Chapter Twenty-Six
“Jane sent me a letter this morning,” Aunt Gardiner said. “She will be here tomorrow.”
“I long to see her.” Elizabeth sighed. “Though I confess I dread the questions.”
“Yes,” Papa said drolly, glancing up from his book, “Jane is a relentless inquisitor.”
The sound of the front door and Uncle Gardiner’s voice drew their attention. He appeared moments later, removing his gloves with satisfaction.
“Sir William has just departed for Meryton,” he announced. “I believe all of Hertfordshire will know the full tale before dinner. Though I rather suspect he will embellish his part in it all.”
Elizabeth laughed. Sir William was quite ridiculous but also truly kind. If he wished to spin himself a role in her story, she did not mind.
The clatter of a carriage drawing to a halt before the house prevented any further melancholy contemplation. Elizabeth heard the servants’ voices rise in pitch, the sort of flustered excitement that accompanied the truly unexpected.
“Good heavens,” Aunt Gardiner murmured, moving towards the window. “That is a royal crest.”
Elizabeth joined her there. She had seen the Thurnian coat of arms on the letters in Papa’s study, though never displayed quite so magnificently.
The butler appeared in the doorway, looking rather overwhelmed. “Begging your pardon, madam, but His Royal Highness Prince Adrian of Thurnia wishes to call on Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth was equal parts excited and anxious.
“Show him in, please,” Aunt Gardiner said.
Prince Adrian entered as though he was a regular visitor to homes in Gracechurch Street. He was of an age with Mr. Darcy and his cousin, tall and handsome with golden hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.
“Cousin!” he exclaimed, his face breaking into a delighted smile. “You are here and you are safe and I am exceedingly pleased to meet you.”
He crossed the room with easy confidence, bowed to Aunt Gardiner, greeted Papa warmly, and turned his considerable charm upon Elizabeth.
“My goodness, you do resemble my grandmother.” He smiled. “Darcy and Fitzwilliam sent word, and I determined to visit you immediately—well, not precisely immediately, there was the matter with the prisoners, but directly after. I brought flowers. Did they make it inside? Ah, there they are.”
A servant appeared bearing an arrangement so large it required both hands. Elizabeth bit back a smile.
“Your Highness is very kind,” she managed.
“No, none of that, if you please. We are family. Please call me Adrian.” He sat in the chair Aunt Gardiner indicated, apparently unconcerned by the informality.
“A female cousin! Do you know how many princes there are at court? An even dozen. Not a single princess until now. Well, my brothers have their wives, I suppose, but they are only princesses by marriage. And there is our grandmother, Queen Sophia, but she is in her sixties and terrifying.” He paused. “And not a princess.”
Elizabeth could only smile. “I shall endeavour to be less terrifying than Queen Sophia.”
“An admirable goal. Do you know, when the king sent me to London, he told me I had a cousin in England,” Adrian continued cheerfully.
“But my father’s advisors said you would likely be either dreary or scheming, so I confess I did not have high hopes—” He stopped, apparently hearing his own words.
“Advisors are dreadful pessimists, and I ought not to have listened.”
The list of attributes she did not have was growing. “I shall also endeavour to be neither dreary nor scheming, Your High—Adrian.”
“Excellent. I find I should like having a cousin who is neither.” He leaned forward conspiratorially.
“The Thurnian court is insufferably dull. Everyone is always plotting something or lecturing someone about duty or making trade agreements that I must then go negotiate. It will be much improved by your presence.”
Elizabeth laughed, then regretted it as her throat protested. Adrian noticed at once, his expression shifting to concern.
“I am being thoughtless. You are still recovering, and I am rattling on as though we were at a garden party.” He sat back. “Forgive me. I shall endeavour to be less loquacious.”
“Please do not. I find your loquacity rather refreshing.”
They smiled at one another, and Elizabeth thought that having Adrian for a cousin might prove rather pleasant.
The sound of new arrivals in the hall drew everyone’s attention. Elizabeth’s heart performed an odd little leap before she had quite registered why, and then the butler announced Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth sat up straighter and smoothed her shawl, wondering if her appearance was passable. Then she caught her reflection in the glass and forced her hands to still.
