“I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine.”
Despite weariness that seeped down to his bones, Darcy strode to the carriage house with rapid steps. The flames were out, the house saved, the servants organized, the landlord summoned. He now sought a few precious minutes with Elizabeth before sending her and the others off to the sanctuary of Longbourn while he continued to oversee details of the fire’s aftermath. He wished he could have relocated the party sooner, but no one could be spared to drive them, and the weather and darkness had rendered the roads too hazardous to attempt travel anyway. Even now, in full but dreary daylight, the memory of yesterday’s carriage accident made him hesitant to let Elizabeth undertake even the short distance without him.
“The landlord will be furious, I suppose?” Randolph kept pace with Darcy’s long strides. Once Caroline Parrish had been found, the professor had appeared at Darcy’s side, offering to help in any way necessary and working ceaselessly until the last ember died.
“I have met Mr. Morris only once, but he seems a reasonable man. Accidents happen.” So did intentionally set blazes, but Darcy was keeping those suspicions to himself. When Bingley’s chamber had at last been cleared of both smoke and people, he had sifted through the ashes and found no evidence of arson. Yet he could not overlook Lawrence Kendall’s earlier threat against Bingley, or Elizabeth witnessing him riffling through Bingley’s records. How far would he go to destroy proof of his larceny?
They reached the carriage house. Elizabeth, who had been standing outside watching the mansion, came to him quickly the moment her eyes lighted upon him. Her sweet face held an expression of relief that surely matched his own. Professor Randolph tactfully continued into the building, granting them a relatively private reunion.
He indulged in the overwhelming urge to pull her close. The touch of her temple against his cheek, her body pressed to his, chased away the shadows of anxiety still hovering from the long night. “I know you are all right, but tell me anyway.”
“I am perfectly well now that you are here. What about you?”
“The same.” Conscious of the myriad details still demanding his attention, he reluctantly released her. “I have just spoken to our driver. He will conduct you, Jane, and Bingley to your parents’ house as soon as Mr. Jones considers them fit to travel. How are they?”
“Sleeping now in our coach. Not very peacefully — coughing a lot. But on the whole unharmed by the fire, thank goodness. And thanks to you.”
“It is you they have to thank. You discovered the fire in time.” A few minutes more and the couple certainly would have perished — the blaze had already spread from the hearth to the foot of their bed when he’d entered their chamber.
“How bad is the damage?”
“The master suite and the room adjacent — the Parrishes’ chamber — are lost. Furniture, clothing, everything. The floor joists are holding at present but need replacement as soon as possible. The flames burned through the ceiling and into Mr. Kendall’s room above. They did not, however, reach his trunk, which appears to have never been unpacked. Our chamber and the rest of the rooms on the first and second floors of that wing suffered extensive smoke damage. Everything needs cleaning and airing.”
Though much work lay ahead to repair and restore Netherfield, they had been very fortunate. Fire constituted a great house’s worst enemy; it all too often consumed entire mansions. Darcy lived in constant dread of one overtaking Pemberley. He chased the horrible thought from his mind by attempting to wipe a smudge from Elizabeth’s brow, but wound up adding more soot from his fingers. His own appearance must be frightful. “Are the Hursts and Mr. Kendall here as well?”
“Resting in their respective carriages.”
“I imagine Kendall is eager to depart for his own home. If you do not think it too great an imposition on your family, the Hursts and Parrishes should accompany you to your parents’ house. I realize your mother and Bingley’s sisters hardly seek out each other’s company, but under the circumstances I think they will be more comfortable at Longbourn until Netherfield is set back in order.”
“You mean they will be out of the way. I don’t know whom I pity more — them or my mother. I, however, won’t be there to observe the sport, because I intend to stay right here with you.”
She could not be dissuaded, and he had to confess that his efforts to sway her resolve were halfhearted at best.
The family party departed for Longbourn in time to arrive for a late breakfast. Bingley accompanied them only to see Jane safely delivered into her mother’s care and the papers Darcy had rescued last night consigned to Mr. Bennet for safekeeping. He then returned to Netherfield. Though he trusted Darcy to handle matters, he said he did not want to impose on their friendship by letting him shoulder the full burden of overseeing all the work involved in cleaning up the mansion and restoring household operations. His health, he asserted, was much improved over the day before.
Professor Randolph accompanied the Parrishes to Longbourn. Since Caroline’s apparent suicide attempt, he had been meeting with her daily. He recorded his observations and had already posted two letters to his colleague in America, but given the distance, no one expected a response from Dr. Lancaster anytime soon.
Mr. Kendall remained at Netherfield, claiming that the sky continued too threatening to trust the roads all the way to London. Though it did appear that the storm had only suspended, not ended, Darcy suspected Kendall’s true purpose was to perform further snooping while the household was in an advantageous state of chaos.
He caught the businessman twice loitering outside Bingley’s former chamber. The first time Kendall scurried away without comment in an unconvincing pretense that he’d just been passing by, but on the second occasion Darcy’s sudden emergence from the chamber took him by surprise. Kendall stood so close to the door that Darcy wondered if he’d had his ear pressed against it. “Might I assist you in some matter?”
“I would like to examine the extent of damage within.”
“Why?”
“My chamber sits directly above. I wish to assure myself that the floor won’t collapse beneath me when I go up there to retrieve my things.”
Darcy’s first impulse was to deny the request, but he quickly reconsidered. Perhaps Kendall’s conduct inside would betray a familiarity with the room that he should not possess. He pushed the door fully open. “By all means.”
Kendall shouldered his way past Darcy and headed straight toward the hearth. Flames had weakened the thick oak floor beams around it, but to Darcy’s disappointment, they held under Kendall’s weight.
“Have you learned the fire’s cause?” Kendall scanned the room, taking in each piece of furniture. His gaze rested longest on the scorched splinters of a Chippendale chair and what appeared to be the ashy remains of a dress.
“No,” Darcy lied. The proximity of the gown to the hearth led him to believe a stray spark had ignited the muslin as it lay draped on the chair, but he saw no reason to share that information with Kendall.
“Well, often these things go undetermined.” He studied the bedstead, which had been almost completely consumed by flames after Darcy rescued the sleeping couple from it. “Looks like Bingley was lucky to get out of here alive.”
“His wife, also.”
Kendall’s attention turned to a blackened portable writing desk Bingley had given Jane as a wedding gift. Darcy had given a matching one to Elizabeth so that the sisters, who would be geographically separated by their marriages, could remain close through frequent correspondence.
“Mmm? Oh, yes, Mrs. Bingley. Their marriage is off to a dramatic start, isn’t it? As is the Parrishes’, from what I hear.”
Darcy’s tolerance was approaching its limit. “Have you completed your inspection? The servants await my
