Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 17

  Darcy raised his eyebrows. “The difficulty is that I do not know what it is either. My aunt has always seemed fond of Georgiana, and I am unaware of any problems between them. Perhaps it is some small thing Georgiana has magnified in her own mind. Did she give you any clues as to what it might be, or when it happened?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I have the impression it was shortly before she came to live with you. The only other thing she said is that you forgave her for it.”

  Darcy drummed his fingers on his desk. “That tells me very little, since I have forgiven her many things.” Because he wanted to see Elizabeth smile, he added, “Although there were a few temper tantrums at the beginning that I might not quite have forgiven even yet. Her tantrums were quite impressive.”

  Thankfully, she did smile. “I can imagine. She does tend to feel things powerfully.”

  The connection warmed him. “Indeed she does. Although I would not have wished it on you, it is a remarkable relief to share the responsibility for her with someone. I am thankful for all you have done for her, especially because it had become increasingly obvious to me that I was unable to provide all she needed.”

  “I cannot understand how you bore it all by yourself for so long!” she exclaimed. Then she looked up at him archly. “And you had to tolerate all my misplaced impertinence about your politics.”

  “I liked your impertinence,” he said softly. “I wanted more than anything to tell you the truth.”

  For a moment, as her fine eyes held his, Darcy became acutely conscious of the curve of her lips. Perhaps–

  Elizabeth sat back, suddenly businesslike. “Taking care of Georgiana was your first duty, so you could not tell me. I understand that. However, this does not solve my problem. Do you think if we spoke to her together, she might reveal what is troubling her?”

  Georgiana. Her presence stood between them, and he had to remember that – and stop wishing it was not true. This longing for Elizabeth would pass with time. He had his duty, and that would have to be enough. But if there was one thing he could not forgive Georgiana for, it was this, not some event long ago. “Perhaps we should try asking my aunt first. She might be more forthcoming.”

  “Very well. I have a question, too, on the subject of your aunt. I do not know how to refer to her. The French say we must not use her title, so I do not wish to risk a servant overhearing it. But I cannot bring myself to call her ‘Mrs. Fitzwilliam,’ and it sounds clumsy to be forever referring to her as your aunt. It makes me feel like a stammering schoolgirl.” Even her slight petulance was endearing.

  “The servants at Pemberley call her Madam as if it were her given name. It is one solution, and she is accustomed to it.”

  The corner of her lips crooked up, intensifying his urge to taste them. “I suppose that is as good as anything. Will the servants here do the same?”

  “That will be up to the housekeeper. You may have noticed my servants are less than clever, and many are hard of hearing. I am certain you will understand why.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “How do you explain those odd hiring preferences to your housekeeper?”

  Darcy’s smile was warm. “She is aware of the need. She used to be the housekeeper at Pemberley, but came here because I needed someone whom I could trust to manage the servants and to watch for anyone asking the wrong sorts of questions.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. “But Georgiana told me no one else knew the truth.”

  “She is unaware Mrs. Reynolds knows her identity. So did my late valet, who had previously worked for my uncle, or I could never have managed this masquerade for as long as I have. He died shortly before I went to Netherfield.” It had been a hard blow. Not only had Darcy been fond of Blackwell, but he had depended upon him to manage Georgiana when he had to leave the house. Had Blackwell been at Netherfield that fateful day, Darcy would have entrusted Georgiana to him instead of to Elizabeth. His chest tightened at the thought.

  ***

  Lady Matlock was as much in the dark as Darcy. “I cannot imagine why she would think I dislike her. There is nothing I hold against her, apart from an unfortunate taste for green dresses when the color makes her look bilious. That can be remedied, though.”

  Elizabeth said, “It seems to be something from long ago when she still lived with you. She says she did something utterly unforgivable.”

