North by Northanger

Seven

Thus far, I cannot say I find Gloucestershire entirely hospitable,” Elizabeth said, drawing her cloak more closely about her.

Darcy silently agreed. The thirty-mile journey to Northanger Abbey had so far proven grey and wet. They had set out from Bath with overcast skies; by the time they reentered their carriage after a stop in Petty-France to take refreshment and exchange the horses, a light drizzle had begun. Thick clouds and rising fog shrouded the Gloucestershire landscape in gloom.

He drew Elizabeth against his side. It was unlike his wife to allow damp weather to dampen her spirits. “You are too harsh. Every county in England receives its share of rain.”

“Oh, I have no objection to the rain — just its falling today” She settled against him. “Whenever one forms a new acquaintance, the parties cast about for innocuous subjects of conversation, and now when we meet Captain Tilney we shall be unable to rhapsodize over the beauty of his native region. We will be reduced to discussing the length of our journey and which plays we saw in Bath.”

“But observations on the weather always offer a fallback for discourse. The rain is actually a boon.”

“Nay, a bane. If the sun shone, we could praise the glorious day at length, as if our host were responsible. But what is there to say about foul weather, other than ‘it rained,’ that does not sound like complaint? No, I am afraid we are stuck, and I reserve for myself the theatrical reviews. You may narrate our travelogue.”

Eventually, the somber atmosphere lulled Elizabeth to slumber. She had been sleeping more now that she was carrying their child, Darcy reflected. He drew her more tightly against him and rested his chin atop her head.

Now that their arrangements with Dr. Severn were in place, he had managed to leave some of his unease behind in Bath. He had secured for Elizabeth the best care his fortune could provide. They were headed back to Pemberley, where she could spend the rest of her pregnancy in the comfort of home. There was little more to be done than wait for March and pray that all went well. In the meantime, he would try not to ponder the irony that an event that promised such incredible joy also carried the threat of unimaginable sorrow. He would try instead to simply look forward to the arrival of their child.

The rain fell heavier, and Darcy heard the low rumble of thunder over the noise of the carriage. A louder crack a few minutes later woke Elizabeth.

“Is it possible that the sky is even darker than before I nodded off?”

“It is, but more than the rain is to blame. Dusk approaches.”

“I wonder that the postilion can see anything in this mist. I hope he does not miss our turn.”

Darcy hoped so, as well. “Northanger Abbey cannot be much farther,” he assured her.

Just as he became convinced that they had indeed lost their way, the carriage passed through a set of great gates. An imposing Gothic structure, the pointed arches of its windows illuminated by candles, rose from the fog blanketing the valley.

“I believe we have arrived,” Darcy said. He assisted Elizabeth from the carriage, and together they dashed to the shelter of an old porch, leaving their servants to attend to the luggage.

Northanger’s housekeeper admitted them to a lofty hall. Darcy gave their names and enquired whether Captain Tilney were at home.

“Yes — he has been expecting you this age.” Catching her reflection in a looking glass, the tall, thin woman adjusted her cap over blond hair starting to evidence grey. Darcy waited impatiently, reflecting that Mrs. Reynolds would never countenance a servant attending to her own appearance before guests at Pemberley, let alone do so herself.

When she was satisfied, the housekeeper returned her attention to them. She noted Darcy’s walking stick and reached for it. “Do let me take that for you.”

He relinquished the cane. When she made no move to also divest them of their cloaks, Elizabeth asked whether she would like to take those, as well.

“Oh, yes — I suppose so.” She appeared less than eager to accept the wet garments, and held Darcy’s greatcoat and Elizabeth’s wrap as far away from herself as possible so as not to dampen her own clothing.

“Wait here a moment while I deposit your things. Then I will conduct you to your chamber. You no doubt wish to refresh yourselves — rain always makes everything so dirty.”

She disappeared behind one of several doors in the hall, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy to exchange perplexed glances.

Elizabeth smiled. “Perhaps we should have paraded through the house in our wet things so as not to trouble her.”

Darcy did not find their reception so amusing. “If her conduct is characteristic of servants here, I begin to share your opinion of Gloucestershire’s hospitality.”

“Now you are too harsh. A warm fire will set all to rights.”

When the housekeeper returned, Darcy asked how soon they might have the pleasure of meeting their host.

“My master looks forward to welcoming you at dinner. We dine precisely at five o’clock every evening at Northanger Abbey. It is now half past four.”

