Free North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) by Carrie Bebris Page A

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 musthave 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