Chapter Ten #2
Richard shook his head. “I do not. Pass along that I am putting Colonel Fitzwilliam in the blue chambers and Miss Darcy in the yellow.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Darcy.”
Ignoring Darcy’s glower, Richard led the way up the steps, trying not to walk as if on the way to a school room reprimand. He was doing this to save Darcy’s life, after all. No matter how much his cousin’s face puckered with anger.
“I do not understand,” Georgiana said quietly as they reached the top of the staircase. “Why did the butler call you Mr. Darcy, Richard?”
Richard grimaced. He didn’t want Georgiana to know how much danger Darcy was in, and he certainly did not want her to know who had initiated the threat to her brother.
He gestured to Darcy. “Perhaps Richard here will explain after he and I have spoken. If you would wait in your room? It is three doors down, that way. It is a lovely suite. I will have a maid sent up. I am afraid yours is already on her way to London.”
Georgiana’s footsteps halted.
Richard turned to find she had wrapped her arms about her, her chin jutting out. Concerned, he asked, “Georgie?”
“I will be told the truth along with my brother. I am a grown woman. I am—” She broke off, her features pinching. Long fingers dug into the sleeves of her gown. “I will not be shuffled off.”
Taking in her pallor, how thin she’d become, the way her hair hung lank and dull, Richard looked to Darcy. What had he been doing with the girl? Could Darcy not see how miserable their ward was?
Darcy, his visage nearly as drawn as Georgiana’s, asked, “Does it concern her in any way?”
Richard frowned, considering. “Somewhat, though mostly it concerns you.”
Georgiana tipped up her chin. “My brother is my concern.”
“Georgiana, I—”
“Show us to the blue chamber and explain yourself,” Darcy cut in crisply. “Standing about here in the hallway is accomplishing little.”
Richard rubbed at the back of his neck, Darcy’s banked anger once more making him feel like an errant child. “Very well.” Pivoting, he led the way.
He opened the door to the blue suite’s sitting room to the sight of a maid readying the fireplace.
One glance at the three of them and she gathered her tinderbox, curtsied, and scuttled away in the direction of the bedchamber.
To light a fire there as well, or to depart through the bedroom’s other door, Richard didn’t know.
Nor did he truly care, for she was one of Padgett’s.
Richard strode into the room, “Shall I call for tea?”
“No,” Darcy snapped.
Annoyance sparked in Richard as he dropped into a plush armchair. “There is no need to be rude. Not until you have at least heard me out.”
Georgiana came around the couch to perch on the end nearest a struggling fire that could have used a few more minutes care, and Darcy joined her. Together, they regarded Richard like an exam board.
“Yes, well, as you can see, I am not on the Continent.”
Darcy offered a sardonic nod. Georgiana merely watched Richard with worry-filled eyes.
He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. He would prefer to stand. To pace, really, but that would only make him seem guilty.
He supposed he was, but all in a good cause. “Yes, well, the thing is, my superior learned that a reward for your, ah, demise, has been issued, Darcy, to be collected on the first of December.”
“My demise?” Darcy’s tone was as incredulous as his expression. “Why? By whom?” He held up a hand before Richard could speak, and muttered, “Wickham.”
“Oh,” Georgiana gasped, covering her mouth. “No. Surely George would not…not… No, someone else must have set this reward.”
Swiveling to look at her, Darcy said, “I do not make a habit of aggravating people to the point where they wish me dead. It must be Wickham.”
She pressed her lips tight together, tears building in her already red-rimmed eyes.
Richard cleared his throat again, surprised how short Darcy was with her.
What had been happening in Pemberley? “Yes, well, though I might disagree with your assertion that you do not aggravate people, Darcy, you are correct. It is Wickham. He read your will. He knows you have left Pemberley to Georgiana.”
Georgiana let out a sob.
“Then arrest him,” Darcy said flatly.
“We have nothing with which to charge him at this time.” Richard sat forward.
“The bounty he has placed on you is a thing of rumor, lurking about in the back alleyways of London, not something spoken of in respectable parlors with witnesses who might testify. It is our hope to send in an agent with fabricated proof, get Wickham to incriminate himself, and then arrest him.”
“W-what would the penalty be?” Georgiana whispered.
Suspecting she already knew, Richard said, “Transport or…death.”
Without another sound she brought her knees up to her chest and dropped her face to them, curling into a ball on her end of the sofa. Her shoulders trembled.
Darcy reached out to her, hesitated, and dropped his arm. Shaking his head, he turned back to Richard. “And this pretense you have here with Bingley? This is, I assume, your effort at keeping me safe?”
Richard pulled his gaze from Georgiana. “Yes.”
“Well, then, end it. It is unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of keeping myself safe.”
“I wish it were that simple. I am afraid my superiors seem to feel this threat to you is the perfect opportunity to remove some of the less savory elements that pollute London.”
Darcy’s mouth twisted into a disdainful smile. “I see. Keeping me safe is but one goal. You are here as bait.”
Richard nodded. “Bingley and I made a production of him letting this place, and inviting Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy as his first and only guest. I wager everyone in London knows where Mr. Darcy can be located. At least, that was the goal.”
“Bingley,” Darcy reiterated flatly.
“Do not blame him. He was browbeaten into this.” Richard hoped his cousin would ask no more on that, as he did not care to reveal Bingley’s family shame, even to one of his close companions. His uncles’ treachery was Bingley’s secret to keep or to tell, not Richard’s.
