Chapter Two #2
He shook his head, tugging his hand from hers. “I said one of the reasons. The other is that I respect you too much, care for you too much, to treat you thusly. Once we are wed, then such intimacies may take place.”
“Once we are married, then you will kiss me?” He had to then, did he not? “You promise?”
Again, that blank look, which he seemed unable to help, overtook his features. It was almost as if he found her unappealing. “I promise, my love.”
Despite his words, worry wriggled through her again.
“You do, well, want to kiss me?” She knew she was too tall, and that her curls could be brighter, but she was certainly prettier than some of the girls at school from whom she’d heard whispered tales of forbidden behavior.
If men would kiss them, they must want to kiss her.
And George told her how much he loved her quite often.
If you loved someone, you wanted to kiss them.
“I want to be with you more than anything, my love,” he assured her, his smile wide and locked in place. “It is my fear that I will be overwhelmed with passion that causes me to be so very careful not to begin what we must not yet finish.”
That made sense. In the stories she read or heard, people were always becoming overwhelmed with passion. Relief filled her. “Very well, then. We will wait. I am fortunate that I will have a husband who respects me so.”
“And I am fortunate that I will have the loveliest bride in all of England.” He backed up a step, all that was required to reach the door. “Now, I must go. We do not want to behave with any suspicion. We are nearly to our destination.” With that, he slipped from the room.
Georgiana sighed again, plopped back down on her bed, and returned to reading. Isabella and Theodore were nearly to their happily ever after, much as she and George would soon be.
Fitzwilliam Darcy strode along the busy street, seeking the offices of Watson, Hastings, and Vane.
He was pleased he’d reached London early enough to answer their summons this afternoon.
He was on his way south to surprise his younger sister by an earlier than expected visit to Ramsgate, and when he’d reached London just after midday, had found an urgent summons from his attorney.
No information had been provided except for a request for his presence at his earliest convenience.
As Darcy wanted to depart come morning, he found visiting the firm convenient now.
He could not imagine for what they might require him.
To his knowledge, his relations were all in fine health.
Nor could there be any changes to the documents they held for Darcy.
He still had not found a woman who interested him.
He had no heir. He had, as she was currently the last of the Darcy line, left nearly everything to Georgiana.
Darcy longed for that to change but saw no prospect of it doing so anytime soon.
All of which rattled through his head as he entered the mahogany-clad waiting room of Watson, Hastings, and Vane.
Looking up at the sound of Darcy’s entrance, the clerk immediately stood to bow. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Smith. A request was made for my presence.”
“Yes, sir. I believe Mr. Hastings sent that around, sir. He has papers for you to look over and sign, sir.”
Papers? What could that be about? “Very well. Please inform Mr. Hastings that I have arrived.”
Harold Smith, one in a series of young men with similarly bland names who had sat at the clerk’s desk over the years, bowed again and disappeared deeper into the warren of offices.
Rather than sit in any of the armchairs or sofas positioned for that purpose, Darcy remained standing, though he did doff his hat. Hastings never kept him waiting long.
Sure enough, Smith returned shortly with, “Mr. Hastings will see you in his office, sir.”
Darcy waved him to sit. “I know the way.”
“Do you require any refreshments, sir?”
“No.” Darcy didn’t intend for the meeting to take long enough for refreshments. He’d been on the road from Pemberley for some days already and was keen for an evening of rest at Darcy House before resuming his journey south.
Hastings awaited him in the open doorway of his office, bowing Darcy in with a repetition of, “Do you require any refreshments, Mr. Darcy?”
“No. Simply an explanation of why you requested my presence.”
“Ah, yes. Nothing dire, never fear.” Hastings gestured for Darcy to take the chair before his desk, then moved around the cumbersome furnishing. He slid some papers across the desktop.
Darcy leaned over to examine them. He spotted Richard’s signature and scooped the document up for closer inspection. “This is about Georgiana’s dowry?”
“It is. Colonel Fitzwilliam seems plagued by some sort of notion that Miss Darcy’s assets require greater protection.” A glance showed Hastings’ indulgent smile. “Quite possibly because he is so far away, and feels somehow derelict in his duty as co-guardian.”
“Hm,” Darcy uttered, to show he attended the other man’s words even as he read. “In essence, this seems to say that my sister’s dowry will not be paid out until she is either five-and twenty, or upon the presentation of a document signed by both myself and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“You have a perfect grasp of what your cousin intends, yes.”
“Until she is twenty-one, Georgiana cannot marry without such a document from the two of us.” Darcy tossed the papers back onto the desk.
