Read North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) Online
Authors: Carrie Bebris
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical
She showed him the sections she had arranged thus far, and the outstanding pieces that no longer fit. “The marigolds simply will not cooperate. Nor will the violets.”
“That is because you have them in the wrong place,” he said. “If Mrs. Tilney made this design, it reflects the original plan of the garden. I later moved the marigolds to a bed where they receive more sunlight. Here,” he said, switching the pieces, “if you think of the garden’s rosette shape as a compass, the marigolds as Mrs. Tilney knew them were at northwest by north.”
The pieces now fell into place—in more ways than one. She not only knew where Lady Anne’s friend had sewn the marigolds onto the quilt.
She knew where Helen Tilney had sown the ivories in the garden.
She looked forward with delight to the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley
.
—Pride and Prejudice
A
sweet perfume greeted Elizabeth and Darcy as they entered the south garden. It was a fine June day, and the Madonna lilies had just bloomed. Though Elizabeth often strolled with the baby in Lady Anne’s garden, at last she and Darcy could introduce their daughter to the flower whose name she bore.
Lily-Anne Darcy took only casual interest in her surroundings as her father held her up to admire the lilies. She had, after all, recently discovered her own hands, and celebrated this extraordinary event by spending a good portion of her waking hours attempting to stuff all of her fingers into her mouth at once. The nursery maid had apologized repeatedly for not yet managing to break her of the habit. Elizabeth and Darcy found the practice adorable.
Elizabeth broke off a single flower and brought it to Lily-Anne for closer inspection. The baby smiled, grabbed its stem tightly in her small fist, and waved it round.
“I believe she approves,” Darcy said. He looked to Elizabeth, but she yet observed their daughter.
“Rather too much. She is trying to eat it.”
He pried the flower from Lily-Anne’s fingers and returned it to Elizabeth. She tickled the baby’s cheek with its petals, eliciting smiles from both daughter and husband.
When Lily tired of the game, Darcy placed her in Elizabeth’s arms. “Unfortunately, I must leave now or I shall arrive late.”
“This is such a perfect day that I refuse to allow your errand to spoil it. So long as you do not return from the quarter sessions with the news that Mr. Wickham has been released into
our
custody, I shall be satisfied.”
Darcy shuddered at the very notion. “Responsibility for one child is enough.” He met her eyes. “For now” He kissed his wife, bade Lily- Anne behave for her mother, and departed.
Left alone with her daughter, Elizabeth walked round the garden. The marigolds were preparing to bloom, and the first violets of spring had appeared none the worse for having been temporarily displaced to retrieve the nine statuettes Helen Tilney had hidden. Henry Tilney and his wife had come in person to collect the ivories, and all had taken such pleasure in the visit that the couple extended it twice before finally returning to Gloucestershire. It appeared that in burying her treasure at Pemberley, Helen Tilney had also planted seeds of a friendship between the next generations of Tilneys and Darcys that would be cherished as much as the one she had enjoyed with Lady Anne. The Darcys looked forward to calling upon the Tilneys later in the year, and had been assured that, this time, they would experience a perfectly ordinary reception at Northanger Abbey.
She carried the baby to the alcove that had sheltered Lady Anne’s treasure for so many years. Despite the prominence of the summerhouse, Darcy’s mother had been correct about this more understated corner offering a superior view of the lilies. She had also been right about the glare of the sun upon the desk in the morning room; Elizabeth had finally conceded the point and had it moved back to its original
position. Apparently, the new Mrs. Darcy still had much to learn, but she no longer found herself overshadowed by the memory of Darcy’s mother. Indeed, she had come to consider Lady Anne an ally.
The light breeze marshaled itself into a brief gust, carrying the scent of lilies even more strongly to her senses. A few dried leaves scudded into the alcove. A folded paper was among them.
“Lily, what have we found?” Elizabeth bent and retrieved the paper. It was a note in handwriting she now knew as well as her own.
My dear Mrs. Darcy
,
My lifetime is ended; my days as Pemberley’s mistress, past. I commit words to paper once more because it now falls to you to carry on my legacy
.
For two and a half centuries, a treasure passed from mother to daughter. By the time my own mother placed in my hands a small chest containing the Madonna ivory, it had long been assumed that the statuette was this treasure. It is not
.
