That private, bashful smile tugged at his lips, a touch of hopeful pride flickering in his expression. “Do you approve, then?”
Elizabeth caught his face between her hands and gently turned his head from side to side. After a moment of polite admiration, she brushed her cheek to his, slipping her soft skin over his smooth jaw and turning to press a light kiss to his lips as she withdrew. “Mr Darcy, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
His brow raised. “Shall I have to court you all over again, Miss Bennet?”
“I do not recall being properly courted in the first place, but I do not wish to experience these past months again, if that is your meaning.”
The shy felicity warming his expression faded. “If I would spare us further such distress, I believe I must go to London.”
“How quickly we return to this! I had hoped to divert you with pleasanter topics.”
“I am afraid I am rather obstinate. I must confront my uncle or take the matter to the courts, if necessary, but I cannot have my family threatened because one man bears a grudge. Vasconcelos has a son as well, so we must not persuade ourselves to believe that his generation will be the last to bear us ill will.”
“Would not taking legal action be the last thing you would wish? It seems that you only expose yourself and your family to dishonour. Would not you do better by learning what you can from Mrs Annesley? She must know something.”
“I spoke with her not half an hour ago. While I have by no means done with her, for her actions nearly endangered Georgiana, I believe she has honestly revealed all she knew. The magistrate is now making further inquiry, but he feels as I do; we must search in London for anything of value.”
“And do you feel that Mr Wickham will divulge anything to the colonel? Would it not be best for you, the one most endangered, to remain safely here while the colonel searches for what he can in London?”
“Richard has not the deed, nor was I ever content allowing him to shoulder the whole of the responsibility. No, it is mine to bear, far more so than it ought to be his. I shall go, and I think it wisest if Georgiana does not remain here without me. I would like it if you would come as well. Perhaps Longbourn, or Netherfield might suit?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “It would be rather uncomfortable for Lydia to return to Longbourn at present. I would prefer to go on to London with you, and she and I might stay with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.”
“We cannot travel gently,” he warned. “I wish to be in London in just under three days. Mrs Wickham may find it more comfortable to remain here.”
“William, she asked me only this morning if she might be permitted to go. I think she wishes to make her peace with matters.”
He looked away, his jaw working in an attempt to keep silent whatever thoughts he had on the subject. “Very well,” he answered tightly. “We leave at dawn. With any luck, we should arrive only one day behind Richard and Wickham.”
59
Darcy House, London
“Here is where we stop.” Richard kicked Wickham’s calf—none too gently—and waited for the footman to put down the step.
Wickham stirred from his sleep, lifting his chin from his chest and looking about blearily. “Darcy House? I thought I was to be delivered directly into the hands of the army.”
Fitzwilliam cast a sour look over his shoulder. “You have been missing since August. One more day will not damage your case further, and I may have need of you. Come, you are to sleep in the stable, so you ought to choose your stall before the horses are put up.”
Wickham became alert at once. “You cannot be serious!”
“Did you expect a fine guest room? Darcy will never again lend me his house if I put you across the hall from Miss Darcy’s chambers. The stables are not so bad; I have slept in far worse in the field.”
“I am not afraid of a soldier’s lifestyle, sir. If Darcy has decreed that I am not to be welcomed in the house, then I shall accept the judgment with good grace, for I have ever wished to make myself amenable, regardless of his opinions of me.”
Richard merely snorted and walked away, and Wickham found himself obliged to walk between the footmen who had acted as his guards. Up the steps of the house they escorted him, and directly to a windowless chamber above the kitchens. It was not a formal guest room, nor yet was it the servant’s quarters. It more closely resembled a spacious closet that had been provided with the minimal requirements for a man to pass the night, and perhaps a day. Wickham entered the room and turned about in confusion.
“Mrs Adams is preparing a tray for you,” Fitzwilliam nearly growled. “The footmen will remain posted at your door on shifts, so do not attempt an escape.”
“And where do you go, Fitzwilliam? It is scarcely mid-day, and if you are to the earl’s house, oughtn’t I to accompany you? I may be able to offer some assistance.”
“Assistance!” Richard barked. “You are a liability rather than a help. I do not even go to my father’s house yet, for I would prefer to gather some reconnaissance.”
“You have a private investigator! Excellent.”
“Naturally, but first I go to another—a respectable man of good sense, if you can understand such a thing. Make yourself comfortable, Wickham.”
~
Cheapside, London
“Sir, a Captain Lopes has arrived for you. May I show him in?”
Edward Gardiner set aside his tea cup and looked up to his manservant. “Lopes? I have never heard of him.”
“He says he hails from the vessel Sonho do Mar, a merchant ship from Portugal. He claims to bear a message for you, sir, and comes with a guest.”
“How very interesting! I do not think I have ever employed that vessel. I cannot think what business the captain would have with me, but I will be glad to hear him. Show him in please, Samuel. I will be with him in a moment.” Gardiner hastened to finish his afternoon meal and rose from the table. “Excuse me, my dear,” he turned to take his wife’s hand. “I do not believe I shall be long.”
