Death Takes a Holiday at Pemberley Page 2

  “You have no reason to apologise, my love. It has been difficult for you since Mr. Hughes left, and it will remain so until his position is filled.”

  She turned again to allow him to loosen the ties on her stays. He tested the water to find it suitable before removing her chemise. His heart thudded with furious abandon at the alluring sight of her light and pleasing figure, which had altered in small, subtle ways from when they first wed. She was more beautiful than ever. He took a firm hold of her hand to steady her while she stepped into the tub.

  Darcy, much quicker at removing his own clothes, soon slipped in behind her. As Elizabeth soaped his feet and legs, he caressed her breasts and left lingering kisses on her neck, shoulders, and back. He moved his hands to her hair and began removing her pins.

  She moved her hand over his to halt him. “What are you doing?”

  He leaned in to speak next to her ear. “I want to wash your hair. Do you mind?”

  With a delicate lift of her eyebrow, she said, “I do not mind, and my maid will thank you.”

  He emitted a soft laugh. His wife was aware of his fascination with her dark, flowing tresses.

  At length, when they were both clean and the water had become tepid, they climbed out, wrapped themselves in towels, and raced to the bed in his chamber.

  Soon, they lay together in a mass of tangled arms and legs, kissing and touching each other with passionate, even frantic, movements. Later, when they were both spent and interlocked in an embrace, he said, “Elizabeth, I love you so much. You are everything to me. I hope you know that.”

  Her expressive eyes were brilliant in their reflection of her affection. “I do know, Fitzwilliam, and I love you the same way. I am convinced I am the luckiest woman in England.”

  ***

  Thursday, September 14

  Darcy dipped his pen into the inkwell several times without moving it to his sheet of paper; the precise words eluded him. Seated at the desk in his study, he attempted to compose a letter for his solicitor; several intricate revisions were needed in the tenant’s contract due to expire next month. A task that should have taken him no more than twenty minutes was still unfinished after twice that amount of time as his mind kept returning to the unsettling events of the day before.

  In the midst of writing a protracted and complicated sentence, he was seized with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. The hairs at the back of his neck bristled, and he perused the room despite the glaring absurdity of his actions. He was alone, yet the sensation persisted.

  With a deep breath, he set down his pen, and his eyes strayed to the view out the window of the rose bushes swaying in the gentle breeze. There on the path, Elizabeth had fainted yesterday. Once again, his mind drifted back to his near-fatal accident.

  Earlier that day, he had undertaken a thorough review of his will. He satisfied himself that nothing needed to be added or updated for the protection of his family. Under the terms of his will, Elizabeth could live at Pemberley for the rest of her life. If she were to remarry and live with her new husband at Pemberley, the man would not have any rights to the estate nor to the funds left to her by Darcy. He could count on his cousin Richard to provide Elizabeth with assistance and guidance in the management of Pemberley. In addition, his cousin would mentor Bennet to ensure he was ready to take over as master once he came of age. Elizabeth understood the importance of their son having an understanding and respect for the responsibility inherent with his role as the future master of Pemberley.

  Turning his attention back to his letter, he picked up his pen, dipped it in the ink, and continued where he had left off.

  “Your handwriting—it is exceptional! So neat and the lines—so straight!”

  Darcy’s hand jerked, creating a large, black blot in his letter. This never happened to him! However, that thought dissipated an instant later. A tall, startlingly handsome, blond-haired man stood before him. He shot up from his chair, almost knocking it over. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  The man, garbed in expensive, flashy clothing, offered a disarming smile. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Darcy. My name is Mr. Graham. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The man made a flourishing bow.

  Darcy narrowed his eyes and riveted them upon the man. “Mr. Graham, how did you get in here? Were you hiding in this room?”

  “In a manner of speaking, you might say that. I have observed you, off and on, since yesterday afternoon when you almost tumbled into that ravine.”

  He took a gasping breath while a leaden feeling settled in his stomach. How could the man be aware of this? Had he been watching from the hillside above or from the trail on the opposite side of the cliff? “What? How do you know of this?”

  “I know many things, Mr. Darcy. You see, I am an angel of death. I was watching you yesterday when you should have fallen to your death. But I acted in a way I have never done before: I interfered and spared your life. I have given you a rare gift: I have extended your time on this earth.” Mr. Graham’s countenance revealed no trace of humour. Indeed, it seemed to possess an ominous cast.

  “You must be insane.” Darcy reached out to ring for a servant.

  “Just a moment please.”

  In the twinkling of an eye, Darcy stood where Mr. Graham had been. Before him, standing on the other side of his desk, was himself. But was it himself? No, he could not be in two places at once!

  “Do you still think I am insane?”

  Flinching at the sound of his voice spoken by another, Darcy lowered his gaze. He wore the other man’s ostentatious clothing. His hand moved over the unfamiliar fabric of the brightly hued coat. He took lumbering steps to the looking glass. The reflection in the mirror as he lifted his hand to touch his face was not his own but that of Mr. Graham. “This is impossible!” His respiration arrested. It was Mr. Graham’s voice! “It must be a delusion or dream. Or is this sorcery?”

