“Mrs. Parrish, she seemed more reserved than usual at first. But Miss Kendall appeared very kindly disposed.”
“At any point in the outing, did you see Miss Kendall touch Mrs. Parrish’s mare?”
“She arrived at the park on horseback and never dismounted. The lady did compliment Hecate — called her a beautiful mare — and stroked the horse’s mane. But she held her own reins the whole time they rode together.”
“What about Miss Kendall’s maid?” Darcy asked. “Was she ever near the horse?”
“No, she hung back with me.”
“Has Hecate ever done this before?”
The servant shook his head. “She’s as tame a mount as you’ll ever find. Mrs. Parrish has ridden her a few times and never had any trouble with her ’afore. She did seem a bit skittish this morning, but Mrs. Parrish, she’s a fine rider and had her well in hand. Just don’t know what happened.”
They dismissed the servant and went outside to their waiting coach. The footman’s description of the meeting puzzled her. She’d hardly describe Juliet’s attitude toward Caroline as “kindly disposed” a mere week ago when she’d vowed to see Frederick’s new wife unhappy. What had been her true motive for the outing? Had Miss Kendall in fact caused the horse to bolt in hopes that an accident would ensue?
“What do you make of these events?” she asked Darcy as he handed her into the vehicle.
“A freak occurrence. While I can’t account for Miss Kendall’s interest in meeting with Mrs. Parrish, I think the horse must have been startled by a small animal or something. It does not take much to spook some horses. I do find it surprising that the servant had to check the mare, as Bingley’s sister definitely knows how to handle a mount, but perhaps the animal resisted the commands of an unfamiliar rider.”
“I’m not so sure.” She settled into her seat, suppressing a shiver as she drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Unbidden, the memory of Lady Chatfield’s tea-stained tablecloth flashed across her mind. “Will you require the carriage any more this afternoon?”
“It is yours if you want it.” He sat down beside her and drew her toward his warmth. “Where do you plan to go?”
“I think it’s time I called upon Miss Kendall.”
Eight
“Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination.”
Darcy, writing to Elizabeth,
Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 35
The Kendalls lived in a well-appointed townhouse just off Hyde Park, with furnishings that revealed their comfortable financial status. As she waited in the parlor for Juliet to receive her, Elizabeth mused that the import business, in which the Kendalls had been in partnership with the Bingleys, certainly had its material advantages when it came to decorating a home. The satin wallpaper, French furniture, and silk-embroidered draperies had no doubt been obtained at a fraction of their usual cost. An Italian marble mantel dominated the room, framing the fireplace with images of Roman deities in high relief. Jupiter and Juno, Diana and Cupid, Janus and Mercury, Vulcan and Vesta kept watch over the parlor, their stony gazes evaluating all who entered.
Darcy had not been pleased with Elizabeth’s decision to call here, and his displeasure had increased when she insisted on coming alone. He objected not on the basis of the riding incident but on the Kendalls’ history with the Bingleys. He’d explained the animosity between them and discouraged her from further developing an acquaintance with a family at odds with their closest friends. Yet Elizabeth could not shake the sense that Miss Kendall was somehow responsible for Caroline’s wild ride. She wanted to speak with Juliet, to see if her instincts would prove reliable. The young woman had been surprisingly candid during their previous conversation about her feelings toward Caroline; perhaps Elizabeth could spur additional revelations — such as the motive behind the strange meeting — simply by providing a sympathetic ear. To do so, however, she needed to approach Juliet alone, not in the company of her often intimidating husband.
Miss Kendall greeted her with the usual polite pleasantries. She was honored by the call, flattered that the new Mrs. Darcy took interest in her, looked forward to calling upon her if she remained in town. But the words held a certain edge to them; in manner and tone, Juliet seemed more the acerbic woman Elizabeth remembered from the Chatfields’ dinner party than the timid miss who’d cowered in the Parrish vestibule that morning. Keen eyes took Elizabeth’s measure, as if assessing her value as an acquaintance. Value toward what purpose? Elizabeth could not guess, but her back straightened in reflex.
At Juliet’s invitation to sit, she chose the chair nearest the fireplace. Though a blaze burned in the hearth, the air held a chill made more frigid by her hostess’s demeanor. She ignored Jupiter’s gaze as she settled in front of him and Juliet perched on the seat opposite. After several minutes of small talk, which seemed to bore both women in equal measure as they danced around the subject hanging unspoken between them, Miss Kendall herself brought the conversation round to the morning’s ride.
“Did you leave Mrs. Parrish in good health?” The benign enquiry, voiced so commonly as part of society’s standard prattle, from Miss Kendall sounded like someone had wrested it out of her.