When I made my pilgrimage to the cathedral library, I discovered that among the many riches held by Northanger Abbey before the Dissolution, the greatest had been the one most humble in appearance: a relic of Mary, a portion of her mantle brought from the Holy Land during the Crusades. It is this relic, which enfolds the Mother and Child I inherited, that constitutes the true treasure handed down through generations—for those who hold it, if they be of faithful heart and worthy spirit, receive the gift of grace
.
A treasure such as this cannot be possessed, only held, and to you I entrust its stewardship. I could not commend it to a better caretaker. Guard it well. And in time pass it to your daughter
.
Now tend to your garden, Mrs. Darcy—to your life with Fitzwilliam and the children you will raise, your own precious lilies. And know that one who has gone before you watches fondly from above
.
—A. D
.
Elizabeth studied the note. It bore no date. From its opening, she presumed it had been written while Lady Anne lay dying. Yet she
could not imagine Darcy’s mother exerting herself at such a time to pen a second letter to an unknown future daughter-in-law, let alone a note reflecting such serenity. Nor could she begin to account for its appearance in the garden, at this moment, blown in by the breath of summer.
Lily-Anne cooed, drawing her from reverie. The infant grasped her mother’s finger and smiled.
“My own precious Lily,” Elizabeth whispered. “Your grandmama practically called you by name. However did she know?”
Other phrases in the letter had suggested similar prescience. Either Lady Anne had seen what lay ahead, or her message had been composed more recently.
“Perhaps your grandmama’s presence here is even stronger than I realized,” she said. She made the sort of playful face that very young children somehow manage to elicit from otherwise dignified adults, to the glee of her daughter. Then she held up the baby so that they two were eye to eye. “What think you, Lily-Anne? Has your grandmama’s spirit been about?”
Lily smiled again. Then her gaze moved past Elizabeth’s shoulder and she giggled.
It was her daughter’s first true laugh. Elizabeth turned round to see what had captured her delight. But nothing was behind her.
Nothing but the breeze and the fragrance of lilies.
I have now attained the true art of letter-writing, which we are always told is to express on paper exactly what one would say to the same person by word of mouth. I have been talking to you almost as fast as I could the whole of this letter
.
—Jane Austen, letter to Cassandra
Dear Readers
,
After writing so many letters between fictional characters in this story, it seems only fitting that I close the book with a letter to you
.
Many of you have been kind enough to write and share your thoughts about the Darcy series, and I take great pleasure in your letters. One of the most common subjects of questions is the amount of research I do for each book. I strive to be as accurate as I can, performing research not only before I begin a new story, but also the whole time I’m writing it and even after completing the initial draft—still trying to find elusive answers, confirm details in multiple sources, or reconcile conflicting information. Research discoveries often create or shape plot ideas and sometimes even change the course of the book. Other times, the influence of historical facts is more subtle, such as in descriptions or word choices
.
Which leads me to a confession. While researching for
North by Northanger,
I was disappointed to learn that although
Lilium candidum
is a very old flower long associated with the Virgin Mary, it did not become known by the name “Madonna lily” until the second half of the nineteenth century—after my novel takes place. Therefore, to be historically accurate, Mr. Flynn, Lady Anne, Helen Tilney, and Elizabeth Darcy ought to call it by its older name, the Annunciation lily. I wrestled long and hard with this troublesome fact. Though William Shakespeare wrote that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” I felt that in the context of this story—one that resonates with the theme of maternal bonds—calling the Madonna lily by any other name would diminish its effect. So I took a little poetic license and, for the sake of storytelling, allowed my characters a vocabulary word slightly ahead of their time. I hope you will forgive me
.
I also hope you have enjoyed Elizabeth and Darcy’s latest adventure, and the opportunity to become reacquainted with (or perhaps first meet) some of the characters from
Northanger Abbey,
one of my favorite Austen novels. Alas, Austen wrote only six full-length books. But she also left behind numerous letters and minor works, and research for
North by Northanger
led me to study her letters more closely than I ever had before in order to capture the epistolary style of the era. I had forgotten how entertaining they were—as full of wit, irony, and incisive observations as her novels, with a whole new cast of characters to entertain us. If you are a fan of Austen but have never read her letters, you might want to give them a try
.
Meanwhile, you can find more information about the Mr. & Mrs. Darcy series and my forthcoming books at my Web site:
www.carriebebris.com
. And if, while you’re there, you should happen to drop me a note, I’d be delighted to hear from you. No quill pen required!
Yours most sincerely
,
Carrie Bebris
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