5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Porto, Portugal
A ntónio Moniz de Noronha, the mayor of Porto, rose nervously from behind his desk as the regional governor, Manuel Vasconcelos, was shown into his study. The two men exchanged warm, albeit brisk greetings, and Noronha offered his guest a seat.
The other had scarcely settled himself when Noronha began without preamble, “He is arrived?”
“He arrived yesterday on your S onho do Mar ,” the other confirmed. “A dreadful fuss he sent up. Three men were required to restrain him until he could be properly reassured and shown to his accommodations. Quite a shock he gave them, as I understand he was in a bad way after the long voyage.”
“Are you certain this has all been necessary? English gentlemen are not unreasonable, and we certainly have enough friends among them that he might have been persuaded to negotiate with us.”
“And pay for the land a second time! Unthinkable. Remember the promise of justice given by our English associate,” Vasconcelos reminded him. “He has made more enemies than only ourselves—this Darcy fellow is known to be a hard man. Do you truly think that if he had an inkling of that land’s value that he would ever part with it? No, no! And where should men such as we, reduced gentlemen of an impoverished nation, raise the funds such a man would demand? For even a bargain price from one such as Senhor Darcy would be many times more than we could scrape together, and then where would we be left? No capital at all to begin our own enterprise! No, there is no other option before us. We know for a certain fact that the Darcy family are all but criminals in England, perfectly willing to lie, cheat, and murder for a profit.”
“This partner of yours seems no better! We have a word for a man who helps arrange the abduction of another for his own gain.”
“That is no concern of ours. Whatever evils befall this Senhor Darcy as a result of his life-long misdeeds are only his just deserts.”
“How do we know all of this? It is only what you have heard from the other Englishman!”
“You forget, my friend, that my father attempted to purchase the land from Senhor Darcy’s grandfather soon after King José traded it away—the fool!”
“The king had no choice,” Noronha reasoned. “The old Englishman had granted our king substantial support begin the rebuilding after the Great Earthquake. Some collateral was nothing less than his due.”
“The loan was repaid,” growled Vasconcelos. “You know this as well as I.”
“ If that ship and chest of gold from the king ever reached England,” Noronha submitted quietly.
Vasconcelos’ fist crashed down on Noronha’s desk. “That is my father’s and my uncle’s honour you insult, my friend! Allow me to assure you, the old Darcy was repaid.”
Noronha leaned backward in his chair, relenting. “Forgive me, old friend. I am unafraid to do what must be done to secure our region’s prosperity, particularly with Brasil making strides toward independence. When the war with Napoleon is over and the Prince Regent returns from exile, we shall all of us be made beggars in our own land. Our nation is in sore need of this mine, and I feel no misgivings about bringing justice to one who has so deeply wronged us. I only desire to know that we are in the right.”
“We are decidedly in the right. You needn’t worry your gentle old head about this Englishman. As soon as we have the required deed, we shall send him back to England, and we may begin the mining of the site.”
“You give me your word that you will set him free?”
“Why should I not?” Vasconcelos shrugged, then laughed. “Do you know, he has been buried and mourned in England these two months already? It will be amusing, yes, to think of how badly he will serve the one who betrayed him once he learns all? I think I will give him the name in writing myself.”
Noronha shook his head very faintly, eyes narrowed. “You take too much pleasure in another man’s distress, old friend. I wonder sometimes if you were not born a few centuries too late.”
“Oh! He may be an English heretic, but I think you will not permit me to harm him. It would not be the courtly thing to do. After all, was not your lovely Maria Amália enamoured with some relation of his at one time?” Vasconcelos raised a brow and a knowing smirk tugged at his mouth. “It seems to me that the name similarity is more than a coincidence, unless all the English christen their children with such pompous eponyms.”
Noronha’s face changed hues. He shifted in his chair until he nearly lifted to his feet, his eyes stark and blazing. “Amália is a faithful daughter and a true Catholic! She would never disgrace her family so. Any word to the contrary is the vilest of slander! For just over one year she has been an obedient wife to your son, has she not?”
