Chapter 24 Unlikely Allies
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
UNLIKELY ALLIES
Cassie’s bright and cheerful voice made Elizabeth smile as she bustled into the Rose Chamber early the next morning. She laid out a morning dress of soft blue muslin with a delicately embroidered hem.
“Morning, miss! Mr. Darcy’s already been to the stables and back.
Asked if you’d join the family for breakfast at nine.
” Cassie’s hands moved efficiently as she poured water into the basin.
“Miss Georgiana’s in a right state, though.
Barely spoke a word to her maid this morning, and she’s usually ever so pleasant. ”
Elizabeth winced, guilt pricking her conscience. Darcy’s harsh treatment of Georgiana had been partly her fault. “I must speak with her. Is she in her room?”
“Music room, miss. Playing something fierce that makes Mrs. Reynolds frown. Not her usual delicate pieces at all.”
Elizabeth smiled at this small rebellion. “Please tell Miss Darcy I’ll join her shortly before breakfast.”
After washing and dressing, Elizabeth sorted through her meager possessions, retrieving the precious documents she’d obtained in Kympton.
She tucked them into her reticule along with Mrs. Wickham’s letter, which had remained safely pinned inside her bodice through all her travels.
Today, she would share these pieces of evidence with Darcy, not because he commanded it, but because joining forces served her purpose.
Besides, he needed to understand her diligence in searching out this matter.
The music floating from the music room was indeed “fierce”—a stormy Mozart piece that Elizabeth recognized from Mary’s repertoire of defiant selections used to drown out their mother’s nervous chatter.
Elizabeth paused in the doorway, waiting for a natural break before speaking. “You play beautifully, even when expressing righteous indignation.”
Georgiana’s hands faltered, then stilled. She did not turn around. “Fitzwilliam would prefer I stick to pretty, mindless pieces suitable for display at dinner parties.”
“I doubt that.” Elizabeth entered the room, settling onto the bench beside the younger girl. “Your brother strikes me as someone who appreciates substance over mere ornament.”
“He sees me as a child.” Georgiana’s voice was flat with hurt. “Incapable of rational thought or meaningful contribution.”
“He sees you as precious,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “Something to be protected at all costs. It blinds him to your strength.”
Georgiana turned to her then, eyes watery. “Is that supposed to make his dismissal less insulting?”
“Not at all. I found his high-handedness utterly infuriating.” Elizabeth’s frank admission startled a laugh from the girl. “But I’ve negotiated terms that might resolve our dilemma.”
“Terms?” Georgiana raised a skeptical eyebrow in a gesture so like her brother’s that Elizabeth had to suppress a smile.
“Your brother has appointed himself my protector and investigative partner. He will accompany me during my inquiries—which means you could join us as chaperone without directly defying his edict.”
Georgiana’s expression brightened. “That’s… actually rather clever.”
“I have my moments,” Elizabeth said with mock solemnity. “Though your brother may consider it manipulation of the highest order.”
“Good.” Georgiana’s chin lifted with a defiance that warmed Elizabeth’s heart. “He deserves to be outmaneuvered.”
Their alliance thus reforged, they entered the breakfast room together, presenting a united front that clearly surprised Darcy.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet, sister,” he said, his gaze moving between them.
“Brother,” Georgiana acknowledged coolly, taking her usual seat.
“You appear to have recovered your spirits, Miss Darcy,” Caroline Bingley observed from her place at the table. “How delightful to see you and Miss Eliza forming such an attachment.”
The emphasis she placed on “attachment” carried clear insinuation, but Georgiana merely nodded. “Elizabeth and I understand each other perfectly.”
Elizabeth accepted a cup of tea from the footman, studying the assembled company.
Charles Bingley offered a cheerful greeting, though his usual animation was somewhat dampened.
The Hursts maintained their customary states—he half-asleep behind his newspaper, she critically examining the breakfast offerings as if searching for flaws.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Bennet?” Darcy inquired, his tone formal yet lacking yesterday’s chill.
“Remarkably so, thank you.” Elizabeth met his gaze directly. “Pemberley’s accommodations are conducive to rest, despite recent excitement.”
Something flickered in his dark eyes—amusement, perhaps, at her oblique reference to their confrontation. “Indeed. I hope today proves less eventful.”
“You misunderstand me entirely, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, selecting a piece of toast. “I find excitement rather invigorating.”
The faintest hint of color touched his cheeks, and Elizabeth felt satisfaction at having discomposed him so easily.
