Page 30

M rs. Reynolds said you wanted to ask me something?” Elizabeth leaned on the doorframe of his office.

“Yes. I have to go to Louisville next week on business. Would you like to go along?”

She walked into the room and sat on the overstuffed chair in front of his desk. “Oh yes! But wait—maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“My garden—”

“Oh, that. Don’t fret about your plants. Mrs. Reynolds can supervise a couple of the hired hands to look after it. On second thought, I’ll speak to Hank myself—he’ll get it done.”

“Well”—she hesitated, but the call of adventure was too strong. She had only seen Louisville from the train station as her family passed through from Chicago on their way to Meryton last summer. “That will be all right, I suppose. How long will we be gone?”

“Leaving on Wednesday. Back on Friday.”

“What kind of business does a gentleman farmer have in the big city?” she asked, teasing him a little.

“It’s for Georgiana.” He left it at that.

“Oh. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

He shuffled through some papers, not looking at her.

“No, not at all. It’s…ah, I’m meeting with…

well, it’s about her trust fund. I’m responsible for it until she’s twenty-five.

Nothing to worry about.” He glanced up, giving her a ghost of a smile.

“I appreciate how concerned you are for Georgiana and the girls. But then, I knew that’s how it would be. ”

“They’re my family now, too.”

“You have a kind heart.”

Elizabeth felt flustered under the spotlight of his gaze. He had that way, sometimes, of looking at her as if he were peering into her soul. The awkward silence stretched out for several seconds. That spotlight of his could grow uncomfortably warm at times.

“Yes, well…” She rose from her chair. “I’ll let you get back to work and start my own work for the day.”

“You do that.” His lips twitched in amusement. “Oh, and Elizabeth,” he said to her back as she walked toward the door.

“Yes?”

“Pack a nice dress or two. We’ll have dinner out while we’re there.”

The Seelbach Hotel rose like a monolith on the corner of Fourth Street and Walnut. Elizabeth was used to tall buildings, being from Chicago, and the ornate stone towering above her twanged a nostalgic string in her heart.

The lobby, with its murals high above, its marble under her feet, and rich, dark wood all around her, spoke of an elegance still novel to a professor’s daughter-turned-farmgirl. She was familiar with tall buildings, yes, but rarely had she been inside one this fancy.

Her husband seemed nonplussed as he directed the bellman to take their luggage upstairs and slipped some money into the man’s hand.

“If you want lunch, The Corner Cafe is across the street,” William said.

“Are you hungry?”

“I am, come to think of it. My appointment isn’t until one o’clock, and it’s just now”—he paused, lifting his arm to check his wristwatch—“eleven-thirty. I think we have time to grab a bite to eat.”

Once out in front of the hotel, he took her hand and led her at a quick jog across the street. They slid into a booth, and he removed his hat, running a hand through his hair.

“What sounds good to you?" he said, pulling a menu out from behind the napkin dispenser and handing it to her.

She studied the menu for a minute. “I’ll have a clubhouse sandwich.” Closing the menu, she folded her hands on top of it.

The waitress came with water, and Darcy ordered Elizabeth’s club and a hot brown for himself.

He met her gaze across the table, a warm smile on his face. “What will you do with yourself this afternoon?”

“Look through the shops, I guess. Do we need anything at home?”

“I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. You can buy what you like,” he answered. “I have an account at Besten and Langen—it’s next door—and Bacon’s, as well.”

“Be careful, sir. You may end up with quite a bill if you turn me loose.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Where is your appointment again?” she asked.

“A few blocks away. Downtown.”

“Which bank?”

“Um, First National. Ah, here we are.” He leaned back as the waitress set plates in front of them and set a ticket on the table.

“You can just pay up at the counter. No rush, honey.”

After they finished eating, Darcy paid the check, opened the door, and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

He took her elbow and pointed across the block.

“There’s Besten and Langen.” He turned her the opposite way.