“I intended to read Lizzy’s newest letter after tea,” she smiled. “It is a nice thick one, so I expect I shall be some while in reading and responding to it.”
“Indeed! Be certain to give her my greetings.”
She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze before he withdrew. “Of course, my dear.”
Upon entering his study, Gardiner stopped short. Two individuals awaited him—the first was Lopes, a short, balding fellow in a merchant naval uniform. The second was a woman dressed in a black traveling dress with a dark veil over her face, which she had not yet deigned to lift. Gardiner glanced over her curiously, but turned back to the captain when he approached somewhat abashedly and made a short bow.
“Forgive me, sir, for calling at your home,” Lopes apologised. “My instructions were to come here, rather than to your shipping office.”
“Think nothing of it, sir. How may I be of assistance?”
“Sir, I bring greetings from Senhor António Moniz de Noronha, the mayor of Porto. He is known to you, yes?”
Gardiner stared blankly, and the captain shifted his cap nervously in his hand.
“Er… certainly,” he stammered after a moment. “I must have had dealings with him.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling as he desperately tried to recall how or where he might have heard of the man, but could think of nothing.
The captain, at least, seemed somewhat assured by his polite falsehood. “Senhor de Noronha is gratified for your kindly offer of hospitality for his daughter, Senhora Maria Amália Vasconcelos,” the captain bowed grandly and gestured toward the lady. Only then did she step forward and slowly lift the veil covering her face. She was far younger than Gardiner might have expected, but her eyes bore an ancient expression. She studied him gravely, with lips slightly parted to speak at a moment’s notice, but she held her peace.
He was staring curiously at her when the captain’s words registered to him. “Hospi
tality?” he repeated.
“Senhor de Noronha has provided generously for his daughter’s needs during her tour in London,” the captain went on. “He has consigned into my care a purse, which he directed me to give to you to supply whatever is found needful.”
Gardiner could think of no response, other than to accept the clutch of English bank notes the captain extended to him. He glanced once more at the young lady, but she had dropped her gaze and offered him no help.
“On behalf of my master, Senhor de Noronha, I thank you, sir,” the captain was now bowing. “Is there any other way in which I may be of service?”
Gardiner opened his mouth, but only a wordless huff escaped.
“Pardon me, sir, but I must return to my ship,” the captain excused himself.
Gardiner just barely remembered the proper words of farewell, and the man was gone. He stared, thunderstruck, at the thick purse in his hand, until his peripheral vision caught movement. The young woman cautiously approached, her expression full of doubt.
“Forgive me for surprising you, Senhor Gardner,” she spoke softly, with a richly accented lilt. “I can see that I am not known to you, nor is my father. I regret coming to you in this way.”
He straightened. “I believe there must have been some mistake, miss. You are correct, I have never heard of your father. Perhaps he intended another Edward Gardiner? I know of no other in London, although I am certain that my name is not unique.”
“My father says you are known by my brother,” she tried to explain, her eyes troubled. “He is Captain Rodrigo de Noronha.” She watched him for signs of recognition, but he could give her none. One hand caught the slim fingers of the other, and she fidgeted briefly. “Forgive me sir, you did not know at all of my family?” she asked hopefully.
“To my regret, Miss, I am not familiar with your name.”
“Oh,” she looked down to the floor, blinking rapidly. “I see. I must beg your pardon, Senhor Gardiner, it is not my wish to trouble you further. I shall take my leave.”
“Oh, but just a moment, miss,” he put out a hand to stop her. “I may not have expected you, but let us sort this out. Would you have anywhere else to go? Do you have other friends in London?”
She had turned away from him and he felt certain that he heard a small sniffle. Certainly, her shoulders had rounded in distress, and she was withdrawing. “Sir, I am not without friends. Do not concern yourself. I will write to someone.”
“Write!” he protested. “Of course, I would not prevent you from seeking some other friend, but I will have no lady turned out of my house who is in need of help. That is what you came for, is it not? I cannot otherwise account for such a singular circumstance.”
Her hands clenched one another and she hesitated. “It was necessary that I leave Portugal for a time. My father thought you knew my brother, and that it had been arranged that I might come here if I had need. He did not know it to be an imposition on a stranger.”
“Well,” Gardiner said kindly, “I am known to many. Perhaps I have done business with your brother, and have merely forgotten. Come, you must take some tea and I will speak to Mrs Gardiner. I imagine she will know what is to be done.”
~
“Madeline,” he called before he had even entered his wife’s sitting room. “There is the most curious—”
He broke off when he beheld his wife’s white face, the small hand that fluttered near her breast. Her tea cup had fallen to the ground and still lay there, amid a cooling puddle and entirely forgotten. She looked up to him with wide eyes and pale cheeks.
“Madeline?” He started toward her in alarm. “Are you unwell?”
She held a letter in her hand and the paper shook gently as she tilted it to read the very bottom portion. “Edward,” she breathed, “I just opened the letter from Lizzy, and she reports the most remarkable news. Mr Darcy is alive, and he has returned to Pemberley!”
