Страница 10 из 69
“He is gone back to his lodgings and will return later,” Darcy said. “He did, however, leave his direction. Does Mrs. Clay ask for him?”
Elizabeth shook her head. In the bedroom, the newborn renewed its cry. The sound seemed to settle on Elizabeth’s shoulders like a heavy weight.
“Mrs. Clay is dead.”
Six
A Mr. (save, perhaps, some half-dozen in the nation) always needs a note of explanation.
It was with heavy steps and a heavier heart that Elizabeth climbed the sharp incline of Lyme’s main thoroughfare. The strain of the morning’s events made it hard for her to believe that it was now only early afternoon. After powerlessly witnessing Mrs. Clay’s death in childbirth, she wanted nothing more than to return to her own lodgings and hold her own child. However, Mrs. Clay’s next of kin must be notified without delay, and provisions made for the care of the new son she left behind.
Broad Street, she and Darcy learned from the Harvilles, held multiple i
They were directed to a room on the second floor. The manservant who answered the door did his professional best to conceal his appraisal of their appearance. Though Elizabeth had changed back into her own gown and Darcy’s coat had dried, they both had a rather sodden, weary look about them. When Darcy gave their names and asked for Mr. Elliot, the servant stiffly replied that he would see whether the baronet was at home, and left them standing in the hall while he disappeared into the apartment.
Of course, the servant knew whether his master was within; “at home” was a tacit code in better society for “receiving visitors”—or, depending upon the particular visitors, “receiving you.” What puzzled Elizabeth was not the possibility that Mr. Elliot had somehow become lost in a small i
“You did not tell me that Elliot is a baronet,” she said to Darcy.
“He did not tell me,” Darcy replied. “I wonder that he did not introduce himself properly.”
From within, they heard a lofty male voice. “Mr. Darcy? Who is this Mister Darcy? Is he a gentleman?”
The voice was unfamiliar. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. “I fear we have disturbed the wrong Elliot.”
Though it seemed their luck could not turn any worse this day, Elizabeth harbored hope. “Perhaps he is a relation of our Mr. Elliot?”
A moment later the servant returned. “Sir Walter is not at home.”
As the servant began to close the door, Elizabeth said quickly, “Pray, advise Sir Walter that we have news regarding Mrs. Clay.”
“Mrs. Clay?” said the voice within.
Mention of the unfortunate woman won them entrée. Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves in a small but superiorly appointed sitting room, being assessed by a gentleman who indeed bore resemblance to the Mr. Elliot they had met earlier. This man, however, was older, of their parents’ generation, but more fashionably dressed than many gentlemen half his age. He was a fine-looking man, well preserved, with a complexion any woman would envy and not a hair astray on his powdered head. Soft white hands with neatly trimmed fingernails rested on crossed forearms as he studied Elizabeth and Darcy.
A younger woman was also present. Elizabeth guessed her to be at most thirty, but yet quite handsome—and she held herself with the air of a lady who knows she is handsome. She did not rise, but remained seated stiffly. Her impassive gaze took Elizabeth’s measure. After a minute, a slight nod of greeting indicated that she had tentatively judged Mrs. Darcy acceptable.
“You seem a decent fellow, by the look of you,” Sir Walter pronounced. “Mr. Darcy, is it? One meets all ma
“Pemberley, in Derbyshire.”
“Derbyshire! How unfortunate. I hear it is ghastly cold in the Peaks during winter. Frigid air is brutal on one’s complexion—though yours seems to be holding up. You must spend your winters in town.”
“Occasionally,” Darcy said. “In truth, however, I prefer to spend them at home.”
The gentleman regarded Darcy as if he were addled. “Well,” he said finally, “I suppose there must be some appeal in Derbyshire, if only that the Duke of Devonshire resides there. I do not suppose you are acquainted with him?”
“Devonshire is one of my closest neighbors. We dine at Chatsworth regularly when he is at home.”
“Do you?” This co
“Yes, and His Grace dines with us at Pemberley,” Elizabeth said. She turned to Darcy. “When was the last time we had him to di
Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy were given to boasting of their titled acquaintances; indeed, they loathed the practice in others. She wanted to determine just how important their co
“I believe it was,” Darcy said. She could read in the expression of his eyes that he understood what she was about.
At this admission, the lady in the armchair took far more interest in both Darcys. “The Earl of Southwell!” A meaningful look passed between her and Sir Walter.
“Forgive me,” Sir Walter said. “I have just realized that I neglected to introduce you to my daughter, Miss Elliot.”
Miss Elliot was now all graciousness. “If the earl is your cousin, then I believe another relation of yours is our neighbor in Bath. Our house in Camden Place adjoins the one Lady Catherine de Bourgh takes each autumn.”
“Lady Catherine is my aunt.”
Elizabeth attempted to imagine how Sir Walter and Lady Catherine got on as neighbors. Were the pair attracted to each other’s pride, or did similarity breed contempt? Even the finest Bath town houses could contain only so much vanity.
The confirmation of Darcy’s possessing yet a third titled co
Elizabeth wondered whether a quiz regarding her relations would follow. As much as she would take perverse pleasure in revealing her own grand co
Sir Walter mistook their decline of hospitality for disdain. “With co
“Think nothing of it,” Darcy said. “We decline only because it seems we have intruded upon you accidentally. We seek a different Mr. Elliot whom we met earlier today, to deliver pressing news. We understood him to be staying at this i
“No,” he said coldly. “If you mean Mr. William Elliot, my cousin is not part of our company. You will find him at the Lion. However, you told my servant that your news regarded Mrs. Clay. We are acquainted with that lady. What do you know of her?”