Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“Jane, please tell me you will not have Miss Eliza with you all the time now. It was always trying for those weeks in April when she would be with us. She will never be accepted by the ton, and she should realize that and not drag us down with her. I know I said I would be friendly to her, but I did not think I would have to see her so often.”
“When you marry Sir Abraham, you will leave London, will you not? Then you will not have to hear your friends ridiculing my cousin.”
“But Jane, think of your own standing, and that of my brother and sister. You are living in the Hursts’ home and should be mindful of the shame you bring here.”
Elizabeth was spending the day with Jane and Miss Bingley at the Hursts’ home and was coming back from choosing a book in the small library when she heard Miss Bingley’s true opinion of her.
She appreciated Jane’s support, but she did not wish to harm her cousin or the Bingleys.
It probably would be best if she saw Jane only at Gracechurch Street from now on.
She entered the drawing room where Jane and Miss Bingley sat, smiled at her cousin, and took a chair in the far corner of the room to read.
Fitzwilliam was due back the next day, and she prayed he was safe and would find the answers he sought.
When he called the next afternoon, he seemed distracted or even disturbed.
Although they sat with her aunt, he found her hand beneath the folds of her skirts and held it tightly.
She shivered at the sensation of his thumb caressing her knuckles, but she was concerned about whatever was bothering him.
Finally, her aunt moved to the other side of the room to write a letter, and Elizabeth turned to face Fitzwilliam more fully, keeping her hand in his.
“Are you well, Fitzwilliam? You seem agitated.”
“I am well. I missed you every moment we were apart, Elizabeth, and I have no wish to leave you again, but…”
“But you will leave again?”
“Our investigation is nearly complete. We have one more person to visit, and then I believe I may remain in London for some time.”
“Where will you go this time?” Her voice sounded small in her own ears. Each parting from him was painful, but he had written to her. She had not received his letter from Bath until a few hours before he arrived himself, but it was something.
“Yorkshire. Almost twice as far away as Bath. Our destination is only in southern Yorkshire, and we will not need to stay long. Still, we, will be gone for more than a week, perhaps ten days.” Fitzwilliam’s eyes, trained on hers, looked so dejected that she decided she must do her part to cheer him.
“That is not so bad, my love. We survived all of December, did we not?”
“Barely.” Fitzwilliam groaned, and Elizabeth could not help but laugh. “I wish I had a way to convince your uncle to allow us to marry. I would so like to take you with me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? So soon?”
“That will give us time to reach our destination by Friday or Saturday at the latest. If we may meet with the…the person we will see on Saturday, then we shall begin our return journey on Monday morning. In the worst case, we will be back by next Friday…or perhaps Saturday.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and searched for something positive to say. Finally, she spoke more brightly than she felt.
“Still more than a full month before my birthday. You celebrated with me last year, and I hope to make it a tradition.”
Fitzwilliam smiled warmly. “I will celebrate every birthday with you forever. Will you have a family dinner, as you did last year?”
“I think so. If Jane and Mr. Bingley are still in town, they will come, as well, but I think they will return to Netherfield Park soon.”
“Are they in London?”
“Oh, yes. They returned from their wedding trip while you were gone. They are staying with the Hursts, but…”
“A little too crowded for the newly married couple?”
Elizabeth blushed and nodded. “Miss Bingley is not easy to live with, and her wedding is still some time away.”
“Not so long away as our wedding.”
Elizabeth gazed into his eyes, and he pushed a curl off her face, caressing her ear and then brushing his fingers down her jaw before pulling his hand back to his lap with a glance at her aunt.
“When I return, promise me we will find a moment alone somewhere. Only a minute or two. Perhaps Dutton’s or…I can think of no other place, as Matthew is an excellent chaperone.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “He is. But yes, he usually waits outside Dutton’s when you join me there. Or…what about the Hurst home? I could visit Jane, and we could meet in the library.”
“No, no. That is too much. We must not allow ourselves that much privacy. Forgive me, my love. I should not have suggested anything. I will leave you now, and I will write to you. We will be together soon. Enjoy your time with your cousin this week.”
All too quickly, he was gone, and she wished she had not mentioned the Hursts’ library.
She had not meant anything so very scandalous by it.
She thought he hinted that he would like to kiss her again, as he had done in Hertfordshire, and she would welcome it, but he must have thought her wanton to have made the invitation.
Shame burned red on her neck and face as she realized he had wanted nothing more than to speak freely without an audience.
She hoped he had been looking for a way to share more of whatever it was he was doing with his cousin.
He had not answered her questions about their business except to say he would tell her as much as he could when it was over.
Darcy was miserable company on their journey to Yorkshire.
Trapped in a carriage with his jovial cousin was torture when all he could think about was Elizabeth and how long it had been since he had kissed her.
