Finally a footman led him to the yellow sitting room. Georgiana, her eyes red and her face streaked with tears, huddled in a chair in the corner. Mme. Desmarais hovered over her, attempting to offer her tea.
As soon as she saw him, Georgiana half ran, half stumbled to him and threw herself into his arms. Playing the halfwit? “Oh, William, I have been so bad!” she wailed. “I did not mean to be bad. Elizabeth said you would not mind, but General Desmarais says you would mind very much. I am so sorry I was bad! Pray do not be angry with me!”
He patted her back. “I know you would not be bad on purpose,” he said hollowly. “Are you injured?”
“No, I am well. They were a little rough at first, but once Elizabeth told them who I was, they were nice to me.”
“What happened?” He had not meant to blurt it out, but he had heard her unspoken message: they had been nice to her, but not to Elizabeth.
Desmarais cleared his throat. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to join me in my study, Darcy.” It was not a request.
“Of course.” Darcy released Georgiana. “I will not be gone long.”
“But...” Her voice quavered.
“Mme. Desmarais will be here with you. She is a very kind lady, I promise you, and she will not let you come to any harm.”
Darcy followed Desmarais through the grand library and into a much smaller chamber also lined with books, far plainer than the state rooms. Darcy had only been there once before, the first time he had met Desmarais, when he had been brought in for gentle questioning. It did not bode well for today's interview.
Desmarais sat down in the heavy leather chair behind his desk. “Darcy, what do you know of this sad business?”
“Nothing. Elizabeth – Miss Gardiner – took Georgiana out this morning. They were going to visit St. Paul’s, but they never returned. I have been frantic with worry. How did you come into this?”
The general ignored his question. “Do you know why they went to St. Paul’s?”
“Elizabeth had never seen it before.” It was weak, but the best he could come up with.
“Have you heard of The Loyalist?”
“Of course. Who has not?” Darcy fought to remain calm rather than demanding an answer about Elizabeth.
“They were found in the crypt with the man who publishes it. Your friend Miss Gardiner was folding copies while your sister was listening to treason.”
Darcy shook his head. Would it look like credible disbelief? “Miss Gardiner folding a newspaper? She is a lady, not a laborer.”
“She had ink stains on her hands. Darcy, I am sorry to say you were much deceived by her. She is under arrest for treason.”
Breathe. He needed to breathe. “I cannot believe it. There must be some misunderstanding.”
Desmarais placed his hands on his desk and laced his fingers together. “There was no mistake. She admitted to her crimes freely, and when I questioned her later, she did not hesitate to tell me she had been using you, hoping to gain information she could pass on to the rebels. She was proud of it. Her affection for you was nothing but a pretense. I am sorry.” His voice was gentle yet firm.
“Where is she? I must speak to her!”
“She is in a prison cell, and no, you may not speak to her. It would only hurt you, my friend. If there had been even a shred of doubt in her story, I would tell you so. She fooled you, and that is all. She is apparently a very good actress.”
But it was Desmarais who had seen Elizabeth's acting abilities, not Darcy. If only he could shout it out! But Elizabeth's only hope was for him to remain calm. Dear God, Elizabeth in a prison cell! He could not bear it. “I cannot, will not believe it. What are you planning to do with her?”
Desmarais sighed and rubbed his temples. “She will stand trial for treason. The evidence is overwhelming, and she has confessed. You know the punishment.”
Death. Bile rose in his throat. “Merely for folding a newsletter? Half of the country has a copy of The Loyalist.”
“Not whole stacks of them, all while chatting like an old friend with the man who publishes it, the one spreading the lies about Princess Charlotte being in England. He is fomenting an uprising, and she knows all about it.”
“But does that crime deserve the same punishment as if she had killed a soldier? Surely there must be something you can do.”
The general shook his head, his expression pained. “There are differences in the crimes, but the law says both are treason.”
“But you freed Georgiana!”
“I did not free her; I merely took her into my personal custody. To her credit, the one thing your Miss Gardiner did right was to tell the soldiers who your sister was and your connection to me.”
Of course she had, then she had confessed in order to distract attention from Georgiana. Just what he would have done in her position. She would die for it, and he would never have a chance to tell her he loved her. “Into your custody? Does that mean Georgiana is still under arrest?”
“Even Lamarque has little appetite for imprisoning a half-witted child who did nothing more than listen to treason she could not understand. She is still charged with treason – even I am not above the law – but I have little doubt the tribunal will find her innocent. Until then, she must remain with me.”
Disaster on disaster. Could Georgiana maintain her act day in and day out? If Desmarais even suspected the prize he held in his hand, it would be the end of everything he had worked for.
Without Elizabeth, he could hardly bring himself to care.
Georgiana needed protection. But how? “I am of course grateful you are providing her a safe place, but she will be terrified. She cannot bear being separated from me. She goes into a panic and often stops breathing when she sees a man in a French uniform, ever since the day when she was nine... but no matter. She has never spent the night apart from me unless Elizabeth was with her.”
“I cannot release her to you. Does she have a maid whose presence might comfort her?”
“No. She does not like servants near her.” Not near enough to guess her secret.
