Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer.
Darcy wanted to spend a minute simply beholding his wife, but could not indulge the desire until their audience dispersed. So disperse it he would.
He took Elizabeth’s hand and drew her back into their chamber. “My wife needs her rest. Whatever business you have with her can wait.”
That statement alone proved enough to send Mrs. Bennet, who found him the most intimidating of her sons- in-law, scurrying back to her own bedroom. Lydia required only the addition of a disapproving look before muttering her intention to ring for a housemaid again.
Lady Catherine, however, remained, despite uncharacteristic discomposure. His attire seemed the source of her agitation. Unsure whether he yet suffered from a debilitating cold, he had taken the precaution of exchanging his clothes for a nightshirt upon reaching their apartment, so that he appeared to have just risen from bed and hastily donned a pair of trousers before coming to the bedchamber door. For some reason, his state of undress — hardly unexpected, given the hour — evoked Lady Catherine’s disapproval.
“My business is with you, Mr. Darcy,” his aunt declared.
“Then it, too, can wait. You may consider me entirely at your disposal after breakfast. Until then, I bid you good night.” Without further ceremony, he shut the door. And closed his arms about his wife.
Impatient to return to her, Darcy had found the weeks of their separation long. Now it seemed as though twice as much time had passed. His embrace could no longer fully encircle her. He placed a hand on their son and was rewarded with a kick.
“Your child missed you,” she said.
“Did his mother?”
“Oh — were you gone? I had not noticed.”
If the scene to which he had returned were any indication, she’d had plenty of companionship to divert her. “Mr. Wickham did not accompany his wife, I hope?”
“He is not about Pemberley.” She stepped out of his arms and looked up at him. Though the slight distance between them granted him a better view of the face he had longed to see, he did not want to let her go. “How did you come to be in our bedchamber without anyone’s observing your entrance?”
“I entered my dressing room through the servants’ door.” He took both her hands in his, unable to completely break contact. He simply wanted to be near her. “I did not wish to risk encountering anyone before conferring with you, as I did not know whether you had been able to maintain our original pretext.”
“Your illness lasted about a week. You recovered when your aunt began insisting that we summon a doctor.”
“How have I busied myself since?”
“You have been conducting business in the village, visiting every part of the house Lady Catherine was not presently in, and engaging in all manner of outdoor sport. Then this evening you took to bed once more.”
“What kept me there this time?”
Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Indoor sport.”
He laughed. “I am sorry I missed it. I hope I acquitted myself well?”
“Tolerably.”
“Only tolerably?”
“Your mind seemed to be elsewhere. So did the rest of you, for that matter. Where
“Most recently, in Bath. After meeting with Henry Tilney at Northanger, I wanted to interview the owner of the shop where you noted the walking stick similar to mine displayed in the window. I decided that I was already so far south that I might as well continue on to Bath and conduct my business as efficiently as possible.”
“And how did you come to visit Northanger Abbey? When you left here, you were headed to Newcastle to question Mr. Wickham about your mother’s strongbox. From Pemberley, one does not travel north by Northanger.”
“I did speak to Wickham. And no sooner did we finish our conversation, than I spied the mysterious Dorothy.”
Her eyes widened in astonishment. “In Newcastle?”
“She was the cause of my first delay. She fled when she saw me, and I spent several days trying to locate her again. My search proved unsuccessful, but my enquiries revealed that she was in fact Frederick Tilney’s mistress.”
“Dorothy and Captain Tilney? My! That elucidates a few matters, does it not? She must have been a better lover than housekeeper.”
“She was never a housekeeper at all, just the widow of one of Frederick’s fellow officers. Until the night I sighted her, she had not been seen in Newcastle since Captain Tilney’s death. I lost her trail there, so I went to report my findings to Henry Tilney and learn whether he knew anything of Mrs. Stanford.”
“And did he?”
“No, but his butler recalled her having visited Northanger once. She and the captain quarreled when he abruptly dashed her hopes of marriage. Apparently, however, she decided to satisfy herself with his fortune if not his hand.”
“Did he provide for her upon his death?”
“Not in any formal manner, according to Henry Tilney. Reports in Newcastle indicate that she quit her rooms there because she could no longer afford them.”
“And headed straight for Northanger, where we encountered her before Henry received word of his brother’s death. Hmm.” She sat on one end of the chaise longue, making room for him to sit beside her. “You said she was the widow of another officer?”
“Yes, a Colonel Reginald Stanford.”
“The dispatch to Henry Tilney did not reach him for two weeks. Might Mrs. Stanford have used her connections to delay the delivery?”
“That is quite possible. Apparently, she was well acquainted with a number of officers. She could have called upon one of them for a favor, or used her wiles on the messenger himself.”
“Either way, the delay provided enough time for her and the false Captain Tilney to meet us at Northanger Abbey.” She frowned. “But what interest had she in us?”
“I have been contemplating that point,” he said. “Mrs. Stanford could have known of our expected visit and, for reasons of her own, wanted it to proceed.”
“So she found someone to pose as the captain, and the two of them met us in Frederick Tilney’s place.”
“Precisely. After we departed and their objective — whatever it was — had been satisfied, the dispatch was delivered to Henry Tilney.”
“Do you suppose their objective was at all related to the true Captain Tilney’s original motive for his invitation? He cited a desire to renew the acquaintance between families, and the false captain seemed to know something of that history. Enough, at least, to enquire into the friendship between your mother and Helen Tilney, and whether Mrs. Tilney ever visited Pemberley.”
“Which she did not.”
“As a matter of fact, she did — and so did the general.” Elizabeth rose and went into her dressing room. She returned a minute later with a handful of letters. “You were a boy of only four, so that is probably why you do not remember. She came to visit shortly after the other nine ivories that match your mother’s were discovered at Northanger. While Mrs. Tilney was here, the statuettes disappeared from Northanger, and General Tilney, convinced she had given them to Lady Anne, descended upon Pemberley looking for them. Here — read for yourself.”
He did, and wished he had possessed this information when he last spoke with Henry Tilney. “The statuettes were never found, and Henry Tilney told me that his father went to his grave resenting their loss. The general often spoke of them, especially to Frederick.”
“Then at some point, he likely shared his suspicion that Mrs. Tilney brought them to Pemberley. Perhaps