Fortunately, Darcy only nodded, obviously finding it easy to accept that Richard could bend Bingley to his will. “And Miss Bingley? Are the Hursts not here as well?” They’d featured in Bingley’s letters. “Are they not in danger? Should they not return to London?”
“They are aware, obviously, that a scheme is afoot and that there is some danger. They accept that.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, that there is some danger? What have you told them?”
“They believe there is a conspiracy to abduct you. They do not know that the real threat is more severe.”
“I see,” Darcy said, the lack of inflection in those two words giving Richard no hint at his cousin’s feelings. “And the local population? The staff? Or do they not matter to your superiors?”
“The staff here are in the employ of the Crown, and yours are safely on their way to London.”
Darcy stared at him for a long moment. “The staff here are…what? Soldiers? You cannot make me believe that of the maid who lit the fire.”
“Do you imagine the Crown incapable of seeing the value of employing women in an operation such as this?”
That earned him a flat glare.
Should Richard mention that he had protested this plan?
Hollow words, as his protests had obviously done no good.
He could point out that he was under orders and had little choice but to go ahead with the scheme but that, likewise, seemed pointless.
The quite evident truth, right before Darcy’s eyes, was that Richard was here in Hertfordshire with Bingley, pretending to be Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“I understand you are doing this at least somewhat for my benefit, but I must insist you end this charade,” Darcy said with all the firmness of his lineage and upbringing.
“You have placed Bingley, his sisters, and Mr. Hurst in danger. As well, you are perpetuating a lie to an entire community, and drawing unsavory elements here.”
Richard suppressed a sigh. He’d expected little else from Darcy. “I am afraid I cannot do that. I am under orders to play out this ruse.”
Darcy’s posture stiffened. “You need do nothing. I will disseminate the truth.”
“And I will contradict you.”
“Which will not matter. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Oh?” Richard met Darcy’s gaze without blinking.
“By whose word? They already have mine that I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. They have, as well, Bingley’s word, and those of his relations.
They know and respect Bingley. He has let the largest property in the community.
He has called on the people here. Dined with them.
Danced with their daughters. All Bingley and I need do is put out that my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has a very odd sense of humor and that they should all simply ignore you.
You will look a fool. We will be sympathized with. Nothing will change.”
Muscles rippled along Darcy’s jaw. “You are putting me at the center of a lie that encompasses an entire community.”
“A community you cannot tell me you even knew existed,” Richard cast back. “One to which you will never return once we leave here.”
The muscles in Darcy’s jaw continued to work.
“I am sorry the means by which my superiors and I have elected to save your hide and to remove threats from the streets of London do not meet with your approval,” Richard said stiffly.
“But I cannot, will not, unravel this scheme. It will be seen through, with or without your cooperation. You may leave come morning.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Leave? While you, Bingley, his relations, this entire community, are in danger because of George Wickham? What do you take me for?”
On her end of the couch, Georgiana let out a sob.
Darcy flinched, casting a look of guilt her way, then turned back to Richard. “I will permit your ruse, and I will remain.”
Richard nodded, uncertain if he truly wished Darcy to do so, but unwilling to reward his assent with dismissal, even assuming Darcy would depart if asked. “Very well, but you must continue to play the part of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, second son to the Earl of Matlock.”
“Does the local populace know that?”
Richard raised his eyebrows, confused. “Know that you are Colonel Fitzwilliam? I introduced you as such before half the village.”
Darcy shook his head. “That Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of an earl?”
Richard thought back. “I do not believe so. I made no mention of that today, and my, that is, I suppose, now your, name has not come up before now.”
“Then I add to my reluctant acceptance of this scheme that I do not wish the fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of an earl to be known. It is bad enough that my very presence here will be part of a lie. I will not have people believe me a member of the peerage.”
Richard shrugged, seeing no reason to argue that. “Very well.”
“And what of me?” Georgiana whispered, uncurling to reveal a wet, blotchy face.
Sorrow in his eyes, Darcy offered, “Patrick and a maid can escort you on to London, where you will wait for Mrs. Annesley to arrive. She can return with you to Pemberley.”
“No.” She dragged her palms across her cheeks, smearing tears. “I am staying. This is all my fault.”
Silence filled the room. Richard looked back and forth between his cousins, expecting Darcy to refute Georgiana’s words.
Quietly, Darcy said, “You are certain you wish to remain? You will have to socialize with the people here, at least somewhat. With Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and some ladies of the local community. We can, as we did in Derbyshire, put out that you suffer a broken heart, but that will not excuse you from all activities.”
Georgiana swallowed, then wiped her eyes on her sleeves.
Belatedly, Richard fumbled for his handkerchief and held it out.
She did not seem to notice as she whispered, “I understand. Please permit me to stay. This is all because of what I did. I cannot believe George would…” She trailed off, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. “I did not know how horrible he is.”
“Because I sheltered you from the worst of his behavior.” Darcy sighed.
“I always look on you as a child, but you were correct earlier. You are not a child, even if I wish you still could be. That is impossible now, and we must both behave accordingly. If you wish to stay, it is your decision to make.”
“But you must agree to address me as your brother, and Darcy as me,” Richard added hastily.
Georgiana turned to him, finally taking note of the handkerchief he proffered. She took it, nodding. “I will. I will do whatever must be done to fix the mess I have made.”