Carrie Bebris - The Matters at Mansfield

Mr. Stover himself arrived but minutes later. Upon being apprised of the latest developments, he promised to complete his examinations with all possible haste. While the coroner conducted his work, Darcy and the others had work of their own to perform.

Starting with visiting the viscount. They not only needed to advise him of Neville’s death, but also to question him about whether his son had owned a pair of dueling pistols.

A rather dishonorable pair of dueling pistols.

“Pray forgive me.” Elizabeth leaned across the table so that Anne could hear her lowered voice. “When I suggested breakfasting together in the dining room now that you are recovered, I forgot about the fact that Meg has become employed here.”

Anne shook her head. “You need not apologize. I was bound to encounter her eventually.”

Meg, who had been hovering near the kitchen door, came over and offered an awkward greeting. Anne returned it with all the decorum one could be expected to muster toward a woman with whom one shared a husband — that is to say, with equal awkwardness. Fortunately, no one else was in the room to observe the meeting.

Meg went to retrieve their tea. She returned with a pot and two cups. As she set Anne’s teacup before her, she offered Anne a self-conscious half-smile, then turned to go.

“Mrs. Garrick?” Anne said.

She paused. “I cannot bear to hear that name. Call me Meg.”

“Meg, I—” Anne glanced at Elizabeth, who encouraged her to continue. “I want you to know — I had no idea. That he was married.”

A short, mirthless laugh escaped Meg. “Apparently, neither did he.” She shook her head. “We are in a fine mess, are we not? But I do not blame you for it, Mrs. Crawford.”

“Do call me Anne, for I cannot bear that name.”

Nat came into the room just then. As Elizabeth had not yet seen Lord Sennex that morning, she excused herself and went to speak with the boy.

“How are you this morning, Nat?”

“Very well, ma’am. I have been watching out for Lord Sennex as you asked.”

“I am glad to hear it. The task has not interfered with your other duties, I hope?”

“Not greatly, though I can see why you want me to do it. He was about his business so long last night that I started to worry. But when I got closer to the privy, he was no longer within — I found him poking around the bushes to one side of it. Said he had lost something, but found it, and all was well. I think he dropped his cane and then accidentally kicked it under a bush, for he was stooping when I came upon him. I led him back to his room — tried to take him by the arm to help him a bit, but he wanted no part of that. A proud man, he is, even if his mind is not quite sharp.”

“He is, indeed. Have you seen him yet this morning?”

“I have. He got past me somehow, for I didn’t notice him leave the inn, but not long after sun-up I saw him come back inside. He was moving slowly — the walk to the privy must have tired him, or maybe he forgot where it was and wandered about for a while before he found it. Why he does not simply use the chamber pot, I don’t know. Maybe he forgets it’s there.”

Elizabeth did not care to speculate on the matter. Apparently, she had been well justified in her concern for the viscount’s welfare.

By the time she finished with Nat, Meg was seated at the table with Anne, and the two were talking over tea as if they had known each other for years. Apparently, their mutual betrayal by Henry had united them. Meg had a gift for putting people at ease; Elizabeth could see why Henry had been drawn to her.

She decided to leave them to their conversation while she checked on Lord Sennex. Receiving no immediate response to her initial rap on the viscount’s door, she knocked a second time. “Lord Sennex? It is Mrs. Darcy.”

Her latter attempt elicited sounds of movement. “Just a moment,” he called. She heard something small fall to the floor, followed by muttering. A minute later he opened the door.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Darcy?”

“I came to make that very enquiry of your lordship. With your son gone, I wanted to ensure that you were properly attended. Do you require anything this morning?”

He stared at her, uncomprehending, for a moment.

“My lord?”

“What? Oh! I — no, I do not believe I need anything. Kind of you to enquire, however. You must have been a very dutiful daughter to your father.”

“I like to believe so. I thought I heard something fall. Is all well?”

“Oh, indeed. I only dropped something. It was a — now, what was it?” He turned to look back into his chamber. “Yes — oh, yes.” He opened the door wider so that she could see into the room. Unlike her chamber, his had a small table, and upon it was a chess set. “I was just setting up the game, moving everything into position. I knocked down a black knight unexpectedly, but all is fine now.”

“Your lordship brings a chess set along when traveling?”

“Very often. It provides occupation. I had this one designed for travel. The board folds into a case, you see.” He gestured her inside. “Would you care to have a look?”

She followed him to the table. It was a lovely set, each piece carved in intricate detail. The knights appeared ready to charge, the pawns to march, the kings to command. The castles hosted small rooks roosting at the top of each tower.

“It is a fine set,” she said. “With whom do you play? Your son?”

“No. Neville—” He cleared his throat. “Neville never showed much interest in the game. I play — well, never mind. You indulge me by enquiring, but the amusements of an old man cannot be of interest to a young person.”

She pitied the viscount. A sadness seemed to envelop him. How lonely he must often be, with an impatient, self-absorbed son and scarcely anyone else to pay attention to him. “They are of great interest to me. Do go on.”

“I play against myself, mostly. White Sennex versus Black.” He lifted the white king, his hand betraying a slight tremor. “It has been years since I faced a truly worthy opponent.”

“Mr. Darcy plays chess. Perhaps he may provide your lordship a challenge.”

“Perhaps.” He replaced the piece and steered her toward the door. “I thank you for enquiring after me, Mrs. Darcy, but as you can see, I am fine.” He yawned. “Though perhaps less lively than I was at your age. I believe I will have a bit of a nap.”

She returned to the dining room to discover Anne’s company considerably expanded. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Sir Thomas had joined her and Meg. All bore grave expressions. The colonel sat in a chair beside Anne, talking to both women in a low voice, while the other two gentlemen stood nearby. Upon sighting Elizabeth, Darcy came to her.

“You have unfortunate news, I take it?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mr. Crawford is dead.”

“For certain this time?”

“Yes. And so is Neville Sennex.”

“Oh, my.” Her thoughts immediately went to the frail old man she had just left upstairs. “This will be a terrible blow to the viscount.”

Lord Sennex swayed, his cane proving insufficient to steady him. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam helped him to a chair.

“Oh!” The viscount’s hands quivered. He gripped his knees as if trying to still the tremors. “Oh…”

“My lord—”

He closed his eyes and slowly moved his head from side to side. “Oh, Neville…”

“The coroner believes he died quickly,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “And honorably. It appears he dueled with Mr. Henry Crawford.”