  Lady Matlock shook her head. “I cannot recall anything. She was sometimes unhappy, but who would not be when taken from everything she knew? Perhaps she did not understand why I asked Darcy to take charge of her in my place, or...” She paused and sighed. “Oh, dear. I am afraid I do know. I told her at the time it was complete nonsense, but at one point she thought herself responsible for my late husband’s apoplexy. He was displeased with her that day because she had behaved very badly, announcing her identity in the presence of guests. While we were able to convince them she had made up the entire thing, we could not allow her to continue in that manner. My husband scolded her, something she was not accustomed to, and she threatened to run off. Anyway, it all came to nothing, as these things so often do, but when he collapsed that night, she blamed herself. That was when we received word that Matlock House had been pillaged, which no doubt had much more to do with his distress than her antics.”

  Elizabeth looked thoughtful. “That could fit. If it were true, it would indeed be unforgivable, and if you could no longer care for her then, she might see that as anger. I will ask her.”

  “No,” said Lady Matlock. “I will speak to her myself. Perhaps you might accompany me.”

  After casting a glance at Darcy, Elizabeth agreed.

  ***

  Elizabeth wanted nothing more than some peaceful time alone in her room, but Mr. Darcy would no doubt be waiting for a report on the outcome of Lady Matlock’s talk with Georgiana. Taking a few minutes to tell him about it was the right thing to do. However, having her heart give little skips of excitement at the prospect of talking to him alone was not the right thing at all.

  The intimacy of walking into his candlelit study was a stolen pleasure. Nothing could ever come of it, but was it such a terrible thing to let the heat of desire pool within her in his presence? When he looked up from his book, his dark eyes betrayed a different kind of excitement, one that made her insides quiver. The chiseled lines of his cheekbones and his shadowed lips seemed to beg for her touch.

  She folded her hands behind her back, keeping them out of the way of temptation. “The crisis has been averted. When I left, Lady Matlock had her arm around Georgiana. I think Georgiana believed her reassurances, but it took some effort.”

  “Good. Thank you for helping her. I had no idea this was troubling her. She has never confided in me the way she seems to do with you.”

  It was late, and even if the door was open, most of the servants were already abed. And she was alone with him. Her skin tingled. “In this case, she may have not felt she needed to since she thought you already knew. She thinks very highly of you.”

  Darcy stretched his arms out in front of him. “Sometimes too highly. She thinks I can protect her from everything, and as we have seen, I cannot. I always feel as if I am walking on eggshells with her, and that the wrong word or look will set off one of her anxiety fits.”

  His confession only made her warm to him more. “I know what you mean, but I thought it was merely my own clumsy words that were making things worse. It is a comfort, I suppose, to know I am not the only one.”

  “I cannot imagine you ever saying something clumsy.” His dark eyes were fixed on her. “She is merely sensitive and easily frightened. I did not handle her well when she first came to live with me. I had little experience with children, least of all a high-strung and temperamental one.”

  Even when he was speaking only of Georgiana, his words felt oddly intimate, as if they could somehow reach inside her.

  “I can only imagine! I felt ill-prepared to handle some of her moods, and I have three younger sisters.
I do not know how you managed.”

  His lips turned up in a slight smile. “By making a great many mistakes.”

  No, the mistake was allowing herself to be drawn even closer to him when she should be doing everything in her power to stay away from him. But it was late and she was tired, and his warmth was such a relief after all this time away from everyone she knew and loved. Even the brief visits with her uncle had only reminded her how alone she felt.

  Footsteps echoed in the hall outside the study. Kit stuck his head inside the door. “I say, William, do you happen to know...” His casual tone turned abruptly formal. “I apologize; I had not realized Miss Elizabeth was with you.”

  Her cheeks grew hot. What must he think, finding them alone together at this hour? “I was just leaving. Georgiana was upset earlier, but I think we have finally straightened it out.”

  “Upset?” Kit sounded shocked. Perhaps he thought princesses did not have such feelings.

  “Yes,” she said with a smile. “Your brother can tell you about it, but it is past time for me to retire.” Even that sounded too intimate.

