Page 136

“What were her words?” Reynolds asked.

“‘You gave your word.’ Then, ‘You have betrayed me.’”

Elizabeth wrote them down. Her hand was steady, though colour remained in her cheeks.

He described the locked door next, the woman beyond it, and the conviction within the dream that he was protecting her by refusing to open it. Saying those things aloud made him hear their ugliness without the excuses which had accompanied them while he slept.

“She called you Nicholas again?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you open the door?”

“I woke before anything more happened.”

For a little while nobody spoke. The clock upon the mantel seemed suddenly loud.

“I knew the name as a child,” Darcy said. “I knew the tale. I did not believe it. I thought my mind had made use of what I had heard, and of things which troubled me.”

“That was a reasonable explanation,” Elizabeth said.

“Before yesterday.”

“Even now, we do not know how much of any dream belongs to the old story.” She touched the paper upon which she had written his words. “I should like very much to tell you what all of this means. I cannot.”

He looked at her, grateful that she did not claim to know why he had dreamed of kissing her. He was less grateful to discover how badly he wished to speak with her about that part without Reynolds present.

The housekeeper drew the box nearer. “There are other papers. Some are lists, some things my grandmother copied from the older writing. I have not put them all into any good order.”

“What do you need?” Darcy asked.

Elizabeth considered before answering. “To know what belonged to the old house. The accounts mention rooms which no longer exist, or which have different names. And if there are records of the people who lived here, they might tell us whether the story has altered in the telling.”

“There are plans in the estate room. Accounts, too.”

“May we see them?”

“Yes. I shall have the older ones brought here.”

He began to rise, forgot his hip, and sat down again with a sharp breath.

Elizabeth half rose from her chair. He shook his head.

“I can wait until Hammond returns.”

“You can ring,” she said. “It is an accomplishment quite within your powers.”

Darcy laughed and let her pull the bell.

When the servant came, he gave a plain instruction about old surveys and household accounts. Nothing in it required a mention of witchcraft. Elizabeth covered the journal while they waited, and Reynolds returned her grandmother’s extracts to the box.

“I should like this room left quiet tomorrow morning,” Darcy added before the man went. “Unless Mrs. Bingley needs Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth looked at him and smiled. It was only a small smile, but it contained none of yesterday’s uncertainty.

He could provide a table, papers, and an uninterrupted hour. For the moment he was glad to know exactly what would help.

Chapter Thirty-Three