Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  Georgiana turned to Darcy. “You will be careful?” she asked in a very small voice.

  “Very careful,” Darcy assured her. “You have my word on it.”

  ***

  Darcy allowed his brother to stride ahead of him into Frederica's study where Kit raised a fist in triumphant salute. “We found her!” he said without preamble. Of course Kit would take all the credit.

  Frederica’s eyebrows rose. “She was at the wedding?”

  “No, but Miss Elizabeth's uncle was there, and he knew where they were,” said Darcy.

  Frowning, Frederica shuffled through pile of papers. “The uncle we have been watching? But we know they are not in his house, and we had him shadowed day and night! Here it is – the list of everywhere he and his wife have gone. He goes straight to work in the morning and stays there, apart from visits to the bank and the dockyards to inspect incoming shipments. He returns home directly except once – no, twice – he stopped to bring a basket of fruit to a widowed friend, apparently a habit of long standing. Occasionally he and his wife attended a dinner party.” She looked up at them questioningly.

  Kit grinned. “The widowed friend has two young ladies staying with her.”

  Holding the paper closer to her face, Frederica said, “Yes, but they are in mourning for their parents and appear in genuine distress, according to the servants – but I should not have dismissed it. Poor work on my part, quite unacceptable. Where is she now?”

  “Still at the widow's house,” said Darcy. “I did not have your permission to bring them here, and it would have looked odd to take them away on a moment’s notice. It may be best for me to remove them to the countryside rather than staying in London.”

  Frederica tapped the top of her quill against her lips. “I suppose you could bring her here temporarily. I would like to have a sense of her mettle. But in the longer term, too many people come and go through this house, and it would expose her to too much risk. Of course, everyone here must think she is Georgiana Darcy, even Andrew.”

  Darcy nodded. “A few days would give me time to make arrangements to go elsewhere.”

  Chapter 9

  Darcy pushed past Kit to hand Elizabeth out of the hackney cab in front of the house on Leadenhall Street. “I believe you may be familiar with this neighborhood, Miss Elizabeth.” It was the first time he had managed to say something just to her since they had left Mrs. Landon’s house. Kit had monopolized her attention the entire time, leaving Darcy to converse with Georgiana.

  “Of course,” she replied. “It is but two streets away from my uncle’s house on Gracechurch Street. I should go inside without delay; there may be people here who would recognize me.”

  Darcy ushered her into the house. “The servants do not answer the door since they would not know who is to be admitted and who should be sent off with a false story.” He peeled off his gloves and tossed them on a small table.

  “I see.” She removed her bonnet and gingerly hung it on a hook, glancing around as if at an unknown danger.

  Georgiana studied her surroundings with frank curiosity. “There are three of you living here?”

  “Most of the time,” said Kit. “We have frequent visitors, though. People who work with us, people who need a safe place to hide until they can make their escape, and so forth.” He raised his voice. “Freddie, we are here.”

  Frederica, dressed plainly as was her wont these days, emerged through the doorway. Her gaze skimmed over Elizabeth and fixed on Georgiana.

  Darcy said, “Frederica, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Miss Elizabeth, this is my cousin, Frederica.”

  “First names only, please,” said Frederica. “That is the rule here. We cannot be forced to reveal names we do not know.”

  Darcy cleared his throat. “And this, of course, is Georgiana.”

  Georgiana made a proper curtsy. “Lady Frederica.”

  “I no longer am permitted that title,” said Frederica somewhat absently, still studying Georgiana. “Will you join me in the sitting room?”

  Someone had made an attempt to tidy the room. The chairs had been cleared of the papers that usually covered them. But Darcy was too restless to sit after being forced to watch Kit flirting with Elizabeth in the carriage, so he stood by the mantel as Kit gallantly showed Elizabeth to a small sofa and sat beside her. He murmured something in her ear, and Elizabeth turned laughing eyes on him.

  Sometimes Darcy utterly detested his brother.

  It was not fair. First Kit had resented him for keeping Georgiana from him, and now he was determined to charm the one woman who managed to enchant Darcy. And this after Darcy had been burdened for years with the thankless task of acting as nursemaid to Georgiana! Now that same service rendered him unable to court the woman he loved. It was bad enough to forgo the future he desired for the good of England; watching his little brother steal Elizabeth right under his nose was a different matter.

  Fortunately for Darcy’s sanity, Elizabeth’s attention turned away from Kit to Frederica, who was explaining about her work gathering intelligence from across the country. Georgiana appeared captivated by the recital.

  “When will it be time to use all this?” Georgiana's eyes were bright.

  “Never, perhaps,” said Frederica soberly. “Everything we have learned will be useful in the event of an uprising, but it cannot take the place of other things we need. We can do nothing until we rid ourselves of the warships in the Thames, or their cannon will level London at the first sign of a revolt. We need some sort of army and enough ships to hold the Channel at least for a time. We are a long way from having any of those things.”

  “Then... then why do you collect all this information if you cannot use it?”

  Frederica's voice hardened. “Because if we are not prepared to seize the opportunity when it comes, there will be no hope of throwing off the French yoke. We can wait for something to change – something that keeps Napoleon’s troops in France from providing reinforcements, some terrible defeat for the French, or a mass uprising, though I cannot hope for that. It might be successful, but many Englishmen would be slaughtered.”