“What delightful plans occupy our day?” Caroline inquired. “The rain appears to have settled in, ruling out our proposed excursion to the lake.”
“Miss Bennet and I have business matters to discuss,” Darcy stated. “Family matters.”
Caroline’s smile tightened. “Of course. How tedious for you both.” She turned to Georgiana. “Perhaps you might join Louisa and me in the drawing room later? We could review the guest list for All Hallows’ Eve.”
“Actually,” Elizabeth interjected before Georgiana could respond, “Miss Darcy has kindly agreed to serve as our chaperone today. As Mr. Darcy’s sister, she is the most appropriate companion for our discussions of family history.”
Darcy’s cup froze halfway to his lips, his eyes narrowing as he processed this neat circumvention of his directive. Elizabeth maintained an expression of perfect innocence.
“Indeed,” he said after a pause that stretched just long enough to convey his awareness of her strategy. “Georgiana’s presence would be… appropriate.”
“How thoughtful of you both to include dear Georgiana,” Caroline said stiffly. “Though surely a more experienced chaperone might be preferable? Mrs. Hurst would be delighted to assist.”
“I believe a member of the Darcy family is most suitable for discussions of Darcy family matters,” Elizabeth replied smoothly. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Darcy?”
Trapped by his own rules of propriety and Elizabeth’s careful maneuvering, Darcy inclined his head. “My sister’s presence will suffice.”
“That’s settled then,” she announced brightly. “Perhaps after we’ve broken our fast, we might compare notes on what we’ve each discovered? I have documents you must review.”
Darcy’s dark eyes fixed on her with sudden intensity. “Documents?”
“The parish records from Kympton, among other things.” Elizabeth allowed a mysterious smile to play about her lips. “I was quite thorough in my research while accompanied by Mrs. Wickham.”
“Were you indeed?” His tone was dry as his brows furrowed at the mention of his nemesis. “Then we have much to discuss.”
Victory secured, Elizabeth turned her attention to her breakfast, though she felt Darcy’s gaze lingering on her.
After the meal concluded, Darcy led them to a small study adjoining the library—a comfortable room with deep leather chairs arranged around a fireplace where a cheerful blaze combated the day’s chill.
“This was my father’s private study,” he explained, closing the door once Georgiana had entered. “We are unlikely to be disturbed here.”
Elizabeth took in the masculine furnishings, the shelves of leather-bound books, and the large desk positioned to catch the morning light. “Your father spent many hours here?”
“Yes.” Something in Darcy’s tone made her look at him more closely. “It was here he warned me never to trust a Bennet.”
The blunt statement hung in the air between them. Georgiana gasped softly, but Elizabeth merely nodded, appreciating his directness.
“When?” she asked quietly.
“He had his deathbed moved into this room. His last coherent words to me.” Darcy moved to the window, gazing out at the rain-washed grounds. “For years, I’ve carried that warning without understanding its meaning.”
“Until you met me at the Meryton assembly.”
He turned, his expression inscrutable. “Yes.”
“And now you believe I might be a Darcy, not a Bennet.” Elizabeth stepped closer, challenging him with her directness.
“I’m not yet convinced.” He gestured to the chairs. “Shall we compare our discoveries? Perhaps together we might make sense of this tangle.”
It was a peace offering of sorts. At least they both sought the truth. She settled into one of the leather chairs, arranging her skirts with deliberate care while Darcy took the seat opposite. Georgiana perched on a window seat nearby, close enough to hear yet granting a measure of privacy.
“This is my evidence,” Elizabeth said, opening her reticule.
She withdrew the parish records first—copies of her parents’ marriage certificate and her baptismal record, carefully transcribed by the vicar of Kympton.
Darcy accepted them with evident interest, his gaze passing over the familiar names: John Henry Darcy and Rose Bennet Darcy.
Elizabeth Rose Darcy, baptized November 9th, 1790.
“These are legitimate,” he said. “Though they merely prove Elizabeth Rose Darcy existed, not that you are her.”
“A fair observation.” Elizabeth withdrew Martha Wickham’s letter next, the paper now worn at the creases from repeated folding. “This arrived at Longbourn shortly after our encounter at the Meryton assembly. It was the first time I learned of my possible identity.”
Darcy read the letter, his expression darkening at certain passages. “This was sent anonymously? You had no idea who wrote it?”
“None, but the next day, George Wickham helpfully told me his mother wrote the letter, and Mrs. Wickham admitted to it when I later met her.” Elizabeth leaned forward slightly. “What troubles you most about its contents, Mr. Darcy?”