“What? That cannot be.” He leaned near to peer over her shoulder. “She must have mistaken another for him!”
“It is no mistake, Edward. He returned to the house on horseback… let me see, that would have been… five, or was it six nights ago?” She reread the letter, but the paper was trembling so violently that she eventually thrust it into her husband’s hands.
He read carefully, noting the frenzied, slightly uneven handwriting that was not at all his niece’s style. “Are you certain this is truly from Elizabeth?”
“Read the opening paragraphs, Edward. She penned those before his appearance. No one else would speak about Lydia in quite that way. Yes, it must be from Elizabeth, but how could Mr Darcy be alive?”
“I have no idea. Has he a brother, perhaps? What else does she say?” Gardiner read the rest of the letter, and eventually discerned his niece’s voice as she narrated the events of her last two days. “There can be no mistake,” he admitted. “This is clearly Lizzy, and it’s quite obvious that she, at least, is persuaded that this man is Mr Darcy.”
“I do not understand. Did he intentionally disappear for a time? Was he trying to cover up some scandal?
“The only scandal I can think of is the one involving Lydia. I wish I knew more, but Lizzy is rather short on those details. Look here, she says at the bottom that she will write more on the morrow, and that we are not to come to Pemberley just now. Apparently, Mr Darcy is not keen to have his reappearance known to all.”
“I simply do not understand,” repeated Madeline. “I hope nothing dreadful has taken place! It must have been a grave misunderstanding.”
“That is not the only one of its kind. We have presently in our drawing room a young woman from Portugal, whose father—or brother, I am confused as to which—claims a prior friendship with me. I have no memory of such a person.”
“Portugal!” Madeline Gardiner put her slender fingers to her forehead. “Oh, my dear, I think I shall be surprised at nothing after today. What does the young lady want?”
“Safe haven, or so it would seem. I cannot think of another reason why her family would have sent her to London alone, to reside in the care of a virtual stranger. Perhaps there is some political trouble from the war, but I still cannot think how they would have gotten my name. Come, I must have you speak with her, for I believe she has had the wits half frightened out of her.”
She rose to join him as he led her from the room. “Edward, what are we to do with her? Does she have family intending to come for her?”
“I have no idea, and I am not certain she knows. She seemed rather lost, the poor thing. She is just through here.” He held open the door to the drawing room, and the young woman was hurriedly putting away what appeared to be a handkerchief.
She rose to greet them and offered a formal curtsey to Madeline when he introduced them. “Forgive me for troubling you, Senhor and Senhora Gardiner. I will take my leave now.” She spoke politely, but there was a hard stubbornness in her manner. Madeline, however, was quick to perceive the faint reddening around the young woman’s eyes, and the nervous twisting of her fingers.
“That will not be necessary,” she soothed. “Come, my dear, you must be in need of refreshment. You are more than welcome to stay until your family can be contacted. Perhaps we may talk matters over and learn what manner of mistake was made.”
The young lady reluctantly allowed Madeline to serve her a cup of tea, and Gardiner had begun to think himself an unnecessary addition to the room. He stood back, his mind turning over the day’s mysteries. Darcy alive! And this unknown woman begging friendship! He could think of no means of searching for more information on the first question, but perhaps he might look over his recent transactions to see if Noronha’s name turned up.
He started for the door when his manservant entered again. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is calling, sir,” he introduced in a low voice, not wishing to disturb the ladies at their tea.
This was welcome news! “The colonel! Show him in, please.” Gardiner breathed a si
gh of relief as he awaited the gentleman. Perhaps he might now learn the answer to one riddle, if not the other. Surely the man brought word of Mr Darcy, and what precisely had taken place at Pemberley.
Fitzwilliam’s red uniform appeared, and with it the colonel’s familiar smiling face. “Colonel Fitzwilliam! I am glad to see you returned from your travels. Your timing is a very great blessing, sir, for only today, I… Colonel?”
Fitzwilliam did not appear to hear him. The anticipation of pleasure had vanished from the man’s face, and he was staring mutely across the room. He nearly swayed, and was obliged to put out a hand to support himself on the door frame.
“Oh, my dear!” Madeleine was crying. Edward glanced back just in time to see the young woman’s composure flee. She had gone white to the lips, and seemed to be experiencing some trouble breathing. In another instant, she would fall out of her chair entirely. Edward started toward her, but he was too slow, as a flash of red darted to the lady’s side.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, decorated war hero and son of one of England’s most illustrious families, was on his knees and cradling the mysterious refugee. Her arms were about his neck, gentle tremors shaking her frame as she babbled a string of unintelligible sobs. Fitzwilliam was stroking back her veil and whispering words of comfort, and if Gardiner dared ascribe such to a man of his character, it might be said that he wept as freely as she.
Edward Gardiner exchanged amazed looks with his wife. It was another moment before Fitzwilliam recalled himself, but when he did, he gently assisted the lady back to her seat. She seemed reluctant at first to release him, but at last she rested again in her chair with her handkerchief clasped in trembling hands. He stood then, his fists clenched and his head low in shame.
These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 60
