The Lost Heir

by Harriet Knowles

  52

  Darcy stared out of the window of his bedchamber as he waited for the manservant to bring his jacket. He was surprised not to have seen Elizabeth walking in the gardens; he thought she would have been determined to take the opportunity.

  She had looked very tired, of course. It would benefit her if she had been able to sleep.

  There was a perfunctory knock at the door and Richard poked his head round. “I thought you’d like some company down to breakfast.”

  Darcy nodded. “I’m ready.” He nodded at the servant and double-checked his cravat. He followed his cousin along the corridor, smiling slightly.

  He’d not thought of Richard as being particularly sensitive to his feelings, but the fact remained that he didn’t know how people in society lived. For four years, he’d lived in a hayloft, followed by two years in the tiny chamber at the Swan. Then he’d kept the room on even after he’d begun work at Gardiner’s — eight years altogether. He shook his head.

  The only times he’d stayed in anyone’s home were those few nights at Netherfield, one night at Gracechurch Street, and a few at Matlock House. It was to be hoped that the last would stand him in good stead for the manners required here.

  He wondered what it would be like to have a home — a real home — where he could amass a few possessions and know they’d be there when he wanted them again. But a real home needed a family, or it was just a shell. He found himself longing for a family around him.

  A family. He smiled to himself. The family had to encompass Miss Elizabeth Bennet, or it wouldn’t be what he wanted.

  He ate mechanically, not really aware of those around him. He’d found his family, and they’d accepted him, but he didn’t know them, didn’t understand the way they thought or acted.

  “Darcy!” The duke’s sharp voice caught his attention, and he looked up.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I was not attending.”

  “That much is obvious.” The older man moderated his voice. “I’m trying to remind myself that you, too, must have had a difficult journey north, together with your anxiety for your sister.”

  He didn’t wait for much of a reply. “We must meet after breakfast in my library. I expect Soames will arrive with our statements shortly, and we must ensure that we know what he intends to do to prosecute the case, so our evidence is complete tomorrow.”

  Darcy nodded, but his eyes stole to the door. “I would like to speak to the ladies at some juncture, Your Grace.” He looked over at the duchess.

  “Is it your opinion they will be recovered enough to come downstairs today?”

  She looked over at him with a slight smile, and patted her mouth with her napkin. “I have taken tea in my chambers this morning with Miss Bennet. Understandably, her urgent desire is to go home, but she knows I cannot arrange it today.” She nodded at the footman to pour her another cup of tea. “She is writing to her family, I believe, but she has agreed to encourage Miss Darcy downstairs later this morning.”

  Darcy knew a sense of relief, mixed with disquiet. It seemed she was reluctant to stay here, and that might be due to her mortification at having had to tell her story. But he would have the opportunity to see her. He needed to see her, to speak to her, tell her of his joy that she was now safe. He wanted to tell her of his wish to make their lives together. Could she forgive him for his change of status, and that he’d unpardonably put her life in such danger?

  But he could write to his father and ask for a coach to be sent. He frowned slightly, perhaps it would be better to hire one here, he didn’t know yet how much his father knew of what had happened. He turned to his cousin.

  “Richard, do you know what your father would have told mine about this matter?”

  “I don’t know, old chap. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s not here yet. He would have dropped everything to follow us, I think.”

  “My father?” Darcy was appalled. “Is he well enough? Would he want to speak for Wickham and save him that much?”

  Richard looked bemused. “No, I meant my father.” He chuckled. “He always likes to interfere in every drama.”

  Darcy subsided, pushing away his irritation. This …drama had nearly cost Elizabeth her life.

  “She is safe, Darcy, and she’ll be downstairs a little later.” The duchess was looking at him, her gaze soft and kind.

  He nodded. She probably thought he was anxious for his sister. While he was, it was nothing like his fear for Elizabeth, she was everything to him.