Vasconcelos’ eyes glittered with delight. “I cannot answer whether she has been obedient, but Miguel has made no complaint which has reached my ears. There has been no issue as yet, but certainly that blame cannot be laid at the feet of the lady.”
Noronha was white now, his hands clenched. “We shall never speak of this again!”
Vasconcelos rose from his seat. “I hope we shall have no occasion to do so,” he agreed.
Noronha followed his partner to the door, still trembling but willing away his own turmoil somewhat. “Have you informed your men in Braga of the latest developments? We will require them to be ready, surely.”
“Inform them before we are certain?” Vasconcelos scoffed as he neared the door. “I dare not allow a breath of suspicion yet, and that includes sending word of pending arrangements. No, let us first have the deed in our hands. The moment we do, I shall be the first in a carriage with orders for them, and I daresay we will have men and equipment at our command within the hour.”
“It cannot be long, surely! Senhor Darcy came of necessity by a circuitous route, but the documents need not do so.”
“I think you underestimate the legal bother of the English inheritances. Once that has all settled, our contact will be required to conduct a search for the document. It may be filed with an attorney, but it is of such an age that it would not surprise me if it should be locked away in some secret place. Patience, my friend! We are in no danger, and now that Senhor Darcy is under our power, we may afford to wait a little longer.”
Noronha drew himself up. “Of course. I may depend upon you, certainly, for any further information.”
Vasconcelos smiled. “We are, by happy circumstance, joined as family now. A more promising enterprise we have never embarked upon together. Good day, old friend.”
Longbourn
E lizabeth heaved a great sigh. It was over. Jane Bennet was no more, and Netherfield Park now had a mistress.
Elizabeth surveyed the wreckage of the drawing room—the empty serving platters, the soiled cups and saucers, the cold tea pot in her hand… a great weight had been slowly descending over her since the day of Jane’s engagement, and today she felt her chest tighten, as though breathing had suddenly become a burden. Jane’s transcendent joy she would not blight, nor could she reserve her own sincere promotion of her sister’s happiness, but her own prospects seemed all the more grey by comparison.
All the Bennet family’s particular friends had paid their respects to Jane on this day, as was right and proper—not to mention an immeasurable relief after the debacle of Lydia’s marriage. The Philipses, the Longs, the Lucases and Collinses—all had smiled and offered their felicitation, and finally taken their leave. Among the last of the wedding guests to depart Longbourn, surprisingly, were Mr and Mrs Hurst and Caroline Bingley.
Elizabeth held back, hoping that she might escape notice as the party withdrew, but it was not to be. Caroline looked about and came directly to her. “Eliza,” she crooned, “how charming that we are to be sisters!”
“Indeed, Caroline, it is a most joyous event,” Elizabeth agreed. “I am sure that Jane owes much of her present happiness to your constant friendship and devotion this past year.”
Caroline’s brow flickered, but her smile remained steadfast. “I always declared she was a sweet girl, and I am pleased now to have an opportunity to know her and her entire family better. Only think how convenient that Jane has so many sisters, and all still at home—even the one who has married! Very cozy,” she fluttered her lashes.
“Quite so! Tell me, how soon shall you be returning to Netherfield? Surely Mr Bingley desires to have his sister close, and Jane will undoubtedly find your expertise at managing the household invaluable.” Elizabeth permitted the barest twitch of her mouth. She almost began to wish that Caroline had been invited to remain at Netherfield, because baiting her was the most satisfying diversion she had found in a long while. She ought to be ashamed of herself, for there remained no possible turf between them to dispute, but after weeks of rumpled feelings, she could not bring herself to resist.
Caroline lifted her shoulders and tossed her head breezily. “Have you not heard about my house in London? You really must come see it, for it is the talk of the Marylebone district! Do wait a month, however, for I am redecorating my drawing room. It was positively medieval!”
“I am afraid I cannot, but I thank you for the offer. Perhaps when I next visit my aunt and uncle in Cheapside, we may call on you.”
There was a faint tightening under Caroline’s eye, and her mechanical smile wavered, then broadened. “I shall look forward to it, Eliza.”
Elizabeth dipped a curtsey. “To be sure, so will I.”