She led them up a broad oak staircase with a heavily ornamented rail. At the top, they entered a long gallery lined with windows on one side and doors on the other. Nothing could be seen through the windows but darkness and splattered raindrops reflecting the candlelight.

They passed to the end of the gallery, where she opened a pair of folding doors. These led into a narrower gallery, with a winding staircase and more doors. The first of these on the left, she opened to reveal a generously sized apartment, with mahogany wardrobes, painted chairs, a canopied bed, and two dressing-closets. A large tapestry hung on one wall. Their trunks, already open, waited for them.

The room was dark save for the light of the candle the housekeeper carried. Darcy and Elizabeth waited in expectation for the servant to light a lamp or candle in the chamber, but the thought apparently did not cross her mind. She stood gazing about the room as if appraising the furnishings.

“This seems a pleasant room,” Elizabeth said. “Though perhaps a bit dim.”

“Yes...” She suddenly seemed to remember herself. “Oh! Indeed.” She crossed to the room’s sole lamp to light it. For some reason, the task proved a challenge, and she struggled with it so long that Darcy found himself nearly overcome by the urge to seize the lamp from her and light it himself.

Eventually, she achieved success and set the lamp in the center of the table. It sputtered, not quite committed to remaining lit.

“This chamber belonged to the late Mrs. Tilney,” she said. “The apartment has gone unused since she died, despite its being the nicest in the house. Can you imagine?”

Darcy had more difficulty imagining himself retaining her as a senior servant. Perhaps in her middle or late thirties, she was considerably younger than Mrs. Reynolds, but the true gulf between them lay in their professionalism. Captain Tilney must maintain far more relaxed expectations than did Darcy.

“The master thought it was time the apartment saw some use,” the housekeeper continued, “so we hope you find it comfortable.”

The room was not remotely comfortable at the moment — the air within was cold. Though a Bath stove occupied the fireplace, it sat empty and unlit.

“If you do not require anything else—”

“A fire,” Darcy said.

“Oh! Of course. I suppose someone will see to that while you are at dinner. I shall leave you now to dress and come back to escort you. As this is a large house, the master requests that you not wander it by yourselves.”

She closed the heavy oak door. Thunder rumbled outside, drowning out the sound of her receding footsteps.

Elizabeth looked to Darcy with an expression of bafflement. “All right, I concede. Would you care to remark upon the oddity of our reception, or shall I?”

“I would, but we have not time.”

Though their luggage was present, their servants were nowhere about — an unaccountable dereliction. They rang the bell, but with such a short span in which to make themselves presentable, they seized the first suitable clothing they could find in their trunks and began assisting each other while waiting for their summons to be answered.

Five minutes later, they were still waiting.

“I cannot fathom where our servants have gone,” Elizabeth said as Darcy fastened the back of her gown. “And why has no one else answered the bell?”

Darcy could not spare a moment to formulate a guess. He had missed a button and had to fasten her gown all over again. “Captain Tilney will be enjoying dessert before I finish these buttons,” he said.

“It seems rather inconsiderate of him to make us rush so.”

“As a military man, he no doubt values punctuality.”

“As a host, he ought to value the comfort of his guests.”

She winced as she caught sight of her hair in the looking glass. The damp weather had set each lock conspiring against the others. She left the mirror and pillaged her trunk.

“I cannot find my hairbrush.”

“Is there not one on the dressing table?”

She glanced at its surface. “No. Perhaps in one of the drawers.” She opened the dressing table drawers in rapid succession, but the search proved unsuccessful. Darcy, meanwhile, approached the looking glass and struggled to tie his neckcloth in record time.

A large, old-fashioned cabinet of ebony and gold stood in a nearby recess. “Should I try that cabinet?”

“Unless you have decided to accept the present state of your hair as satisfactory after all.”

“I cannot meet our host like this. He will mistake me for one of the hedges.”

She crossed to the cabinet. A key extended from the lock; she turned it and unfolded the doors to reveal a wall of small drawers. These she slid open one by one. “Empty... empty... handkerchiefs... gloves... empty... stockings... more handkerchiefs... oh, my!”

He glanced at her reflection in the looking glass. Her countenance held astonishment. “Have you discovered the crown jewels?”

“No. Only a hoard of diamonds.”

“Is that all?” He made a final adjustment to his cravat.

“Darcy, I am quite serious.”