  “I think it’s wonderful, how soon you’ve taken responsibility for Georgiana, given you hardly know her!” Richard cheerfully helped himself to another plateful of food.

  The duchess caught Darcy’s eye, and he knew that she, at least, understood him. He turned to Richard. “I am concerned for my sister, of course. But she is not my main concern.” It would take a very long time for him to rekindle his formerly close friendship with Richard, he knew.

  The last decade had obviously changed him utterly, if he had been anything like this family before. But he would not wish himself like that.

  He was distracted as they talked with the lawyer in the library, their statements as he’d written them dry as dust.

  “Is there no way to say how much distress and anguish Wickham caused these gentlewomen?” he barked, angry at the apparent failure to describe it fully.

  The lawyer looked surprised. “Your statement must describe what you saw, Mr. Darcy, and the effect it has had on you. As you see, I have described here your belief that he was also the cause of your original injuries, and what that has cost you.” He smiled thinly. “Miss Bennet’s statement has more detail about the ladies’ ordeal, and I have left space to add to it about her feelings now. I will do that when I can speak to her to obtain her signature.”

  Darcy saw Richard’s speculative glance and forced his features out of a scowl. It had been easier when he had few acquaintances and no friends. If he couldn’t be William Stoke any more, he wished he could be wed to Elizabeth, and living deep in the country with her, without visitors. It would be better to go back to a simpler life.

  “This will all be over soon enough, Darcy.” The duke’s gaze was also speculative, and he nodded. It would be better to stay quiet. Even if the trial didn’t go well and Wickham was not sentenced to hang, there was no doubt he’d be transported. Either way, he’d never trouble them again.

  “Well, I think we have completed this, Your Grace.” Mr. Soames shuffled the papers together. “Now, I need to see Miss Bennet to obtain her signature and any other evidence she wishes to give me.”

  The duke rose to his feet. “Yes, my wife wishes to be with her, of course, and has arranged the small sitting room for your use.”

  As he watched them leave the room, Darcy’s heart nearly broke at the thought of what Elizabeth would have to endure again. It was all his fault.

  His cousin nudged him. “We’d better go through to the drawing room. Georgiana will be alone if Her Grace is with Miss Bennet.”

  More duty. He sighed. “It’s you she will need to comfort her, Richard. She doesn’t know me.” He was surprised when his cousin flushed. He’d missed something. Pondering, he followed him through to the drawing room.

  He bowed over her hand. “I hope you had a restful night, dear sister, and feel restored.” He was surprised to see her eyes fill with tears.

  “Thank you, William.”

  “Come, compose yourself.” He floundered for the words to say. “Let me call for tea.” Tea was always the answer to a lady’s distress, he thought.

  She smiled shakily, and joined him and Richard by the fire. “Poor Elizabeth, having to recall it all. And it’s all my fault!” She burst into tears.

  Darcy and Richard exchanged appalled glances, before Richard went and knelt by her chair, pulling out a handkerchief.

  “Come now, Georgiana. It’s not your fault, of course it’s not. How can you even think it?”

  “But it is!” she wailed. “Elizabet
h didn’t want to get in the carriage. She was suspicious and wanted to check with William first. But I insisted. I said I’d go without her if she wouldn’t come, because I didn’t want Father to think I didn’t care! And I knew she wouldn’t let me go by myself, so it was safe to say that.” As she hiccuped her way through the tale, Darcy grew cold inside.

  He’d known the facts, of course, but this reminded him once more of Elizabeth’s actions. She had done nothing wrong. The whole time he had known her, she hadn’t put a step wrong. She’d encouraged him, assisted him with his business. She’d protected him when she thought Richard might wish him harm. She’d encouraged him to reclaim his birthright — but that had been before they knew of the depth of evil that was Wickham — and now, he’d discovered that she’d been willing to risk her life to be with his sister, a girl she’d only just met, knowing that something was almost certainly wrong.

