Chapter Thirty #3
The sneer again, but George looked tired. He sounded it, too, his voice dragging. “Even if I accept this offer of yours, I admit to nothing.”
“Of course you do not.” Hugh slammed his fist onto the tabletop. “You would have seen me hang! All my life I counted you as friend and family, and you still would have seen me hang!” He pushed his chair back and surged to his feet.
Reid was there at once, one arm flung around Hugh to hold him back. “He isna worth it.”
Hugh, red-faced and panting, did not struggle. “He is not worth anything.” He shook his head and turned to Darcy. “I cannot look at him, Fitzwilliam, else I shall cast up my accounts.” A sidelong glower at George. “All over him, if I can manage it!” A sharp breath. “I will await you outside.”
Darcy nodded. “Have our horses saddled, if you would, Hugh. John and I will not be much longer.”
Hugh closed the door to the room with quiet care, but an instant later the slam of the house door reverberated through the house. George looked away, staring out of the window to the Peaks in the distance.
“It will be two or three weeks, I think, before the arrangements for India can be confirmed. Will you take Denny? I promise you, I will not be merciful if he stays.”
“There is nothing for him here.” George’s mouth twisted. “Another almost-brother of mine.”
“Or one in truth? You two are not unalike.”
George made another of those odd sounds, half a laugh, half a snort. “I have my suspicions, but I can hardly ask my father, can I?”
“I suppose not. Well, two berths to India then. I suggest you wait in Buxton, and take rooms at the Gentlemen’s Club, where we may easily find you when the arrangements are made.”
“You are quite remorseless.”
“If she had died, George, I would see you hanged for it. As it is, you have another chance. You will do well in India, I think. I believe the life there will suit you. You will grow rich and come home a Nabob, I dare say. But not for at least the next ten years. Set foot in England before then, and I will ruin you.”
After a long silence, George said, tone suffused with angry resentment. “I have some debts.”
“Yes. You owe Standley, at the least, for gambling losses at the Club. Despite your protestations, you never did quite give it up, did you? You are more like your Uncle Nathaniel than you care to admit. Your reform was but skin deep.”
“I owe but a trifle.”
“I will pay it. You will also need a sum to start with on your own account in India. I will gift you that, in remembrance of the almost-brother I once had. For the same reason, I will ensure your father is cared for. Not so remorseless as sentimental, I fear.”
“I wish to see Lizzy first. You must allow that.”
“If she consents to see you, what does anyone else have to say about it? It is for her to decide.” Darcy pushed back his chair and rose. “Make your farewells, George. Be in Buxton by Friday.”
Darcy left him sitting there, staring out the window at the familiar landscape he would not see again for years, if ever.
Hugh was waiting outside with the horses. “Well?”
Darcy took the reins Hugh handed him with a word of thanks, and added, “He will go to India, and may count himself fortunate we do not pursue the matter any further. Denny will go with him.”
“Good! I never want to see him again.” Hugh handed over Reid’s horse to him. “You will have the devil of a job to fill George’s place, mind you. The Wickhams have cared for Pemberley for so long, and angry as I am with him, I must say he is a first-rate land agent.”
“I think Reid may fill his shoes one day, and while he puts his hand to the reins, you and I will work together to manage Pemberley between us.” Darcy swung into the saddle, and found himself grinning at Reid’s expression.
For once, that Scottish-granite face was showing both gratification and consternation.
It was Hugh’s astonishment that amused him the most, though.
“You need an occupation, Hugh, and I need help. The rumours George set loose will soon be forgotten if you and I are seen to be on good terms. What do you think?”
“I think George is right. You are mad.”
For the first time that day, Darcy laughed aloud. He turned Ram's head for Pemberley.
She waited for him in the sunken garden. When Darcy saw her, his heart stuttered and his breath caught.
She was bundled into a shabby red cloak, too large for her slender frame.
She pushed back the hood when she noticed him, the mellow creamy-grey stone of the house behind framing her head.
Pemberley perfected itself as her background, lit obliquely by the westering sun, and for the first time he felt a jolt of affection and pride in the old house, loved Pemberley as the place that held her.
She knew about George without his saying a word. She had very beautiful eyes, and they fixed on him with such sorrow and sympathy that he slipped into the seat beside her, and took her free hand in his. Her fingers pressed his.
Even when he was an old, old man, no matter how long he lived, he would carry in his heart the picture of the girl in the scarlet cloak, looking at him with those steady dark eyes.