“Yes. By the time my husband and I departed, she appeared to have recovered from this morning’s events.” Elizabeth paused, debating how best to proceed. Appealing to her vanity seemed the best course; she would make this a conversation about injuries done to Miss Kendall. “And yourself? I hope you were not harmed by the incident?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you.”
“Thank goodness. One of the servants said you were riding fairly close to Mrs. Parrish when her horse bolted, and I feared the proximity might have endangered you. Though you seemed fine when you accompanied her home, I wanted to ascertain for myself that all was well.”
“You are kindness itself, Mrs. Darcy. I assure you, I suffered no physical harm. While Caroline lost control of her horse, I managed to maintain command of mine.”
Outside, a passing cloud darkened the winter afternoon, bathing the room in shadows pierced by the flickering firelight. The unsteady illumination seemed to animate the Roman deities, lending them airs from mysterious to mischievous. Elizabeth ignored the impish look Cupid cast her way and focused on the task at hand. “You must have excellent equestrian skills. I confess, I am no horsewoman. In fact, I’m having trouble understanding what caused Mrs. Parrish’s misadventure.”
Miss Kendall shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps Hecate objected to Caroline. The mare did seem unusually skittish. No horse is completely predictable, especially in the hands of an unfamiliar rider, but Hecate is well trained. I’ve ridden her myself.”
Her last statement seemed a calculated reminder of her previous relationship with Hecate’s owner. “It must have been difficult for you to see Mr. Parrish’s new bride in a seat you so recently occupied,” Elizabeth said. “I must admit I was all astonishment to hear that the outing took place at your solicitation. Not many women would demonstrate such a generous, forgiving nature.”
Now it was Miss Kendall’s turn to pause. She picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her skirt and stared at her fingers as she rubbed them together slowly. “I thought the sooner I saw her in her new situation, the better.”
Elizabeth thought it a reasonable excuse for the invitation. Yet what had the pair been discussing so closely? Dare she ask? She had the opportunity now; she might as well seize it. “And were you able to enjoy the easy conversation of old friends?”
Juliet lifted her chin and finally met her gaze. “No, I’m afraid not.” She rose abruptly. “Pray forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, but I suddenly find myself wearied by the day’s events. Surely you understand?”
Elizabeth understood perfectly — she had pushed too far, too soon in their acquaintance. “Of course.” She rose to take her leave. “I’m unsure how long my husband and I will remain in town, but I hope to have the pleasure of your call at some point in the future.”
“The pleasure will be mine,” Miss Kendall said, but her flat tone did not match the words.
The interview was at an end, and Elizabeth knew little more than she had before she arrived. Beside her, the fire popped, and Janus mocked her with both his faces.
Nine
“Reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue… made her at length return home.”
Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 36
Elizabeth poked at her eggs, the tines of her fork piercing the soft whites now grown cold. Snow the day before had further delayed a return to Pemberley, and now she and Darcy waited for a servant to return with word of road conditions before deciding whether to set out this morning or remain still longer.
She hoped they could quit London presently. They’d made the most of their time in town, engaging not only in entertaining diversions, but also undertaking errands and other business. Elizabeth had visited Oxford and Bond streets to order new draperies, wallpaper, and additional appointments for the summer breakfast parlor and long gallery at Pemberley; Darcy had managed a few visits to the Haymarket Room to improve his mastery of fencing under Domenico Angelo’s instruction. But London, for all its excitement, had grown tiresome after the repeated postponements of their travel plans, and both longed to leave.
“If we don’t go today, perhaps we should just spend Christmas here.” As much as she’d prefer to be in Derbyshire, at least they could settle into the townhouse and begin holiday preparations instead of endlessly expecting to depart.
Darcy set aside the Times and motioned the footman to refill his coffee cup. “I thought you wanted to be at Pemberley?”
“I do. I’m just trying to be practical.” She glanced to the window. Light snowflakes merrily bobbed through the air, oblivious to the disappointment their presence caused those on the other side of the glass.
“Leave practical to me. If Pemberley is where my wife wants to spend Christmas, we will get there.”
“If we stay here any longer, we really ought to invite poor Georgiana to come back.”
His brows rose. “Are you saying the honeymoon is over?”
“Certainly not. I think only of your sister’s comfort. Though she and the Gardiners report they are having a lovely visit, one is never as completely at ease in someone else’s home as in one’s own.” She pushed aside the plate of cold food and set her napkin on the table. Perhaps she would write a letter to Charlotte this morning.
“Precisely why we should preserve our plan to celebrate Christmas in Derbyshire. London is home to too many — a noisy, crowded boardinghouse compared to the tranquility of Pemberley.”
“Yet you maintain this townhouse, and permit Georgiana to pass most of the year in it.”