She spun sharply away. “It was my own foolishness. Come!” Her strides flowing quickly, she fairly scampered from his presence. If he did not wish to lose the benefit of her lantern, he had no choice but to silence his objections and follow.
He obeyed, but a new concern darkened that cobbled way out of his cell. What price would this girl pay for his freedom?
~
“Take this, senhor. You will no doubt be in need.”
Darcy, freshly attired and marvelously clean once more, held out a curious hand and found a small purse of coins thrust into it. He blinked at it in the darkness. Never had anyone else been required to give him a farthing—always it had been the reverse. He looked back to the young man before him—Ruy de Noronha, his name was. “I cannot accept. You have done enough already.”
The young man, a military man if Darcy’s judge of his bearing and manner were to be trusted, caught Darcy’s hand and forced his fingers to close once more over the purse. “No, senhor! You must. Traveling is expensive, no? Here is bread and wine for you—not much, but it is enough. Remember, two nights you must stay in this room. Do not go out! This is Tuesday. On Thursday evening, you must board the ship, but wait until dark. I cannot come back for you, or I will attract notice.”
He stood back, tilting his head and evaluating Darcy’s appearance. “Your beard you should trim neatly as soon as you may, but do not shave it, senhor. It helps to hide your face. No, you must take the money!” he repeated to his unwilling beneficiary. “You must look the part of a man of business, not an escaped prisoner.”
Darcy shook his head. “You are generous, but I have funds enough. I shall have no trouble in supplying my needs, even abroad, for my credit is more than sufficient.”
“They are not your funds at present, senhor!” The younger man tossed a coat toward him. “You must not use your own name at all, until you discover why it is you were captured. It is likely you are thought of as dead, so it will not do to disappoint anyone so soon. I wish to heaven I could tell you who it was, but this much I do know—there must be a great deal of money and not a little power at stake.”
Darcy grimaced and did his best to yank the coat over his frame. It was well-tailored, but not for him; and helpful as the young Noronha was, he did not seem inclined to play the part of a valet. Nor, for that matter, would Darcy have desired to be touched. “How came you to be involved in my rescue, if you know so little of the circumstances?”
Noronha scowled and offered a hat. “My sister.”
“Ah,” Darcy nodded. “She is a remarkable woman, sir. Her husband is a fortunate man, if he appreciates such a woman.”
The young man looked to have swallowed something vile. “Miguel Vasconcelos is as cruel as he is stupid,” he spat. “I suppose you did not notice my sister’s face?”
Darcy nodded, his stomach sinking. “I did. I am sorry, I had hoped such was not the case. Can she be protected?”
“I sent her in a carriage to our family home, but I must hurry to her so that my father does not order her back in the morning.”
Darcy’s hand fell from the hat he was adjusting, aghast. “Do you mean to say that your father would endanger his own daughter, after seeing with his own eyes the evidence that her husband was mistreating her?”
“I mean that my father owes her husband’s father a small fortune, as well as his position.”
Darcy sighed. “I have seen that very thing all too often. Is there anything I can do for the lady? Her sharp ears and courage have saved me, and I should like to do as much for her.”
“You have troubles enough of your own, senhor,” Noronha reminded him. “Unless I am mistaken, you will hear Vasconcelos’ name again, if you search well enough. I shall learn what I can here, and you may be certain that Amália will be listening for information as well.”
“But if she is further harmed—”
“I will kill the villain myself!” Noronha growled. “And I will make sure that he knows what his fate would be! Fear not for that, senhor. I must go now, before your absence is discovered and someone comes to search for you. Remember, do not leave this room!”
Darcy reluctantly gathered up the coins, secreting them in the pocket of the coat. “Sir, I cannot thank you enough—you and your sister.” His throat tightened. “You have purchased life again for me! Why would you take such risks upon yourselves?”
Noronha shrugged. “You have a sister. Would you not do anything she asked, even were it madness?”
A faint smile tugged at Darcy’s mouth. “That, and much more,” he agreed softly.