  Darcy must have felt the same, for he took a step towards her before stopping himself. “Good night, Miss Elizabeth. Thank you for your assistance with Georgiana.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Why did her every word seem to suddenly have a hidden meaning? “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  Even when she was upstairs, she still felt the pull of Darcy’s presence. She bit her fingers in frustration. Could she manage this intensity? Did she have a choice?

  ***

  After four days in one crowded stagecoach after another, the interminable ride interrupted every few miles by French soldiers demanding to see travel permits – and in some cases, to receive bribes – Richard Fitzwilliam debated remaining at the inn at Milford Haven and sleeping for a day before seeking out the harbormaster. But it was still light, and he was restless, so he limped down the cobblestone street to the waterfront. A passerby pointed him towards the small building housing the harbormaster's office.

  Inside a thin, dark-haired man, his bushy beard streaked with white, sat at the small desk. He did not look up from his account book when Richard entered. “Yes?” he asked crisply.

  “I am looking for the harbormaster,” said Richard. Something about the man was not right.

  “That would be me. The name is Wisley.” The harbormaster still seemed uninterested, but his voice – that was it. His accent carried the stamp of Eton.

  “My name is Richard Fitzwilliam, and I am here on behalf of...”

  Wisley looked up suddenly, pinning him with piercing, steel gray eyes.

  Even when caught off guard after all these years, Richard’s reflexes still knew what the situation demanded. He snapped to attention. The unplanned movement on his weak leg almost caused him to lose his balance, something that rarely happened these days. But his hand remembered how to salute. “Sir!”

  “Stop that nonsense at once. I am just Wisley, the harbormaster.”

  “I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks so. Of course: Wisley, Wellesley—”

  “Do not say it.” It was clearly an order. “Come, Fitzwilliam, sit down and tell me what brings you here, since it seems I am not what you expected.”

  “Not at all, sir.” Richard collapsed into the offered chair. “Good God! I am stunned. At least this explains why Tomlin thought it so important for the government-in-exile to contact an obscure harbormaster.”

  The steel gray eyes lit up. “The message was received after all! Tomlin will be pleased. We had begun to give up hope and think all our planning was for naught.”

  “Definitely not for naught, sir. There is an active Loyalist movement whose leader is in search of someone who knows how to command an army. Nothing would make them happier. I still cannot get beyond this – you, here at the ends of the earth!”

  “Hardly that. Did you know that the packet boats for Ireland are based here? Packet boats are, of course, much smaller than warships, but they are fast, maneuverable, and carry cannon to defend themselves from privateers.”

  “Land and sea,” Richard breathed.

  “Exactly. I am not alone in this venture. I must introduce you to the captain of one of the packets, an old friend of mine by the name of Hamilton. Former Navy man, you know.” He paused, a triumphant expression on his face, clearly waiting for a reaction.

  Hamilton? Richard had never heard of a Navy man by that name. Wait – Hamilton. Emma Hamilton. His breath caught in his throat. “Is Captain Hamilton perchance missing an arm?”

  “Very good! You always were a clever one, Fitzwilliam. You will meet several other old friends here in addition to Tomlin – Abercromby, Popham, Coote, and Harris.”

  Richard shook his head in disbelief. “That many? But how did you manage it?”

  “The credit should go to the late Duke of York. During the last campaign, when Napoleon’s troops began preparing for the invasion, he told his most trusted generals and admirals that if the worst happened, we should make our way here to regroup and plan. Sadly, he himself never arrived.”

  “I would ask why Milford Haven, but I suppose it is as close to the end of the earth as one can find in Britain.”

  “Precisely, and it has indeed proven a haven for us. But there is a time for planning and a time for action.”

  Ten days later, Richard returned to Leadenhall Street with two companions. Finding his sister buried in her usual piles of paper, he said, “Freddie, about that army and navy you were wishing for? Permit me to present to you the harbormaster of Milford Haven, whom you may have known once as General Lord Wellington. Lord Nelson, of course, needs no introduction. Gentlemen, this is my sister Frederica, the one with the list of every arms depot in England and the partisans prepared to blow them up.”

