Read Online North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) by Carrie Bebris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carrie Bebris
Ads: Link
eye showing, the captain’s disappointment was obvious. The curl of his lower lip resembled nothing so much as a pout. “But they corresponded, yes?”
“One might presume they did. My mother engaged in frequent correspondence with many friends.”
“Did she save her letters?—Upon my soul, of course she did!Women always keep that sort of thing. There must be a note or two from Mrs. Tilney somewhere at Pemberley. Nay, dozens! I should like very much to see them.”
Though his glass remained half full, Darcy set it aside. “I am aware of none, but should we discover any, it would be my pleasure to return them to your care.”
Elizabeth sensed an increase in her husband’s natural reserve. He was, she knew, unaccustomed to answering so many questions about his family, particularly from someone of such slight acquaintance.
“Captain Tilney,” she said, “did your mother preserve any correspondence herself? Might there be letters from Lady Anne here at Northanger?”
“Dash it, no. Nothing the old general kept for anybody to find, anyway. Did you ever meet him? Superior billiards player, though I could always best him. By Jove, once when I met him at—oh, but we were speaking of his wife, were we not? Well, one never knows when an old letter might be found. Or what interesting details it might contain about something everybody forgot about ages ago. Only think—a simple note that was nothing but tittle-tattle between friends could reveal some secret nobody else knew. Jolly intriguing things, old letters! I swear, I shall begin saving mine as of this moment just to entertain my heirs after I pop off.”
Darcy’s expression grew still more shuttered. Elizabeth wondered whether the captain’s comment had inadvertently brought to his mind Lady Anne’s final letter. Her husband had not found it entertaining in the least. It had revealed an extent of suffering on his mother’s part that he would just as soon have never known about so vividly.
“A letter can communicate more than its author intended,” Darcy said. “Particularly to those who were never meant to read it.”
“My point precisely!” Captain Tilney drained his wineglass and set it down with so much force that Elizabeth briefly feared for its welfare. “Revelations just waiting to be uncovered!”
“To what purpose?” Darcy shook his head. “Some things are best left buried in the past.”
“Some things should never have become buried in the first place, and ought to be brought to light.”
A flash of lightning cast the room in sudden brilliance. The shadow eclipsing Captain Tilney’s face momentarily receded, exposing the zeal that brightened his lone blue eye. An enormous boom followed. Rain pelted the windows with renewed fury.
The Eye now shifted back to Elizabeth. “What do you think, Mrs. Darcy? If you stumbled across some intriguing hint of forgotten treasure, would you search for it?”
Despite the casual character of his speech, Captain Tilney’s statements held an undercurrent Elizabeth could not define, as if he and they were not quite participating in the same conversation.
“If I thought it could—and ought to—be found,” she replied warily.
Darcy’s jaw had acquired the rigid set she had come to recognize as a sure sign of his displeasure. “Forgive me, Captain,” he said, “but my wife and I have endured a long day of travel, and I can see that she is weary. Would you take it amiss if we retired for the evening?”
The sudden request brought a look of surprise to their host’s face—or, at least, to the Eye—but he recovered himself quickly.
“So soon? But you have not yet—that is, we were just becoming acquainted. Surely you will stay long enough to share another glass of port, at least? Mrs. Darcy may withdraw if she chooses.”
Darcy stood. “Unfortunately, I must decline. Our journey fatigued me also.”
“Well . . . if you must,” he replied rather petulantly. There was something
“One might presume they did. My mother engaged in frequent correspondence with many friends.”
“Did she save her letters?—Upon my soul, of course she did!Women always keep that sort of thing. There must be a note or two from Mrs. Tilney somewhere at Pemberley. Nay, dozens! I should like very much to see them.”
Though his glass remained half full, Darcy set it aside. “I am aware of none, but should we discover any, it would be my pleasure to return them to your care.”
Elizabeth sensed an increase in her husband’s natural reserve. He was, she knew, unaccustomed to answering so many questions about his family, particularly from someone of such slight acquaintance.
“Captain Tilney,” she said, “did your mother preserve any correspondence herself? Might there be letters from Lady Anne here at Northanger?”
“Dash it, no. Nothing the old general kept for anybody to find, anyway. Did you ever meet him? Superior billiards player, though I could always best him. By Jove, once when I met him at—oh, but we were speaking of his wife, were we not? Well, one never knows when an old letter might be found. Or what interesting details it might contain about something everybody forgot about ages ago. Only think—a simple note that was nothing but tittle-tattle between friends could reveal some secret nobody else knew. Jolly intriguing things, old letters! I swear, I shall begin saving mine as of this moment just to entertain my heirs after I pop off.”
Darcy’s expression grew still more shuttered. Elizabeth wondered whether the captain’s comment had inadvertently brought to his mind Lady Anne’s final letter. Her husband had not found it entertaining in the least. It had revealed an extent of suffering on his mother’s part that he would just as soon have never known about so vividly.
“A letter can communicate more than its author intended,” Darcy said. “Particularly to those who were never meant to read it.”
“My point precisely!” Captain Tilney drained his wineglass and set it down with so much force that Elizabeth briefly feared for its welfare. “Revelations just waiting to be uncovered!”
“To what purpose?” Darcy shook his head. “Some things are best left buried in the past.”
“Some things should never have become buried in the first place, and ought to be brought to light.”
A flash of lightning cast the room in sudden brilliance. The shadow eclipsing Captain Tilney’s face momentarily receded, exposing the zeal that brightened his lone blue eye. An enormous boom followed. Rain pelted the windows with renewed fury.
The Eye now shifted back to Elizabeth. “What do you think, Mrs. Darcy? If you stumbled across some intriguing hint of forgotten treasure, would you search for it?”
Despite the casual character of his speech, Captain Tilney’s statements held an undercurrent Elizabeth could not define, as if he and they were not quite participating in the same conversation.
“If I thought it could—and ought to—be found,” she replied warily.
Darcy’s jaw had acquired the rigid set she had come to recognize as a sure sign of his displeasure. “Forgive me, Captain,” he said, “but my wife and I have endured a long day of travel, and I can see that she is weary. Would you take it amiss if we retired for the evening?”
The sudden request brought a look of surprise to their host’s face—or, at least, to the Eye—but he recovered himself quickly.
“So soon? But you have not yet—that is, we were just becoming acquainted. Surely you will stay long enough to share another glass of port, at least? Mrs. Darcy may withdraw if she chooses.”
Darcy stood. “Unfortunately, I must decline. Our journey fatigued me also.”
“Well . . . if you must,” he replied rather petulantly. There was something
Similar Books
