surveyed the passing countryside in a futile search for the low stone wall with its distinctive arch of overhanging trees.
“Sister,” Cassandra said excitedly as the carriage rolled out of sight, “I did not know that you had been so much in conversation with our guest.” The elder Miss Austen frowned to express her own disappointment. “I confess he did nothing more interesting than to sleep and groan while I sat with him.”
With a disinterested shrug Jane dismissed Cassandra’s evident desire to begin gossiping about Darcy. “We had only a little brief discussion…about his home in Virginia, after I found him awake a short while ago,” Jane lied, wondering now if she had perhaps only imagined the strange, combative conversation with the American in her bedroom.
“And yet you seem most eager to meet with him again,” Cass said with a sly smile. “Did he tell you if he has a wife at home in Virginia?”
Jane, who usually loved to engage in such delicious but harmless prattle with her beloved sister, was in no mood for such foolishness today. So she pretended to be shocked by Cassandra’s intimation. “Cass, what a thing to say!”
“Well, he is very handsome and, as Edward tells it, very rich, too.”
Jane sniffed irritably. “Yes, and I expect that like most rich American landowners he also keeps slaves and is thus thoroughly wicked,” she replied, silently conjecturing whether it might actually be true. “Mr. Darcy is probably the sort of man who beats his servants and loves his dogs and horses to distraction,” she concluded, turning and going into the house.
“Well, hello there, big fella. How are you doing?”
Darcy grinned with genuine delight as a young groom led Lord Nelson out of Edward’s commodious stable for his inspection.
“He’s in tip-top condition, sir,” said the groom, handing the reins over to Darcy. “Can’t say I ever seen a healthier beast.”
Edward Austen, whose fine team of matched chestnut geldings demonstrated that the man obviously had an excellent eye for horseflesh, was clearly impressed by Lord Nelson. “What a marvelous creature, Darcy!” the older man exclaimed. “Where on earth did you find him?”
“I bought him at auction…a few days ago,” Darcy warily replied. “I plan to, um, take him home…to improve the bloodline in my own breeding stable.”
To Darcy’s dismay, Edward seemed shocked by this innocent revelation. “Home? You mean to say you plan to sail to America with this magnificent horse?” he bellowed. “Good Lord, man, is that not highly risky? I mean, the army regularly moves cavalry and livestock by sea, but confining a superior animal like this for months below decks in a heaving, rat-infested ship’s hold…”
Realizing that he had stepped into another minefield, for he had forgotten that this was still the age of sail, with steamships not due to revolutionize ocean travel for another sixty years or so, Darcy quickly backtracked. “Well, I’m still only thinking about it, actually. We’ll see.”
Slightly mollified by his answer, Edward nodded in the direction of the large Jacobean mansion they had passed on the way to the stables. “Shall we go up to the house now?” he suggested. “I daresay you will want to rest before dinner.”
“Yes, thank you,” Darcy replied. “But I’d like just a little more time with the horse, if that’s all right.”
“Certainly,” Edward agreed, seeming to readily understand a man putting the welfare of his horse before his own comforts. “I shall have your rooms prepared and some fresh clothes laid out for you.”
Edward indicated the young groom who had been standing patiently by the stable door while they talked. “Young Simmons here will show you the way up when you’re ready.”
“Sir!” Simmons touched his peaked hat in acknowledgment of his master’s order.
With a nod to his guest, Edward left the stables and Darcy began to check the horse over carefully.
“Begging your leave, sir,” said the groom, coming over to stand beside Lord Nelson. “I think there’s something you should see.”
Darcy looked at the youngster. “There is?”
Taking hold of Lord Nelson’s halter, Simmons deftly rolled back the horse’s upper lip, exposing the electronic barcode symbols that had been tattooed there by the previous owner. “Look at this, sir!” the groom exclaimed. “What can it be?”
Another minefield, thought Darcy, wondering how many of these situations he was going to be able to talk his way out of before making a fatal slip.
Looking quickly around to see if anyone else was listening, Darcy placed a warning finger to his lips. “Simmons,” he said in a low, confidential tone, “you seem like a good fellow. Can you be trusted to keep your mouth shut if I let you in on a secret?”
Simmons’s plain country features lit up with pleasure. “Oh, yes indeed, sir,” he whispered.
“This is a good-luck charm that was given to me by a very noble Indian chief when I was a boy,” Darcy said, pointing to the barcode identifier, which listed the horse’s international registry number, age, country of origin, lineage and owner.
“No!” Simmons’s eyes were as large as saucers.
“I have that charm secretly tattooed on all of my horses, for luck.”
The look of awe on Simmons’s face gave Darcy an idea and he decided to embroider the ridiculous tale just a bit more. “In fact,” he told the wondering groom, “I believe that Indian charm is the only reason I wasn’t killed in the fall I took going over that wall the other day.”
“That’s amazing, sir,” Simmons breathed. “For I heard tell you took a very bad tumble indeed.”
Darcy was just on the point of congratulating himself when the youngster frowned and said, “But I thought maybe it was there so you’d know the horse was yours if he was ever stole.”
Shot down again for having underestimated his supposedly unsophisticated listener, Darcy couldn’t help laughing out loud. “Simmons, my friend,” he told the observant groom, “something tells me that you’ll go very far in this life.”
His clever plan to coax the location of the stone wall from the young man in tatters, Darcy went for broke. “Tell me, though, how can I get back to the spot where I was thrown?” he asked. I’d like to ride out there and take a look at the ground.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” said the lad, looking genuinely pained that he did not have the answer Darcy sought. “I don’t believe I’ve heard it mentioned exactly where it was they found you. Perhaps Master Edward knows.”
The sun was dropping toward the horizon as Jane sat before the mirror at her dressing table. She had been taking advantage of the waning daylight to examine the handwritten manuscript that she kept hidden under lock and key in a chest downstairs. To her great disappointment she had been able to find no evidence that either her chest or the pages stored within had been tampered with. “Oh that
Looking into the mirror, she saw that Cassandra had quietly entered the bedroom and was standing behind her, looking very worried.
“Jane, what is the matter?” Cass inquired.
Jane turned and regarded her. “Why
Cass’s worried look changed to one of confusion. “But you said you looked forward to meeting him again,” she reminded Jane. “However, if you do not wish to see him I will send word that you are ill. Edward knows that you have not slept properly since—”
“No!” Jane interrupted, coming to a sudden decision. “We shall go to Edward’s,” she defiantly declared. “For I will not miss an opportunity to see Frank and all of our friends.” She turned back to the mirror and mischief sparkled in her eyes. “And I do genuinely wish to learn more of this Darcy.”
“Oh, sister,” whispered Cassandra, suddenly anxious to share her own thrilling speculations about the handsome stranger, “you do not think that Darcy has deceived us, do you? Perhaps he is a brigand,” she breathlessly suggested, “or an American spy, and not a gentleman at all.”