He brought the lamp over and looked into the drawer himself. A diamond necklace, bracelet, and pair of eardrops glittered back at him. The set appeared very costly — hardly the sort of thing he would leave in such an unsecured location for years. “The family must have forgotten about these.”

They closed the drawer. The next contained a superior treasure — a comb. Elizabeth seized it and hurried to the dressing table.

Somehow, they managed to achieve full dress by the time the housekeeper reappeared. Elizabeth enquired into the whereabouts of their maid and valet, and received a blank look in response.

“They are your servants — I am not responsible for supervising them.”

“Nor did anyone answer the bell.”

“It must have gone unheard in the bustle of dinner preparations.”

Though she found these replies less than satisfactory, Elizabeth let the matter drop as they hastened to join Captain Tilney on time. She did, however, note the displeasure in Darcy’s face as the housekeeper sprinted down the corridor expecting rather than inviting them to follow.

“Do you suppose all guests at Northanger are treated so attentively?” she said under her breath.

“If so, it is little wonder that our host seeks new acquaintances,” he replied. “No one ever returns.”

Despite the speed at which their guide led them, the housekeeper walked gracefully and carried herself with as much dignity as one would expect in a servant of her status. She conducted them back through the great gallery, past portraits of long-dead ancestors and paintings of the abbey’s various incarnations.

“How long have the Tilney family lived at Northanger Abbey?” Elizabeth asked.

They reached the central staircase before she finally answered. “A long time.”

Contrary to Elizabeth’s expectation, they did not meet their host in the drawing room and proceed to the dinner table; rather, the housekeeper escorted them straight to the dining parlor. It was a spacious room, richly appointed, with an enormous chandelier overhead and a long table set for three. The chandelier was unlit, forcing the entire burden of illuminating the vast chamber on two candelabra standing at attention on the table and an indifferent blaze in the massive marble hearth. These lights made a noble effort at dispelling the shadows that cloaked the room’s perimeter, but proved inadequate to the task.

One place setting rested at the head of the table, with the other two across from each other about a third of the way down. The housekeeper directed them to the latter, informed them that her master would arrive momentarily, and departed.

They took their seats. Though Pemberley boasted a grand dining parlor and Elizabeth had enjoyed the hospitality of others similar in scale, she felt dwarfed by the proportions of the room.

“Perhaps it is the absence of our host,” Darcy suggested in response to her observation.

“Or of proper lighting. I can scarcely see my silverware.”

Lightning flashed. Elizabeth jumped at the sudden sight of the housekeeper behind Darcy. She had not noticed the servant reenter the room.

“Captain Tilney sends his most sincere apologies. He feels indisposed at present and must settle for a tray in his chamber. He urges you, however, to enjoy the meal after your long journey. He will meet you afterward in the drawing room.”

“If the captain suffers indisposition, perhaps he would prefer to receive us in the morning,” Darcy offered.

“No — he is quite decided upon meeting you tonight.”

“I hope his complaint is of a minor nature,” Elizabeth said. “Is the captain an older gentleman?”

“Not at all. He is of middle years, and still quite fine to look upon.”

“Has he a wife?”

“No,” she said sharply.

She brought in the first course — some sort of soup Elizabeth could not quite identify, though Darcy almost became far too personally acquainted with it when the housekeeper’s inattentive serving threatened to pour it into his lap. They were soon left alone again, with only the sounds of the storm for company. Rain pelted the windows, and cracks of thunder punctuated their conversation.

Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze in the flickering candlelight. “And you thought a visit with Captain Tilney sounded intriguing before we left Bath.”

“This is certainly one of the more interesting places to which you have brought me since our marriage.”

“More interesting than Mr. Dashwood’s town house?”

She smiled. “Mr. Dashwood’s residence had only an antique looking glass to lend it character. Here we have already encountered a housekeeper who cannot keep house but who can materialize out of nowhere, been installed in an apartment last used decades ago by the home’s dead mistress, and played hide-and-seek with a mysterious host who never appears. All this, and we have not yet been within these walls a full hour. Even Mr. Dashwood’s town house cannot compete with the allure of Northanger Abbey. Indeed, I think only the castle of Udolpho holds more charm.”

“Are you wishing we had declined the captain’s invitation?”

“Indeed not! I find this all excessively diverting. But if we discover a black veil anywhere on the premises, you can raise it up.”

She tested the soup and glanced back at Darcy. “Mock turtle?”

“Certainly a mockery of something.”

