“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Gardiner spoke hoarsely, his eyes on the lady rather than the gentleman, “I believe we should speak privately.”
“Indeed, sir, we should,” the colonel agreed.
60
Amália cast a nervous look about the delicately papered bedroom. A maid had already begun to sort her few belongings in preparation for an extended stay, but she still knew nothing about this house, nor how she had come to it. Richard was here, somewhere below stairs, and that was enough… more than enough.
“Ah, here we are!” came the kindly tones of her hostess, Mrs Gardiner. The lady’s cheerful countenance emerged from the dressing room, and over her arm she carried several lightly coloured gowns. A lady’s maid followed her, bearing yet more. “I thought that I had kept these, and I am so glad I did. I believe they will suit you perfectly.”
“Senhora Gardiner,” Amália pleaded, holding up a reluctant hand, “it is not necessary that you go to such trouble.”
“It is no trouble at all, my dear,” smiled the lady. “I have five nieces, and one of them, at least, is bound to have left a gown or two here that would suit you. You must be quite in need of refreshment, and I’ve already had a bath drawn for you in the next room. Now, let me see, I believe my nieces are all slightly taller, save perhaps Mary, but she favours browns. Oh, now this is lovely! It was Elizabeth’s two seasons ago, and I think she had scarcely had it made up before it was too short for her. I do not believe it was ever worn. Do you like creams and yellows, my dear?”
Amália could not help the wistful look in her eyes. She had not worn that shade since she had been a girl, for such youthful colours had been deemed unbecoming to the mistress of the Vasconcelos household. She took a breath and tore her longing gaze away. “Senhora Gardiner, truly you are kind, but—”
“My dear girl,” Mrs Gardiner interrupted, “I can see that you do not wish to impose or put me to any inconvenience, but I assure you, the pleasure is mine. It is plain to anyone that you are in need of a friend, and I am not so very much older that I do not cherish a young friend as well. Anyone known to Colonel Fitzwilliam is welcome in our house, so pray, do not be troubled.”
Amália dropped her gaze uncomfortably to the floor. Could this woman know what Richard was to her? Certainly, that display in the drawing room could have left little doubt, but Mrs Gardiner was still acting toward her as if she were a maiden, not a… she swallowed and closed her eyes. Not a faithless wife, hiding from her husband!
“Come, my dear,” Mrs Gardiner was now reaching confidently for her hand, almost as a girlhood friend from her school days might have. “Let us help you out of these traveling clothes. Once you have refreshed yourself, you may rest in the sitting room or try the instrument, or you may wish to write some letters. I will have some tea brought up for you.”
Amália permitted herself to be led a few steps, then halted. “Senhora Gardiner,” she withdrew her hand, hesitated, then forced herself to speak. “I fear you do not know what trouble I am.” She halted again. How delicious it had been for a few moments to allow this woman to treat her as an honourable guest, and a young lady of good repute! “I… I have a husband in Portugal. I left him, and he does not know where I am.”
Mrs Gardiner’s eyebrows lifted very faintly, and Amália’s suspicions were confirmed. The woman had not fully comprehended her introduction, and had assumed her to be unwed. And why would she not? What woman fled her husband so disgracefully?
“I am sorry, Senhora Gardiner,” Amália twined her fingers together, regretting for only half an instant that she had thrown the golden band of her station into the sea during her voyage. It was an adornment she would happily do without, but she was sorry that its absence had caused this good lady to be misled. “I never did mean to deceive.”
“My dear girl,” Mrs Gardiner reclaimed her hand with the firmness of a mother, or an elder sister. “How you came to be with us is a conversation for later. For now, the bath is hot, and there is nothing quite so disappointing as delaying so long that the water cools before you can enjoy it.”
~
“She is married?” Edward Gardiner tilted his head forward and his scissor spectacles nearly slipped from his nose. “Oh, dear, I am afraid I did the lady a disservice in my address. She was gentle enough not to correct me.”