“Do you know,” Caroline’s eyes lit with inspiration, “I was interviewing for a lady’s companion only recently. A necessity, of course, for I may not receive gentlemen callers without such a friend at hand. It was quite a lamentable duty, my dear Eliza, for there are so few ladies of good character and respectable connections who are suited for the post. You and I always did get on so famously, and if I had not found just the right lady last week, I should have thought it the perfect situation for you.”
Elizabeth’s brow curved. “I thank you for thinking of me, Caroline, but I fear I would be scarcely presentable among your friends. I do have such a dreadful habit of soiling my walking skirts, and I am terribly incapable of maintaining polite discourse without blurting out whatever backward notion comes into my head. I am afraid I am a hopeless case. You are so elegant, you must have ever so many fine gentlemen desiring to pay you court. Only think if I frightened off one of your favourites!”
“Well,” Caroline gathered the front of her skirt with a barely concealed sneer, “I am certain that you shall have adequate opportunity to practice your conversations with gentlemen. I should think now that Jane has left Longbourn, there will be far more interest in her remaining sisters.”
“I shall not trouble myself to ponder that point. The catching of a husband is the farthest thing from my mind.”
“May I caution you, Eliza, as a friend—do not grow an old maid while waiting for another Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s teasing warmth drained from her face, and she clutched the handle of her teapot as if it were a bulwark. Gone now was all her dubious pleasure in provoking Miss Bingley, and her lips seemed ice cold while her ears burned. “I cannot know what you mean!” she flushed.
“Oh, come, Eliza, do not pretend that you had not your eye on him from your first acquaintance! Why, I remember when we all stayed at Netherfield how you delighted in frustrating him—a clever tactic, my dear, for when we met again in Derbyshire I could have sworn to his heightened interest in you. Such a pity he is gone, for now we shall never know.”
Elizabeth’s heart bubbled into her throat, and she felt red from breast to forehead. She made answer with halting indignation, her voice strangely tight. “I was quite beneath Mr Darcy’s notice, Caroline—we both would have been! He must have sought a lady of impeccable refinement and superior birth—one with wisdom and deportment to match his own and to suit his station… he deserved as much,” she added in a lower tone.
Caroline lifted a cool brow in mild interest at the heated reaction from Elizabeth. At last, she had succeeded in unsettling the Wit of Hertfordshire. “Perhaps you are right,” she purred. “Darcy was quite out of your league. I am sure that in time, you will learn to fancy a gentleman within your own sphere—why, you have a younger sister who has already done so! Oh, there you are, dear Lydia,” Caroline turned slightly to include the young lady who even now attempted to sidle out of the room toward the stairs. “What word have you of our dear Mr Wickham? I do hope he has found his new regiment to his liking? You must write for him to bring one or two of his companions when he returns to Hertfordshire. Your mother would be most pleased to entertain them, unless I am very much mistaken!”
Lydia paused, her face white and her eyes shooting daggers at Caroline Bingley. A pleading glance to Elizabeth followed, then she made a passable curtsey and fled the room. Caroline returned to Elizabeth with a smirk of triumph, but found her companion curiously composed.
“Excellent advice, Caroline,” Elizabeth was smiling serenely. “Now if I may beg your pardon, I was serving tea and this pot has gone cold. I am afraid I must excuse myself.” Elizabeth curtseyed once more, then began to stride gracefully away. Her foot, however, caught the edge of the rug, which had frayed somewhat over the years and been folded underneath to conceal its wear. The resulting ridge stubbed her slipper, and she lost her footing in a frightful dance. Arms pinwheeling, she preserved her balance by the edge of a nearby chair, but only just. The teapot, unfortunately, did not fare so well.
“ Elizabeth Bennet! ” shrieked a now drenched Caroline. By sheer instinct she had caught the pot which had sailed from Elizabeth’s hands, but the front of her dress was ruined and dripping.
“Oh! Oh, Caroline, dear me, I must beg your forgiveness!” cried Elizabeth. “You see how clumsy I am! Oh, how glad I am that you have already found a proper companion, for you see now that I never could have suited. Would you like something dry for your carriage ride? Lydia, I think, is nearly as tall as you, and I am certain she would not mind lending you one of her dresses.”
