Including Elizabeth.
“There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting about pretty much.”
For the second time that morning, Elizabeth knocked at the Parrishes’ chamber. This time it was Mr. Parrish who answered. He had removed his coat and cravat; the top buttons of his shirt were open. He appeared dour, as if his earlier displeasure yet lingered.
“I am glad to find you still here,” she said. He held the door open but a little, so that she could not see inside. “Is Mrs. Parrish within?”
“She is resting.”
Elizabeth hesitated to disturb her, but thought the errand should not wait. “I believe I may have important intelligence to share with you both.”
His brows rose. “Indeed?” He studied her face for a moment before opening the door wider and stepping back a pace. “Come in.”
She noticed as she passed him that he wore some sort of medallion around his neck beneath his shirt. It appeared to be fashioned of braided hair, in several hues, knotted together. She recalled the amulet he had proposed making for Caroline and wondered if he wore a similar article.
Caroline was abed, sitting up with pillows propped behind her. Though she opened her eyes upon Elizabeth’s entrance, they stared vacantly, as if not recognizing the visitor. Her hands lay motionless in her lap.
Elizabeth shivered. It was cold in here; the fire sputtered in the grate. Outside, heavy flakes of snow had begun to fall rapidly, casting the room in dimness. She wondered that Mr. Parrish hadn’t asked a servant to bank up the fire.
She walked toward the bed and greeted Caroline, but received no response. The wedding ring remained on Mrs. Parrish’s left hand. It looked innocuous enough. But as Elizabeth neared the ring, the skin on the back of her neck prickled, and a sense of foreboding settled upon her.
Parrish closed the door. “What is this news?”
“I think I know what ails Mrs. Parrish.”
He started in surprise, then recovered himself. “Truly? I am all attention.”
She took a deep breath, anticipating the incredulous reaction she’d received from Darcy. If her own husband didn’t believe her, what chance did she have of convincing Parrish that the very ring he’d given his wife as a symbol of his affection was the source of all her problems? But the longer she stood in proximity to the ring, the more certain she became that her intuition was correct.
“Please do not accuse me of reading too many novels,” she said, “but I believe the ring you gave Mrs. Parrish bears some sort of curse.”
He laughed. But it was not a merry sound, nor one of casual dismissal. It was a sinister cackle. His countenance changed, the characteristic openness suddenly replaced by a hardened mask. “Why, Mrs. Darcy, you are more intelligent than even I gave you credit for.”
Dread swept her. He knew. The ring was cursed, and he already knew.
“Too smart for your own preservation.”
In an eyeblink, he had a knife in hand, pulled from his boot before she realized he’d reached for it. The blade glittered in the weak firelight.
She instinctively retreated a step, evoking more laughter from him.
“That’s right — back up. Closer to my helpless wife.”
She glanced at Caroline, who lethargically observed them as if watching a theatrical. “What have you done to her?”
“Improved her disposition. Don’t you agree?”
“I concur with Mr. Kendall. Marriage does not seem to agree with her.”
“Take care, Mrs. Darcy. Or you’ll meet the same fate he did.” He spun the knife in his hand. “Only Kendall never saw it coming.”
The knife — Kendall had died of a knife wound. Parrish must have been involved in Randolph’s ritual. “You killed Mr. Kendall?”
“Does anyone else in this house have the guts?”
“Why?”
“The greedy bastard was trying to blackmail me. I told him to go to hell. Then I sent him there.”
Still gripping the knife in his right hand, Parrish brought his left forward. He grasped his own wedding ring between thumb and forefinger, and twisted it round. “Caroline, help Mrs. Darcy find a seat while I decide what to do with her.”
Caroline rose easily from the bed, in full possession of her physical faculties. She grabbed Elizabeth with surprising strength, forced her into a chair, and held her arms immobile.
“Mrs. Parrish—
Mrs. Parrish either couldn’t hear her or ignored her.
“Caroline belongs to me.” Parrish cackled again. “Her wedding vows included a promise to obey — didn’t yours? Tsk! Terrible oversight on your husband’s part. I’ll have to give him the name of my jeweler.”
His gaze never leaving Elizabeth, Parrish crossed to a chest of drawers and removed a fistful of neckcloths. Pressing his knife to the base of Elizabeth’s throat, he instructed Caroline to bind her ankles and wrists to the chair. Elizabeth breathed shallowly through her nose, afraid the slightest movement would cause the blade to pierce her.
When she was bound, he held the knife away a few inches and ordered Caroline to gag her with the last cravat. “I really quite liked you, Mrs. Darcy. You were the only person in this whole vapid house with sufficient wit to challenge me.” He tossed the blade in the air, spinning it end over end, then reached up and caught it squarely by its handle. “Don’t attempt anything stupid, and I might let you live.”
Her heart pounding so loud that it nearly drowned out his words, she nodded.
He snickered. “Why don’t I trust you?” He handed the blade to Caroline. “Slice her if she moves.”
He crossed to the armoire with rapid steps, withdrew a valise, and set it open on the bed. From various drawers he pulled clothing, money, documents — and a dagger with a jagged blade twice the size of the one Caroline held.
A knock at the door interrupted his packing. He gestured for Caroline to hold her knife against Elizabeth’s throat once more. Unreleased breath filled her lungs. Staring at the dagger Parrish gripped, she at once prayed it was Darcy who stood outside, and prayed it wasn’t.
Parrish approached the door. “Who’s there?”
“Mrs. Darcy’s maid, sir. By chance is she with Mrs. Parrish?”
He opened the door a crack. “Mrs. Darcy isn’t here. I haven’t seen her all morning.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry to disturb you.”
He shut the door without response.
Pressed against the wall outside Parrish’s room, Darcy met Lucy’s gaze. She shook her head and shrugged — she had not been able to see inside.
Damn.
He jerked his head toward the stairs. As prearranged, the servant left to summon assistance.
Parrish’s lie that he hadn’t seen Elizabeth all morning further strengthened Darcy’s suspicions that she was in