  Wellington bowed over Frederica's hand. “Madam, you are a lady after my own heart.”

  ***

  “You know I must go,” Darcy told Georgiana for at least the fourth time. “Elizabeth, Kit, and my aunt will be here with you; and I will return as I always do.” Her moments of panic when he went out for the evening had seemed to stop now that she had other companions, but apparently they were not completely gone. “Now take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You know how.”

  Georgiana followed his instructions for a few seconds, but afterwards her breathing became rapid and ragged again. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped Elizabeth's hand.

  “Remember that calm thoughts help,” said Elizabeth in soothing tones. “Just as we practiced before. Think of how William has always returned to you, even after he was arrested. You may depend upon him.”

  A shiver ran down Darcy’s spine. The sound of his given name on Elizabeth's lips seemed to promise an intimacy that did not exist. Even though he referred to her as Elizabeth as often as Miss Elizabeth, she was always careful to call him Mr. Darcy. No doubt she had used his name now deliberately in an attempt to calm Georgiana. “I promise I will return tonight just as I always do,” he said, trying to match Elizabeth's tone.

  “And I will be here with you the entire time. I will even sleep in your room tonight if you like.” Elizabeth rubbed Georgiana's shoulder with her free hand.

  “You will not leave me?” Georgiana's voice hitched.

  “Of course not. Remember what I said? You may depend on me, unless there are elephants or tigers involved. As I have heard nothing of elephants or tigers in London, you are quite safe. Now a few slow breaths, along with me. Breathe in and out.”

  Darcy could tell Elizabeth was teasing Georgiana to distract her, but how had tigers and elephants come into it? It seemed to help, so he ought to play along. “What about lions? Should we be concerned if there are reports of lions in London?”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as if considering the question. “No, I think not. Lions do not hold the same fascination for me. Kangaroos, however, are a different matter.”

  Georgiana managed a weak giggle, but perspiration s
till beaded her forehead.

  Darcy squatted down beside her. “Is something the matter tonight? You did not seem to mind it when I left the last few evenings. Did I say something that frightened you?”

  The girl shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand against her chest. “No, not you,” she said weakly.

  “Who, then? I am certain no one meant to worry you.”

  Georgiana dropped her chin. In a barely audible voice she said, “Our aunt quarreled with Elizabeth.”

  “Is that all?” exclaimed Elizabeth. “That was not a true quarrel, just a disagreement. When I have a real quarrel, I say far ruder things than that. Just ask your brother.” Her smile took the edge from her words.

  “But she said you were ungrateful, and you said you could not stay under these circumstances.” Georgiana’s breath caught.

  “Oh, my dear, that did not mean I plan to leave, just that the circumstances had to change. I am not going away from you. And I daresay I truly am an ungrateful thing!”

  Darcy tensed. Was Elizabeth thinking of leaving? “Might I ask how this came to pass?” His words must have come out more sharply than he had intended, for Georgiana shrank back from him.

  “It was nothing of importance,” said Elizabeth. “When we were at the mantua-maker, your aunt wanted to order more evening dresses for me, and I told her it was too expensive.”

  Georgiana whispered miserably, “That is not what you said.”

  “Now you mean to embarrass me in front of your brother!” Elizabeth teased. “Very well; if you want the full, unvarnished truth, I told her I could not accept expensive and unnecessary items purchased with your money, and that I wanted nothing more than a few simple dresses suitable for a companion.” Her eyes sparkled at him, daring him to argue.

  This was dangerous territory, given Elizabeth's fear of appearing to be under his protection. Should he agree that it was up to her what was purchased, or would that simply reinforce that even simple dresses were paid for out of his pocket? No, he had to follow her lead and make light of it somehow. He cleared his throat. Speaking in a dramatic version of his proudest tones, he said, “Ungrateful, indeed, Miss Elizabeth! I imagine my aunt was less concerned with whether you wanted those dresses than with the enjoyment I would receive by seeing you in them. It was very selfish of you to refuse.”