Caroline seethed, her teeth clenched and her cheeks distending with each breath. “No, thank you , Eliza! I think you are quite right to avoid London and gentlemen for the present, for proximity to you appears to be hazardous!”
“Indeed, it is,” Elizabeth nodded sadly. “May I wish you a pleasant journey, Caroline.”
Caroline shoved the pot toward Elizabeth and huffed away to the footman who awaited with her outerwear. Elizabeth savagely wished to have felt satisfied at her departure, but a pit in her stomach only signaled a return of her habitual dread. When the guests had all departed, the wedding breakfast all put up and sent to share with their tenants, the cold monotony of her days would settle once more. Her expression fell unconsciously as she sighed, then started for the kitchen.
Exactly three steps later, her gaze encountered her father. Mr Bennet stood a little back from his wife and middle daughters as the last of the wedding guests departed, his thumbs resting casually at the corners of his waistcoat. Perhaps he thought to share a chortle with his favourite child at the follies of their neighbors, for he directed his quick smile in her direction. Elizabeth’s dispirited response, however, left him pondering her deep melancholy of late. She passed by without a word, a ghost of a smile, and none of the characteristic life in her eyes.
His face pinched into an amused half-frown, and he sought the one person who might be able to explain the mystery. “Madeline?” he hailed his sister-in-law from a private corner.
She withdrew from Mrs Hurst and came with a light smile. “Congratulations, Thomas. What a joyous day. I am so happy for Jane!”
“Aye, she will do well enough. I’ve no doubt the housekeeper shall rule over her within a fortnight and her husband will bankrupt himself investing in her beauty, but they are both of such an easy disposition I doubt either circumstance shall trouble them.”
“Thomas!” she laughed. “I think they are more prudent than you give credit for. Two such kindred souls cannot be prone to folly, and they have learnt much from the vices of others.”
“They would be wiser than most of their persuasion, then. I scarcely remember my own younger years, so lost was I in my fancies and whims at the time. Tell me, Madeline, what circumstance could cause one who has been so much in the habits of pleasure—which had always seemed synonymous with their nature—to appear suddenly downtrodden? Is it a malady peculiar to young ladies, or have I so long forgotten my own youth that the explanation escapes me?”
Her face sobered and she glanced toward the kitchen. “You are speaking of Lizzy?”
“Indeed, none other. Why, even my cousin Mr Collins failed to amuse her! She has ever possessed a quickness and a clever humour that have allowed me to depend on her, at least, as an amiable companion, but I have found more stimulating conversation with Mrs Bennet of late.”
Madeline’s lips pinched in thought. “Elizabeth has been sorely disappointed, Thomas. You must understand that one of her character does not find it easy to…” she paused, searching for words, “…to excuse the offences of others where the injury was hers.”
“Ho! Do not attempt that explanation. It would do very well for Mary, but not for Elizabeth, who would be as apt to laugh off any injustice as otherwise.”
“I think Elizabeth nurtured a hope which none of us might have understood, Thomas.”
“You are not saying that she had some lover who has left her over Lydia’s affairs? No, I could not believe it of Lizzy. She is of such an open, cheerful disposition that if she had some admirer, we should all have known of it. And what should it be to her if such a fool did exist? A man who would desert such a prize as my Lizzy over a sister’s scandal seems hardly worthy of her.”
“Indeed, Thomas, I think as highly of Elizabeth as Mr Bingley clearly does of Jane. Such an event has ruined many a family’s happiness, for just cause or no, but I think any man of sense would recognise Elizabeth for the treasure she is. However, I do not imply that she has been jilted for that cause. I think her expectations were more general, and she now feels herself without direction.”
He studied her careful expression, her composed response, and judged—correctly—that there remained some hidden meaning that she would not pronounce. “Perhaps,” he mused very quietly, “a diversion might be in order. I had hesitated to send any of the girls from Longbourn for a time, but with Jane settled and Lydia appearing to suffer no further ill consequences for her escapade….”