But when Mr. Darcy entered the room, perfectly dressed as always despite the shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of insufficient sleep, Elizabeth forgot to be embarrassed. Their eyes met, held for a beat longer than propriety allowed, and something warm unfurled in her chest.
He looked at her as though she were the only person in the room.
Then he seemed to recall himself and bowed properly to the room at large, greeting her aunt and uncle, nodding to Papa, acknowledging Adrian with easy familiarity. But his gaze kept returning to her face, searching for something Elizabeth could not quite name.
“Please sit down,” Aunt Gardiner said. “I will ring for tea.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered behind his cousin, greeting Adrian with the warmth of old friendship. “Your Highness. I heard you were at Addison’s ball last night. Still attempting to civilise London society?”
“Someone must.” Adrian rose to clasp his hand. ”And you are late. I have already claimed the most comfortable chair.”
“A tragedy. Princess Elizabeth,” Fitzwilliam said, turning to her with a slight bow and twinkling eyes. “You are looking considerably better than when last we met. Though that is a low standard, as you were recovering from being half-frozen and wearing a great many blankets.”
“How gallant of you to remind me, Colonel.”
“I am your humble servant.”
Mr. Darcy had taken a seat where he could see Elizabeth clearly, and she found his gaze upon her again. This time when their eyes met, her heart did a sort of flutter that made her forget, just for a moment, that she was still sore and tired and wrapped in her aunt’s shawl.
She looked away first, heat rising in her cheeks.
“We bring news,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, growing serious. “Sir Reginald and Mrs. Hobart remain under guard. They will be questioned tomorrow, and we suspect, taken back to Thurnia by week’s end.”
“Grandfather will wish to handle the matter personally,” Adrian added. “He will be incensed when he learns what has occurred.”
Adrian grimaced. “My recollection is that Sir Reginald sought an audience with the royal treasurer to ask for assistance and was denied. Grandfather will remember that, too. Had we not dismissed the man out of hand . . .”
Elizabeth twisted her hands in her lap. “What will happen to them?”
“That depends upon many factors,” Mr. Darcy said quietly.
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “I overheard Sir Reginald speaking with Mr. Gregory. He was adamant he would never harm me, even if the ransom was not paid, for he was still a Thurnian. I did not know whether I could trust him then, but perhaps . . . Will their years of service be considered in their punishment as well as the circumstances that led to their actions?”
The men exchanged glances.
“I shall make your concern known to the king and queen in my next letter,” Adrian said. “More than that I cannot do.”
Elizabeth thanked him. “And the creditors?”
“They have been located,” Fitzwilliam added. “With Sir Reginald’s cooperation, it was an easy thing. They and the men they sent to ambush you will face charges of their own, and as they are English, that will be done here.”
“And—” she hesitated
Papa reached over and patted her hand. “The Gregorys have lost their house. They were, however, released upon my agreement, and have gone to live with relatives. I hope that meets with your approval.”
She thought of Mrs. Gregory. “It does, Papa, I thank you.”
Mr. Darcy was watching her, she realised, as though her struggle to balance justice with mercy revealed something about her character that pleased him.
Her heart danced a little jig, and she looked down to hide the blush she knew must be blooming in her cheeks.
“I hear Anders and Johnson received quite generous compensation for their assistance,” the colonel said to Mr. Darcy, clearly changing the subject for Elizabeth’s benefit.
Mr. Darcy’s mouth curved in the smallest of smiles. “It was substantial. They earned it.”
“They did,” Fitzwilliam agreed.
There was a commotion in the front entryway. Mr. Darcy stood.
“I have taken the liberty of inviting my sister to meet us here,” he told Elizabeth. “She was most anxious to pay her respects, if you are well enough to receive her.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “I should be very happy to meet her.”
Mr. Darcy disappeared for a moment, returning with a young lady who appeared about fourteen, simply but expensively dressed. She hovered at the threshold, trembling slightly, her eyes enormous.
“Your Highness,” she said, dropping into a curtsy so formal it belonged at court.
“Please,” Elizabeth said warmly, recognising Georgiana’s nervousness at once. “Call me Elizabeth.”
