“No, thank you, Huxley. Doubtless, I am keeping everyone from their beds to no purpose.” An apologetic glance took in the cold hearth, and the candle burnt nearly to its base. “You may retire. I fear answers lie not within my father’s meticulous ledgers in any case.”
The butler cleared his throat delicately. “One further possibility occurred to me. Will you permit me, sir?” At my bemused nod, Huxley moved to kneel stiffly beside a little-used shelf tucked beneath the side window. I watched curiously as he stretched to extract a slender, leather-bound volume tucked behind its dusty fellows.
“Your father often made temporary notes or scribblings in this before transcribing them into more official estate records.” He extended it almost shyly toward me. “Perhaps within...”
I accepted the offering eagerly, moving nearer the guttering candle flame. “Let us hope you are inspired indeed! Though I shall be astonished if Father departed from lifelong habits of discretion even in an unofficial capacity.”
I ran my fingers almost reverently down the worn brown leather, strangely reluctant to slip the leather binding from its keeper. But as I cautiously opened to the middle pages, hastily dashed lines arrested my attention, though ink and paper had moldered almost indecipherable together.
Heart suddenly stuttering, I grasped the corner under our lone flickering light, straining to interpret cramped script belying shaking fingers. “...regarding the property designated for...” I squinted fruitlessly, then snatched up the candle itself, heedless of hot wax now dribbling unnoticed over my wrist. “Miss Smith… Southgate Park… to be signed over on...”
I clenched my jaw, willing ink long deteriorated into muddy obscurity to render up precious secrets. But apart from place names, my rushlight could not resurrect; no further revelations emerged from the damaged journal entry. With a stifled oath, I slammed it back onto the shelf, knocking loose a cascade of dust.
“There was an inheritance meant for Elizabeth?” My stunned demand seemed to echo in the midnight stillness. “Here—in Lambton!” I resumed my restless prowling gaze, once more seeking futilely toward the distant village. “But why? By whom?” I spun back to face Huxley, struck by a sudden realization. “You clearly knew what this volume was. Has it been handled or disturbed lately? Could my father have extracted any pages before his death?”
The butler spread his hands regretfully. “I sincerely wish I had more to divulge, Master Fitzwilliam. Your father’s affairs were ever his own.”
I resumed my agitated pacing, pausing as a new thought struck. “But you recollect the day Miss Elizabeth departed all those years ago. George and I were out—by Father’s design, I am certain. What do you recall of that day?”
Huxley’s brow furrowed pensively. “The maids were all in a state, weeping copiously. When I inquired after the cause, they told me Miss Smith was being sent away. I remember...” He hesitated, then continued delicately, “I chanced to observe your father escorting the young miss outside. He held a large portfolio, and the footmen carried a small trunk to his carriage. And his face was very grave.”
My heart sank like a stone. So, there had been documentation exchanged with Mr. Gardiner then. Likely the same mysterious estate arrangements disclosed here. Father would have given Gardiner everything, leaving no more for me to find. Defeated, I waved a hand toward the door.
“Thank you, Huxley, you have been most helpful. I apologize for keeping you so late over ancient history best left buried.” I attempted a rueful quirk of my lips. “We must both look to the future now. Perhaps time will reveal whatever must be known.”
He bowed acquiescence. But in the darkened doorway, Huxley paused, eyes glinting oddly. “If you will permit me, sir… have you spoken with Lord Matlock? Your father often confided in his brother-in-law about business affairs.”
“I have already done so, but I will do so again, and soon. Good night, Huxley.”
ImarchedthroughMatlockEstate’s wide front doors and asked a footman to announce me to my uncle. Scarcely five minutes passed before Lord Matlock himself emerged, looking vaguely perplexed.
“Darcy! We did not expect you this morning.” He cast an experienced soldier’s eye over my hastily donned riding attire. “Has something arisen needing my attention?”
I waved aside his solicitous inquiry. “Forgive the early call. I had a… well, it is probably not important, but I had a question for you, and I fancied a brisk ride this morning. But I see I have come at a bad time.” Through the open front door, I noticed several carriages loaded for departure.
Lord Matlock followed my gaze. “Preparing for our excursion, yes. We are off to Dovedale for several days to permit Lord Belmont and the ladies to indulge in the area’s beauty, and Lord DeWinter has agreed to host us.” His smile faded swiftly. “I do not suppose your brother is with you? He promised to join us but seems to be lagging behind.”
My stomach dropped, but I summoned a polite smile. “Knowing George, he shall come flying up the drive in hot pursuit any moment. Some unexpected entertainment likely waylaid him. But please, do not let me delay your trip! I am sure George will provide lively company whenever he makes his entrance over the next few days.”
“Oh, do not go so quickly, Darcy! Why not join us? Your steward has everything in hand, and you could do with a bit of leisure.”
“Some other time, but I thank you. Uncle, forgive me for being impertinent, but have you ever heard of a property called Southgate Park? My father might, perhaps, have mentioned it?”
A mystified look crossed his face. “Never. Should I have? Confound it, where is that brother of yours? Belmont is looking impatient to be off.”
I grimaced, a leaden weight sinking through my stomach. If George could not make an appearance for a pleasure tour with Lady Lucilla’s family, what the devil was keeping him? I had a terrible suspicion. What was there to stop him from acting on the disastrous impulses I both feared and anticipated?
“I am sure he will catch you up on the road, Uncle. But perhaps I had better go and... supervise matters.” I took a hasty step backward even as Lord Matlock opened his mouth to inquire further. “Please convey my respects to Lord and Lady Belmont. I am eager to hear what they think of the land.”
With a vague promise to call again soon, I spun on my heel toward the door. But my uncle’s sharp command arrested me mid-stride.
“Darcy! I know well when trouble brews behind that façade of yours.” He stepped nearer and gripped my shoulder firmly. “What has you rattled, Nephew? This unease seems more than absent brothers or vague mill troubles.” His piercing stare demanded candor. “Has that chit Lizzy’s reappearance caused the sort of trouble you feared?”
I held myself rigidly aloof despite an inward flinch. “The lady cannot be blamed for any trouble, sir. But I begin to think certain waking dreams might lead somewhere they ought not.” I touched deferential fingers to my hat brim, subtly signaling the need for discretion. “Good day, Uncle. I shall... apprise you when I have clearer information.”
Without waiting for dismissal, I slipped out the closing door. Wheeling my mount’s head toward home, I touched spurs to his flanks. Never had negligent heart’s impulses carried graver consequences if my foreboding proved accurate. All depended now on how fast I could forestall catastrophe.
Iurgedmylatheredmount up Pemberley’s last rise, anxious to assure myself of no family carriages missing from the drive. If George had already set off in stealth for Farthingdale, there was no telling what pretty nonsense he might whisper into susceptible ears.
