Chapter 50
Darcy stood in his favorite place in any ballroom, in a corner against the wall where he could better observe the guests. He was not being anti-social, and nobody could accuse him of being reticent, surrounded as he was by Georgiana, Uncle, and Richard.
He watched Elizabeth, his heart swelling with awe that she returned his love. That she meant every word of her vows. The depth of emotion he heard in her voice when she said, “I do,” would forever echo in his memory.
She was truly a marvel. She conversed with the sailors—who Darcy was pleased had shown proper regard for the occasion by arriving washed, shaved, and with their hair cut and smoothed into place—as easily as she did with his aunt and the few other guests Darcy counted among his most intimate friends in society.
Bingley laughed with Cotton and Bauer. He looked happier than normal—which was significant for a gentleman given to merriment. He would marry Jane the next week and ought to look very pleased, indeed.
Not far from them sat Mrs. Annesley with Miss Kitty and Miss Mary, sipping tea and nibbling on cake.
Mrs. Annesley had agreed to stay with the Bennets for an undetermined time.
Darcy credited her edifying influence as well as he did Alex’s crew, from whom the Bennet ladies had no desire to draw attention and were therefore pleasantly more subdued than normal.
Even Lydia sat quietly, enjoying her plate of food.
Uncle nudged Darcy with his elbow. “I wish your mother were here to see you today. Annie would love to know you exchanged vows with a lady you love as much as she adored her George.”
Darcy’s heart squeezed at the way his uncle still referred to Mother like the little sister she was to him.
She would have loved to see the garden she cared for so carefully, her rose bushes which Darcy had maintained as she liked, used as his and Elizabeth’s wedding venue.
“She would have loved Elizabeth like a daughter.”
Georgiana added, “As would Papa.” After a pause, she continued, “He would have approved of your other guests, too.”
Richard swallowed the last of his champagne. “He would be shocked to see evidence that his unbending son finally paid him heed.” He raised an eyebrow at Darcy in that annoying way older relatives did, the one they used when they made a point at your expense.
But Darcy did not mind today. Uncle could chuckle all he wanted, and Georgiana could save her worried glances for another occasion. He nodded, acknowledging Richard’s jab and accepting its truth.
Darcy’s father had always encouraged him to widen his circle. He had considered his father to be too lenient—Wickham was not a good candidate for his generosity—but now Darcy understood him better. Father would have approved of Darcy’s new friends. Of Nick … and, yes, even of Alex.
As if they knew his thoughts had turned in their direction, Nick and Alex left their party to join him at his post against the wall. Elizabeth, too, departed from Jane, leaving her sister in Bingley’s capable, eager company, her eyes fixed on Darcy’s as she closed the distance between them.
Darcy’s post improved significantly when she wrapped her arm around his and stood close enough for the smell of her hair to intoxicate his senses.
“Thank you for the gift you sent, Nick,” Richard said seriously.
As content as Darcy was enveloped in the aroma of Elizabeth’s rosewater, his cousin’s appreciation expressed as it was—in front of Alex—was as sobering as getting caught in the rain. A storm was fast approaching.
Nick looked down at his polished boots, avoiding Alex’s stare. Carefully, without looking up, he replied, “So ye never doubt yer worth in yer lady’s heart.”
Richard, too thick to take a hint (for all that he was the superior, wiser, older one of the bunch), cackled. “And I need a trunk full of Spanish doubloons for that?”
“A trunk!” Alex exclaimed, her eyes shooting daggers between Nick and Richard (who now had the good grace to look sheepish).
“A small trunk. A box, really,” Richard clarified.
Nick shrugged and glanced toward the doors. “It’s blazing hot in here.”
Darcy tried to help. “Stifling. Do you care for a turn—” he began, and was promptly interrupted by his new sister.
“Where’d ye get a trunk—”
Richard raised his finger. “Small—very small—box.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Where’d ye get a”—she glanced at the colonel with both of her eyebrows raised—“very small box of treasure? Ye’ve no ship. No cache I’m aware of in Europe.” Her glare narrowed on Nick.
“I’ve no cache of treasure here. Or on the continent.
Nor in the North of Africa,” Nick added when Alex’s glare showed no sign of softening.
“In fact, I’ve written a letter to be sent to yer brothers indicating where a portion of the earnings I set aside during me years in their employ is stashed.
It’s sealed and on the corner of the writing desk in me bedchamber. ”
“Ye mean to send me brothers a treasure map?”
Darcy imagined it took a great deal to shock Alex, and he struggled to keep the twitch in his lips from deepening to a chuckle. Elizabeth, too, struggled. Her shoulders shook against his.
Nick grinned. “I couldn’t let ‘em stay angry with me bride when it’s in me reach to recover some of their favor after yer little misunderstanding.”
“I wouldn’t’ve misunderstood if ye’d’ve told me yer plans.”
Placing one hand over his heart, Nick said solemnly, “A mistake I promise not to repeat.”
“Do ye mean it?” Alex eyed him askance.
“From now on, I’ll confide everything in ye.”
“Everything?”
Darcy sensed trouble. Given Nick’s hard swallow, he knew he’d stepped one foot inside a noose, too.
“Aye. I’ll not go back on me word,” he answered bravely, despite the figurative rope closing around his ankle, ready to tug him off his feet.
Alex grinned, showing most of her teeth. “Good. Then ye won’t mind tellin’ me where ye hid yer doubloons.”
Darcy hid his smile behind his hand. Alex would keep Nick on his toes as much as Elizabeth kept Darcy on his.
Nick groaned half-heartedly. “Ye promise not to lose yer temper in front of our guests? In me brother’s fine house?”