“And there’s Bacon’s.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“I should be back to the hotel around three or so. Don’t forget, we have dinner reservations at the Oakroom for seven o’clock. ”

She watched him stride away, picking up his pace as the trolley car pulled into the stop just ahead. With another wave to her, he swung up into the car, and she smiled to herself, feeling all the good fortune that came from being Mrs. Darcy.

The Oakroom was decorated with rich, dark wood, thick carpets, and plush chairs. It led a decadent, dangerous air to the room, fed by the rumors that Chicago gangsters dined there from time to time.

“How did your appointment go this afternoon?” Elizabeth asked.

“Pardon?” William looked up from his plate.

“The bank?”

“Oh, the bank. It went fine. All is well.”

“No repercussions from the emergency bank holiday in March? The banks were closed for about a week.”

Surprised, he sat back in his chair. “It’s been almost three months since then. The federal reserve’s guarantee of funds to the banks and the recent gains in the stock market have stabilized things somewhat.” He stared at her. “I didn’t know you were aware of the bank holiday.”

“I read the papers, William. Listen to the radio. Just like you.”

“We had just gotten married in March. I thought perhaps you had other things on your mind.” He smiled. “Sometimes I forget how curious you are.”

“It pays to be curious. If you aren’t, the world just might come down around your ears before you realize it.”

“Yes, I understand that view, even share it to some degree. I just didn’t expect to hear an opinion on it from my wife.”

She frowned. “Is it an unwelcome opinion?”

“Not at all. Just...unexpected.” He picked up his knife. “So, what did you do while I was out today?”

An obvious turn of topic. Mild annoyance bubbled up, but she put that irritation out of her mind, not wanting to spoil the evening.

“I bought a few small things: ribbons, and hosiery, and such.”

“No new dresses?”

“No need. I am quite well dressed, don’t you think?”

His eyes grazed her form. “I like to see you in pretty things. Although”—he said, spearing her with a look that made her toes curl—“ you are pretty in anything, even those oddly appealing Levi trousers you wear.”

“William!” She blushed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him.

He shrugged and grinned at her.

“And here I thought the man I married was stoic and serious.”

“Marriage has changed me, perhaps.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Perhaps.”

“I thought we might take in a movie at the Palace after dinner.”

“What’s playing tonight?”

“A W.C. Fields film. How about it, Mrs. Darcy?”

She wrinkled her nose. “If you want to.”

“Or we could turn in early.”

Her heart stuttered. How had he reduced her to this melting pot of emotion and desire in four short months? She was aware of every move he made, every time he entered a room. It was unnerving, yet exciting.

Suddenly, she felt parched and lifted her water glass, peering at him over the rim. Setting the glass down, she willed him to touch her. As if he had read her mind, he reached out and stroked her hand, still wrapped around the glass, with one finger.

“Well? Elizabeth?”

“I could turn in early.”

His eyes darkened, almost black in his ridiculously handsome face, summoning a responsive simmer in her blood.

As they exited the dining room, he caught her hand and they nearly raced for the elevator, an electric urgency between them, one that made the elevator operator smirk in amusement.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Darcy,” he said as the elevator opened on their floor. “Mrs. Darcy.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered.

Her hand still in his, William backed down the hall to their door. “I plan to have a very good evening, indeed.”

Elizabeth floated from sleep into consciousness surrounded by warmth and the luxurious slide of cotton against her skin.

She slowly realized that she had no nightgown between her and the sheets.

Her eyes opened to the sun seeping in around the heavy hotel curtains.

A bottle of bourbon and two empty glasses rested on the nightstand.

Her husband’s hand, gliding over her waist and stopping below her belly, crept into her awareness.

He pulled her against him and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Good morning, my wife.” His voice rumbled in her ear.

Feeling flirtatious, she stretched out, arms overhead, arching her back and pushing her bottom against him. “Too early,” she said, a false note of complaint in her voice.

Her movement had enticed his hand to wander her torso. “Two mornings in the city, and you’re already sleeping half the day away.”

