Chapter Ten
Darcy’s carriage slowed, then came to a halt, eliciting a frown.
To either side were old, worn buildings of two or three levels, he assumed indicating that they were in the village of Meryton, the final village they were meant to pass through before reaching Netherfield Park.
He had not ordered a halt here, nor could he conceive of any reason to stop.
Especially not when they must be quite near their destination.
Across from him, Georgiana had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep after several days and nights of sobbing and railing, as if he took her to be ensconced in a convent, rather than to visit another gentleman’s country estate.
One where she knew, though admittedly was not overly fond of, everyone she would meet, for none of Bingley’s letters indicated he’d invited any guests other than his relations.
Another detail that spoke of something embarrassingly wrong with his choice of property. Bingley was a social creature.
From somewhere ahead, the rumble of voices reached Darcy. Obviously, some sort of obstruction to their journey. One that did not appear to be moving, as they were not.
In consideration of Georgiana’s slumber, he quietly exited the carriage, rather than calling to his driver.
Staggered about the rough cobbles before them, men gathered in front of what appeared to be the local inn, speaking animatedly.
They seemed in high spirits, but Darcy could see no reason for them to be in the street.
He was about to ask his driver to go disperse them when, off to one side of the main gaggle, he sighted none other than Bingley, standing with Miss Bingley and two women Darcy didn’t know. At least not at a distance.
He started forward, his attention catching on the younger, darker haired of the unfamiliar pair as he drew nearer.
No, he definitely did not know her. He didn’t recognize her elegant profile.
That pert nose or narrow chin. The perfect bow of her lips.
Dark eyes that held so much intelligence and interest, they seemed nearly to glow.
He would remember if he had ever beheld such a beguiling creature before. Hers was a face no man could forget.
“Bingley,” he called, walking up to the four.
Bingley turned from watching the commotion, his gaze finding Darcy. Like a trap door in a haymow, Bingley’s mouth dropped open. Color drained from his face. He gulped.
“Why, if it is not my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” Richard’s familiar voice said from behind Darcy. “I knew I recognized that carriage. Mine, loaned to you for your use while you have been chaperoning my dear sister. What an unexpected surprise to see you here.”
Richard? Here? Not on the Continent?
Wait…loaned carriage? Richard’s sister? What the blazes was Richard on about?
Darcy swung around in absolute confusion, only to be swallowed in a back-pounding embrace as Richard whispered fiercely into his ear, “You are me and I am you. I mean it, Darcy.”
Richard released him and Darcy fell back a step, stunned. What was Richard doing in England? Here, in Hertfordshire, with Bingley?
And what did he mean, he was Darcy and Darcy was him?
Darcy looked about, taking in how red Bingley’s face had gone. How his gaze, and Miss Bingley’s, both darted from Richard to Darcy and back again.
“Richard,” Richard said forcefully, looking right at Darcy. “You know Bingley and Miss Bingley, but permit me to introduce you to our new acquaintances. This is Miss Charlotte Lucas, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Of the six of them, only Miss Lucas appeared not to find anything amiss. She dipped a curtsy, the elegance of which went a long way to make up for a homely visage. Miss Elizabeth, the dark-haired beauty he’d spotted from up the street, studied Darcy and Richard, her keen eyes full of questions.
“You are a military man, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” she asked.
Though she spoke directly to him, it took Darcy a moment to realize she expected him to reply. “I, ah…”
“He is.” Richard slapped Darcy on the back, rocking him on his feet. “A colonel in the regulars, and we are all very proud.”
“As you should be,” Miss Lucas said with a smile.
“Yes,” Miss Bingley agreed, amusement finding its way into her voice. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is in the regulars, and a cousin to Mr. Darcy.”
Beside her, still red-faced, Bingley made a strangled sort of sound.
Miss Elizabeth cast him a sharp look.
Upon what madness had Darcy stumbled?
Richard gave him another clout on the back.
“You must be tired from your journey, Richard.” He gestured to the gaggle of men, which seemed to be breaking up.
“That lot is going back into the inn. Why do I not join you in your carriage and show you the way to Netherfield Park so you can refresh yourself before traveling on?”
“Georgiana is asleep in the carriage,” Darcy said, lightheaded with confusion. “And we are not traveling on.”
“You brought my sister here?” Richard’s smile was more of a grimace. “How delightful.” He sounded anything but pleased. “I am certain she will want to refresh herself while you and I catch up.”