Richard fumbled with his thumbs and squirmed a little in his chair. “I doubt that it disappointed her much not to be spoken of as Senhora Vasconcelos.”
Gardiner tossed aside the spectacles he had used to read the letter given him by Captain Lopes, and pinned the colonel with a hard look. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, if the lady is married, and the gentleman is not yourself, I think I must ask you to explain that little scene in my drawing room.”
Richard dragged a long sigh through clenched teeth. “There are many things I would rather not disclose. What you must know is that I intend no dishonour to her, sir. I did leave your address with her brother, in case he had need of a discreet and trustworthy means of contacting me. I had no idea that he might find himself in a dire enough position that he would have given your name as a safe destination for her. It was not done with any design on my part, for it had been my recommendation that she travel to Brazil.”
“So, you felt it right for her to leave her legal husband?”
Richard closed his eyes and fought to steady his words. “Sir, she is still legally bound to him, and I make no challenge to that. I, as well as her brother and apparently now her father, fear for her safety—nay, her very life—if she were to remain with her husband.”
“Forgive the hard questions, Colonel, for I know you to be a man of integrity, but if the young lady is to remain in my house, it is for me to see that things are done properly. How is it for you to judge that she might be in danger? I wonder if your sentiments might be conflicted, sir.”
“Mr Gardiner, you might be surprised to know that it gives me relief to hear you express your doubts. I believe you to be fair and honourable, and you will keep her safe until some other situation may be found for her. As to the danger to her in Portugal, I can warrant it for a surety. She was the one, do you see, who released Darcy from her husband’s house.”
“Ah! And now we are come to the greater mystery. Yes, you said that he had been imprisoned there. What was the reason, and why such intrigue?”
“Greed, Mr Gardiner, pure and simple. Manuel and Miguel Vasconcelos thought Darcy had something that they wanted. They found others here in England who were content to see Darcy dead, or at least presumed so, for their own purposes.”
“But Mr Darcy is one of the noblest gentlemen of my acquaintance! I cannot conceive what anyone could hold against him.”
“A fortune worthy of the future Earl of Matlock,” Richard’s fingers curled into fists.
Gardiner’s eyes widened and he emitted a small gasp of sympathetic dismay.
Richard shook his head, regretting that he had spoken so much. “Forgive me, Mr Gardiner, but the information I have in that regard is still very troubling, and I hope to heaven it is untrue. I pray you would not repeat it until I have further proof.”
Gardiner’s bushy eyebrows jumped. “I see. Well, Colonel, you did not come expecting to see Miss… forgive me, Mrs Vasconcelos in my house, so what brings you here? Have you come to ask my help?”
“I bring letters; one from Darcy and one from Miss Elizabeth. They explain themselves adequately, so I shall not attempt to summarise them. Also, you ought to know that I brought Wickham to London with me. He is up to his usual tricks, wearing his hat both directions you might say, but he has already given me some interesting information, and I intend to keep him close for now.”
Gardiner was replacing his spectacles to read the letter from Darcy, but his hand slowly fell. “What do these tidings mean for my niece?”
“Darcy explains that as well. Wickham will stand trial when I have done with him, but what manner of trial that shall be has not yet been determined. I
may be able to wield some influence in his favour, but then again, I may not.”
Gardiner tapped the letter. “I understand. What more do you require?”
“Very little for now. I hoped to collect any letters you received from Darcy’s steward, for he seems to have been complicit in the affair, and I believe he was in contact with my brother. Jefferson burned the evidence and hanged himself when Darcy began asking questions, so there is nothing more we can ask of him directly. I would have the man’s own words to account for business matters at Pemberley, and your transactions with him are the most recent. Perhaps I might find some proof there of Wickham’s allegations before I commit the unforgivable. If I am to accuse and perhaps ruin my own brother, I would rather have more evidence than the word of a known liar.”
