“Lady Matlock, I am honoured to make your acquaintance.” Then he turned to his sister. “Miss Darcy, I understand this meeting has come as a surprise to you, and am concerned I make things as easy as possible for you.”
“Come and sit down with us, Darcy,” Lady Matlock inclined her head. “Richard will order tea. Everything is always easier with a cup of tea and a pastry.”
Darcy did as he was bidden, and made light conversation with his aunt, surreptitiously glancing at his sister occasionally. She seemed completely overwhelmed, and he thought it best to allow her to get used to the idea that he was here without forcing her to join the conversation.
For the first time, he thought it might have been better to arrive here during the afternoon. Dinner, and sitting with the ladies for a short time before they all retired would have given a shorter introductory meeting which might have been easier for her. He wished Miss Bennet was here — it would certainly have been easier to have her cheerful way of keeping conversation going, although his aunt was making a valiant effort.
28
Elizabeth hurried up the path towards the woods, the letter tightly in her hand. She wanted to discover what her uncle had written without her mother constantly demanding she read parts of it, and distracting her with inconsequential comments.
Soon she was at her favourite little clearing, and she sat on the log and broke the seal impatiently.
Dear Lizzy,
I know you’ve been impatient to hear from me, and not because of business — although I do have news for you on that front.
But I am sending this express, to give you news of our acquaintance who is undertaking new business in the north.
Elizabeth laughed to herself. Uncle Gardiner was taking seriously his determination that no one discover who they were talking about.
Today I have received a missive from him, and his letter was sent on the Sabbath from the town he’d visited on a previous occasion. On this visit he was successful in seeing the man he needed to, and they were going on to travel together to the borders.
He is expecting to meet with the other parties on Tuesday or Wednesday and I am hopeful he will feel able to undertake this business. It will be greatly to his benefit if he chooses to do so.
Elizabeth let her hand fall to her lap, the letter unfinished. It was Wednesday morning, perhaps Mr. Darcy was even now in company with his relations. She tried to imagine what it must be like for him. She could think of nothing more difficult.
He’d told her what he knew of his sister’s disposition from what his cousin had said. She shook her head slightly, he had no experience of dealing with young ladies from aristocratic backgrounds — how would he ever feel relaxed in her company? And his aunt and uncle. Had he ever met an earl before he’d be required to call one Uncle?
Elizabeth glanced up at the sunlight trickling through the leaves of the tree above as she tried to imagine meeting members of a family she couldn’t remember and who had believed her dead for many years. She had a good imagination — she prided herself on it — but she couldn’t think how she would act and behave. She rose to her feet and wandered on along the path.
Mr. Darcy was a courageous man. That much was certain. But he was surely being asked the impossible. She huffed a laugh.
Surviving a terrible attack, and having to make a new life from nothing at all — worse than nothing; knowing only that someone had wanted him dead — that had been his situation. Certainly this must be difficult, but that would have been infinitely harder.
She reached another little clearing, where she loved to relax on the thick, springy moss bank and gaze up into the tree canopy. Carefully testing that it wasn’t too damp, she lay back and closed her eyes. It was nearly lunchtime; was he dining with his relations at the inn where they’d be staying?
She drew a deep breath, and tried to imagine what it must be like for him. Was his sister trying to be accommodating to his efforts to get to know her?
Elizabeth rolled over and sighed. What use was it, wishing she could be with him? She was hundreds of miles away, and that was an end to it. Both her uncle and aunt, at different times, had taken her aside, and warned her she was unlikely to see anything more of him once he had fully taken his place as Mr. Darcy.
She knew it, of course; and it was right. A gentleman, heir to an estate of ten thousand a year, grandson to an earl, could never consider marrying the daughter of a humble country gentleman.
She gritted her teeth. Much as she wanted happiness, and had been sure she could make him happy too; his new life had taken it away. But it was important he take his place in that world — it was his right, his birthright — and if he stayed as Mr. Stoke, he would always wonder when danger might strike.
No, her job was to let him go, and to hope and pray for his happiness — and that he didn’t find the early days too onerous. But it was going to be difficult not to permit her heart to hope that he might yet return for her.
She rolled over onto her back again and squeezed her eyes shut. If he was in company with his sister, she hoped the meeting was going well. She imagined the girl, shy as she was, trying to be open to her new brother, and friendly.
29
Darcy turned to his sister, trying an easy smile. “I hope you’ve been enjoying the journey with your — our — aunt and uncle, Miss Darcy, and have felt a little easier being out of London.”
Miss Bennet would have known what to do, and what to say. But he must say something. Suddenly he felt a great warmth within him at the thought of Miss Bennet, as if he could know what she would say. He relaxed. Everything would be all right.
“Yes, I have been happier.” His sister’s voice was low, but she didn’t sound very happy. It was his task — he’d had time to get used to this idea and she had not.
“I wondered if you would like to take a short stroll with me along by the mill pond? Your companion can accompany you, of course,” he said with a smile. Miss Bennet would approve.
Her face lit up. “I’d like that, sir.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get my hat.”