This time, Darcy was braced for the clout. He cast Richard a sour look. Beating him into submission would not work.
Richard returned his look with a hard stare.
Darcy shrugged. Whatever Richard and Bingley were up to, undoubtedly Richard’s idea, Darcy would put an end to it.
He would, however, do his cousin the courtesy of hearing him out first. Not that Richard seemed to have extended like civility before implementing whatever mad scheme he was undertaking.
“So, ah, we are for Netherfield Park, then?” Bingley asked tentatively.
“We are.” Richard’s reply was firm.
“May I ride in your carriage with you, Colonel?” Miss Bingley asked, her expression eager. “That is, if Miss Darcy is awake now. I do so enjoy spending time with Miss Darcy.”
“Our carriage is down the street,” Bingley replied, which was fortunate as Darcy only then realized that Miss Bingley had been asking him, not Richard. “We should permit, ah, Darcy and, ah, Colonel Fitzwilliam some family privacy.”
“Indeed, we do have catching up to do,” Richard said. He turned to bow to Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas, the motion oddly stiff. “Ladies. Though it astonishes me to do so, I must thank you for your quick thinking.”
Surprise sped through Darcy to hear Richard be so rude. He was not one to imply that two perfectly competent looking ladies were not, in fact, capable.
Miss Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “I am pleased to have astonished you, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy started to hear her address Richard by his name.
She turned to him and offered another curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, Colonel.”
“Ah, yes,” Darcy managed.
The remainder of the farewells were made, and Richard shepherded Darcy back to his carriage. They climbed in to find Georgiana still asleep, and both took the seat facing her.
As they rolled forward, Darcy turned to his cousin, not troubling to hide his anger but mitigating his voice to a harsh whisper as he asked, “What the—”
“Not here,” Richard hissed. “At Netherfield Park. When we are alone.”
Darcy met that with a scowl but clamped his mouth closed.
“I will explain, but I require you to depart with all haste,” Richard said quietly.
“Depart?” Darcy shook his head. “I think not.” He hadn’t dragged his sister here so they might turn around and return to what had become a truly dreary existence in Pemberley.
“Not until you tell me what you and Bingley are doing, and certainly not today. We have been long on the road and Georgiana must rest.”
Richard studied him, assessing. “If you will not depart until tomorrow—”
“If we depart tomorrow,” Darcy corrected.
“—may I ask how many servants you brought?”
“Patrick, my driver, a—”
“Never mind,” Richard said, cutting him off yet again. “They must all be sent away immediately, with the exception of Patrick and your coachman.”
“Must they?” Darcy whispered back with heavy sarcasm.
“Yes. As soon as your cases are unloaded. I do not want a single one of them to speak with anyone hereabouts. They can continue on to London. You can call them back tomorrow.” He met Darcy’s gaze unflinchingly. “This is important.”
“I fail to imagine what could be important enough to necessitate the sort of ruse I suspect you and Bingley are perpetrating, and I have not agreed to depart tomorrow.”
“Your life. That is what is so important.”
“My life?” What did Richard mean?
“Yes. It is in grave danger.”
Darcy stared at him, disbelief warring with worry. “What the devil are you on about?”
Richard nodded to Georgiana, who appeared to be asleep still. “Soon.”
Soon would have to do, Darcy decided. Though before Richard and Bingley began whatever they were up to would have been far better.
Richard ushered Darcy and Georgiana up Netherfield Park’s wide front steps while rapidly issuing instructions that would ensure all but Patrick and Darcy’s coachman, both in Padgett’s employ, would depart immediately and be in London by dinner.
That seen to, Richard followed his cousins into the high-ceilinged entrance hall.
There, the butler met him with, “Mr. Darcy?” which caused Darcy to turn as well.
With a glare to urge his cousin to keep silent, Richard said. “Yes?”
“A courier came while you were out, sir.” The butler, also employed by Padgett, as were most of the staff at Netherfield Park, held out a thin missive.
“Is the man who brought this still here?”
“He is.” The butler nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “I sent him for a meal. He had a rough time of it. His horse came up lame and he was forced to find another.”
Later, Richard would have a report from Patrick of how Darcy had ended up in Meryton without any warning, but the butler’s explanation already told him what he needed to know. “Good thinking.”
“Do you require him?”