“Then all I can say is that we will do our best for her.”
Elizabeth sentenced to death and Georgiana in the single most dangerous place possible. Georgiana's acting could not always be trusted, and Demarais was not a fool. Darcy tugged at his cravat, trying to relieve the suffocating pressure. “If my aunt were willing to come here to stay with Georgiana, would you permit it?”
Desmarais's mouth quirked up in amusement. “Your aunt, the one who refused to be introduced to me?”
A trickle of sweat ran down the back of Darcy's neck. “I understand. You cannot be expected to offer her hospitality under the circumstances.” He must sound as defeated as he felt.
“She would be welcome, but will she bend her stiff neck that far?”
“For Georgiana's well-being she would. She lost her own daughter, you know.” The familiar lie came out easily.
“Very well.”
Somehow he had to force out the words. “I thank you for your consideration and hospitality for my sister.” But Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, was lost forever, all because he had come into her life and torn her away from her home.
“Of course. I wish I could do more.”
Darcy could not help himself. “I have no right to ask it, but I beg of you to allow me to see Elizabeth, even for a few minutes.”
The general sighed. “I am sorry. For your sake I will arrange for her to have a few comforts, and if you wish, I will ask for her sentence to be commuted to transportation. But I have seen what happens to women who are transported, and, were she a woman I cared for, I would rather see her hanged.”
“Would I be permitted to go with her?” He had not intended to say that.
“Darcy, my friend, she does not deserve your loyalty. I wish I could make this easier for you, but there is no hope. You must try to forget her. Come, do you wish to speak to your sister again before you go?” It was clearly his final word.
“If I may.” But the words were ashes in his mouth.
***
Darcy hesitated when he reached Brook Street. If only he did not have to enter Darcy House! Not that there was anything else he wanted to do, apart from throwing himself into the river, or perhaps boarding a ship to Canada – anything to leave this agony behind. But if there were the slightest chance his presence might help Georgiana, he had to stay. He would not deceive himself about Elizabeth, though. Her case was hopeless, and it was his fault.
Grimly he stepped inside the house.
Kit raced out of the sitting room to meet him. “Where is she?”
Attempting to keep a semblance of normality for the sake of the servants, Darcy handed his hat to the butler. “Georgiana is safe. Could we discuss this more privately?”
Kit flushed. “Of course.” Once the sitting room door was closed, leaving Darcy, Kit, and Lady Matlock alone, he demanded, “What happened?”
If only Darcy could hide from everyone until this agony lessened! But this interview could not be delayed. “They were arrested along with Andrew. Georgiana is pretending to be a halfwit. Desmarais has her in custody at his house instead of prison. He says she will be found innocent.” He turned to his aunt. “Since he could not release her to me, I asked if you would be permitted to stay with her. He agreed to that.”
Lady Matlock nodded as if there were nothing extraordinary about the request. “Should I go tonight or wait until morning?”
“Tonight, if possible. Georgiana is distraught, and I was not permitted to speak to her alone.”
“I will go immediately. My maid can pack a trunk for me to send later. And one for Georgiana, too, I suppose. What of Elizabeth?”
The black fog closed in on him. “To protect Georgiana, she confessed to treason and to spying on me. Desmarais will do nothing for her.” Could they not guess the rest and spare him the agony of saying it?
“She is a brave girl,” said his aunt, as if it were an elegy. “I will pray for her.”
Darcy turned his face away. He could not trust his voice.
Lady Matlock paused at the door. “Kit, is there any possibility Frederica could help Elizabeth?”
“No. We have faced this before. It would be too risky and would almost certainly fail. Besides, we have no way to contact Freddie since she is in hiding. Until she sees fit to contact me, we are on our own.”
“I see. Darcy, I will speak to you again before I depart.” Lady Matlock left the sitting room.
Kit closed the door behind her. “Thank God Georgiana is unhurt! I was imagining far worse.”
Darcy stared at his brother in disbelief. Before he could give into the temptation to murder him, Darcy said savagely, “Good night, Kit.”
“Wait! I know there must be more to this. Is Desmarais treating her well? Will he permit us to visit her?”
Darcy shrugged. “I suppose he will. He did not say otherwise.”
“I never thought I would be grateful that you made yourself one of Demarais’s favorites, but you were right to do so. It saved everything.”
After a long, serious look at his brother, Darcy spoke, enunciating each word carefully. “Kit, get out of this room before I kill you.”
But Kit had never known when to stop. “I know. It is a damned shame about Elizabeth. Andrew Cobham is, or was, one of my closest friends, and he is not the first I have lost this way. One learns not to think too hard about it, or none of us could keep going.”
Six years of constant caution made a thought stir in Darcy's brain. “Andrew Cobham? I thought you only used first names in case you were captured. Does he know who you are?”
Kit groaned. “You are right. Of course he knows my name; we were at Eton together. I will have to vanish too. Devil take it!”
Something fluttered inside Darcy's chest, then faded to nothingness. “Go, then.”
Kit nodded. “I will be gone within the half hour. Tell Georgiana that... I am thinking of her.” He opened the door and stepped out.
