Chapter 17 The Reluctant Protector #2
Georgiana’s gasp caused her to cough. “Does this mean Miss Elizabeth owns Pemberley? I’ve often heard Father explain fee tail female. Like cousin Anne gets Rosings Park, but usually, estates only pass to the male heir. Brother, will we be removed from Pemberley?”
The naked vulnerability in Georgiana’s voice cut through every other consideration. His sister—innocent, trusting Georgiana—would be the one to suffer if Elizabeth’s claims were validated. The estate was his responsibility to protect for Georgiana’s future security.
“Do not fret,” he assured his sister, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Whatever the legal complexities, we will ensure your security. And Miss Bennet would need to prove her identity beyond any reasonable doubt.”
“We cannot trust the Wickhams’ testimony alone,” Georgiana said. “Miss Bennet, can you show us the locket?”
“No, I believe my father kept it,” Elizabeth admitted, her posture slumping slightly.
“But as your brother suggests, even physical evidence might not be conclusive.” She hesitated, then added softly, “There are questions about the way my parents died that night, and whether the murderers saw the baby or assumed she died in the fire they set to cover up the killings.”
“Killings? Murders?” Georgiana’s hand flew to her throat. “Brother, I thought the fire was an accident.”
“That’s what Father always maintained,” Darcy said. “I was only a boy. I only saw the charred remains of the cottage afterward.”
“Then there’s no proof of murder,” Bingley observed. “Mrs. Wickham could be making baseless accusations.”
“Which becomes serious if she spreads such claims throughout the neighborhood,” Darcy agreed. “She alleged that Father was involved in orchestrating their deaths. That he murdered his own brother to secure his inheritance.”
The color drained from Georgiana’s face. “That’s monstrous. Father would never—he couldn’t—”
“Of course he couldn’t,” Darcy reassured her, though his own certainty had been shaken. “Mrs. Wickham is desperate and willing to make any accusation that might serve her purposes. But the allegations must be addressed, particularly given their implications for Elizabeth’s safety.”
“My safety?” Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Bingley answered before Darcy could. “If you are indeed the rightful heir to Pemberley, Miss Bennet, then your life may be in danger from whoever was responsible for your parents’ deaths.
They believed you had died as an infant.
Learning that you survived and are prepared to claim your inheritance might drive them to drastic measures. ”
Darcy’s jaw tightened as the implications settled over him. Regardless of his personal feelings toward Elizabeth, he could not in good conscience expose any young woman to such danger. The thought of her being vulnerable to whoever had committed murder twenty years ago was deeply disturbing.
“You mean someone might try to hurt Elizabeth?” Georgiana whispered.
“We cannot know what anyone might do,” Darcy said carefully. “Which is why, whatever her true identity, Miss Bennet will remain here at Pemberley under our protection until the matter can be resolved.”
The words surprised him even as he spoke them.
Every rational consideration argued against housing this disruptive woman who carried the potential to overturn his family’s legacy.
Yet the alternative—sending her away to face unknown dangers—was unacceptable to his sense of honor.
And perhaps, if he were honest with himself, the thought of her departure troubled him for reasons that had nothing to do with duty.
“I’m not sure how we can resolve the question of my identity,” Elizabeth admitted, her expressive eyes large as she realized the conundrum she found herself in.
“Without reliable witnesses that I survived the fire, I have only the testimony of Mrs. Martha Wickham that she saved me and carried me to Longbourn, where Mr. Bennet found me, and Mrs. Wickham won’t provide testimony about that night unless I… ”
“She wishes Miss Bennet to marry her son, George,” Caroline supplied when Elizabeth faltered. “Quite a convenient arrangement, should Miss Eliza’s claim to Pemberley prove valid.”
Georgiana went very still, her eyes widening with unmistakable fear. “George Wickham?”
Darcy cursed himself for allowing this conversation to proceed in her presence. Of all the complications in this impossible situation, Georgiana’s history with Wickham was perhaps the most painful.
“Yes,” he said quietly, for her ears alone. “But you need not concern yourself with him. I will ensure he never troubles you again.”
Georgiana nodded, though the fear did not entirely leave her eyes.
She turned to Elizabeth with new intensity.
“You mustn’t marry him. Wickham is wicked and evil.
He is a crass fortune hunter. Miss Elizabeth, you should not worry about anyone trying to harm you.
You’re our guest and possibly our cousin.
My brother will respect and protect you, especially from fortune hunters and predators like the Wickhams.”
“Thank you, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly, her eyes flickering in his direction. “Though I must say, your brother has already made his position on my situation quite clear.”
Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze directly, recognizing the uncertainty beneath her composed exterior. He had all but accused her of plotting with the Wickhams when she might have simply been deceived.
“Which is?” Georgiana looked between them with growing confusion. “Fitzwilliam, surely you don’t believe Miss Bennet is deliberately deceiving us?”
“I have my reasons for caution,” Darcy explained, choosing his words carefully. “But I cannot condone manipulation or coercion from any quarter. Mrs. Wickham’s tactics are unconscionable, regardless of their ultimate purpose.”
Elizabeth studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You surprise me, sir.”
“A sentiment you have expressed before,” he replied, allowing a hint of dry humor to creep into his voice.