  Georgiana shivered. “No, I would not want that, either.”

  “Some of us wish to attack when Napoleon marches his army to Russia,” said Kit.

  “No!” His brother’s words had torn Darcy’s attention away from Elizabeth. “That would be a disaster.”

  “I do not recall asking your opinion, William.” Kit’s voice was ominous.

  Frederica held out her hand. “Wait. He knows something. What is it, William?”

  Darcy hesitated. “Napoleon has already made plans for the contingency of an English rebellion while he is in Russia. I do not know the details, but the French are to burn as many towns as possible and destroy all food stores as they retreat. He estimates that a quarter of the population would die of starvation and cold once winter sets in, and the survivors would be so weak that they could put up little resistance when the French return in the spring.”

  A heavy silence fell on the room. Frederica, looking ill, clasped her hand to her mouth and turned away. Kit muttered a curse under his breath. Elizabeth simply stared at him in horror.

  Finally Georgiana said grimly, “Yes, that is exactly what Bonaparte would do. I have been reading his favorite book on tactics.”

  Her face ashen, Frederica asked in a low voice, “William, how did you come by that information?”

  “A French general of my acquaintance told me about it when I was last in London.”

  “What charming company you keep,” Kit sneered.

  God help him, he was going to hit his brother if he did not stop. Apparently Kit’s anger at him had not lessened after all. “In fact, he told me about it because I asked him what was troubling him,” Darcy said icily. “He was very unhappy with the plan. He thought it barbaric and inhumane.” It had been an unforgettable night. There had been tears in Desmarais’s eyes. A few days later Darcy had left for Netherfield, more
hopeless about the future than ever.

  Frederica gathered her papers into a pile, but her hands were shaking. “Kit, William has done us a service by telling us this. None of our informants have reported anything about it.”

  “It is only known at the highest levels. I was told only after a great deal of brandy had been consumed. The troops were simply instructed to record the location of food supplies and to build stockpiles of torches around the country.”

  “Which is consistent with what our informants have said.” Frederica’s voice was heavy. “That means any uprising must happen without any warning, and the French troops must be encircled and isolated from their commanders. Even more reason why we need an army of our own.”

  Georgiana said, “I hid in a root cellar at a cottage we stopped at near Oxford. It was lined with stone and would not burn. Is there a way to encourage people to make secret stockpiles of food and seeds in places that cannot burn?”

  Frederica’s eyebrows rose. “An excellent idea.” She reached for her pen and began to write.

  “You had to hide in a root cellar?” Darcy tried not to sound as horrified as he felt.

  The animation left Georgiana’s face. “Only for a very short time while an army patrol rode past. They never even came to the house.”

  Elizabeth added, “This was just before the episode where we slept in a hayloft.” Her amused tone seemed to lighten the tension in the air.

  “I assume there is more to this story. How did this come to pass?” asked Kit.

  “It is quite a saga!” said Elizabeth. She launched into a light-hearted description of her adventures with Georgiana, managing to make being pursued by the French sound rather droll.

  The sound of a knock at the front door interrupted her tale. Frederica gestured to Kit. “Would you be so kind?”

  “Of course.” He rose and left the room.

  Elizabeth continued, “I was very grateful for your fast horses, Mr. Darcy. They left the French in the dust.”

  “Freddie?” Kit's voice had an odd, tentative squeak to it. “Were you expecting your—”

  “Her mother?” Lady Matlock swept into the room. “No, of course she was not.”

  Frederica appeared frozen in place, her face ashen once again. “Is something the matter? Is it one of my brothers?”

  “No, and before you ask, no one followed us here. Richard made certain of that. I never knew that boy had such devious tricks up his sleeves.”

  Frederica’s eyes widened. “Richard? I thought he was in Jamaica. Or is this another secret?”

  “No, I was in Jamaica. I just returned.” Richard stepped into the room gingerly, walking with a barely perceptible limp.

  Darcy stared at him in disbelief and then hurried forward and shook his cousin’s hand heartily. “Richard, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you back.”

  “But why are you back?” Frederica demanded. “And Mama, I told you not to come here.”

  Lady Matlock waved a hand. “I am only passing through to leave Richard here. I have sent my trunks ahead to Darcy House, where I plan to stay – I hope you do not object, Darcy? – but with a warrant still out for Richard’s arrest, he cannot go there. I thought perhaps you could keep him. You might even find some use for him.”

  Frederica, finally recovering from her shock, stood to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I am glad to see you, of course. Richard may stay here if he wishes, but I doubt the wisdom of so many of us gathering here.”

  Richard said, “Darcy, it is beyond good to see you again. I know you were there when I was carried aboard the ship, but to tell the truth, I hardly remember that time.”

  “It is astonishing you remember any of it.” The sight of Richard on a stretcher, frighteningly gaunt, his eyes over-bright with fever from his injured leg, still haunted Darcy. He had looked unlikely to survive the voyage, and Darcy had grieved for him for almost a year until he received the first letter from Jamaica. “You look to be getting around well. I still cannot believe they were able to save that leg.”