“Certainly, Colonel. Oh, this is all dreadful, indeed! I have the letters here in my desk. There are only three, and I believe they were more of a courtesy than anything else, for I think Elizabeth managed quite well enough. I doubt you will find them of much value.”
“Thank you, Mr Gardiner.” Richard accepted the letters and tapped them uncomfortably on his knee.
“Colonel,” Gardiner offered slyly, “perhaps before you go, we might join Mrs Gardiner and her guest for tea.”
Richard blinked and smiled faintly. “I would like that.”
~
He was a fool. A deuced simpleton, walking blindly into temptation and disaster, and enjoying every minute of it.
Richard had thought it might be possible to partake of a brief refreshment with the amiable Mr Gardiner before continuing on his way. After all, he must sustain himself, and his next errand to Tattersall’s would not be conducive to a quiet bite. That Amália would join them shortly with Mrs Gardiner, he determined to be only a pleasant diversion to the scheme. How wrong he had been!
He could not measure his gratitude to the kindly Gardiners for their willing hospitality toward a virtual stranger, nor could he adequately bless Providence for Ruy’s unexpected notion to send her to London. She was safe, and for that, he would rejoice the rest of his days. He could rest now, watching from a distance and silently guarding her until something could be heard from her father or brother. The only trouble would be in keeping his distance.
He had nearly finished his tea, and was just beginning to think that, perhaps, he ought to go, despite the fact that it would be rude not to pay his respects to the ladies. It was then that she appeared. Richard nearly dropped his cup and saucer, and as it was, they rattled most unforgivably when he set them aside. She stood at the door of the drawing room, eyes hesitantly raising to him and a flush staining her cheeks.
She was wearing a soft muslin gown, one that reminded him so much of the first day they had met that he felt his mouth run dry. Its buttery shade lent warmth to her dark eyes, highlighting the brilliant golden flecks and bringing life to her rosy lips. She had caught one finger in her other hand, and a shy smile flitted upon her mouth.
Richard jerked to his feet, at last aware that he had been staring. If Mr Gardiner had noted his complete loss for words or—heaven help him—the sudden fire stirring his entire being—the man was too good to speak of it. He smiled graciously, and somehow smoothed over Richard’s callous manners.
“Senhora, I trust that you have been made comfortable. Will you join us for a little refreshment?” Gardiner gestured to a chair; one near himself, and not within comfortable conversation distance for Richard.
The pointed direction was not missed by either party. Amália’s tentative pleasure faded, and she dutifully accepted the seat near Gardiner. Richard was slow to resume his own seat, for he could not help casting a longing look toward the chair just between hers and his own. To his mortification, Mrs Gardiner drew near with a smile and an arched brow, and Richard came to himself enough to assist the lady into the chair he had desired for himself.
“My dear, have you ever had an opportunity to visit London before?” Mr Gardiner inquired politely.
“No, I have traveled from Portugal only once; through Spain to France.” She glanced up to Richard again, then her eyes fell away when they touched his.
He felt a rock forming in his stomach. Oh, he was not equal to this! He could not sit politely in the same room with her, sipping tea with the Gardiners as though she were an indifferent acquaintance—as though his heart did not sing each time she smiled, as though he could look at her, so seemingly fresh and innocent in that soft muslin and not imagine the feel of her skin—not recall the warmth of her lips, as though it had been yesterday instead of three years since he had last tasted them!
“I hope you shall like our city,” Mrs Gardiner was offering. “Perhaps we will show you the parks, or the theatre.”
Oh, no, she must not go out! Amália must have known the same, for she looked nervously to Richard. He tensed, but it was not necessary for him to make a reply.
“I think it might be wise,” Mr Gardiner put in quickly, “if we allow our guest some days to recover from her journey, my dear. It would not do to tire her needlessly, and London will still be here in a fortnight.”
He was staring at her again. He realised it when he found that he had watched each flicker of emotion across her features, each twitch of her fingers on the cup as she listened to Mr Gardiner. Richard blinked and shook himself. He was a dunderheaded ass, if he thought he could breathe the same air as she and not bring catastrophe upon them both.
