figurines nor were there spots on the carpeting. Looking at the economy with which the woman lived made Elizabeth pity the late Mrs. Younge. The woman’s descent into hell had started with Wickham’s seduction.
“Someone is in the kitchen,” Darcy whispered into her hair. “Let us see who.”
He pushed open the door, and the smell of porridge filled the air. An old woman with white hair stood with her back to them, fussing over the food preparation. Darcy cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned quickly and was surprised to see Darcy and Elizabeth occupying the doorway.“Oh, goodness gracious me.”The woman wiped her hands on her apron.“He’p you, Sir? Ma’am?”
“We are friends of Mrs.Younge. Might she be about?” Darcy tried to keep his tone amiable. He had no idea whether the woman was a vampire. He would take no chances with Elizabeth here. He moved to shield his wife from a possible attack. Elizabeth had shared part of her dream with him, and after Mrs.Annesley’s words of advice, Darcy knew not which “reality” to trust.
“Have yet to see her, Sir. Mrs. Younge come and go as she please. I hep out here couple days a week with cleanin’ and cookin’.”
“Are there guests in the house now?” Elizabeth ventured from off Darcy’s right shoulder.
“Mr. George left hours ago. He be it.”
Darcy shot a quick glance at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye.“Mr. George?”
“He be an ole friend of ’Melia’s, too. My, Mr. George kin sleep—sleep for two days stright, he did.” She chuckled as she bent over and pulled two loaves of bread from the oven.“You be stayin’ tonight, Sir? Ma’am? I fix mighty fine soup.”
“We are considering it.” He took Elizabeth’s hand to edge her back through the door.“Would you mind if we looked around?”
The woman looked up suspiciously.“How be you know ’Melia?”
Elizabeth responded casually, “She and I worked together before she was governess for the Darcy family. I taught school for a year before I hooked up with my mister.”
“This be yer mister?”The old woman eyed Darcy appreciatively.
“Yes, he is.We just came to London to make our way. I thought Amelia might have a place we could afford until we got a nest egg of our own.” Elizabeth snuggled into Darcy’s arm in a possessive way.
“Well, seein’ as how you know ’Melia, I be supposin’ you could choose yer room of those empty ones.All be clean ’ceptin’ Mr. George’s.”
“We will not bother anything,” Elizabeth assured her, “just look around.”
“That be fine, Ma’am.” The woman turned back to her work.
Darcy and Elizabeth slipped from the room and headed towards the main staircase. “Does this resemble your dream?” Darcy wondered aloud as they ascended the hardwood steps.
“Only in the angle of the curvature of the staircase,” she said, trying to downplay the vivid dream, which still clung to the recesses of her mind.
“The old woman said Wickham is no longer here.”
Elizabeth murmured,“What if she was wrong?”
“She is not.” Darcy touched the knob of the only closed door in the hallway. “I am able to sense Wickham, and I have no such feeling right now.”
Elizabeth sighed audibly, accepting his reasoning. “I hate it when you are right,” she joked, trying to ease the tension.
“You must accustom yourself to it, my love. I am rarely wrong.”
“Open the door, Mr. Darcy,” she said,“so we can find what we need and then leave this place.”
Darcy turned the knob slowly; the click of the release made Elizabeth jump, but he let the wood swing away from the frame, revealing a darkened room. Cautiously, Darcy moved to the windows, pulling open the drapes to let the natural light pour in. Finally able to see, Elizabeth tiptoed into the space.
Nothing seemed out of place; the water pitcher, the glass, the hairbrush, the folded towel—everything appeared to be ready for the next guest.They surveyed it all—every inch of the room. Elizabeth’s gaze fell on the chintz-covered bed. “What is that?” She pointed to dark streaks on the pale yellow cloth.
They cautiously approached the four-poster from either side—the drape, a dark guillotine blade, seemed to separate them from reality.“I do not know.” Darcy touched the black streaks spread in a curving pattern across the flat surface of the bed cover. He touched the smudge with his finger, brought the flakes to his nose, and sniffed.“I think it is dirt.”
“Dirt?” Elizabeth questioned.“Why would there be dirt all over the coverings? It makes no sense. Even if Wickham had mud on his jacket, it would not be in a definite pattern. Step to the foot of the bed. Can you not see it is an outline of someone lying here?”
Darcy did as she suggested. “It is indeed; you have a good eye, Elizabeth.”
“Did Wickham sleep here on this dirt-streaked bed?”
Darcy walked away to examine the rest of the room. “As clean as the other rooms are, the bed seems out of place. It must have something to do with
“Is there anything else? This room is most unwelcoming.” Elizabeth
“The only other thing that seems out of place is the hand towel. All the others are neatly folded, but this one is twisted and placed next to the bowl. It has a smear, as if someone wiped their soiled fingers on it.” Darcy held the towel aloft.
Elizabeth came forward for a closer look. “This does not look like the same dirt as is on the bed. It is greyer in