She rolled onto her back, arm draped across her eyes. “It does seem decadent, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled and continued tracing her curves, as if it were a compulsion he couldn’t give up. “Enjoy it. I know I am. Early mornings are coming back soon enough.” He bent his head and took her breast in his mouth.

She sighed and turned toward him, leaning in as he took the rest of her, strong and smooth. He surrounded her with heat, holding her hands to the bed and gently torturing her with slow, steady lovemaking.

Afterwards, satisfied and spent, she lay intertwined with him, unwilling to let the moment go.

“I love”—he paused, and her eyes snapped to his—“this. I love this long, lazy morning in bed. With you.”

“I do too.” And she did love it, although some kind of odd disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach at his words. “What time are we heading home?”

“We should check out by eleven. Do you want breakfast?”

“Sure.” She arose, aware of his eyes on her as she left the bed.

Later, as they gathered clothes and packages to pack, William glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

“I need to settle up and find the bell captain to get the car and our luggage.”

Elizabeth started to acknowledge him, but he was gone before she could get the words out.

She saw his tie hanging over the desk chair and went to retrieve it, in case he’d forgotten.

Her eye was drawn to the open briefcase on the desk—and the hotel bill on top of his papers.

Thinking she might catch him before he made it to the elevator, she snatched it up but stopped cold at the address on a partially folded letter, lying loose in his case. Carefully, she eased the paper open.

Jack Chapman, Private Investigation

301 West Market Street

Louisville, Kentucky

May 20, 1933

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I would be happy to re-visit my investigation from last year and open new avenues based on these latest developments, the ones you notified me of in April.

Perhaps it would be best to meet in person at my office to discuss your current concerns and to share the information I have gathered to this point.

If you are going to be in the Louisville area soon, I am available to meet with you, perhaps the first week of June?

Please telephone my secretary at your convenience to set up an appointment.

Sincerely,

And here, the name “Jack” was penned in a neat, angular hand.

Elizabeth dropped the letter, and the hotel bill on top of it, and backed away from the desk, feeling both angered by her husband’s secrecy and guilty for reading his mail, even if the discovery was inadvertent.

She sat down at the table and glanced over at the bed, still rumpled from their earlier lovemaking, ambivalence flooding her thoughts.

Still, after these months of living together, working together, sleeping together—he still did not trust her with his concerns? Why would he need to hire a private investigator? Was it because of her? Their recent marriage?

She shook her head. No, she herself couldn’t be the reason. The investigator referred to re-opening an investigation from the past.

Her mind whirred. Georgiana’s husband. Maggie and Ruth’s father. This had to be about him. No one in town ever spoke of him, but—

She remembered her conversation with Charlotte last fall…

“Some say the husband died working on the Hoover Dam. Some say he was a criminal, and Mr. Darcy didn’t want the girls to have a jailbird’s name.

So, he legally changed their name to Darcy.

Some say the husband just up and left her…

And then, some say that Mr. Darcy just didn’t like the husband, so he made Georgiana get a divorce and take back her name, or he’d cut her off without a penny. ”

“Elizabeth,” she said aloud. “You’re imagining things.” But if William wasn’t doing something underhanded, why hide it from her?

The door opened, and he came back in. “Forgot the bill,” he said, holding it up and closing his briefcase.

She sat at the table, desperately wanting to believe in him and trying to figure out why he would lie—not just by omission—but straight to her face about where he was going yesterday.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”

She tried to gather her wits. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m fine.” She took a sip of water from the glass in front of her, not yet ready to meet his gaze.

“Be right back. Will you be ready in a few minutes? Elizabeth?”

She turned to him. “Yes. I will. Be ready, that is.”

Still looking confused at her change in demeanor, he walked across the room, gently felt her forehead, and kissed her brow. Then he quit the room, leaving her with her thoughts.

He must have a reason for this. He would tell her when he was ready, wouldn’t he? Aside from this one matter, he had given her no reason not to trust him. She should trust him and put this out of her mind.

Besides, he was her husband now. What other choice did she have?