Madeline’s brows arched sharply. “Truly?” she whispered. “Oh, that is good news! Such a relief it must be.”
“Indeed,” he grimaced and changed the unpleasant topic. “I have faith in Elizabeth’s discretion and your guidance. If she should desire to pay your family a visit in London, perhaps for the remainder of the Season, I should not object. A change of scenery might do her good, now that her favourite sister will be occupied by other matters.”
“I heartily agree, Thomas. I will speak first to Edward and then to Elizabeth. If she agrees, I think she ought to remain with us until spring. Her cousins do adore her so. I think it would be a happy circumstance for all.”
“All save myself!” bemoaned Mr Bennet. “With Jane married and Lizzy in London, I shall not hear two words of sense together in this house.”
“If I am not mistaken, Lizzy speaks little enough as it is. You will have lost nothing more by sending her away,” she smiled.
“Aye, there is that.” He stopped and shed a little paternal smile as the very young woman in question passed by them again for the stairs. She appeared in no hurry, but she could not be troubled to give more than a cursory greeting to either her father or favourite aunt.
Mr Bennet’s face clouded once more. “See that you take her out,” he sighed. “If I am not mistaken, she rather enjoyed the symphony. I will forward enough spending money for whatever she requires.”
“The money will not be necessary,” she assured him. “It will be my pleasure to try to cheer her.”
Pemberley
“Take her back to London!” Richard Fitzwilliam’s fingers curled into fists, longing to tug at his collar or rake his fingers through his hair. He had to continually remind himself that he was not with the men of his regiment, but with his aunt, and she would consider such mannerisms vulgar in the extreme.
“Aunt Catherine, it is impossible. Georgiana has been inconsolable, and to expose her to London again so soon, when she is still so fragile, is—”
“Is exactly what she needs, Fitzwilliam! She cannot hide away here at Pemberley. She must be seen among Society!”
“With all due respect Aunt, I disagree. No one could expect a girl of not yet seventeen who has just lost her brother to carry on as though all is well. What do you think for her to do? She could not attend public events before, but even less can she do so now!”
“She needs to receive female guidance, not the attentions of an unenlightened bachelor! People will begin to talk. Anne and I will come to Darcy house and act as hostesses for her, so she may receive callers,” Lady Catherine decided. “She must become acquainted with the ladies of the ton . Many alliances are forged during morning calls, Fitzwilliam.”
Richard drew a sharp breath, and his eyes rounded. Lady Catherine taking charge of Georgiana? The poor girl would become as overborne and timid as Anne—why, even more so, for Georgiana had already experienced far more trauma.
“Aunt, I cannot allow it!” he protested. “You are concerned for Georgiana’s future, which I quite understand, but I am more troubled by her present. I, too, was doubtful at bringing her back here to Pemberley, but here at least she does not keep to her rooms as she did at Matlock House. She is still despondent, but she walks the halls and the orangery here, and though her companion is frequently called away, Mrs Reynolds has proved a comfort to her. She is not strong enough to face a string of Society mamas, all desiring a match for their second sons.”
“Second son!” scoffed the Lady. “Georgiana will settle for nothing less than a viscount!”
“And do you also have a suitor arranged for her?”
“Naturally. Lady Malvern’s son has just come of age, and Lord Wallace’s wife died last year in childbirth. Either would be a distinguished match for her, and they are both good Tories. That is essential for any consideration of future connection to the family,” she avowed with a firm jerk of her chin.
“I am less concerned about the man’s pedigree and politics than his character and suitability as a husband. I would rather see her attached to a man with no prospects at all, but who cared for her.”
“Pshh!” huffed his aunt. “Richard Fitzwilliam, I am ashamed of you! These modern romantic notions have no place among decent society! I always told Darcy that he sheltered her from her responsibilities and permitted her far too much liberty for a young lady of her situation, and you are likely to do the same.
