Read Online North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) by Carrie Bebris - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carrie Bebris
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visit us at Pemberley, on a future date, when your strength is restored.”
“No, no—I care not a whit about fatigue. I could sprint from here to Gloucester if I chose. I do not wish to defer the pleasure of your society, and as I am injured, you must indulge me. Let us have no more talk of leaving. Do you find your quarters satisfactory? Northanger Abbey is an old house, but not too draughty. Been improved to offer modern comforts.”
The old-fashioned comforts of a fire and adequate time to properlydress for dinner would have constituted sufficient improvements, but given their host’s current state of affliction, Elizabeth no longer considered these matters deserving of mention. “Quite satisfactory,” she said. “We understand our apartment was formerly occupied by your mother?”
“What’s that? Oh, yes—I suppose it was.” He swallowed more port. “It has been so long, you know. When I arrived yesterday, I thought it rather cork-brained to reserve those rooms from use any longer. The nicest rooms in the house, just sitting empty while everyone else is forced to make do with smaller. Why, dear Mother would not want that at all, I am sure. So I said to—to Dorothy, that the first guests to use them should be the son of her dear friend.”
“We are honored,” Darcy said. “But are you aware that some of the drawers and cupboards still hold her effects?”
“Oh, that is nothing. Feel free to use everything in the rooms as your own.”
His nonchalance took Elizabeth aback. Surely the late Mrs. Tilney would not want strangers handling her possessions without her son having sorted through them first. “Perhaps you wish to remove her personal items, at least, to another location?”
“No, no. Not if any of them can be of use or interest to you.”
Elizabeth blinked at his continued indifference. She glanced at Darcy, who appeared similarly dumbfounded by their host.
“You are most generous, Captain Tilney,” she said. “But I cannot imagine a need of ours that would supersede the sentimental value your mother’s belongings hold for you. And we found—”
“As I said, use everything as your own. By Jove, this is fine port, is it not, Mr. Darcy? I believe I shall have a second glass. Can I top off yours?” He began to rise, but Darcy stopped him.
“Allow me.” Darcy refilled their host’s glass but poured no more wine for himself. When he was seated once more, the captain took a long draught and settled more deeply into his own chair.
“Now, forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, if you feel excluded from theconversation for a few minutes. But there are many questions I wish to ask your husband here—”
“Of course.” Elizabeth had expected as much. In fact, the conversational turn was about the only part of their visit that had met her expectations.
The Eye turned upon Darcy and remained fixed for the first time all evening. “So, Mr. Darcy—did you ever meet Mrs. Tilney?”
“Regrettably, I do not believe I had the honor. How long ago did she pass away?”
“Oh, twenty years at least.” He took another sip of wine. “When did you lose your mother?” The casualness of his voice made it sound as if Darcy had merely misplaced her.
“Eighteen years ago this January,” Darcy replied in a much more sober tone.
“And your letter said Mrs. Tilney never visited Pemberley?”
“I do not believe so. Unless I was too young to remember.”
“Did your mother—what was her name—Lady Anne?—ever speak of her?”
“She would have had little occasion to speak to me about Mrs. Tilney. I was a young boy, more interested in my mother’s nursery tales than in her social acquaintance.”
The captain sat forward. “Come, now—did she never mention visiting Mrs. Tilney here at Northanger? Point out mementoes she might have received from her?”
“Not to me.”
“Well, then, to anyone at Pemberley?”
“If she did, I have no direct knowledge of her having done so.”
Even with only one
“No, no—I care not a whit about fatigue. I could sprint from here to Gloucester if I chose. I do not wish to defer the pleasure of your society, and as I am injured, you must indulge me. Let us have no more talk of leaving. Do you find your quarters satisfactory? Northanger Abbey is an old house, but not too draughty. Been improved to offer modern comforts.”
The old-fashioned comforts of a fire and adequate time to properlydress for dinner would have constituted sufficient improvements, but given their host’s current state of affliction, Elizabeth no longer considered these matters deserving of mention. “Quite satisfactory,” she said. “We understand our apartment was formerly occupied by your mother?”
“What’s that? Oh, yes—I suppose it was.” He swallowed more port. “It has been so long, you know. When I arrived yesterday, I thought it rather cork-brained to reserve those rooms from use any longer. The nicest rooms in the house, just sitting empty while everyone else is forced to make do with smaller. Why, dear Mother would not want that at all, I am sure. So I said to—to Dorothy, that the first guests to use them should be the son of her dear friend.”
“We are honored,” Darcy said. “But are you aware that some of the drawers and cupboards still hold her effects?”
“Oh, that is nothing. Feel free to use everything in the rooms as your own.”
His nonchalance took Elizabeth aback. Surely the late Mrs. Tilney would not want strangers handling her possessions without her son having sorted through them first. “Perhaps you wish to remove her personal items, at least, to another location?”
“No, no. Not if any of them can be of use or interest to you.”
Elizabeth blinked at his continued indifference. She glanced at Darcy, who appeared similarly dumbfounded by their host.
“You are most generous, Captain Tilney,” she said. “But I cannot imagine a need of ours that would supersede the sentimental value your mother’s belongings hold for you. And we found—”
“As I said, use everything as your own. By Jove, this is fine port, is it not, Mr. Darcy? I believe I shall have a second glass. Can I top off yours?” He began to rise, but Darcy stopped him.
“Allow me.” Darcy refilled their host’s glass but poured no more wine for himself. When he was seated once more, the captain took a long draught and settled more deeply into his own chair.
“Now, forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, if you feel excluded from theconversation for a few minutes. But there are many questions I wish to ask your husband here—”
“Of course.” Elizabeth had expected as much. In fact, the conversational turn was about the only part of their visit that had met her expectations.
The Eye turned upon Darcy and remained fixed for the first time all evening. “So, Mr. Darcy—did you ever meet Mrs. Tilney?”
“Regrettably, I do not believe I had the honor. How long ago did she pass away?”
“Oh, twenty years at least.” He took another sip of wine. “When did you lose your mother?” The casualness of his voice made it sound as if Darcy had merely misplaced her.
“Eighteen years ago this January,” Darcy replied in a much more sober tone.
“And your letter said Mrs. Tilney never visited Pemberley?”
“I do not believe so. Unless I was too young to remember.”
“Did your mother—what was her name—Lady Anne?—ever speak of her?”
“She would have had little occasion to speak to me about Mrs. Tilney. I was a young boy, more interested in my mother’s nursery tales than in her social acquaintance.”
The captain sat forward. “Come, now—did she never mention visiting Mrs. Tilney here at Northanger? Point out mementoes she might have received from her?”
“Not to me.”
“Well, then, to anyone at Pemberley?”
“If she did, I have no direct knowledge of her having done so.”
Even with only one
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