  Mr. Graham spoke again using Darcy’s voice. “You may call it sorcery if you wish. This is a small demonstration of my powers so you will understand that I am not to be gainsaid. Do you not approve of the body I chose to use for my visit here? It belonged to a Lothario in Calabria who was sleeping with the wives of two different men. One of the women learned of the other and stabbed him to death. Is that not the most handsome face you have ever seen? And the body! It is exceptional! The man must have exercised for hours each day. Bend that arm and see how huge the biceps is.”

  Besieged with dizziness, Darcy turned from the mirror. “I would rather not.”

  “It would behove you to accede to my wishes and agree to give me your cooperation. As an angel of death, it is within my power to end your life at this moment if you do not agree to do as I say.”

  His breathing accelerated. He averted his eyes to avoid the eerie sight of the man using his body. “Will you return us to our proper forms? I do not like this.”

  “As you wish.”

  With that, Darcy was back in his own body. He collapsed into his chair and put his head in his hands. “This must be a terrible dream.”

  Mr. Graham took the seat in front of Darcy’s desk. “I am afraid not, Mr. Darcy. I shall try to make this easy for you to understand. Instead of allowing you to die as you were meant to do yesterday afternoon, I chose to spare your life and give you more time with your family before you leave this earth. Only by my interference are you still alive. In exchange for my generous gift, I expect payment in the form of your cooperation. It is my desire to spend time here on earth experiencing life among mortals. I want you to serve as my guide.”

  His head jerked up. This was madness! He directed a stare towards the blond gentleman that he often employed to discourage others from approaching him. “You claim I was supposed to die yesterday?”

  “That is correct.”

  A sudden chil
l coursed through him as images from the day before flashed through his mind: the precipice, Regal’s sudden movement, his loss of balance, the dread, and the certainty that he would die. In addition, there had been the eerie incident that had almost faded from his memory. It occurred right before he lost consciousness: the strange sensation as if time itself had been interrupted.

  Darcy shook his head in disbelief. Could this be true? He could not accept such a fate. It could not be his destiny to die after so short a time married to Elizabeth—not with his son still so young! Yet what else could he do but take this person, angel, or whatever he was at his word? He blinked back tears at the prospect of his wife becoming a widow at the age of three and twenty and of his son growing up without a father. His breathing became turbulent as he fixed his gaze upon Mr. Graham. “You stopped me from dying?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why? Why make an exception for me?”

  Mr. Graham leaned back in his chair. “I have long been intrigued by the way you mortals cling to your lives with such fierce determination. I have often found even the eldest of you to be quite reluctant to leave this earth. The exceptions are those who are suffering from pain or a debilitating disease. I am able to see a portion of the thoughts and memories of all mortals in their last moments of life. I get a sense from them, an idea of what kind of life they have lived. From you, I felt everything you went through in your early life—the losses you suffered, the periods of loneliness and despair. But you emanated a happiness that captivated my attention. It made me want to see what made your life so fulfilling.”

  Darcy threaded his fingers through his hair as he took measure of the other man. “What do you wish from me?”

  The angel folded his hands in his lap. “For the period of approximately one week, I wish to follow you throughout your usual routine and observe your actions each day. I want to know the people you meet and with whom you spend time, including your family.”

  Heat rose from his neck, and Darcy crossed his arms over his chest. “That is out of the question. I will not have you around my family. I refuse.”

  “If I were you, I would think again before I made such a drastic decision. Let me make this clear. If you cooperate, you need have no fear for your family or anyone else. However, if you do not do as I ask, I will be forced to take you now. You will never see your wife or son again. When you are found, it will appear that you suffered a bleeding in the brain and died here at your desk.”

  Darcy’s chest heaved with every breath. What sort of choice was this? If he were dead, his family would be at the angel’s mercy. After his earlier demonstration, Darcy did not doubt the stranger’s ability to carry through with the threat. His voice lost a measure of its conviction. “I do not want you around my family.”

  “I am unwilling to bend on this. They are a significant part of the reason you are a happy man; thus, I insist on spending time with them. You will still have private time alone with your wife and son, but for the majority of your day, you will be available to me to serve as my guide.” Mr. Graham cocked his head as if listening. His words rushed out. “You must decide at once. Your wife is on her way to your study as we speak. Will she find you alive or dead?”

  The blood drained from his face. He could not allow Elizabeth to experience the horror of discovering him dead at his desk. “Do I have your word no harm will come to my wife or son?”

  Mr. Graham raised a hand to his heart. “No harm will come to them. You have my promise.”

  The wild thumping of his heart reverberated in his temples like the frenzied beat of a drum. There was no real choice here; he would have to trust the man. “Very well, then. I agree.”

  With a bright smile, Mr. Graham sat straighter in his chair. “Very good. I suggest you introduce me as a visiting friend from university who has been living in Calabria. You may say I am visiting for a se’nnight and want to learn from you how to manage an estate.”