Darcy noticed his relations looked astonished at her words, and when she’d left the room, Richard shook his head.
“I never thought she’d agree to something like that so quickly.”
Darcy kept his face impassive, although within him was a certain smugness — and a great wave of gratitude to Miss Bennet. Her name was Elizabeth, and she was helping him, even if she couldn’t be with him.
“I’m ready, sir.” His sister entered the room, ready to walk out.
Darcy was already on his feet, and he bowed slightly. “I wondered if you might feel able to call me William,” he said quietly. “It is the name I am used to, and it seems wrong if you feel you must call me sir.”
“Well, that is easy,” his aunt said, briskly. “We can call you William, too, if you’re used to it. I know your mother always called you William.”
“Did she?” He turned to his aunt eagerly. “Later, madam, I would like to hear more of her.”
“Of course.” His aunt’s eyes moistened. “She’d be delighted you’ve rejoined the family.”
He bowed slightly to her and turned to his sister. “Are you ready, Miss Darcy?”
She looked up at him. “You ought to call me Georgiana, if you wish me to call you William,” she said, slightly mischievously, and he saw his aunt and uncle exchange an amazed glance.
“Very well.” He offered his arm without comment, and checked her companion was also ready. He wasn’t sure quite how — or even whether — to speak to her, so merely nodded acknowledgement.
They walked along the path at the side of the pond in silence at first. He thought she seemed comfortable enough, although he was acutely aware that he’d rarely been in the company of young ladies, and certainly not any who had been raised in such an elevated household before.
She giggled, and he looked down in surprise.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m rememberin
g Aunt’s surprise when I said I’d like to take a walk.”
He knew his lips twitched. “I had been told you’re very reticent, so I was quite surprised, too.”
“But you haven’t changed much,” she looked up at him. “I remember you quite well.”
He stopped, thunderstruck. “You do? But Richard said you were only three years old!” She seemed to flinch back a little, and he immediately moderated his tone. “I’m sorry, Georgiana. I was surprised. Please forgive me.”
She smiled. “It’s difficult for both of us, of course. And I was very nearly four.” She looked ahead as they began to walk on. “I suppose I don’t really remember you that well, but I’ve talked a lot to Mrs. Reynolds about you — every day at first, when I was crying once I’d understood you’d never come home from school again. She’s told me so much about you, and about the games you used to temper so I could join you and Richard and … Mr. …”
“Mr. Wickham?” he said gently, and she turned away a little, nodding.
Darcy changed the subject back. “So I would insist you joined in our games, did I? We must have been good friends, you and I.”
She turned back to him. “Oh, yes, we were! And Mrs. Reynolds was very fond of you, too. She will be so pleased when we can tell her you have been found.” She stopped and regarded him carefully. “When I was getting older and telling her I wasn’t sure I really remembered what you looked like, she told me that you were the image of Father when he was younger. And I remember him when he was younger, and she was right.”
Darcy smiled indulgently. “And who is Mrs. Reynolds?”
“Oh, I forgot you might not remember! She is the Pemberley housekeeper. She’s been there since before I was born.” Georgiana smiled anxiously at him. “Do you really not remember anything?”
He shook his head, reluctantly. “I’d be very grateful if you can assist me over the next weeks and months. I’ve not been used to living as a gentleman, or know anything about the family.” He hesitated. “Richard has told me a little of your unhappiness, and I cannot allow it to continue. So, perhaps, in the next few days, you might begin to trust me, and afterwards you may be able to tell me what you wish me to do about the problem.” He leaned over the railing and looked over the pond. “I will not allow anything to happen that you do not undertake willingly, Georgiana. I hope you can believe me.”
Her sharply indrawn breath told him that she’d understood. “Do you think you would be able to overrule Father?” she sounded unhappy again. “He is determined.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I can see you have a good idea of what it means. I might not have been able to say it if I was working alone. But our uncle and aunt, and cousin Richard — and his brother David — are all working towards ensuring you are happy. Now I am back, it might be the answer will be even better than the obvious one. But even that would be better than Wickham, I’m given to understand.”
“Yes,” her whisper was tiny. “Even though I don’t know what any of the possible solutions are, nothing could be as bad as that.”
“Tomorrow,” Darcy said firmly, turning back towards the inn. “Tomorrow, we might walk out again, and you can tell me what he is like, and also my father. I have no recollections at all, and I would value your opinions.” He smiled. “In the meantime, I hope it is time for lunch. I have a good appetite.”
Georgiana bounced a little beside him. “I suppose you must have felt some disquiet, knowing you were going to meet us.”
He smiled. “But now the first encounter is successfully over, I can enjoy the meal.”
30
Darcy was exceedingly glad when it was finally time to retire for the night. The inn was reasonably commodious, but there was still nowhere to go to be apart from his family. A week travelling in close company with Richard, and now the emotion of the day and the strain of meeting those who had known him, but of whom he had no recollection — he was very tired.
