Page 33 of Pemberley's Imposter
Bingley should have made his presence known then, but if the colonel was mistreating his wife, it was unlikely she would admit as much to him. He waited another moment before revealing himself.
“You may ask me anything, Mrs Fitzwilliam,” Jane assured her, resting a comforting hand on her arm.
“Is it common to faint when one is expecting?” Mrs Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline while her lips pressed together.
“It is fairly common, yes. I have not experienced it myself, but my sister Elizabeth fainted once. Her situation was extremely distressing at the time, though, so it is not certain whether it was induced by the pregnancy alone.”
“Is it common to”—Mrs Fitzwilliam’s voice dropped even lower, to a barely audible whisper—“to bleed when you are expecting?”
“No, it is not. The withdrawal of your courses is the first sign of pregnancy. Of course, nothing is certain before the babe quickens, but I am inclined to believe your fainting spell might have been brought on by something else. Had you eaten properly?”
“I have had barely any appetite lately,” Mrs Fitzwilliam admitted.
“Does it happen often? Perhaps a doctor should be called?”
“Oh no, there is no need for that. It was only once, yesterday, when we went to view the estate my husband owns. I am glad we are not moving thither. The house was a tiny cottage that has stood unoccupied and neglected for decades. It was in a sorry condition. I am much relieved I do not have to live there.”
“Oh, how distressing for you.” Jane soothed Mrs Fitzwilliam’s concerns with her quiet strength. “I can see how such a discovery may have been upsetting. That is why you fainted.”
“Yes, that must be it,” Mrs Fitzwilliam agreed with a sigh of relief.
#
The days passed slowly in the awkward atmosphere between the Bingleys and the Fitzwilliams. Five days had come and gone since the colonel had received his first letter from Darcy, stating their return would be delayed due to the state of the roads.
Jane and Charles discussed whether they would stay at Pemberley and wait for the Darcys to come home or travel north to visit relations in Scarborough. It had occurred to them that they could travel to Newcastle but quickly agreed it was too far, and the chance of passing the Darcys on the road was too great to risk it.
Chapter 12 The Uncomfortable Truth
Six days prior
To escape the colonel’s looming presence, Elizabeth and Ellie skipped out of the house and into the garden. The paths were dry, though the grass was still wet from the rain, but the mud did not deter them at all. They played on the swing before they ventured farther afield. A dog came running and wagged his tail upon espying the duo. A high-pitched sound ripped the air. It was probably the hunter’s owner who was whistling, calling his dog back to its duty. The dog turned abruptly and set off in the direction it had come from. Ellie ran after it, calling for him to stop, and Elizabeth had no choice but to follow in a most unladylike fashion.
Ellie came to an abrupt halt in front of an octagon-shaped structure with a stained-glass dome roof. It was the Darcy family mausoleum. The dog had disappeared, and her daughter’s head swirled bewildered in every cardinal direction to discover its whereabouts. Elizabeth had never ventured into this part of the park before—a densely wooded area with little to recommend it. She would have thought, given the deference with which Mr Darcy had mentioned his ancestors’ memories, that themausoleum would be well kept, but it was not. Weeds had taken over the building; only the dome and the door with its marbled columns were still visible under the heavy ivy curtain. It was not part of the immaculate formal garden but was situated in a free-growing wilderness. On closer inspection, moss covered the walls under the ivy. Probably a result of decades of neglect.How strange.
A clattering noise came from inside the building, startling Elizabeth, who for a second pictured one of her husband’s ancestors must have risen from their grave.What a ridiculous notion!Elizabeth chuckled and tried to calm her racing heart.
“Doggy!” Ellie cried and ran to the door.
The sound resembled the flapping of a caged bird, like the cockatoo Lady Catherine kept in her parlour, rather than a dog. It was not impossible that a bird might have been trapped inside the mausoleum whilst Mr Wickham plundered Mrs Darcy’s final resting place.
“Let us investigate,” Elizabeth suggested to her daughter, who clapped her hands in glee.
She tried the door with the intention of saving the bird from certain death and discovered it was unlocked.
The narrow room was lined with tombs on both sides, and the marble covers enclosing each were elaborately engraved in gold letters. At the opposite end, there was a cast-iron table with two chairs. A vase on the table held fresh flowers; the mausoleum was not as abandoned as it seemed from without.
There was no trapped bird to be seen, but the faint clattering sound was more prominent inside the building.It is the ivy branches blowing in the wind, Elizabeth thought as a sickeningly sweet smell pervaded the air. The cloth tasted ofrum; Elizabeth barely registered that it was pressed over her mouth before blackness enveloped her.
Ellie!
#
Elizabeth forced her eyes open only to find herself engulfed in pitch blackness, whilst waves of nausea churned in her stomach.
A familiar warm form lay beside her legs. She caressed her daughter’s curly hair before trying to sit up, but her head cracked against a stony surface. Rubbing her sore forehead, she bent to the side and hauled her daughter up into the crook of her arm. Ellie was sleeping deeply and did not stir despite being jostled about. It must be the middle of the night, though something was off. A form lay shaking on her other side. It might be a dog that was panting in short swift gasps, reminding her of her aunt Phillips’s pug, Prince. He sometimes trembled when he was cold or scared, but the form beside her was not a small lap dog, nor a medium-sized hunter—it was monstrous, which could only mean one thing.
Mr Darcy had mastiffs patrolling the grounds of Pemberley, but they were never allowed inside. Yet, she could find no other plausible explanation for the creature beside her, and she dared not touch it in case it bit her hand. The giant dogs were not kept as pets like her aunt’s beloved Prince but were guard dogs, trained to attack interlopers. What a lion was to a cat, the mastiff was to a dog, and Elizabeth moved as far away as her cramped situation allowed.