Georgiana rose, but her hands remained twisted together. “Then . . . would you call me Georgiana? If you please, that is.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
The girl nodded anxiously. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance. My brother has told me about your ordeal, and I wished to—that is, I hoped I might—” She glanced at Mr. Darcy as though seeking approval.
“Sit, Georgiana,” he said gently. “Princess Elizabeth does not bite.”
“Darcy!” Adrian exclaimed. “Why did you not tell me you had a sister?”
“I have mentioned her on several occasions.”
“Have you? I do not recall. You must not have made it interesting enough.” Adrian smiled at Georgiana. “I am Adrian.”
Despite her nervousness, Georgiana smiled. Elizabeth liked her immediately.
“Might I . . .” Georgiana began hesitantly, then seemed to gather her courage. “My brother mentioned your journey to London was rather eventful. Would you tell me about it? Only if you are well enough, of course. I do not wish to tire you.”
Elizabeth saw her opportunity at once. Here was a chance to make light of the dangers, to tell the tale in a way that would ease Georgiana’s awe and highlight the heroism of others—particularly the heroism of the gentleman who kept looking at her with those dark, serious eyes.
“I should be delighted,” she said. “Though I must warn you, it was not precisely the grand adventure it might sound.”
“Oh, but it was!” Georgiana perched on the edge of her seat. “You were abducted!”
“Well, yes. We all trusted people we ought not to have. But Mrs. Hobart was very like a normal companion. It is difficult to feel properly imperilled when one is being lectured about deportment.”
This earned the laugh for which she had hoped. Elizabeth then spun a story that spent little time on her own ordeal and emphasized Mr. Darcy’s honourable deeds.
“William!” Georgiana turned to her brother in astonishment. “You shot at highwaymen?”
“I did not fire my pistol,” Mr. Darcy assured her.
“More’s the pity,” the colonel said. He and Adrian exchanged a look that told Elizabeth they would insist on the entire story later.
“He was extremely persuasive,” Elizabeth assured Georgiana. “They left with considerable haste.”
Mr. Darcy protested that it was the mail coach that had made them scatter.
Adrian laughed. “I should like to have seen that.”
Georgiana gazed at her brother with something like adoration. She was fourteen. She should idolize her brother. There was time enough to learn he was only human.
She continued with her story.
The room filled with warm laughter. Mr. Darcy looked thoroughly discomfited, but Elizabeth noticed the small smile he could not quite suppress. He was embarrassed by his sister’s praise, but also . . . pleased? The combination was unexpectedly endearing.
“Dried peas!” Adrian exclaimed, when they arrived at that part of the tale. “How clever of you!”
She sighed.
“I have tired you,” Adrian said, rising at once. “Forgive me, cousin. I shall call again when you are better recovered. We shall speak more then.”
“You have not tired me,” Elizabeth protested.
“Rest,” Adrian said firmly. “That is a princely command on behalf of the king.” He bowed over her hand. “I am glad to have found you safe, Elizabeth. Exceedingly glad.”
Georgiana rose as well. “Thank you for the story. And for being so kind to me.”
“You must visit again soon,” Elizabeth said warmly.
“She is wonderful, William,” Georgiana whispered to her brother, though it was loud enough for Elizabeth to hear.
“Yes,” her brother replied. “She is.”
Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam made their farewells with proper formality. Then they were gone, and Elizabeth was alone with her aunt, uncle, and father.
“Well,” Aunt Gardiner said, beginning to fuss with the tea things. “That was quite a morning. I shall speak to Cook about the midday meal.”
She disappeared towards the kitchen. Uncle Gardiner retreated to his study, murmuring something about correspondence. Papa’s eyes drifted closed, his breathing evening into genuine sleep.
Elizabeth sat very still, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.
On the small table beside where Mr. Darcy had sat with his tea, she noticed something that had not been there before. A saucer with the cup set aside, and upon it, a single dried pea.
The truth settled over her like the shawl around her shoulders, warm and inescapable and utterly terrifying.
He had become dear to her. Very dear.
The fire crackled. Papa snored softly. The afternoon light slanted through the windows, warm and golden.
And Elizabeth sat with her hand closed tight around a single dried pea, wondering what on earth she was going to do about Mr. Darcy.