  He sat back, allowing Richard to comfort and reassure Georgiana. He must speak to Elizabeth, tell her of his admiration. Surely he would have the opportunity very soon?

  53

  “Thank you for accompanying me, Your Grace.” Elizabeth looked down. Although she’d have preferred a maid, she knew she needed to keep her hostess as an ally. As the lawyer left the room, she turned her gaze back to the older lady. “I wonder if you might excuse me for ten minutes to take a turn in the garden before I join you all again?”

  “Of course, my dear. I understand it is difficult for you. I had better go back to Georgiana, I think. There seems to be something disturbing her.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth slipped upstairs to find her coat and hat. At home, she wouldn’t have thought of needing them, but here, she ought to be properly attired. A great longing rose up inside her to be home, back at Longbourn and able to take long walks in the wooded hills. Even Gracechurch Street didn’t give her that freedom.

  She didn’t have very long, she knew. But perhaps she might reach the stream she’d seen from her bedroom window that morning. She lengthened her steps over the neat paths. Would it be outside the bounds of propriety to cross the grass? She glanced back at the house. Perhaps she’d better get round the corner first.

  At last, she had a few moments of freedom. She untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off, shaking her curls free and enjoying the brisk breeze. Crossing the grass towards the stream, she already felt better, cleaner.

  “Miss Bennet!” His voice startled her, and for an instant, she was irritated. Then she was embarrassed. But the emotions soon vanished; he cared enough to speak to her, despite his knowledge of what had happened to her.

  She stopped to wait for him, and curtsied. “Mr. Darcy.”

  He hesitated. “May I walk with you? I know you enjoy solitude, but it is difficult to find a moment to speak privately.”

  She smiled at him. “If you wish, we can walk together.” She gazed ahead. “I thought the stream looked interesting.”

  He nodded, and fell into step beside her. She glanced around. “Although I suppose we ought to go closer to the house, to be in view of the windows. I wouldn’t want you to be accused of any impropriety.”

  He looked as if he wanted to object, then shook his head. “Whatever you wish, madam.”

  The formality of their words brought home to her how much circumstances had changed for both of them, and she smiled wryly. “It seems a long time ago that we worked together on the uniforms business.” She must ease his mind.

  “I often find I wish myself back there, Miss Bennet. I was happier, discovering the joy of working closely with someone and in good accord.”

  She nodded. “But you were born to better things, Mr. Darcy. It would have been wrong to deny your birthright.” She forced a bright smile. “And now the difficulty is nearly over. You will be able to get to know your family in easier circumstances.”

  He sighed, and his steps slowed a little. “It will still be difficult for me, I think. I can think of nothing but how their complacency has made everything incomparably more difficult and dangerous.”

  Then he shook his head. “And I have only just heard now from Georgiana that it was she who forced your hand to get into the coach; heard that you wished to wait a little and send to see if the message was genuine.” He stopped and turned to face her.

  “Her carelessness, and the carelessness of Wickham’s initial arrest that allowed him to get free — all that could have cost you your life, and has certainly cost you peace of mind.” He rubbed his forehead absently, exposing the jagged scar he was usually careful to cover. “And not only that, it was my carelessness in bringing Georgiana to you that put you in such danger.”

  She couldn’t bear it, and reached out her hand. “Mr. Darcy, please stop this. None of it, none, could have been foreseen.” She took his hand, hearing his breath catch. “And imagine, although I admit I am disquieted, the fact that now his crimes have been made obvious, why, it means you will be safe in the future. That is worth much.”

  He looked at her hand in his. “But I cannot think of anything but the danger you were in. None of it was your doing.”

  She looked up at him. “I don’t believe it was your fault, Mr. Darcy. But if you do blame yourself for anything, know that I forgive you. It is as if it had never happened.” She smiled a little. “What concerns me is that what you had to listen to will come between us. I find myself unable to forget that you all now know of my mortification.”