What was worse, he was feeling sorry for himself about the year stretching before him until he could marry her and kiss her every day.
His hand in his pocket, he stroked the smooth back of the miniature portrait Elizabeth had given him in December.
He had pulled it out and gazed at it so many times he was almost in danger of confusing the image’s eyes with Elizabeth’s.
Yet he could never forget her sparkling mischievousness, and he sighed loudly.
He had written to her in the bumpy carriage as best he could, posting it the first time they stopped to change horses.
Another letter had gone to her the following day from their inn and again this morning from yet another inn.
He was determined to be as attentive as if they truly were engaged, even though the match was not yet sanctioned by her uncle.
Perhaps it was best they had been apart so much since they had come to an understanding.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to be a gentleman.
Had he been out of his senses to propose they meet alone, purposely shrugging off her aunt’s and Matthew’s attentive eyes?
Darcy shook his head at his own stupidity.
“We are nearly to Rowe Manor, Darcy. Are you going to tell me what is bothering you, so we can focus on the task at hand?”
“Forgive me. It is only my frustration at the state of my engagement to Elizabeth. I apologize for being such poor company these three days, but I am prepared to meet the duke.”
“Glad to hear it. He may not appreciate visitors so late in the day, but if you are still in agreement, I think this is the best plan. If he sends us away, we can ask for an audience on the morrow or even seek him out at the local church services.”
Darcy took a deep breath as he shifted his focus to their purpose. “Yes, yes. It is a fine plan.”
Not half an hour later, they had been shown into the study of the Duke of Malmesbury. Darcy chastised himself inwardly when his first thought on looking at the man was that his eyes reminded him of Elizabeth. Everything reminded him of Elizabeth, but this was hardly the time to be distracted.
“Your Grace, thank you for meeting with us,” Darcy said after he and his cousin had introduced themselves and they had been invited to sit opposite the duke, who took his seat behind a large desk.
“I remember Lord Matlock, of course, but I do not concern myself with politics much these days. I hope he did not send his son and nephew here to persuade me to take up any cause.”
“My father does not know we are here, Your Grace. We have come on a more personal matter.” Richard was in his army uniform again today, wishing to lend a degree of authority to their business.
“Very well. Go on.”
“My cousin Darcy made a discovery some months ago that has prompted us to investigate your son’s dealings in Antwerp.”
The duke inhaled sharply. “Oliver? You have come to speak to me of Oliver?” His voice trembled, but he sounded eager.
“If it is acceptable to you, Your Grace, yes, we would like to speak to you about Lord Rowe.” Darcy spoke gently. This conversation may prove too much for the elderly man. They would need to tread carefully.
“One week from today it will be nineteen years since he died. Did you know that?”
The younger men nodded. The newspapers had listed January 25th as the day of Lord Rowe’s murder, although the information sent to Etches indicated it could have happened a day or two later.
“Do you know how your son died, Your Grace?” Richard asked gently.
He waved his hand through the air to dismiss the question, and he looked past them to the door, as though waiting for someone else to arrive.
“The newspapers said something about buying diamonds for investments and then some thieves, but I cannot believe my son would risk his life for money. And especially not that of his wife. He loved her dearly, and it makes no sense that he would allow himself and his family to be killed for such a transient thing as money. Oliver was a good son. A very good son. I forgot it for a while, but my dear wife reminded me before she died.”
“I am sorry for your great losses,” Darcy said. He understood how the death of a family member could affect those left behind. To lose not only his son and hope for a continuation of his family line but his wife so soon afterward must have been devastating.
“Yes, well. What can you tell me of Oliver? Do you know why he really died?”
“Darcy has something to show you, but it is only a small part of your son’s story. We would like to tell you all of it.”
With that, Darcy withdrew a red silk reticule from his coat pocket and set it on the desk before him. From another pocket, he pulled out a black bag about the size of an egg and placed it beside the other. Finally, he set a gold pocket watch on the desk.
By the time they had finished telling the duke about the diamonds, war plans, paintings, and the rescue of a girl who had turned traitorous, the duke had tears streaming down his smiling face.
“I knew he was a good boy. He was always such a good boy. I did not give him permission to marry as he chose, but my wife loved the girl like the daughter we never had. I was going to meet her and their baby when they returned from their last voyage, but I waited too long. Still, I know he was a good boy.”
The duke’s gaze traveled again toward the door, as it had several other times throughout their recital of events.
Darcy turned to see if perhaps someone stood there and realized a large painting hung by the door.
It had been behind them since they entered the room, but as soon as he saw it, Darcy could not help but stand and approach it.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed. The woman was perhaps a little older than Elizabeth and her clothes of an earlier fashion, but it looked like her.
Except for the eyes. His Elizabeth’s eyes matched those of the man standing beside the woman in the painting, his hand on her shoulder.
And those of the infant girl on the woman’s lap.