“Georgiana Darcy is possessed of over half a million pounds, an estate that yields ten thousand more per annum, and one of the most fashionable houses in London. Her place in Society is of paramount importance, and the man she marries must be chosen with the greatest care! Of course, we cannot consider one who is not properly of her sphere, for her husband must be depended upon to steward her fortune. You are a fool not to already be considering the man’s politics and background, but at least you do not subscribe to my brother’s notion that you should wed Georgiana yourself!”
“No, Aunt, but I am of the opinion that Georgiana is too young—”
“Fitzwilliam,” she dismissed him with an air of supremacy, “you have not raised a daughter, so you cannot know what is to be done These alliances must be planned and brought about with the utmost delicacy and wisdom, which is why it is not the proper place of a childless bachelor to guide the process. You have not the stomach for it.”
“I, a seasoned combat veteran, have not the stomach?” he nearly laughed.
She fixed him with a withering look. “If you think the battles you have encountered on the Peninsula bloody, you have not yet experienced a Season with a wealthy debutante.”
“Perhaps not, but I shadowed Darcy through enough drawing rooms. He always kept me at his right side as his sword arm, and for good reason as I recall.”
Lady Catherine permitted herself a nostalgic sigh and a flutter of her aging lashes. “He was always so faithful to Anne! It is only a pity she was too ill for marriage for so many years, but I was very put out that he did not affirm their engagement last spring. She is perfectly strong now!”
Richard coughed slightly. “It is a pity,” he agreed diplomatically.
“Which is why it is all the more important that your marriage takes place as soon as possible. Anne must produce an heir, and her health—”
“Aunt!” he cried in astonishment. “You are not suggesting that I marry Anne!”
She blinked slowly, as one compelled to explain patently obvious matters to a child. “I have sent a letter to my solicitor. He is to print the announcement as soon as Anne’s half-mourning period for Darcy is complete. A full mourning shall not be necessary, for their engagement was never announced publicly. As for the date, April would be in poor taste, but May shall still suit. Young brides are more successful at conceiving an heir in the spring months.”
Richard felt his forehead beginning to sweat. “Aunt, there has never been any symptom of regard between my cousin and myself, beyond what is proper for near relations. I have never held any inclinations toward marriage—”
A bored hiss escaped the lady’s lips as she fairly rolled her eyes. “Regard! Do not trouble me with such callow notions. Richard Fitzwilliam, it is for you to step into Darcy’s place! You must see to Georgiana’s upbringing and the well-being of Pemberley until she is decently married, and you will fulfill your duties to Anne. Heaven and earth, you would not leave her another year on the shelf. Rosings requires an heir, and Georgiana is in need of a woman’s guidance!”
“Feminine advice I shall not deny her, Aunt, but for me to marry Anne—”
“Fitzwilliam, I tolerated Darcy’s delays for years. He put off my advice regarding Georgiana, and he dallied with Anne’s sentiments, but no longer shall I remain silent! I will see Anne with child and Georgiana engaged to a suitable candidate by this time next year. I will not be dissuaded!”
Richard could command himself no longer. He caught shaking fingers in his collar and tugged for dear life, as though his cravat were the only thing cutting off his supply of air. How did Darcy ever prevail against our aunt? Never once had his cousin capitulated on matters of import. He simply adopted that “Darcy” stance, returned deadpan for outrage, and carried his own point. How?
“Aunt,” he croaked, affecting to turn and pace so that he was not required to look Lady Catherine in the eye, “there are so many other matters that require my immediate attention, my head can hardly sustain such schemes. Perhaps we may defer talk of… alliances… for a few months.”
She drew in a measured breath, lifting her chin and lowering her gaze like a hawk. “Naturally one might expect the transition from military life to civilian duties would be a difficulty. Pemberley is, I think you understand now, a much larger concern than your few boys in uniform. None managed Pemberley better than George Darcy, though his son had begun to show promise. You will require a great deal of assistance in your endeavours, Fitzwilliam.”
He caught that idea with relief. “Indeed, I shall, Aunt! I have an appointment with the steward in half an hour to talk over plans for spring planting and the breeding stables,” he hinted, hoping that notion might sooner draw this interview to a close.
“The steward! What can he know? I shall send word to Rosings for my trunks. If Georgiana is not to return to London, Anne and I shall remain here indefinitely to advise you.”
