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Chapter 22

Pemberley

As William reached the bluff overlooking the valley where the great expanse of Pemberley lay, he pulled Onyx to a halt to allow Mr. Campbell time to come alongside him. Onyx, spirited as always, insisted on trotting ahead of the other horse. The mare that Mr. Campbell always chose to ride was old and slow, and William smiled, pondering the older gentleman’s fear of horses. He was fearless in regards to everything but horses.

In a short time, the Scotsman’s mount stopped beside William’s, and for a long while, neither man spoke as they watched the sun begin to sink behind the tree line. Soon the purple shadows would give way to complete darkness. Both men were well aware that they needed to leave this area as quickly as possible, in light of what they had just learned.

William’s day had begun before daylight with his steward, Mr. Sturgis, informing him of the particulars of the problems of a tenant who had lost his cow and calf the day before, both having been killed by a wild animal. The result was a family with four hungry children and no source of milk, butter, or cheese. William had instructed Sturgis to provide them a cow from Pemberley’s herd, thinking that that would settle the problem.

However, Sturgis was just beginning his explanation. He went on to say that while William was in London, they had lost several lambs near the same area in like manner and that he had asked the tenant not to butcher the cow until it could be examined by Mr. Campbell. Roy Campbell, a groom and excellent marksman, was the man on whom William relied to rid the estate of pests—usually packs of wild dogs—whenever any threatened the livestock.

Campbell had surprised William with his assertion that the likely culprit was a wolf. Wolves had been numerous in England two centuries before and a menace to the populace, but the only credible sightings he had heard of in the last ten years were in Wales and remote parts of Scotland. Granted, Pemberley was situated in the north of the Peak district, but he had never heard anyone complain of wolves in the vicinity. Thinking on it further, he did recall that his father had mentioned seeing one on a remote corner of the estate before William was born. Nonetheless, he would not dismiss Mr. Campbell’s contention, as the man was born in Edinburgh and grew up hunting the creatures.

“Are you confident enough in your supposition to merit the warning of my tenants and neighbouring estates?”

Mr. Campbell considered his answer carefully before replying. “I am. Some will make sport, maybe call you foolish. But even if it is not a wolf—and I believe it is—something is killing the livestock. It could just as likely have been a child killed as a calf or a lamb. I have seen no signs of a pack, and if it is a rogue—well, I have seen a few of those in my day. They are evil clean through, sometimes killing for the sport of it and not just to survive.”

William shivered, thinking of the heartbreak that an animal such as that could inflict. “Send out the warnings among our tenants first thing tomorrow. I shall warn my neighbours.”

He glanced at the man he credited with much of his success in the position he inherited at his father’s death. “I trust you to take the necessary men and try and destroy it before it kills anything else.”

The old man nodded, and they kicked their horses back into motion. If Campbell’s suspicions were correct, the nightmare might just be beginning.

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Elizabeth bolted up in bed, her breath coming fast. An endless night, filled with dreams, and replete with repressed memories had ended with a totally unexpected revelation. She had come to expect the discomfort but never dreamed it would come from another source—a source that, in some ways, brought a deeper pain. Instead of reliving the count’s cruelty last night, she had remembered Mr. Darcy’s tenderness.

“I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you.

“I swear that only the grace of God allowed me to catch sight of a slip of a girl with ebony eyes and a head full of chocolate curls from the corner of my eye. When your eyes locked with mine, it felt as if a fire ignited. Did you feel it as well?

“Of a truth, from the moment I saw you, Elizabeth, I was drawn like a moth to a flame, and it frightened me. I had been hiding behind this mask for so long…

“If you remember Pemberley, you will remember how much I love you.

“I will spend the rest of my life loving you, if only you will stay with me. Please, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth was completely astonished. Amazed. She pinched her arm and flinched at the reassurance that she was truly awake. It was not comforting. Not only had she remembered his affectionate words, but her recollection had summoned a rush of love—tender feelings so profound that she felt embarrassed by them even now, though she was alone. Had she been responding to his embraces, his kisses, in this manner all along?

The bittersweet memories faded quickly and an image of Stefano came to mind. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the last time she had been in his arms. He had forced her into an embrace, kissing her brutally, then held her at arm’s length and slapped her. Issuing his usual threat of death if she left him, he had quitted the room, locking the door. Stefano’s cruel, sadistic nature and threats left no doubt that she and those she loved would never be safe as long as he lived. Shivering, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself.

This can never be! How Fitzwilliam feels about me does not matter. I will never be anything but an encumbrance—a liability. He has shouldered my problems when it is not his place, and he deserves what Georgiana spoke of—a wife and children. I will apologise for my actions and then find a place to go. I cannot stay here.

A fleeting recollection of Fitzwilliam’s lips sliding softly across her forehead, the smell of his sandalwood cologne and his hands smoothing over her back, made her close her eyes and breathe deeply, willing herself not to sob. How can I abandon such a love? She sighed. You will, because you must.

Having no strength left to face him straight away, the rest of the day was spent in her room—using a headache as the perfect excuse for her absence. Mrs. Drury kept her company for the first part of the day, but the evening found her alone on the balcony. Just as the shadows began to lengthen signalling the beginning of darkness, she caught sight of a lone figure approaching from the direction of the stables—his unusual height and noble bearing proof of his identity. Her heart began to beat faster, and she could not draw her gaze away from his long strides. She found herself cursing the darkness because it hid his beloved features from her, and an unfamiliar ache deep within reminded her of what she had learned only this morning. He loves me as I love him.

Nonetheless, even though she longed to see him, Elizabeth was determined not to act upon that desire. For now, it was better that she waited until she could face him without giving away her feelings. He would never know that she had remembered Pemberley.

The Study

After the first paragraph, William eyed the letter with suspicion. Though it seemed to have been written by Charles, splotches and all, there was something about the handwriting and wording that made him uneasy. Charles’ usual straightforward manner had been replaced by a decidedly feminine approach. Never in all their years had Charles written of new furnishings, even if they were for his expected child’s room. It was as though the first paragraph was to convince him that this letter was indeed from Netherfield.

William fingers slid over his chin in agitation, a niggling doubt now turning into outright disbelief as he read the next part. The paragraph regarding Miss Elise was not logical. Why would Charles ask when Miss Elise would be returning to her home and imply that he would love an invitation whenever she departed?

This letter was not written by Charles. He sat up straight, his brow knit. Could Caroline be at Netherfield?