“And,” Ruy de Noronha reached behind him to close the door, “there is some history revolving about your family. I believe my father has some affiliation with a relation of yours, and Amália and I have both our connections as well.”
“A relation of mine?” Darcy frowned, his neck prickling with an almost animal sensation of danger. “Which, may I ask?”
Noronha’s mouth quirked subtly, his eyes taking on an expression Darcy could not read in the darkness. “Fitzwilliam.” Then he was gone.
22
Derbyshire
Elizabeth was the only passenger alert when the carriage rolled through Lambton. She glanced toward her uncle, thinking to nudge him awake for the sights that had so captivated him on their previous journey, but he appeared more comfortable as he was. His chin was burrowed deeply into his chest, his hands folded over his stomach, and his throat rasped lightly. She smiled to herself and left him to rest. He would have troubles enough within the hour.
Lydia and Georgiana had dropped off in slumber as well, their heads leaning against their respective sides of the carriage. Under her cheek, Georgiana had tucked a dainty pillow that seemed specially designed for the purpose of travel, but Lydia’s head was thrown fully back against the squab, throat exposed and mouth hanging open as half-slitted eyes fluttered in dreams. With each jolt of the carriage wheels she emitted a loud snort, then resettled herself. Elizabeth almost expected her to start drooling, so completely senseless was she to her surroundings. It had been her way through most of her pregnancy to sleep as if dead to the world, and this journey had proved little different. Elizabeth chuckled affectionately, then sighed.
Turning her eyes back to the window, she was just in time to catch sight of the inn where they had stayed last summer—the place where everything had changed. That moment, when he had walked in on her reading Jane’s letter, and offered comfort rather than condemnation, when his pain for her had spoken through eloquent eyes and gentle words—that moment had permanently marked her. To know him, as she had in those few precious minutes, and then to watch him walk from the room… forever! Oh, if she had only understood that it was not his own wishes, but something of a far greater and darker power that would define that word for her!
The carriage had rolled on now, and the little town of Lambton was already giving way to humble sheep pens, stands of bare trees, and dormant fields lining the quiet country road. Had Darcy taken this very route from the inn that day, or had he galloped pell-mell across the countryside, dashing home via some shorter route to set his secret, benevolent plans into motion? Somehow, that latter image seemed the more accurate. Pemberley lay to the north-west, if she recalled accurately, and their road now meandered almost perfectly north, so… her eyes gazed through one particularly thick grove of trees in the distance, imagining she could see the very gates of his drive just beyond them.
No. She clenched her teeth. Not his drive. Not anymore, unless…. She drew a sharp breath, then bit into her own tongue so the sting of pain might recall her to reality. Colonel Fitzwilliam was loyal and stout-hearted, to be sure, but she could not afford to buy into his fantasies! Let him chase his hopes while he still had them, and if some miracle proved him right, then she would rejoice with him. Until then, she had already borne one earth-shattering blow. Far better now to crawl safely along the ground than to soar into the heavens, only to die all o
ver again!
Georgiana awoke herself with a jerk, as though some sixth sense had alerted her to their proximity to her home. She darted a nervous, happy smile to Elizabeth, and they wordlessly shared the landscape for two miles. Georgiana pointed out the very moment the carriage passed the border of the estate, which was much sooner even than Elizabeth might have expected.
By the time the carriage wheels turned onto the gravel at the house, even Lydia had roused to make herself presentable. The butler and housekeeper both greeted the arriving party with all proper formality, and much to Elizabeth’s relief, neither so much as fluttered an eyelash when Lydia was presented to them as Mrs Wickham. Mrs Reynolds reserved her attentions primarily for Miss Darcy’s comforts, but Elizabeth was not insensible to a warm glance and a grateful nod from that kindly lady. Later, she seemed to smile, and Elizabeth understood instantly that she was to spend many an hour in confidence with the housekeeper during her residence at Pemberley.
