had explained. “A secret bit of beauty, hidden away such as this, has the ability to make the wearer feel that beauty and carry herself with grace and poise.” And Lucy had obeyed. Every chemise and every petticoat was adorned with those flowers. It would be a telltale sign that the chemise her uncle had stolen was hers. She snatched the letter from the bed, crumpling it and placing it between the wood in the fireplace, so that it might be burned when the next fire was lit.

  She returned to the wardrobe and took out a handkerchief. She placed it on the bed and slipped the necklace from around her neck. She folded the cloth around the necklace and, taking a ribbon, tied it securely.

  “Sarah,” she called from her doorway and waited for the maid to come to her. “I need you to do something for me today.” She placed the necklace in Sarah’s hand. “This must be left at my mother’s grave as soon as can be. It is something I had promised to lend a friend, and my friend will be looking for it.” She bit her lip. The falsehood hung in the air, taunting her, tempting her to snatch it back and correct her words, but with her mother’s book in her uncle’s possession, along with her chemise, she dared not speak the truth.

  “Today? At your mother’s grave?” asked Sarah.

  “Yes, immediately, if you would.”

  Sarah’s brows drew together slightly as if she questioned such an unusual request, but she obediently bobbed her head and left with the necklace.

  Lucy looked around the room. She did not know what she intended to do about the living, but she hoped that the necklace would provide her with some time to consider it.

  “Are you ready?”

  Lucy jumped at her aunt’s words. Her hand flew to her throat, and she gasped.

  “Are you well?” asked Aunt Tess, coming to her side. “You do look a bit pale.”

  “I am well.” Lucy smiled at her aunt. “I was merely running through a list in my mind and did not hear you approach.”

  Aunt Tess raised a brow in disbelief and placed an arm around Lucy’s shoulders, then quickly pressed the back of her hand against first Lucy’s cheek and then her forehead. “You are shaking. Come. We must get you to Pemberley and see if Mrs. Reynolds will be so kind as have the cook make you some broth.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You never admit to being unwell until it is far too late. This time, you shall be made well before your body had determined it is indeed ill.”

  “I am well,” insisted Lucy. “I find today to be a bit cool and with no fire in the grate, I must shiver to stay warm.”

  “You shall still have broth, tea, and toast and retire early,” said her aunt. “I shall not see you ill due to a chill.”

  Lucy sighed. There was no way to convince her aunt of her good health other than to tell her of the letter, and that was not something she was prepared to do just yet. Perhaps after she had had some time to consider what could be done, then she would tell her aunt. And so she allowed her aunt to bundle her in an extra wrap and lead her from the room. It could not be helped; she would just have to allow her aunt to care for her as if she had taken a chill.

  * * *

  (from THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE, IN SEVEN PARTS, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge) ↵

  (Also from THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE, IN SEVEN PARTS, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge) ↵

  Chapter 6

  Philip and Darcy remained for a time in the sitting room after the ladies and Mr. Harker had left Willow Hall. Darcy drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair and stared into the fire while Philip paced the room.

  Finally, Philip broke the silence. “She was not well. Something is amiss.”

  Darcy nodded. He, too, had noted the paleness of Lucy’s complexion and the way her eyes had not once sought his or Philips. It was unlike her, but then she had been quite unlike herself ever since she had heard of Wickham’s seeking the living. To be honest, after listening to the tale her aunt told yesterday and added to today, he did not fault her for her fear. How any man, let alone one who is a close relative, could treat a young girl so contemptibly was beyond him! “This business with her uncle is very unsettling.”

  Philip dropped into the chair across from his friend. “That it is, but I cannot help feeling as if there is something more.” He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “She was not so distressed earlier when we arrived for the ladies to collect their things.”

  Again, Darcy nodded his agreement. “Abandoning your home because you fear for your safety while in it is naturally distressing.”

  Philip sighed and lapsed into silence. He could not imagine fearing for his safety within his own home. And he knew that for Lucy the fear lived in more than the imagining of a wary woman. She was not prone to fits of nerves. No, this fear got its breath and strength from the fact that her safety had been compromised in her very home by her relation all those years ago. He sat up suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “Darcy? How did her uncle enter her house undetected? Surely, he did not enter through the front door.”