Something shifted in Elizabeth’s expression— a recognition that the situation was more complex than either of them had initially understood.
She turned toward Georgiana with renewed warmth. “Miss Darcy, I apologize for disrupting your household with these complications. It was never my intention to cause distress to innocent parties.”
“Oh, please don’t apologize,” Georgiana said earnestly. “If you truly are our cousin, then you belong at Pemberley as much as we do. And if someone harmed your parents—our family—then they should face justice, whoever they may be.”
The simple sincerity of Georgiana’s response created a moment of silence.
Even Caroline Bingley seemed at a loss for words in the face of such straightforward morality.
Darcy felt a swell of pride in his sister’s character, even as he noted how Elizabeth’s expression softened at Georgiana’s generous spirit.
“Well said, Miss Darcy,” Bingley declared, his smile returning. “Justice should be our primary concern. If our fathers were innocent of wrongdoing, as I firmly believe, then we should welcome any investigation that would clear their names.”
“And if they were not?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
The question hung in the air like a thundercloud. Darcy met her gaze directly, searching for any hint of calculation or deception. He found only earnest concern, which softened his suspicions somewhat.
“Then we would face that truth, however painful,” he said. “I cannot believe my father is capable of murder. There must be another explanation for Mrs. Wickham’s accusations.”
“I agree,” Bingley said firmly. “My father had his faults, but murder was not among them. There is more to this story than Mrs. Wickham has revealed.”
“Then perhaps,” Elizabeth suggested, “our first task should be to discover what truly happened that night, rather than focusing solely on questions of inheritance.”
Darcy found himself nodding in agreement before he had fully processed the implications. The suggestion was sound and offered a path forward that didn’t require immediate resolution of Elizabeth’s identity.
“Justice must take precedence over property claims,” he agreed. “We need to establish the truth about that night, whatever it might reveal.”
“What a noble sentiment,” Caroline observed with barely concealed sarcasm. “Though I wonder how much cooperation we can expect when Miss Bennet clearly holds unfavorable opinions of certain parties.”
Elizabeth’s chin lifted. “Miss Bingley, my personal feelings are irrelevant to the pursuit of justice. I seek only the truth, whatever that might cost any of us.”
“I appreciate that sense of justice.” Darcy found himself studying Elizabeth’s face, searching for signs of softening in her regard. “Whether you are my cousin or not, consider yourself a guest until you return to your family.”
Elizabeth inclined her head with grace, and Darcy felt an unexpected warmth at her acknowledgment. What did it matter whether this woman held any regard for him? Yet somehow, it did matter—more than he cared to examine too closely.
“Which brings us to practical considerations,” Bingley interjected, his tone returning to its usual enthusiasm.
“We have ten days until the All Hallows’ Eve assembly Caroline has been planning.
Ten days to investigate the circumstances surrounding the fire, gather evidence, and ensure everyone’s safety. ”
“Ten days,” Elizabeth mused, clearly following the same calculation. “My birthday falls on the first of November. All Hallows’ Eve would be the night before.”
“A most auspicious occasion for revelations,” Caroline said with evident satisfaction. “The veil between past and present is said to be thinnest on that night.”
“Very poetic, Caroline,” Bingley remarked with amusement. “Though I imagine solid evidence would prove more useful than supernatural assistance.”
“Either way, we’ll unmask the truth,” Georgiana said with the confidence of youth. “And ensure that Elizabeth claims her rightful place—if indeed Pemberley is hers.”
“Or not,” Darcy reminded his impressionable sister. “We’re dealing with people who have kept their secrets for twenty years. They won’t give up easily.”
“Including you, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, meeting his gaze directly.
The challenge in her eyes sent an unexpected jolt through him—not irritation, as he might have expected, but something closer to anticipation. She continued to surprise him, continued to prove more complex than his initial assumptions. The realization was both unsettling and oddly compelling.
“I have no secrets regarding this matter, Miss Bennet,” he replied. “Only a desire for truth and justice, whatever that may reveal.”
“Well then,” Elizabeth said, her tone brightening slightly, “I suppose we should begin planning. After all, we have a mystery to solve, a murderer to catch, and an inheritance to sort out. Should be a perfectly ordinary week at Pemberley.”
Georgiana looked between them with growing excitement. “This is quite the most romantic thing I have ever heard,” she declared. “Like something from a novel. A lost heiress returns to claim her birthright, only to find herself falling in love with—”
“Georgiana,” Darcy interrupted hastily, though he felt heat rise in his collar. His sister’s romantic imagination was decidedly inconvenient, particularly when it struck so close to thoughts he was trying to avoid.
“Oh, but it is romantic,” Caroline agreed with false sweetness. “I’ve always been fascinated by stories where enemies become allies. Is that not how these tales often progress, Mr. Darcy?”
The suggestion hung in the air, absurd and yet somehow enticing.
Darcy dared not glance at Elizabeth, lest he give away his maddening regard for her.
He needed distance. Space to think, to process the tumult of emotions Elizabeth Bennet’s presence had unleashed.
Most of all, he needed to regain his equilibrium, to armor himself against whatever further disruptions this impossible woman might cause.
“I believe we’ve had quite enough melodrama for one afternoon,” he said, moving to the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have letters to write regarding these new… arrangements.”