The soup was followed by successive courses that invited speculation as to whether Captain Tilney’s indisposition was merely an excuse to avoid the fare. Or perhaps a digestive ailment caused by it.

When they finished the meal, the housekeeper escorted them across the hall, through an antechamber, and into a grand drawing room. Pier glasses and other mirrors lining the walls endlessly reflected the light of dozens of candles, surrounding them with hundreds of tiny points of light that somehow did not seem to dispel the darkness.

In a chair near the hearth, partially shielded from their view by a firescreen, sat a figure swathed in bandages. Strips of white cloth wrapped his head and obscured most of his face, exposing only a single eye and his mouth. The coverings extended down his neck, where they met the edge of a blanket draped over his shoulders.

The housekeeper crossed to him. “Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are here.”

“Excellent.” He rose to his feet. “At last, I am able to bid you welcome.” The blanket slipped off one shoulder of his stout frame, revealing that he had use of only one arm. The other was splinted and strapped to his side. He indicated two chairs on the other side of the fireplace and invited them to sit.

The housekeeper helped him back into his own seat and restored the blanket around his shoulders. She then placed a glass of port in his hand and brought another for Darcy.

“Thank you, Dorothy,” the captain said. “You may go.”

The servant appeared reluctant to leave. She repositioned the firescreen, nearly knocking it over in the process, to provide her master’s damaged face more protection from the heat. When stable once more, the screen cast Captain Tilney’s face in shadow. She then adjusted his blanket again, refilled his glass, and hovered about for another minute or two. Finding no further tasks by which to demonstrate her extraordinary domestic skills, she at last departed.

“Forgive my not greeting you upon your arrival,” Captain Tilney said. “Find it difficult to move about the house these days — deuced injuries, but that is the risk one takes when serving His Majesty, hey?”

Despite the profusion of bandages, he spoke with ease. Elizabeth took this verbal facility as an encouraging sign that their host did not suffer too terribly from pain — unless drink dulled it. His one good eye, however, appeared bright and focused.

“I trust Dorothy saw to your comfort?” their host continued.

“Yes, although—”

“Capital. I intended to join you for dinner, but then discovered myself unequal to it. Feeling well enough now, though, to share a glass with you.” He raised his wine in salute.

“Captain Tilney,” Darcy replied, “if you would prefer to postpone—”

“No, no! Upon my soul, I have been looking forward to meeting you more than you can guess. Deuced poor luck, getting injured during the few short days I returned to my regiment last week.” He muttered something about an accident. “Devil take me, I must look a sight, all bandaged up like this. I hope my appearance does not put either of you ill at ease?”

In such a potentially eerie setting as an ancient, shadow-filled room with a storm raging outside, a shrouded figure with a Cyclopean gaze could well have inspired discomfort in his unprepared guests. And Elizabeth indeed found herself disconcerted by Captain Tilney — but not because he seemed remotely ominous. The Eye, rather than fixing upon one of them with a penetrating stare that sent shudders down the spine, instead shifted rapidly between her and Darcy, never resting on either of them more than a moment. She had difficulty reading the captain’s temperament with his gaze bouncing around so, and his manner — surprisingly animated given the extent of his injuries — contributed to the impression that he was exerting himself overmuch to win their amity. She felt herself and Darcy to be trespassing on the invalid’s recovery by their very presence at Northanger. The poor man ought to be in bed, not forcing himself to fulfill his duties as a host.

“Your kind hospitality toward us cannot but render us perfectly easy,” Elizabeth assured him. “However, we do not wish to begin our acquaintance by fatiguing you, and entertaining strangers can prove tiring for someone in the best of health. Perhaps Mr. Darcy and I should return, or you can visit us at Pemberley, on a future date, when your strength is restored.”

“No, no — I care not a whit about fatigue. I could sprint from here to Gloucester if I chose. I do not wish to defer the pleasure of your society, and as I am injured, you must indulge me. Let us have no more talk of leaving. Do you find your quarters satisfactory? Northanger Abbey is an old house, but not too draughty. Been improved to offer modern comforts.”

The old-fashioned comforts of a fire and adequate time to properly dress for dinner would have constituted sufficient improvements, but given their host’s current state of affliction, Elizabeth no longer considered these matters deserving of mention. “Quite satisfactory,” she said. “We understand our apartment was formerly occupied by your mother?”