&
nbsp; “The servant’s entry? A window?”

  Philip was on his feet once again. “We shall have to post a man at the servant’s door.”

  “One of mine,” said Darcy. “They are loyal to me. As much as I do not like to think it, there could be a servant here who might be easily persuaded to assist Tolson. I do not know Lucy’s staff as I know my own.”

  Philip nodded. “I should like to see to the locking of all the windows myself. Do you care to accompany me?”

  Darcy stood and straightened his coat. “As soon as I appoint someone to watch the servant’s entry and perhaps another to stand guard in the hall. There is nothing to stop someone from unlocking a window after we have secured it.”

  “The upstair’s hall should also have a man stationed in it.”

  It was a suggestion with which Darcy agreed, and stepping into the hall, he found one of his men. Quickly, he gave the man his whispered instructions, charging him to be vigilant and to speak to no one of his duty save the other men of Darcy’s household. Then, he joined Philip, who had already begun checking all the locks on the windows in the common rooms.

  When Philip was assured that all was secure on that level, he and Darcy began to check the windows in the family rooms.

  “The home is in good repair,” commented Darcy as they progressed through the rooms. “I hope it remains so, but I have my doubts it will.”

  “Tolson will remove anything of value,” agreed Philip. “And he will be reluctant to put monies into repairs and improvements.”

  Darcy paused at a window that looked out over the land attached to Willow Hall. “If only there were a way to save an estate as fine as this from such a fate.”

  “That, my friend,” said Philip, “is beyond what we can do. The property passes to Tolson, and he can do as he sees fit with it. I suspect that if it does not bring him the income from rent that he wishes, he may sell it. It is not entailed.”

  “Normally, I am not in favour of estates being sold,” said Darcy as they entered Lucy’s room, “but in this case, I would not only support such an action, but it would also be something for which I would advocate.” A maid slipped past him with a mumbled apology. From the smudges of soot on her apron and the bucket she carried, he knew that she had been cleaning the grate. “It seems as if the maid has left something behind.” He stooped down near the fireplace and picked up a crumpled piece of paper.

  “Is it of importance?” asked Philip coming from the window to stand near Darcy.

  “I do not know.” Darcy began the work of unfolding the twisted paper. “It appears to be a letter.” He laid it on the table next to the bed and smoothed the creases as best he could before lifting it to read. He jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he read. “She was not just distressed over leaving her home.” He handed the letter to Philip.

  It took Philip only a moment to read what was written on the paper, but it took him an additional moment along with a second perusal of the missive before he could speak. “He was here?” Although Philip had read the letter twice, he was, due to the incredulity of the contents, struggling to grasp its meaning. “While we waited below?”

  Darcy shrugged. “He may have had someone deliver the letter. Its presence does not equate to his presence.”

  “Surely, she will not do as he has requested.” Philip’s eyes scanned the letter again. “How does he have her clothing if he was not here?” he demanded.

  “I do not know.” He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “However, we must not act on presumptions alone. We must first question the staff, and then we must decide how to proceed.”

  Philip nodded mutely and folded the letter. He looked around the room, her room. It was no wonder she had been distraught. The contents of the letter alone were enough to rattle the nerves, but if he had been here … Philip shook his head to rid it of the sadness he felt at imagining her fear.

  “Come,” said Darcy. “She is safe, and we have one more room with windows to secure before we can begin our investigation.”

  ~*~*~

  An hour and a half later, Darcy swirled his tea in his cup, watching it rise around the sides and dip in the center. The motion resembled what his mind was doing. He and Philip had questioned every servant; the only one to have seen Tolson was one maid. It was the same maid who had delivered the letter to Lucy, but she had only seen him at the door. She had not seen him enter the house.

  It had made little sense how a man could enter a house full of people without being seen. But then, the cook had mentioned how her mother had told her about a secret door near in the pantry. According to Cook, the door had been boarded up after a particular incident when the younger Mr. Tolson, Lucy’s uncle, had been caught hosting a card game in the cellar. He was supposed to have been too ill to accompany his father on business that day and had taken to his room. No one had seen him leave the house, but when his father had gone to look in on him after returning from his business, the room was empty. A search was conducted, and the game was discovered.

