The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy Read Online Free

to an unknown assailant.”
    Darcy sighed heavily. The fact his wife spoke his thoughts frustrated him. “Many days more than a fortnight, Elizabeth,” he said in annoyance. “My cousin has known his Maker for nigh on a month, and no one has been brought to justice.”
    Elizabeth nodded her head sympathetically. “All you say is true, my husband, but do not cast fault upon your own shoulders for not having taken action prior to today. Although not timely to the course of the events, we are in Dorset, and you may see to a resolution.”
    â€œYet...” he began, but a deep frown on his wife’s perfect countenance curtailed Darcy’s protest.
    â€œI shall not hear of it, Fitzwilliam,” she said adamantly. “If you regret our not rushing to Dorset, then it means you regret our time together on the Derby . I will treasure those days and would not have them tarnished.”
    Darcy knew she was correct. His tendency toward self-censure often ruled his thoughts—actually addressed them with rather an injudicious particularity. Not an incurable fault, but one where he had to practice how to dictate liberality to others, as well as himself. “I could never look with disdain upon any moment we spend together. You are my world, Elizabeth Darcy. Surely you are aware of my devotion.”
    She rewarded him with that easy smile Darcy so adored. “It is with shameful insensibility that I rejoice in your regard, my husband,” Elizabeth assured. “Yet, because I return your sentiments, I would not have you assume the world’s faults as your own. We will see to what is proper to honor your cousin’s memory.”
    â€œBut what of our wedding journey?” Darcy said softly. “I promised you sea bathing and time to mark our joining.”
    Elizabeth leaned forward, wrapping her arms about her knees. “We shall have more than enough time to do both. Lady Cynthia’s arrival is several weeks in the future. We can press for a more comprehensive investigation, while spending time enjoying King George’s favorite watering hole. One activity does not negate the other.”
    â€œIs it any wonder that I love you so dearly?” he asked earnestly.
    Mischievously, she batted her eyes at him. “You could not resist my charms, Mr. Darcy,” she teased.
    He slid across the carriage to sit beside her. “I have possessed a strange attraction for your fine eyes for more days than I care to recall,” he said as he planted a wet kiss on the column of her neck. “Now, I am aware of more alluring charms,” he said huskily.
    Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered closed, but she quickly recovered her senses. “Mr. Darcy,” she protested halfheartedly. Before Darcy could catch her to him, his wife slid across the seat to look pointedly out the coach’s small window. “My goodness!” she gasped. “Are those gypsies, Fitzwilliam?” she asked in disbelief.
    Darcy followed her across the bench to peer over her shoulder. “They are, my dear. Have you never seen a Roma band?”
    Elizabeth turned her head slightly to him. Her eyes had widened, and they were full of excitement. “I have heard tales of gypsy bands, but I have never known of one camping near Meryton.” Her gaze returned to the colorful wagons, and the young men taking a horse through its paces. “Shall they truly steal our purses if we are foolish enough to go near their camp?” she asked innocently.
    Darcy watched as the men stopped their activity to scrutinize his coach’s progress. As a group, they took several menacing steps in the direction of the road. Automatically, Darcy stiffened, and he slid an arm about Elizabeth’s waist. Sensing his anxiety, his wife clung tightly to him, and he felt fiercely protective of her. “There are many troops that offer no mischief,” he said with little conviction. “However, my experience