“What’s that? Oh, yes — I suppose it was.” He swallowed more port. “It has been so long, you know. When I arrived yesterday, I thought it rather cork-brained to reserve those rooms from use any longer. The nicest rooms in the house, just sitting empty while everyone else is forced to make do with smaller. Why, dear Mother would not want that at all, I am sure. So I said to — to Dorothy, that the first guests to use them should be the son of her dear friend.”

“We are honored,” Darcy said. “But are you aware that some of the drawers and cupboards still hold her effects?”

“Oh, that is nothing. Feel free to use everything in the rooms as your own.”

His nonchalance took Elizabeth aback. Surely the late Mrs. Tilney would not want strangers handling her possessions without her son having sorted through them first. “Perhaps you wish to remove her personal items, at least, to another location?”

“No, no. Not if any of them can be of use or interest to you.”

Elizabeth blinked at his continued indifference. She glanced at Darcy, who appeared similarly dumbfounded by their host.

“You are most generous, Captain Tilney,” she said. “But I cannot imagine a need of ours that would supersede the sentimental value your mother’s belongings hold for you. And we found—”

“As I said, use everything as your own. By Jove, this is fine port, is it not, Mr. Darcy? I believe I shall have a second glass. Can I top off yours?” He began to rise, but Darcy stopped him.

“Allow me.” Darcy refilled their host’s glass but poured no more wine for himself. When he was seated once more, the captain took a long draught and settled more deeply into his own chair.

“Now, forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, if you feel excluded from the conversation for a few minutes. But there are many questions I wish to ask your husband here—”

“Of course.” Elizabeth had expected as much. In fact, the conversational turn was about the only part of their visit that had met her expectations.

The Eye turned upon Darcy and remained fixed for the first time all evening. “So, Mr. Darcy — did you ever meet Mrs. Tilney?”

“Regrettably, I do not believe I had the honor. How long ago did she pass away?”

“Oh, twenty years at least.” He took another sip of wine. “When did you lose your mother?” The casualness of his voice made it sound as if Darcy had merely misplaced her.

“Eighteen years ago this January,” Darcy replied in a much more sober tone.

“And your letter said Mrs. Tilney never visited Pemberley?”

“I do not believe so. Unless I was too young to remember.”

“Did your mother — what was her name — Lady Anne? — ever speak of her?”

“She would have had little occasion to speak to me about Mrs. Tilney. I was a young boy, more interested in my mother’s nursery tales than in her social acquaintance.”

The captain sat forward. “Come, now — did she never mention visiting Mrs. Tilney here at Northanger? Point out mementoes she might have received from her?”

“Not to me.”

“Well, then, to anyone at Pemberley?”

“If she did, I have no direct knowledge of her having done so.”

Even with only one eye showing, the captain’s disappointment was obvious. The curl of his lower lip resembled nothing so much as a pout. “But they corresponded, yes?”

“One might presume they did. My mother engaged in frequent correspondence with many friends.”

“Did she save her letters? — Upon my soul, of course she did! Women always keep that sort of thing. There must be a note or two from Mrs. Tilney somewhere at Pemberley. Nay, dozens! I should like very much to see them.”

Though his glass remained half full, Darcy set it aside. “I am aware of none, but should we discover any, it would be my pleasure to return them to your care.”

Elizabeth sensed an increase in her husband’s natural reserve. He was, she knew, unaccustomed to answering so many questions about his family, particularly from someone of such slight acquaintance.

“Captain Tilney,” she said, “did your mother preserve any correspondence herself? Might there be letters from Lady Anne here at Northanger?”

“Dash it, no. Nothing the old general kept for anybody to find, anyway. Did you ever meet him? Superior billiards player, though I could always best him. By Jove, once when I met him at — oh, but we were speaking of his wife, were we not? Well, one never knows when an old letter might be found. Or what interesting details it might contain about something everybody forgot about ages ago. Only think — a simple note that was nothing but tittle-tattle between friends could reveal some secret nobody else knew. Jolly intriguing things, old letters! I swear, I shall begin saving mine as of this moment just to entertain my heirs after I pop off.”

Darcy’s expression grew still more shuttered. Elizabeth wondered whether the captain’s comment had inadvertently brought to his mind Lady Anne’s final letter. Her husband had not found it entertaining in the least. It had revealed an extent of suffering on his mother’s part that he would just as soon have never known about so vividly.

“A letter can communicate more than its author intended,” Darcy said. “Particularly to those who were never meant to read it.”

“My point precisely!” Captain Tilney drained his wineglass and set it down with so much force that Elizabeth briefly feared for its welfare. “Revelations just waiting to be uncovered!”