  And after an examination of the pantry, the door was once again securely nailed closed.

  Darcy swirled his tea once more and then drank it. “Do you know what arrangements have been made for the leasing of this place?” Darcy had a very good idea of what the estate would be able to produce if well-tended.

  “There is a gentleman named Abbot, who has leased it from Tolson. He has a family ─ wife, two boys, one is just an infant, I understand. Lucy is to have the house ready to receive him in three weeks time. She said that he seems a respectable sort of fellow, but I have no knowledge of what the financial arrangements are.” Philip placed his cup on the table and leaned back in his chair. Darcy’s brows were furrowed and his lips pursed slightly. “What are you planning?”

  “If I knew what Tolson was to gain from the arrangement, I might be able to make him an offer that would be more advantageous, and his ties to the area would be lessened.”

  Philip’s brows rose. “Purchase Willow Hall?”

  Darcy tipped his head to the side as he shrugged one shoulder. “It would be a valuable investment if managed properly, and it would be a good inheritance for a second son.” He sighed. “While such an arrangement might satisfy the financial needs of Tolson, I am at a loss as how to deal with Wickham. I have already given him money in lieu of the living. If I give him more, it will start a never-ending cycle of his coming to me with his hand out.”

  “Of course, if you do not appease him, he will continue his attacks on your character.”

  Darcy nodded. “Of that, I am fully aware, but I believe the reprobate nature of his living shall soon deplete his credibility. Attacks on me, I can tolerate to some extent. Attacks on my friends, I cannot.” He stood. “Would you care to ride? I would like to take a look at a bit of the land before I plan my offer.”

  Philip followed Darcy toward the door. “So you are going to do it? Buy Willow Hall?”

  “If possible, yes.” He turned to Philip. “It would be an excellent wedding gift for Miss Tolson to be free of her uncle, and for you, to see the woman you love more at ease.”

  Philip’s brows drew together. “Lucy would be grateful to be rid of her uncle. It is, after all, the reason we are marrying. It is a matter of convenience, nothing more. She needed an escape, and I needed a capable wife.”

  Darcy chuckled. “So, you would allow me to marry her instead? I could just as easily keep her from her uncle. She is a gentleman’s daughter, and I, like you, am a gentleman’s son, so there is no inequality of rank. Her portion is adequate, and she has proven herself very capable of managing an estate. And, I do need a wife.”

  “Do not be absurd, Darcy,” Philip said with some force. An uncomfortable panic began fluttering about in his chest. The thought of losing her to anyone, even a friend as good as Darcy, was surprisingly unsettling. “She and I are already betrothed,” he reasoned, “To break a betrothal now would create a stir.”

  “I could take her to town until the gossi
p settled.” Darcy folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door, watching the expression of his friend, which confirmed what he already suspected.

  Philip pulled in a deep breath through his nose. An unusual desire to hit Darcy caused his hand to clench as tightly as his jaw was.

  “Put yourself at ease, Dobney. I have no intention of offering for Miss Tolson. I dare say I would not succeed anyway. She seems rather fond of you.” He pushed himself off the door and opened it, motioning for his friend to exit before him.

  Philip pondered his response to Darcy’s jesting about offering for Lucy. What had taken grip of his heart? He was not given to violence or even aggression unless absolutely necessary, such as when his sister had been taunted. He may be of a peaceful bent but not when those he loved were in harm’s way. He stopped abruptly in the hall causing Darcy to nearly run into him. “I…” he began, shock suffusing his face, “I love her.”

  Darcy clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. Now, shall we ride?”

  Chapter 7

  Darcy and Philip drew their horses to a stop as they neared the end of Willow Halls property that was nearest to the village of Kympton and abutted Philip’s father’s estate. Darcy had been pleased with what he had seen. Purchasing Willow Hall would not be a hardship. The fields were well tended, the pasture land, plentiful for a small flock, and the few fences were in good repair, save for one that Philip knew Lucy had said was to be fixed.

  “You say Mr. Callow has been helping Miss Tolson with the management of the estate?” Darcy turned his horse to look back toward Willow Hall.