Fitzwilliam yanked once more at his cravat, his face turning a few shades of red. “I assure you, Aunt, that will not be necessary, I—”
“And you will take yourself to London at once to see to the relinquishment of your commission! Shameful that you should so long neglect such a matter. I no longer wish to see you appearing before me in uniform, Richard Fitzwilliam! It was all well and good when you had no proper responsibilities, but you have more important concerns now than to play with your swords and guns.”
There was nothing else to say. Any argument of his would have prolonged the discussion until he was battle-sore and his aunt carried the victory flag. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was wise enough to know when he was beaten, and he raised the white handkerchief in surrender. He began slowly backing toward the door, bowing a little hastily. “I will attend to the matter, Aunt Catherine.”
He fled to the outer hall, nodding briskly to the footman to close the door. His heart was racing, his collar damp, and his head light from lack of proper air. Lady Catherine to take up long-term residence at Pemberley! Georgiana might never recover from the invasion! His trembling hands brushed self-consciously at his shoulders as he gasped and stumbled for the stair.
Darcy would have put a stop to it. For the thousandth time, his heart ached at the loss of his cousin. Darcy had been like a brother, an adviser in many ways and yet a pupil in so many others. So many times in the past two months had a clever notion or amusing circumstance come to him that he thought to preserve to share with Darcy, only to be followed by the crushing emptiness of knowing that he never again could.
If only …. He groaned, clasping the stair railing along his slow ascent. There was something—a number of things, really—about that whole situation that still sat ill with him. The villains still at large, the prostitute with Darcy’s money, that bloodied body identified as Darcy…. Something was missing, but he could not yet put his finger on it. Perhaps his investigator would help assemble the pieces for him, but he could not let the matter rest until then. He narrowed his eyes, his vision again turning inward to the perfect picture of his memory.
Scholars and politicians might have counted it a blessing, but there was no greater curse for a soldier than a memory such as his. Every broken body, every dying face brought clearly to mind at a mere breath; and as if that were not agonising enough, he could not help also recalling the light of life borne by the same man only moments before. There was some detachment between the uniquely powerful aura that had belonged to Fitzwilliam Darcy and the contracted, lifeless body shown him by the inspectors.
Even in the moment, Richard had sensed some mystery at work, but he had not dared voice such a doubt without better evidence. The bloody, swollen abrasions disfiguring the dead man’s face seemed too strategically placed, the clothing somehow too haphazardly fitted. The body could have been a decoy—it would not be the first time he had seen such a thing, but to raise the alarm about his suspicions before learning more would be to jeopardise the real Darcy, if he still lived. And if Darcy had been in danger, Georgiana might be as well….
Richard stopped at the top of the stair to catch his breath. Glancing down, he surveyed Darcy’s domain; the elegance and luxury of all that was Pemberley, the glittering heart of northern Derbyshire. Not a man in the kingdom would have protested the position into which he had been thrust—caretaker to all, de facto master of all. The mistress was his ward, and another landed heiress apparently held designs on his name. Nothing might be denied Richard Fitzwilliam, for all power and authority had fallen to him. His knees started to buckle. I cannot do this!
He pressed fingers deeply into his eyes, wishing to blot out the visions burned into his memory. It had never worked, and it did not this time either. The one consolation, the one sweet name that had the power of bringing peace when the horrific images and the fear of his duties loomed, was not truly his—that memory was its own source of pain, but mercifully not so raw on this day as his present heartache. He lingered another moment with his hands over his eyes, trying to dwell on soft words, and a wildflower laurel gracing the raven locks of one who had once soothed his cares.
As always, memories of conflict and war would intrude, but on this occasion, Richard opened his eyes and slowly lowered his hand. Inspiration flowed into him with that one triggered memory, and he stood gasping and cursing himself for a simpleton. “Hodges!” he cried, as his perch at the top of the stair afforded him a view of the butler passing below.
The elder man paused, unruffled at such an outburst from the stair. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he bowed grandly. “What can I do for you sir?”
“Call for an express rider. I must send a letter to London with all speed!”