  “That?” Richard glanced down at his leg. “It was by no means certain for a time. Now it is hardly a problem except on uneven ground, and I can still ride better than you.”

  “Ha! So you would like to believe.” But Darcy smiled, happy to be on the familiar ground of his cousin’s teasing. The limp suggested walking might not be as simple as Richard made it sound, but if his cousin preferred to ignore his impairment, Darcy would respect his wishes.

  But he would never forgive the French for maiming and almost killing his cousin, not in honorable battle but by imprisoning him as a hostage for his father's good behavior and neglecting his wounds until he was near death. Even then they had not released him; Darcy had paid thousands of pounds in bribes to spirit his cousin out of prison. And then he had no choice but to put Richard on a ship to get him out of England, even if it might have killed him.

  A wave of revulsion at the unnecessary cruelty of the invaders nearly choked him. This was why he had done nursemaid service for years. Ridding England of their French oppressors was the important thing. “What brings you back to England now?”

  Richard grinned. “Perhaps I missed you so much that I had to come back. But, as you know, I have a few debts I wish to repay, and working with the so-called government-in-exile was a waste of time. They do nothing but prattle about what they would like to see happen. I prefer action.”

  Frederica nodded. “I agree. I do not take direction from them because they have so little knowledge of what we are facing here every day, and even less sense for the sentiments of the people. Some of their directives have been pointless at best.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Kit. “Not to mention months out of date.”

  “It is almost as bad,” said Frederica acidly, “as discovering my own mother has withheld crucial information from me!”

  Kit crossed his arms. “Not to mention that I might have understood why my own brother turned into a beastly tyrant overnight, rather than blaming myself all these years for having done something to cause it.”

  Darcy stared at his brother. Kit had blamed himself for Darcy’s refusal to let him see Georgiana? He felt a surge of sudden sympathy for his annoying brother.

  “Secrets are only secrets when they are kept,” said Lady Matlock frostily. “Do you think I did not wish to tell you? But I could not justify the added risk to an already perilous endeavor. No, the only one of you to whom I owe an apology is Darcy.”

  “To me? I cannot imagine why.” Darcy’s head was still whirling over Kit’s admission. He knew all too well the price of blaming himself for something he had no control over.

  “To you. You never volunteered for this duty. I could not manage to care for Georgiana and my ailing husband at the same time, but after his death, I could have taken her to live with me again. It might have required a new identity for her, or I could have taken a house elsewhere. My only excuse is that I was tired and not thinking clearly for some time.”

  His infallible aunt not thinking clearly? Impossible. And Lady Matlock simply did not become tired. Ever. But beside him Georgiana’s expression showed devastation.

  Darcy put an arm around her shoulder. “Georgiana and I have muddled along well enough, have we not? After she became accustomed to me, I would not have wished to put her through another change. In any case, the French were watching you constantly. Sometimes it seemed I got most of my news of you through my French friends.”

  His aunt’s lips tightened. “You might have told me. Although I suppose it is just as well I did not know that until now.”

  Frederica said sharply, “It is not pleasant to discover you were left out of secrets, is it?”

  Lady Matlock lifted her chin. “Enough of this. We have all been working to regain our country, and that has meant keeping secrets from one another for safety. Now it is time to pool our information and move forward. I will not tolerate pouting about each other's secrets.”

  Dead silence met her
words until Kit laughed gaily and said, “That is easy for you to say since you are the only person who knew both William’s secrets and ours!”

  It broke the tension, although Frederica still looked displeased. “Darcy, does this change your plans?”

  “I was not aware I had plans beyond staying here for a day or two while I find a house to let.”

  Georgiana looked up at him. “Could we not return to Netherfield, especially now that Jane is living there?”

  Darcy shook his head. “That might cause questions we do not wish to answer, and Miss Elizabeth could not go there safely.”

  Elizabeth's sudden pallor belied the briskness in her voice as she said, “There is no need to worry about me. I am not your responsibility. As you say, I cannot go to Netherfield, nor can I remain here. This house is too close to my uncle's home where I lived for several years after the invasion, and people in the neighborhood would recognize me. Lady Frederica, if there is a way in which I could be useful to your work without living here, I would be happy to do so. If not, the simplest thing would be for me to return to my original plan and go to Scotland.”

  “No!” cried Georgiana. “Can you not remain with us, at least for now?” The familiar fear was back in her eyes.

  Darcy’s heart soared at the idea of Elizabeth staying with them, but how could it happen after the impossible position he had put himself into by kissing her at Netherfield? That, added to causing her to leave her family and friends, meant by all the rules of honor that he owed her a proposal of marriage. But that was the one thing he could not offer, no matter how much he might wish for it in his heart, and it would be an insult to offer her anything less. He could not stay silent, though. “You would be very welcome to remain with us as Georgiana's friend.”

  Did a shadow cross her face at his words? Guilt and wretchedness ate at his stomach.

  Frederica nodded. “I think you should all go to Darcy House along with my mother. That way we can consult as needed.”

  “As I said before, Darcy House is out of the question. I would be expected to dance attendance on the French and have little time for anything else.”