“To what purpose?” Darcy shook his head. “Some things are best left buried in the past.”

“Some things should never have become buried in the first place, and ought to be brought to light.”

A flash of lightning cast the room in sudden brilliance. The shadow eclipsing Captain Tilney’s face momentarily receded, exposing the zeal that brightened his lone blue eye. An enormous boom followed. Rain pelted the windows with renewed fury.

The Eye now shifted back to Elizabeth. “What do you think, Mrs. Darcy? If you stumbled across some intriguing hint of forgotten treasure, would you search for it?”

Despite the casual character of his speech, Captain Tilney’s statements held an undercurrent Elizabeth could not define, as if he and they were not quite participating in the same conversation.

“If I thought it could — and ought to — be found,” she replied warily.

Darcy’s jaw had acquired the rigid set she had come to recognize as a sure sign of his displeasure. “Forgive me, Captain,” he said, “but my wife and I have endured a long day of travel, and I can see that she is weary. Would you take it amiss if we retired for the evening?”

The sudden request brought a look of surprise to their host’s face — or, at least, to the Eye — but he recovered himself quickly.

“So soon? But you have not yet — that is, we were just becoming acquainted. Surely you will stay long enough to share another glass of port, at least? Mrs. Darcy may withdraw if she chooses.”

Darcy stood. “Unfortunately, I must decline. Our journey fatigued me also.”

“Well... if you must,” he replied rather petulantly. There was something off-putting about their host. Although Elizabeth pitied the man for his injuries, she did not find him a pleasant individual. “I shall summon Dorothy to escort you.”

He rose, but turned in the direction opposite the bell. He paused and glanced round the walls until he located it.

Elizabeth eyed his wineglass and wondered whether the port or his recent accident accounted for his absentmindedness. “Do let me ring it for you.”

The housekeeper appeared almost before Elizabeth’s hand released the pull. She seemed disconcerted to find the three of them standing, and looked at her employer as if demanding an explanation.

“The Darcys would like to retire to their apartment now,” the captain said.

“Already? Have you finished your conversation?”

“We shall continue tomorrow.”

Dorothy pursed her lips in the same sort of pout Captain Tilney had displayed earlier. “After I see the Darcys to their chamber, I shall return directly.”

The housekeeper was silent as she conducted them through the corridors and galleries. They reached their chamber, which remained free of any hint that they had even brought their personal attendants to Northanger. At least someone had started a fire while they were at dinner, so the room had warmed.

“Our servants?” Darcy enquired again.

“They will turn up sooner or later. Ring the bell if you require anything.”

Elizabeth harbored little hope of anyone in the house actually addressing a need of theirs, especially as the housekeeper immediately left them to themselves without another word. She stared at the door through which Dorothy had so speedily departed. “Just when one thinks this place cannot get any stranger—”

“We meet our host?” Darcy finished.

She turned. “Him, too.” She shook her head in bewilderment at the whole evening. “One hesitates to criticize a man who has suffered such extensive injuries. But he is not at all what I expected a captain to be.”

“Nor I.” He removed his coat and tugged at his cravat.

“For a man of his years and occupation, I thought he would possess a graver manner — particularly after having suffered such serious injury. His speech and appearance formed an odd pairing. I suspect we were more afflicted by his accident than he was. Every time he turned his eye upon me, I felt a bit off balance. I was thankful when you begged leave to retire.”

“I believed we had both answered enough of his questions for the present.”

She went to her open trunk to retrieve her nightdress. “He certainly posed a great many of them, though I think most were to be expected. Your mother is the reason he invited us here, after all. Of course he would want to know more about her.” She frowned. “I thought I had seen my nightdress toward the top of this trunk when we were dashing around here earlier.”

“I saw it there, too.” He draped his coat over the back of a chair and neatly folded the neckcloth.

She continued rummaging through half-folded stacks of clothing. She had not realized she’d made such a mess of her maid’s packing in her haste to dress for dinner. “The captain is quite an enigma. I wonder what he looks like without the bandages. Oh — here is the nightdress, under my blue sarsenet. I thought that gown was in the other trunk.” She held the nightdress by its shoulders and shook it open. “It was a little unsettling, was it not, that the captain should talk about never knowing when a letter might turn up, and about letters inspiring people to search for forgotten things, when we so recently found that letter of your mother’s urging us to do just that?”

