The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy by Regina Jeffers Page B

“Please see the gentleman out.” With a nod, the Rom strolled away, but Darcy remained by the door where he might observe the man’s retreat. Theirs had been a most convoluted conversation, and Darcy knew not what to make of it.
    Once the Rom had had time to leave the property, Darcy sought his wife’s counsel. From the time of their joining, Elizabeth had become his closest confidante. He found her staring out the window which overlooked the gardens, in his cousin’s library. “Something of note?” he asked with amusement as he stepped up behind her.
    Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at him, but her concentration remained on the couple discreetly speaking under a rose arbor in the lower gardens. “I was ruminating on what a blond god with excessively broad shoulders might have in common with a woman of Mrs. Ridgeway’s advanced years.” She shifted to the right so Darcy might view the scene below. “Are you familiar with the gentleman, Fitzwilliam?”
    Darcy watched the pair with more than a little curiosity. “The man is Mr. Gry. He is the leader of our gypsy band.”
    â€œOh,” Elizabeth said with disappointment. “I had hoped to have stumbled upon a compromising situation.”
    â€œAlways the romantic,” he said with true affection.
    Elizabeth protested, “Obviously, Mrs. Ridgeway will require a new position once this investigation is complete. If the gentleman is too young for a flirtation, I could have wished for an offer of comparable employment for the lady.”
    Darcy slid his right arm about her waist. “As neither appears likely for Mrs. Ridgeway’s near future, what do you suppose a genteel lady and a member of a gypsy band have in common to generate a conversation of such long duration?” He frowned dramatically as the couple moved closer to one another.
    Elizabeth’s mouth twisted in a tight line. “Perhaps the lady offers her sympathy for Mr. Gry’s recent loss.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Darcy said with undeniable curiosity. “Yet, in my conversation with the gentleman, I suspected Gry withheld information.”
    Elizabeth moved closer to the window. Leaning her forehead against the pane, she asked cautiously, “Have we taken Mrs. Ridgeway’s amiability too liberally? Are we too gullible in this matter?”
    Darcy automatically tightened his hold on her. Elizabeth’s tone spoke of vulnerability and brought out his protective nature. In the past, even when he thought he might never claim Elizabeth Bennet as his own, Darcy had moved Heaven and Earth to allay her fears that her sister Jane would never know Mr. Bingley’s regard and to save Elizabeth’s, and all the Bennet sisters’, reputations when Mr. Wickham had seduced the flighty, immature Lydia away from her family. “I suspect we should practice discretion in our interactions with those in the neighborhood. In reality, from Uncle Samuel’s staff, I only recognize three who served him when I last visited,” he cautioned.
    â€œThe conversation has ended,” Elizabeth noted, “and Mrs. Ridgeway does not appear happy with the result.”
    Darcy suggested, “Move away from the window before the lady observes our interest.”
    Elizabeth stepped around him and returned to a stack of ledgers on his cousin’s desk. “Mr. Gry’s appearance is not one I would associate with those of Roman ancestry.”
    Darcy said teasingly, “Yes, I do not imagine many Roma are described as ‘a blond god with excessively broad shoulders.’”
    Elizabeth’s eyes lit with delight. “A woman enjoys taking note of a man who fills out his jacket. Without the padding, of course. Mr. Gry’s more casual attire fits him impeccably.”
    Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Was that your reaction to me? Did you take note of my shoulders, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked inquiringly. This was a