“I fail to see that this changes much. If we agree to permit her to marry, we will presumably approve of the gentleman and want him to have her dowry so she may be afforded the best life possible.”
Hastings nodded. “I agree, it changes little. I believe it will provide your cousin with greater assurance that he is doing his duty by Miss Darcy, however.”
Darcy frowned. The document was completely unnecessary.
Yet, if Richard had gone to all the trouble to have the papers mailed about, or perhaps to have them made up the last time he was on leave, there was little harm in signing them.
Darcy could appreciate that his cousin wanted to take a more active role in his guardianship of Georgiana, difficult for Richard to do when he was away so often.
Finally, Darcy shrugged. There was no harm in the change. Surely, when permission was sought for Georgiana’s hand, her dowry could be granted as well. It amounted to more paperwork for a clerk at Watson, Hastings, and Vane, but little more than an extra signature for Darcy and for Richard.
“Very well. I will sign.”
Hastings’ smile held more relief than Darcy had expected.
He unstoppered the ink, then slid the bottle and an already trimmed pen across to Darcy.
While Darcy signed, Hastings produced three more copies from a desk drawer, already made up in obvious expectation of agreement.
One for Darcy, one for Richard, one to keep on hand, and one to store in the firm’s vault at one of London’s most prestigious banks.
Watson, Hastings, and Vane were always very thorough, and Darcy respected them for that.
The papers signed, Darcy bid Hastings good day, took his copy, and returned to Darcy House. His foot had hardly touched the first of the five steps that led up to the front door when his butler yanked it open. Taking in the man’s strained visage, Darcy trotted up with a frown.
Now what?
“Sir.” His butler held out a missive. “This arrived shortly after you went out, via special courier. It is from Mrs. Younge, and the man reported that he was told it is exceedingly urgent.”
“Mrs. Younge?” Darcy repeated, worry shooting through him. He fumbled with the seal, his fingers clumsy with alarm. Mrs. Younge would not employ a special courier for anything less than dire news. Tearing the thick paper in his haste, Darcy unfolded the letter.
He skimmed past the shakily written salutation to read;
I do not know how to impart this news, sir, but I fear your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has absconded with Miss Darcy.
Last week, I fell suddenly ill during tea.
It was not until yesterday that I recovered my senses and discovered Colonel Fitzwilliam informed the staff that he was removing Miss Darcy from the threat of my illness.
I can only be thankful the housekeeper had the good sense to keep the remainder of the staff calm, and not to abandon me.
When I learned that Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam departed via a phaeton and had yet to return, I set the staff to scouring the town in the hope he had rented her a room or a different cottage.
The two could not be found, but some of the staff returned with reports of a phaeton matching their description taking the north road.
Given their apparent absence from Ramsgate and their complete lack of communication, it is my fear they have run off together.
Sir, I do not know what to do. I can only hope you have had some communication with either your sister or cousin that refutes my fear. If not, your presence is required with all speed.
Mrs. M. Younge
“The man who brought it was relieved to find you here, sir,” Darcy’s butler said tentatively. “Said he had been ordered to stop here, but to continue on to Pemberley if you were not found in London.”
“It makes no sense,” Darcy murmured, shock spiraling through him.
Richard running off with Georgiana? Richard had never shown any indication of viewing Georgiana as anything other than a much younger sister.
And Georgiana…she loved Richard but she had no romantic feelings for their cousin.
Darcy was certain of that. And what of this ‘sudden illness?’ How could an illness come on so suddenly and thoroughly?
Had his sister been abducted, with Mrs. Younge a coconspirator?
Then there were the papers Darcy had less than an hour ago signed. Richard protecting Georgiana’s dowry from himself? Or endeavoring to show that was not why he wanted to marry her?
No. Darcy shook his head. He could not think that about Richard.
Him running off with Georgiana defied all reason.
Something else had taken place. Darcy knew not what, but something that didn’t involve his favorite cousin deserting his post, for he would have needed to in order to flee north, and absconding with Georgiana.
“Send for Patrick,” Darcy said in reference to his valet. “Ready my horse and my carriage. I must depart immediately.”
“Sir?”
Darcy looked up from the letter he held to find his butler staring at him in concern. “My sister needs me.”
Shoving Mrs. Younge’s note into his pocket, Darcy stepped past his butler, unwilling to tell the man any more. He took the stairs two at a time, his mind racing ahead to the route they must travel. To the inns they would check on their way south.
He had to hurry. He had to leave. Now. Whatever was transpiring, Darcy wouldn’t find any answers here in London.