Involuntarily Darcy called after him. “Kit!”
His brother stuck his head back in. “What?”
“Be safe.” Darcy's voice was thick.
A rare soberness made Kit look older than his years. “And you as well.”
***
The next day, Darcy made the requisite call at Carlton House to see Georgiana. Apart from sitting very close to him, she seemed relatively calm. Lady Matlock chatted as if it were a normal social call, making no reference to the unusual situation. He took the cake Mme. Desmarais offered him, but he had no appetite for it. He had given his dinner last night to Puck and most of his breakfast.
Since the entire visit took place under the watchful eye of Mme. Desmarais, their conversation was limited. When Georgiana inevitably asked if he had heard anything about Elizabeth, Darcy told her only that she was under arrest. He was relieved when the prescribed half hour was over and he could depart.
He went straight to his solicitor, Mr. Baer, and explained Elizabeth's circumstances to him.
Mr. Baer removed his spectacles and placed them on his desk. “It is a sad story and all too common. What is it you would like me to do?”
“I would like to engage a barrister to defend her.” If there was anything he could do, no matter how unlikely it was to help, he had to do it.
The solicitor sighed deeply. “Not possible. She will be tried in a French tribunal, if you can call it being tried. She will be brought in, the charges will be read, and the sentence pronounced.”
Darcy had feared as much, but the confirmation robbed him of breath and drove another dagger into what was left of his heart. “Can you determine what prison she is being held in?”
“Possibly. It may do you no good. The accused are not allowed visitors, and while you might be able to bribe your way in, the odds are against it.”
“I would still like to know.” Even if it proved purposeless, at least he would know where she was.
His guilt drove him next to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon. Boxing was not his preferred sport, although he could do a creditable job at it. Today he welcomed the blows and the bruises he received, and was sorry when the Gentleman told him he had to stop.
He returned home aching and sore. After his years alone with Georgiana, it had been a delight to have his family around him again. Kit's insouciance, his aunt's gentle management of everyone, Georgiana's music. And Elizabeth's laughter. Above all else, Elizabeth's laughter.
Now it was but a house, empty of all save servants, and inside Darcy there was a deep, dark chasm where happiness had once been.
He raised his head at the sound of scratching. Puck skittered across the floor and did his best to climb Darcy's leg. To the undoubted horror of his butler, Darcy sat down on the floor of the hall and let the puppy clamber all over him.
It was what Elizabeth would have wanted.
***
The butler looked displeased as he entered Darcy’s study. “Sir, as instructed, I have been telling callers you are not at home. Mr. Bingley has been very persistent, and now he says that if you do not see him, he will remain at the door until you do. He is beginning to attract attention from the neighbors. I felt I should inform you.”
Someday, when he would not have to keep secrets any longer, Darcy would hire decent staff rather than the least clever ones he could find. He could not bring himself to care about either the embarrassment or Bingley's ill manners. Those things might once have been important to him, but not now. Still, Bingley must have something of great importance to tell him. He might as well be done with it. As long as Bingley did not ask him about Elizabeth, it would be bearable. Barely.
He would try not to hate Bingley for being able to marry the woman he loved.
“Show him in.” Normally he would straighten his coat and check his appearance, but not today. No doubt he looked as if he had slept in his clothes. To think that once upon a time that would have bothered him!
Bingle
y appeared equally ill-kempt and his pallor was striking. “Thank you for seeing me. I apologize for making a nuisance of myself.”
“Bingley, I regret that you were kept waiting. I just learned of your presence.”
“I am so sorry, Darcy. I know it is inadequate. What I did was unforgivable, but I did not know what else to do. But I had to see for myself that you were unharmed.”
“Bingley, what are you talking about?” He had no patience for dramatics.
“You do not know?”
“Obviously not.”
Bingley rubbed his hands over his face. “Some soldiers came to question Jane about Elizabeth's whereabouts. Something about an article in The Loyalist they thought she might have written. Jane denied knowing anything, but they did not believe her. They were going to arrest her and force her to talk. I could not bear it, so I took them aside and agreed to tell them what I knew if they would leave Jane alone.”
No. It could not be. Not Bingley. “What did you tell them?”
“That Elizabeth had left with your sister and you would be the most likely to know where she was. I did not tell them anything else about you, I swear it! Nothing about your, er, activities. They left Jane alone, but they put a guard on us, so I could not write to you. This morning they said the guard was no longer needed. I had to come to see if they had harmed you.”
That was why the arrests have been made. They must have been following Elizabeth, not Kit, and it was Bingley's fault. They had been betrayed by his friend.
But there was no point in saying anything now. It was too late. Dully he said, “As you can see, I am perfectly well.”
“I... I am truly sorry. If they had threatened me instead of Jane, I could have borne it. But she has suffered so much already, and she is in a delicate condition. What else could I do?”
Was Bingley really so innocent? “You could have misled them.”
“I... I did not think of that. I would not even know what to say.”
“Apparently not.” It was fortunate for Bingley that Darcy was too numb to be angry. “Go back to Netherfield and take care of your wife.”
Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 25