  The door opened and Elizabeth entered. “Fitzwilliam, I—oh, pardon me, I thought you were alone.” She stopped short with a glance towards the stranger in the room.

  Both men stood at her entrance.

  Darcy took a breath before speaking. He had to pretend all was well. “Elizabeth, this is Mr. Graham. He is an old friend I met at Cambridge who has been living in Calabria. He will be staying with us for a se’nnight. He is interested in purchasing his own estate and wishes to learn what is involved in managing one. Mr. Graham, this is my wife, Mrs. Darcy.” He winced. Was his voice too rushed? He moved around his desk to his wife’s side, positioning himself between her and Mr. Graham.

  She curtsied to Mr. Graham’s bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graham. I can think of no better person than my husband to clarify the many aspects of managing an estate. You are in the best of hands.”

  “It is a great pleasure for me to meet my dear friend Darcy’s beautiful wife. My friend has spoken of you in a ceaseless fashion since my arrival. In fact, I feel as if I know you already.”

  What? He had told the man nothing of Elizabeth! Although, as an angel, he must have access to other ways of obtaining information. The overt admiration in Mr. Graham’s blue eyes made Darcy’s chest constrict.

  She aimed a quick, puzzled glance at him before directing a steady gaze towards Mr. Graham. “I hope you will be quite comfortable here. Excuse me; I shall leave you two to talk over old times.” She curtsied and turned to go.

  He placed his hand on her arm. “Elizabeth, did you come here for a purpose?”

  Her smile brightened the room. “Oh, I was going to ask whether you were inclined to walk with me this morning, but it is no matter. I shall take Rory with me.”

  “Perhaps tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I should like that.” With a final brief look at Mr. Graham, she left the room.

  ***

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and paused at the door before she entered Mrs. Reynolds’ office to inform the housekeeper of the unexpected guest. Fitzwilliam’s demeanour around Mr. Graham had struck her as odd. He was not relaxed and easy as with Charles Bingley, his cousin Richard, or his cousin Henry. Fitzwilliam had never once mentioned a friend named Graham, but that in itself was not so odd. It was probable the two had not communicated since their university days. Did that explain her husband’s unease? Had Mr. Graham changed over the years to become a gentleman Fitzwilliam no longer recognised?

  ***

  Darcy moved to the mantle and leaned against it. A mixture of relief and regret flowed through him when his wife left the room. How was he to tolerate Mr. Graham’s presence around his family?

  “So that was Elizabeth.”

  He stood straighter, jutting his chin out. “Mrs. Darcy to you.”

  Mr. Graham laughed. “Come, now, Darcy. If we are to convince your wife of our old and abiding friendship, we must not be so formal. I can already surmise from Elizabeth’s bearing that she is not one of those cold, pompous ladies of the ton. She will not mind her husband’s dearest friend from university calling her by her given name.”

  He huffed and gave the blond man a piercing glare.

  “Now then, my dear old comrade, what were you planning to do this morning?”

  Darcy expelled his breath with force. “I am having a new, larger pen and shelter built for our herd of Merino sheep. We have been growing the herd, and they need more space. I am certain it would not be of the slightest interest to you.”

  Graham rubbed his hands together. “Excellent, it sounds fascinating.”

  He cleared his throat. “Mr. Graham—”

  Graham raised his eyebrows. “Please call me Graham.”

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “Graham.”

  “Much better.”

  He forced a smile upon his face. “Graham, I want you to know I do appreciate the extraordinary thing you did for me
yesterday. As you no doubt realize, my marriage is a happy one, and my son is yet quite young. He will be two years old this month. I have every reason to want to live, so I thank you with profound sincerity for preventing my death.”

  Graham bowed his head. “You are welcome.”

  Darcy drew in a long breath, twisting his signet ring as he spoke. “I must tell you that, in truth, I believe you will find it wearisome to follow me around. I imagine you would be much better entertained with a distinguished gentleman of the ton or an actor or opera singer. London is full of people who live adventurous, decadent, and colourful lives. In comparison, I am certain you will find me tedious and dull.”

  The blond man’s countenance sobered. “You are correct; I could spend my time with anyone I choose, whether in England or any other country. I could have delayed the death of the poor chap whose body I now inhabit. I grant you that spending time with him might have kept me well entertained. Nevertheless, it is you I have chosen to visit, so for the next week, you must accept that you are compelled to tolerate my company.”

  Making an effort not to frown, he nodded. It appeared the angel would not be swayed from his chosen course. One particular aspect of Graham’s speech had made him uneasy, but due to the anxiety of such a frightening episode, it appeared his ability to deliberate was impaired, and the elusive detail remained outside the confines of his reasoning. Rather than allow this lapse to niggle at him, he gave up trying to recall the specifics; if it were important, it would come back to him in time.

  Darcy, faced with Graham’s determination to accompany him to the sheep’s pasture, escorted him to the stables. Finding the man a suitable mount required close to twenty minutes since none of the horses in the stables would tolerate the blond man enough to let him get near them, much less get upon their backs. At last, they found an older, red roan gelding named Rusty who allowed Graham to mount him.