Her brows furrowed, and she stepped away from Nick. “I’ve learnt a great deal from Lizzy ‘bout how to be a lady.” Folding her arms over her chest and lifting her chin, she said in a supremely offended tone, “A lady never loses her temper.”
Elizabeth’s whole body shook, but not a peep of laughter escaped her control. Darcy admired her all the more for it when she said in a voice which passed as joyful and proud, “You are my most exemplary student.”
Darcy nearly lost his composure. Alex was Elizabeth’s only student. But it served them well not to remind Alex of that fact. At least, not now, when Nick’s fate hung in the balance.
“Then again,” Alex added, “I still have a great deal more to learn about ladyhood. I promise to wait ‘til we’re alone to make me real feelins’ on the subject known.”
Richard jabbed Nick with his elbow. “Take care not to be alone with her anytime soon.”
Uncle leaned closer to Nick, his voice low enough only to be heard by Darcy, Nick, and their wives. “This does not bode well for your wedding night, son.”
Nick blushed. To be sure, it took all of Darcy’s composure not to blush with him.
Clearing his throat, Nick addressed Alex. “I hid enough doubloons on the Fancy to set me up properly in case I was caught. Not everyone on me crew was happy to change professions … as yer refusal to join me and Arnold’s mutiny both proved.”
Alex chewed on her lips, and Nick bowed his head and looked at the floor to await her verdict.
Finally, she spoke. “Ye hid a fortune on me boat? With me crew?”
“None of ‘em knew.”
“But they might’ve found it.”
“You might’ve found it.”
“Would ye let me keep it if I had?”
“Ye know I would.”
Alex leaned into him, a smile spreading up to her eyes. “Today, ye vowed to trust me with yer heart, and now I get proof ye trust me with yer fortune? That’s the most romantic thing ye’ve ever done, Nick.”
Nick’s head snapped up. “I’m not in trouble?”
“Hardly.” Alex wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. “I love ye more than a million gold pieces.”
Elizabeth’s grip around Darcy’s tightened. He rested his hand over hers and leaned down to whisper, “And I love you more than a million sparkling stars.” Perhaps he ought to have said “more than my pride,” but there was nothing romantic in that, and Darcy refused to allow Alex to best him.
“And I,” Elizabeth said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “love you more than a million libraries. More than Pemberley’s library, which I am assured is splendidly grand.”
She had him there. “Do you know I love you more with every witty retort?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks glowed pink, and Darcy had the gratifying sensation of knowing he had finally said the right thing at precisely the correct moment. It was a heady feeling.
He had rather forgotten they were surrounded by family until their party fell silent. Darcy looked up to see Cotton and Bauer shuffling their feet and clearing their throats.
“Speak up,” Alex ordered, every inch their captain.
Bauer held a handful of clippings toward Darcy. “Me and Cotton be wonderin’ if Mr. Darcy wouldn’t mind writin’ his name on these … as a keepsake.”
Cotton nodded eagerly. “A token of friendship if ye like.”
Darcy sent for a pen and ink well while the two sailors beamed.
“Ye and The Blade and The Cap’n”—Cotton nodded at Richard—“be a more excitin’ story than the prison riots.”
Bauer nodded. “Twas a pity the riot stole yer thunder. Ye should’ve been on the front pages fer weeks.”
Darcy, for one, was grateful his name had not been plastered all over the broadsides or shouted in the streets by publishers hocking their papers … not for long, anyway. “Thank you, gentlemen, but I will gladly cede any fame our story might have provoked.”
“And that evil woman what stole all those defenseless babes, murderin’ the castoffs in cold blood,” Cotton said with a bite.
Bauer shook his head. “If Connell hadn’t found her dead at the inn, I’d have helped him string her up meself … old woman or not.”
That had been a fortunate turn of affairs.
Connell had traced Mrs. Finchley to Ramsgate.
He had found her, cold and stiff, in her room, an empty teacup beside her bed.
The doctor at the inquest had determined that she had died of a weak heart.
Nobody at the inn had noticed, as she had paid for a full week, until her ship was set to sail, and had slipped the innkeeper a few extra coins to keep the maids away and secure her privacy.
Piece by piece over the past weeks, Connell had picked apart her operation with the help of Mrs. Annesley and her list and the indefatigable assistance of Miss Rothschild.
They had a great deal more work ahead of them, but Connell was well on his way to becoming a wealthy man in high demand in his new role as a respectable enquiry agent.
Society was abuzz with news of the families exposed for buying heirs or eliminating the undesirables—all services Mrs. Finchley provided.
Their hypocrisy soured Darcy’s stomach. Too many of them had known what had happened behind closed doors, but nobody admitted to it and the same people proclaimed their innocence of this barbaric, inhuman sin, zealously condemning Mrs. Finchley.
But Darcy’s secret twin brother, former pirate and Lafitte protege, had been spared further exposure.
For that, Darcy would forgive society’s folly.
Their fickleness and craving for sensational gossip quickly moved on to the newest, most exciting morsel to be discussed in drawing rooms and spread at dinner parties.
Nick held his head higher now that the danger had passed.
Hours later, the last bottle of champagne drained and the last slice of Jean-Christophe’s confection consumed, the crew of the Fancy grew restless. Alex looked up at Nick, and Darcy knew they would leave.
It was time. But he was not ready.
He had to have one more word. “Can I not convince you to join us at Pemberley? It is your home as well as mine, your rightful place.”
Nick’s smile held a trace of sadness. “I don’t need a grand house to know me place, Brother.”
“You are always welcome.”
“I know it. And I promise I’ll show up when I’m ready.” Nick turned and walked away.
Darcy made himself stay put and let Nick go, but fear needled his heart that he would never see his brother again. That was the only sad thought Darcy had on an otherwise perfect day.