“Forgive me,” he rose abruptly, unsettling his cup and dropping his napkin. “My apologies, Mrs Gardiner, Mr Gardiner, but I must be going.”
“Of course, Colonel, but we are sorry to see you go so soon!” Mrs Gardiner’s dismay was plain, and she even looked slightly hurt.
“I pray you, Mrs Gardiner, to overlook my manners at present,” he apologised. “I had nearly forgotten the time, that is all, and I have a pressing engagement.”
“Indeed, you must not delay,” agreed Gardiner as he stood. “Please send word if you are in need of anything at all, sir.”
Another glance—he could not help it—and Richard tore his eyes away. His throat was too tight to risk speech, so he simply nodded, crude as it was. He took a step away from his chair and bowed to the room, mumbled a hoarse word or two of gratitude, and fled.
61
London
“Senhor, there is a message for you.” The manservant extended a tray with a bow, and waited for his employer’s notice.
Vasconcelos had been facing the street, but turned with sharp interest. He dismissed his hired man and had the sealed note half-opened when his son came to stand by him. “Have they found my wife?” Miguel demanded. “She cannot have been so very difficult to find, yet it has taken days!”
The father turned purposefully away, shielding his information and scowling in disdain. “I have not sent men to find your foolish wife.” He scanned the note quickly, and his eyebrows raised in interest. He folded the paper again without allowing his son to read it, and returned to the desk to pen a reply.
“Well, what is it?” Miguel waved his hand impatiently. “Will you not tell me, Pai? Where is she?”
“I’ve not the least notion, nor do I care,” the father replied, in a tone of deep ennui.
“But what of an heir? Do not all your designs require that our family continue on?”
Manuel Vasconcelos continued writing without making a response. He signed his note with a flourish and sealed it, then leveled an annoyed look toward his son. “If the woman is found, well enough. Sire your heir and do as you like with her. If she is not, we shall simply have her declared dead, and you may find a more suitable wife. These things are not impossible.”
Miguel stalked to his father’s desk and slammed his fist down on the old oak. “I want her. I do not wish for a meek little woman, bred to lower her eyes and do my bidding! What better proof of our family’s return to the highest classes of society than the adoration of the Noronha wench? She does not bow to just an
yone. Conquering her, now that is something in which I can take pride!”
“Your desire has nothing at all to do with matching your sword to that of the Englishman?”
Miguel sneered. “Fitzwilliam is a cub who fancies himself a lion, parading about with his medals and his epaulets and assuming that the real wars are fought on the battlefield! She must have tired of him by now.”
Vasconcelos arched a dry brow at his son as he summoned the manservant. “I must speak with the viscount. I trust you will do nothing foolish while I am away.”
“You have yet to tell me what this is all about,” Miguel gestured to the note. “What has been found?”
“Perhaps nothing. There is merely some activity about Darcy’s town house.”
Miguel looked up. “Your men did not capture him yet? I thought you dispatched more for the task just last week!”
The father’s jaw clenched as he donned his coat. “No, they have not, but Darcy’s estate is some days from here. It is not impossible that they might yet be sending word.”
“It is not Darcy who has returned to London? What else could occasion interest and a visit to the viscount?”
Vasconcelos smiled tightly as he faced the door and awaited the manservant with his hat. “Why, your old friend, Colonel Fitzwilliam himself.”
~
Hertfordshire
“Was your room satisfactory last night?” Darcy had been watching for the very moment his sister’s head would roll against Lydia Wickham’s shoulder during this day’s carriage ride, and had immediately stolen the opportunity to take Elizabeth’s hand into his. He turned his head slightly to peer under the rim of her bonnet, which she lifted obligingly to smile up at him.
“Perfectly tolerable,” she answered. “I daresay, I have never been accorded such deference when traveling with my aunt and uncle. I do believe each of the beds had been freshly feathered in preparation for our arrival!”
These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 61