  His hand tightened around hers. “I’m sorry you were embarrassed by it.” His crooked smile melted her. “I thought it might be easier if I came to you outside than if you had to brave a room full of people you hardly know.”

  She laughed. “You are correct! And I am relieved you did so.” She ought to take her hand away, she ought not to have reached out to him. “Let us walk on a little.” She missed the warmth of his clasp, but it could not be.

  “Finding your new life must have been very hard for you, even before this last week.” She wanted to know how it had seemed for him. “I remember before, you told me you were living in your old chamber at the inn. I was thinking how strange it must be, never to have had a home, a family. It must have seemed like a rootless existence.”

  Mr. Darcy nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can’t remember feeling the loss of it in the early years. All the stable lads who were away from their families slept in the haylofts. We had nothing of value, no privacy of a place to call our own.”

  He smiled thinly. “I was fortunate when old Mr. Price offered me the chamber in payment for the assistance I was able to give him in the evenings. And he was so proud when I began to work for your uncle, and delighted to let me keep the room on at a very low cost.”

  “But you will find a proper home and family congenial, I think.” She was learning more about him.

  “Perhaps,” he sighed. “This sort of life seems very superficial to me at the moment. At Netherfield Park it seemed to be very much everyone filling their time to make life seem meaningful, and here, it is the same.” His glance seemed poignant. “The life I really envied was that of your aunt and uncle. His business was there to ensure the security of his family, not wealth for the sake of it.”

  She nodded. “I love staying there with them. Their love and acceptance gives me great comfort. But, although my home does not have that atmosphere, it is wonderful to be free in the countryside, to be able to walk for miles, and to know one’s friends and neighbours. London is too crowded to be able to feel that.”

  “I appreciate your views, Miss Bennet.” He seemed very thoughtful, and they walked on in silence for a time.

  She wanted to ask him why Wickham had said he was using her as a trap, why he’d known that Mr. Darcy would come after her and not his sister. But she knew it, really, and she didn’t want to embarrass him. “Come, Mr. Darcy. We ought to return to the forced society of our hosts.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said agreeably, and they turned back towards the house. He seemed to want to say something, and she slowe
d her pace to give him time.

  “Her Grace says you are anxious to go home, Miss Bennet. I have to remain here for the trial tomorrow, but afterwards, I would be honoured if you would allow me to hire a coach and accompany you and my sister home.”

  54

  Darcy walked beside her back towards the house. He was happy they seemed to have got over any possible embarrassment she might feel, although he wished he’d had the confidence to come to some sort of understanding with her — or even make her an offer. His life as Darcy was certainly less important.

  She gave her hat and coat to the maid waiting in the hall, and he watched as she lifted her chin and preceded him into the drawing room. No one would be able to guess at her inner mortification and embarrassment.

  Both gentlemen in the room rose and bowed respectfully, even the duke, and Darcy wondered if she realised the honour he was according her. She curtsied briefly before joining the ladies by the fire, the duchess having patted the seat beside her.

  Darcy reluctantly joined his cousin and the duke.

  “She doesn’t seem too embarrassed, I’m glad to see,” Richard remarked quietly.

  “I think you were right to go out and speak to her, Darcy.” The duke seemed to have a better idea of how she must feel. “My wife told me earlier how like our oldest daughter she is, and how much it costs her to put on a brave face.”

  Darcy glanced at him, surprised. “And has your daughter overcome such difficulty, Your Grace?”

  The duke shook his head. “We know of it, and try and ensure she has the opportunity to talk about it when she needs to. Fortunately, her husband is also understanding.”

  Darcy could be understanding for Elizabeth. He could give her a peaceful life, and wrap her around with wealth and comfort. He would never again let her suffer as she had.

  His hand still burned from her earlier touch, and he breathed deeply. He must pay attention to the conversation.

  “Soames has gone to lay the evidence and our statements,” the duke was saying. “He will send to us, and tell us when we are required tomorrow.”