“That is a matter Captain Tilney need never learn anything about.”

“Agreed.”

He regarded her current gown with dismay. “I suppose you require assistance with those buttons again.”

“Do not complain. They are easier to open than close.”

He indulged in a wicked grin. “I know.”

She laughed, pleased by the display of Darcy’s less serious side. It had been little evident since their discovery of Lady Anne’s letter, and she welcomed its return. Perhaps engaging Dr. Severn had helped improve her husband’s humor by easing his anxiety. If so, she considered the change worth tolerating the physician’s haughtiness.

“Shame on you, Mr. Darcy. We are in an abbey.”

“A former abbey.”

She came to him and offered him her back so that he could start on the buttons.

“All right, a former abbey,” she said. “And one straight out of a horrid novel, I might add. The house is gloomy and dark, and we are not allowed to move about it freely. There seems to be a decided lack of servants — including our own. And for all we know, our host could be a phantom under those layers of bandages.”

“I doubt a phantom would swear upon his soul quite so often.”

Just as she finished changing into her nightdress, a thunderclap rent the air. It was another sound, however, that caused her to jump. “Did you hear that?”

“I expect everyone within twenty miles heard it.”

“Not the thunder — over there.” She pointed at the wall with the tapestry. She thought she had heard a thump from that quarter following the boom.

“Perhaps the force of the thunder shook some object.”

“Are you not going to examine the tapestry?”

“I thought my investigative responsibility was limited to black veils.”

“A tapestry is close enough.”

He crossed the room. The large silk-and-wool tapestry depicted the Annunciation, and appeared old enough that it might have hung at Northanger in the days when the building had indeed been an abbey. Though the centuries had dulled most of the colors, the heavenly light radiating from the virgin and the archangel stood out brightly.

Darcy caught the edge of the tapestry and pulled it to one side. To their surprise, the fabric parted down the center, revealing a door in the wall behind it. The door’s paneling matched that of the rest of the room, so that when closed — as it now was — it blended into the wall unnoticed. Such doors existed in homes throughout England; Pemberley had dozens.

“It is an ordinary servants’ door, nothing more.” He opened it to reveal a small, dark landing and narrow stair. “The thunder must have rattled it. You have nothing to fear but your own imagination.” He closed the door and allowed the tapestry to fall back into place. When it hung properly, the center division was indiscernible.

She let out a long breath and realized she had been more alarmed than she thought. The atmosphere of Northanger Abbey was starting to play havoc with her nerves. She longed to be home, in the comfort of Pemberley, away from strange houses, strange servants, and strange captains.

“Darcy, despite our having discovered a servant’s door rather than a skeleton, I must confess that I have not felt entirely comfortable at Northanger Abbey since the moment we entered it. There is something not quite right here.”

“Nothing a competent domestic staff could not address. Though having now met Captain Tilney, I believe the master himself partially responsible for the lax standards. I suspect he fails to set the proper tone.”

“Nevertheless, I cannot imagine enduring a full se’nnight of this.”

“A premature departure would insult our host.”

“Despite his assurances to the contrary, our presence is an imposition while he recovers.”

“Even so, we cannot simply leave.”

“Yes, we can. We can quit Northanger tomorrow morning — our trunks are even packed. Please, Darcy. We have been gone from Pemberley many weeks. I just want to go home.” Away from Captain Tilney, away from Lady Catherine, away from Wickham and Lydia and all the other vexations that had comprised their trip.

Darcy studied her face a long time before replying. She knew that her request asked him to ignore his sense of propriety, to place her wishes above his natural inclination.

“Very well,” he said finally. “In truth, now that we have met Captain Tilney, I am not certain I want to cultivate his acquaintance to a high degree. Nonetheless, we must take care to avoid giving offense.”

She thanked him with an embrace. “We shall invent a plausible excuse.”

Outside, the wind moaned its protest and rain furiously assaulted the windows. Though morning offered the promise of returning home, it would be a long night.

“I suppose,” he said, stepping out of her arms, “an early departure reduces the likelihood of our finding a black veil requiring my examination.” He drew closed a set of curtains to shut out the storm.

“Not necessarily. This room holds numerous draperies, two tablecloths, and a canopy to occupy you before we leave.”

“Those also fall under my province?”

“Your sphere includes all hanging fabric.”

“All?” His eyes dropped to the hem of her nightdress. He released an exaggerated sigh and met her gaze. “With that much responsibility, I could be up half the night investigating.”