It seemed that nearly a score of maids buzzed about to welcome them. Mr Gardiner appeared flattered by the attention, Elizabeth bewildered, and Lydia utterly dazzled. She turned artlessly to Georgiana as they were shown toward the stairs and declared, “Laws, I’d no notion you were this wealthy! What a superb house to host a ball!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Georgiana’s back was mercifully to her, for she did not think she could have withstood the girl’s shock at Lydia’s bald statement. She groaned and continued climbing, but her uncle cleared his throat at her shoulder to claim her attention.
“Lizzy, I’ve just been introduced to the steward, a Mr Jefferson. He was to report any business doings to me upon our arrival, and I’m to meet with him in an hour.”
“Oh,” she nodded vaguely.
“Well, that’s but the half of it. Colonel Fitzwilliam requested that you should attend any meetings I have with the man. I am to leave again within the fortnight to settle my new contract, and he felt you ought to be apprised in my absence. He wished for Miss Darcy to be present at such meetings as well, but she is looking rather fatigued just now. I shall leave it to you to speak to her, but I think she might be excused this one time, if she requires rest.”
Elizabeth glanced up the stairs and noted the heaviness to Georgiana’s steps. “I think you are right, Uncle, but I will ask her what her wishes are. Where are we to meet with Mr Jefferson, in the study?”
“No,” his mouth curved wryly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam made it sound as if the study were completely sacrosanct, not to be disturbed. I should not wonder if he thinks the room haunted. Oh! Lizzy, pardon me, that was in poor taste!”
Elizabeth had gone quite pale, but she cleared her throat and affected nonchalance. “The library, then?”
“Yes, that shall suit. Do you know where it is? I suppose I may ask one of the servants.”
Her face softened. Yes, she did know.
It was that magical day when she and her aunt had taken tea with Georgiana, and then… he had stepped so gently into the room, such hope in his eyes, and invited them to stay longer. It was early that evening, after they had spent much of the afternoon smiling at one another. He had escorted her to the carriage behind her aunt and uncle, not precisely offering his arm, but walking very closely beside her.
Some way down the gilded corridor, he had checked his stride. It had been scarcely noticeable, but it had been enough to cause her to glance up at him and see his eyes flick to the conspicuously open doors to his left. A warm fire had lit the room, and enough candles glowed round the edges for her to count the rows… and lavish rows… all gloriously filled with more books than she had ever seen.
She had gasped audibly in appreciation, her eyes swiftly flying once more to his face. A modest warmth had tugged at his mouth—proud, yes, but not prideful. He had offered her a glimpse of what lay beyond those forbidding doors, and there was a welcoming light in his eyes—inviting, pleading her to step inside with him. Holding her breath, and smiling up at him, she accepted.
The fragrance of the room caught her attention first. There was that earthy aroma of aging leather and paper—paper made hallowed by loving fingers and long evenings curled by an ash wood fire. Elizabeth closed her eyes, drinking it in, and there… there.
Another scent, deeper and yet lighter than the first; possibly no more than her imaginings, but it seemed to permeate the furnishings and fill her senses nonetheless. It was of tight leather boots still damp from the grass, buckskin breeches warming by the fire, and dark curly hair freshly come in from the outdoors.
She turned slowly about, her eyes still closed in wonder, until she found the place in the room that seemed to draw her the strongest. Outstretched fingers touched soft, tanned skin, and came to rest. She could see him there; a hound perched at his feet as one hand lovingly tugged at the dog’s ear, and the other traced the page in his book. Then, he would look up to see her, smilingly setting aside his reading to take her hand. Slowly, unseeingly, she opened her eyes.
“Miss Bennet, please do pardon me.”
Elizabeth sucked in a breath and turned from the plush leather chair by the hearth, her fingers still trailing along the smooth surface. “Mrs Reynolds,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?”
Mrs Reynolds approached, her hands knotted together and her eyes misty as they swept the room. “I came to ask that of you, Miss Bennet. Did you find your room comfortable enough?”
“I have not yet gone up,” Elizabeth confessed.
