instructions for restoring this room.”
Kendall glanced at the ceiling for the first time since entering the chamber. “I’m satisfied that I won’t be dropping in unexpectedly.”
Darcy suspected, however, that an intentional visit was planned. Though Bingley’s papers were securely stashed at Longbourn, he nevertheless charged his own valet with the task of keeping an eye on the businessman.
The day passed in a blur of activity. That evening, Bingley returned to Longbourn to be with Jane. Darcy and Elizabeth would have spent the night at Longbourn as well, to free Netherfield’s overworked staff from attending to their needs, but he didn’t dare leave Kendall unsupervised. He and Elizabeth, therefore, retired to a new chamber in another part of the house, near Kendall.
She had already bathed when he entered, and sat before the fireplace drying her hair. The smell of rosewater was a welcome change from the odor of smoke and burned wood that had filled his nostrils all day.
“I had fresh water drawn for you.” She rose to greet him with a kiss. “And Lucy brought up a cold supper for us.” She gestured toward a small table set for two.
He glanced at the tub, looking forward to washing away the grime of the past twenty-four hours. “Where is Lucy now?”
“Asleep in her room, I hope. I told her to get some rest. Your man is off keeping watch over Mr. Kendall. So if you need assistance with your bath, I’m afraid it will have to come from me.” She cast him a playfully wicked smile. “Do you want to bathe or dine first?”
“If you are assisting me with my bath, I think we had better dine first.”
After quickly washing his hands and face in the water basin, he fell to the meal like a starving man. It wasn’t much — cold roast beef, bread and butter, vegetables — but he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. Elizabeth, too, eagerly approached her food. She had spent the day as busily employed as he, overseeing the near-legion of servants sent from throughout the neighborhood to help with cleanup efforts. She’d proven herself a capable commander, organizing her troops into an efficient workforce that had accomplished more in one day than Darcy ever thought possible. He had observed her with pride; her skillful handling of the crisis showed she would make a fine mistress of Pemberley. Not that he had ever doubted her.
Halfway through their supper, she became pensive. “I have been wanting to ask if you determined what caused the fire.”
He released a frustrated breath. Despite his suspicions, he’d found nothing to link Kendall to the blaze.
“Poor luck and a stray spark, I’m afraid.” He withdrew a handful of silver buttons from his pocket and set them on the table. “I found these and some charred scraps of fabric near the fireplace, amid the remains of a chair. The buttons are from one of your sister’s dresses, are they not?”
“They are. I remember her sewing them on it herself.” She frowned. “But I can’t think what that dress would have been doing draped on a chair. She hasn’t worn it since we arrived from London.”
“Perhaps her maid set it out for the morning?”
“Perhaps.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
“When I last checked on Jane, shortly before Bingley joined her, there were no clothes lying about the room. I find it unlikely that her maid would risk disturbing the couple to set out clothes Jane might not even wear the next day, depending on her state of recovery.”
“It’s easy enough to ask her when she returns with Jane.”
“We should. There are also other members of this household whose movements last night invite further consideration.”
“Do you speak of Mr. Kendall?” Maybe his wife knew something that could substantiate his suspicions.
“He’s one of them. When I roused everyone to warn them about the fire, he was fully dressed — from cravat to boots! Whatever was he doing completely attired at half-past four in the morning?”
“Did he offer any explanation?”
“He claims he fell asleep in his clothes, but every instinct says he’s lying. Do you not agree?”
“I do find it an unlikely coincidence that he would fall asleep in his clothes two hours before he has to rise and flee a burning house in the middle of the night,” Darcy said. “Particularly after making threats against Bingley earlier in the day and skulking about after the rest of the household has retired. But there is no proof that he entered their room. Jane and Bingley recall nothing.”
“Nevertheless, I have a bad feeling about him.”
“Kendall has that effect on most people.”
“He has that look in his eyes — that same hardness of expression I saw in the cutpurse who accosted Caroline Parrish. Cold calculation, divorced from all principle or proper feeling.”
“One cannot, however, convict him on impressions alone.”
“He has to be up to something. Why else is he still here? We all went through a harrowing ordeal last night. Netherfield is not a comfortable place to be at present — the servants are preoccupied with cleaning and repairing the damage, the house still smells of smoke, his host is not even in residence. Good heavens, we have family connections inducing us to stay, and
“We desired that before the fire. But for a series of accidents, we would be at Pemberley now.”
She pushed the food around on her plate, her appetite apparently having waned. “The situation was easier when I could just resent Caroline’s bad luck. But with all that happened to Jane and Bingley yesterday, it now seems the universe is scheming against the Bingley family in general.” Her fork stopped suddenly. “Or someone else is.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Darcy, I dreamed about the carriage accident last night. Repeatedly.”
It troubled him to see the lines of care that marked her face since the carriage accident. He wished he could somehow shield her, take the burden of worry for her sister entirely upon his own shoulders. “I am not surprised. It was a disturbing sight.”
“No — I didn’t dream about us discovering it. I saw it happening. I kept seeing a bolt or something fall to the ground, and then the wheel flying off. Are you quite sure it came loose by itself?”
“Not having inspected the coach before it left, I cannot tell you anything with certainty. But the vehicle could have been left vulnerable by negligent maintenance.”
“Or sabotage.”
“You suspect the accident was no accident?”
“It’s possible, is it not?”
He considered a moment. Possible, yes. But probable? “Who would do such a thing? Who would have anything to gain?”
“Mr. Kendall. You told me he threatened Bingley yesterday with court action. If Bingley had perished in the mishap, could not Kendall file his claim against the estate? He then goes to Chancery with his false accounting records, and without Bingley there to refute them—”
“But Kendall did not arrive here until after we all departed for Longbourn.”
“So it appeared. But we know the man prowled around Netherfield House for no good purpose last night. Could he not have done the same in Netherfield’s outbuildings the night before, then timed his ‘arrival’ after seeing us all depart?”
He conceded the plausibility. Kendall could well have been in the area long before they would have been aware of him. Darcy already believed him capable of starting a fire to destroy the audit evidence and make good on his threat. Had he tampered with Bingley’s carriage?
It was Darcy’s experience that while many men might bluster out dire warnings, especially in the heat of an argument, most of them possessed enough conscience to stay on the decent side of the line between threat and action. Only a small number possessed the black state of mind and heart that enables one to commit wickedness against fellow human beings to advance one’s own interests. Fortunately, Darcy had encountered few of them in his personal dealings — his rakehell brother-in-law Wickham was one of them — but they seemed to share a common pattern of behavior. They began with minor transgressions and escalated their misdeeds, each one making the next acceptable in their own minds until they arrive at a destination so foreign to civilized men that their broken moral compass can no longer lead them home.