He’d excused himself during the afternoon, and had enjoyed striding out across the moors with only Mr. Reed for company; a trusted figure from his past, and not one to skirt around difficult topics.
His walk had helped a great deal, and he’d dined with the family rather easier in his mind than he had lunched. But there was nowhere for the ladies to withdraw to after dinner, so no gentlemanly talk over the port.
Darcy stood in the tiny bedchamber and smiled grimly. He wasn’t used to that sort of life anyway. And his uncle had announced that the family would begin to travel south the next day.
Georgiana had looked anxious, and Darcy had leaned towards her.
“We’re going south, but I doubt we’ll be going directly to London. We have to finalise our plans first.”
She’d nodded, seemingly reassured, and he felt again the aching responsibility of her trust — alongside the resentment that others had assumed he would accept such a burden.
His new servant crept round the chamber, and folded his clothes over the back of the chair. Darcy nodded at him.
“Thank you, Mr. Maunder. I can manage.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Darcy watched the stooped man as he left the room. Mr. Reed had appointed him, declaring him to be an utterly trustworthy individual, even if he needed to gain more experience as a valet. But at this point in time, Darcy needed protection and loyalty more than someone to help him dress each day.
Darcy crossed to the window and peered out at the moors, outlined in the faint moonlight, the deepest shadows pooling around the inn. He smiled slightly. Gardiner had told him of Miss Bennet’s habit of walking for hours in the countryside around her home. She’d love the moors here.
He leaned against the window frame. Would he have the chance to bring her here? Would he still be able to marry, be at liberty to walk with her over these moors?
Muttering irritably, he crossed to the bed. He knew he wouldn’t sleep well. For weeks now, she had occupied his waking thoughts and peopled his dreams. Now, finding himself to be Darcy had brought more concerns to interrupt his dreams of her, and he wondered when he’d ever be able to sleep easily again.
Maunder had removed the warming pans, and Darcy lay in considerable comfort to think of Miss Bennet while he waited for sleep.
He smiled, his life was very different now to those early years sleeping in the haylofts above stables. Even since he’d been working with Gardiner, he’d kept the basic lodgings at the Swan Inn, to please Mr. Price. That tiny chamber wasn’t suitable for travellers, even those willing to patronise the little inn. This inn was rather different — at least, the chambers for respected visitors were.
He doubted someone like the earl would ever consider calling at the Swan, and certainly would not stay there.
He closed his eyes, and at once was back in the small park by St Mary le Bow church. Miss Elizabeth Bennet strolled by his side, her company undemanding and comforting. He could almost smell the lavender scent she wore.
What had she said to him? She’d told him she would understand if it was not possible for him to see her again, but she’d like it if he did. She’d told him she might have to return home soon, and ensure Mr. Bingley was the right man for her sister.
Darcy smiled to himself. It was a stark coincidence he’d been there himself the previous week. And his mind’s eye drew a likeness of Miss Bennet, striding out along the rolling hills around Netherfield, her skirts swirling around her ankles.
He swallowed and settled the pillows beneath his head. He ought not to think of her — he must sleep, or the next day in close company with his relations in the coach would be more difficult.
She was closer to him, now, as he recalled those stolen few moments before he went with his cousin to Matlock House. Her eyes had been shiny with hidden emotion.
“Take care, Mr. Darcy. You have a birthright to claim and a new world to conquer.”
Her words echoed in his mind — and her laugh.
“I will demand all the news there is from my uncle. You must
be sure to tell him what is happening!”
He hoped she was well. Her happiness was as important to him as that of his new family — more important. She had demanded nothing of him, had encouraged him, said she respected and admired him as Mr. Stoke, and he would be the same honourable gentleman as Mr. Darcy. It was exactly what he’d needed to hear.
He screwed his eyes shut. She would be thinking of him, supporting him from wherever she was. He could rest.
His uncle grumpily pulled the curtain across the window as the coach turned onto the road south, and the early dawn light caught his eyes.
“The sun rises so late this far north!”
Richard smiled. “It took the ladies a while to prepare themselves.”
Darcy looked at them both. “Are you certain it is safe for them to travel in the other coach unaccompanied?”
The earl looked surprised. “We are accompanying them, Darcy. The third coach with the servants is behind them, as well.” His harsh laugh made Darcy jump. “Your man insisted on riding on top of this coach, too. I’m certain he will let you know if he sees anything amiss.”
Darcy felt embarrassed. “Reed is charged with my security, so he would prefer to be on the same vehicle, sir.”
“Hmmph!” His uncle seemed without the words to answer.
Richard’s chuckle was the only thing to break the silence, and Darcy gazed out of the window, nettled. He was right, lack of sleep made his day more difficult, and he ought not to act in any less than a gentlemanly fashion.
“I’m sorry, Darcy.” The earl sounded placatory. “You will perhaps like to sit with your sister later on and converse with her and your aunt. But for the moment, I was hoping we might discuss how we may deal with matters back in London.”
Darcy smiled tightly at him. “No, the fault is mine, my lord. I am sorry if I seemed to take offence.”
The Lost Heir Page 13