Mrs Reynolds’ brows peaked upward. “Did no one show you? I do apologise, Miss Bennet, I shall have the matter set straight at once! I will send for Mary—”
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth stopped that good lady’s quest for justice. “It was by my own choosing, Mrs Reynolds. I was to meet my uncle here later, and I wished to reacquaint myself with the way.”
The housekeeper’s face melted to a more sympathetic expression. “Aye ma’am, but it has been near half an hour since you arrived. Did you not wish to refresh yourself?”
“Half an hour! Yes, I suppose I must. I had no notion I had stayed so long.” Elizabeth cast longing eyes about the room, lingering in temporary farewell on the richly laden shelves, the soft chair that whispered out in welcome.
Mrs Reynolds turned with her and sighed nostalgically. “’Tis not decent just now, Miss Bennet. We tried to put it all back the way it was, but the Master had his way, and none knew it quite so well as he.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “I beg your pardon?”
Mrs Reynolds permitted a small frown. “Well, miss, as Colonel Fitzwilliam wrote that you would be a friend and adviser to Miss Darcy, I do not think I exceed my privilege when I tell you this. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, do you see—she wished everything to be rearranged. It took over a week for us to set it all the way she desired! After Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh departed, we tried to put it all to rights again, but none knew the way it ought to go. We thought it best to instead wait for Miss Darcy or the Colonel to decide how it should all be.”
Elizabeth scrutinised the shelves a little more closely. “Why… they are all arranged by size and colour! Oh, that cannot have been how Mr Darcy would have organised them. What of that wall there? It is nearly empty.”
“That accounts for all the books Lady Catherine ordered discarded. Anything purchased in the last ten years, that was her wish.”
“What! Discarded!” Elizabeth cried. “Surely you would not have done so, Mrs Reynolds!”
“No, of course not, Miss,” Mrs Reynolds smiled. “They are safely packed away. As soon as Miss Darcy gives the direction, I shall have them brought up to be organised, but I had expected this might be the last concern on the poor child’s mind just now.”
Elizabeth turned once more, taking in the whole of the room. “I remember hearing Mr Darcy speak fondly of his library. It was very dear to him, was it not?”
“Aye,” Mrs Reynolds sighed. “He was always one for a good book, even as a boy. ‘T’would b
reak his heart to see his haven in such shambles. Poor Miss Darcy was in such distress when she heard what her aunt had ordered, but I think the dear child knew not what to do, so she gave her permission for her aunt to proceed as she liked. We did not like it, Miss, not one bit,” the housekeeper declared stoutly, “but we’d no proper justification to do other than Lady Catherine desired.”
Elizabeth set her teeth. “I understand, Mrs Reynolds. We shall begin tomorrow to put it all to rights. If it troubles Miss Darcy to lend her aid, then I shall come to offer what direction I may—perhaps during those hours when she has retired, so that I may still attend her during the day. I hope I do not overstep my bounds, Mrs Reynolds, but it would be my wish to restore some semblance of her brother’s treasured sanctuary for her.”
Mrs Reynolds fairly beamed her pleasure. “Of course, Miss Bennet. I shall have some of the staff at your disposal. Would you like to see your room for now?”
“Indeed, thank you, Mrs Reynolds.” Elizabeth followed the housekeeper toward the doors, but the matronly lady stopped and turned once more.
“Miss Bennet, I know this to be a matter of some delicacy, so I thought it might be best to speak of it in privacy. Mrs Wickham… is there anything the young lady requires for her comfort or… well-being?”
“By which,” Elizabeth smiled slowly, “you mean to inquire whether her husband has any knowledge of her whereabouts? No, he does not, and I intend for it to remain that way if possible. I would not have him here to distress Miss Darcy, either.”
Mrs Reynolds nodded in satisfaction. “We’ve a midwife about the estate,” she politely continued as if Elizabeth had not spoken. “If Mrs Wickham should require any care, Mrs Nelson is a clever hand, and Mrs Annesley also birthed four children—but they’ve all gone now, the poor things.”
“I had nearly forgotten about Mrs Annesley! Yes, certainly her advice will be welcome. I remember how wise and attentive she was to Miss Darcy.”
These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 28
