Elizabeth smiled lovingly at Bennet. “Oh, if that were only true.” She turned to Mary. “I shall return shortly.”
Moments later, she strode into the green room. “Lord Lindale.” She curtsied before extending both hands to Edward’s older brother. Unlike the major general, Rowland Fitzwilliam resembled the Countess of Matlock in countenance and stature. At least three inches shorter than both his younger brother and Darcy, Viscount Lindale, the future Earl of Matlock, was yet a fine-looking gentleman. Sandy blond hair. Light brown eyes. An aristocratic nose above a square chin. And an ease of movement common to men of privilege. “I am sorry that Mr. Darcy is not at Pemberley to receive you.”
The gentleman took both her hands in welcome before bringing Elizabeth into his embrace. “I do not often make it this far west in Derbyshire, but that does not mean that either you or Darcy are ever far from my thoughts. Is young Bennet well?”
“The Pemberley heir thrives.” She motioned to the chair he had abandoned on her entrance. “And the Viscountess and your own child? Pray say that this visit has nothing to do with their health.”
“Amelia and Chase have recovered nicely from her confinement.”
Elizabeth gestured to the tea tray Mr. Nathan wheeled into the room, but the viscount shook off the offer. “The Earl and Countess have spoken of little else besides the Matlock heir of late. Securing the line was very important to your father.”
Lindale stiffened, and his countenance became more somber. “The Matlock line is the reason for my visit. In fact, I have traveled to Pemberley at the Earl’s request. I had thought to speak to Darcy and through him to my brother’s wife.”
“I am afraid I do not understand the seriousness of your tone.”
The viscount reached for her hand. “The Earl and the Countess have recently spent time with friends near Hull, but a missive forwarded by the Earl’s secretary discovered them there, and they rushed to William’s Wood. The news created a troubling episode for Father.”
“Please tell me the Earl did not suffer unduly,” she pleaded.
He said solemnly, “Neither Father nor Mother is likely to recover.”
Elizabeth tightened her grip on the man’s hand. “What could bring such grief?”
Tears misted the viscount’s eyes, and he looked away to cover his weakness. “The message brought us news from Westminster of Edward’s demise at Waterloo. Thus, my journey to Pemberley to speak to Georgiana. Father is adamant that Edward’s wife knows the family’s comfort. If she wishes, Georgiana may come to William’s Wood in her time of grief. I had hoped that Darcy would encourage his sister to share time with us.”
For a moment, Elizabeth’s brain could not process his words. “But that is impossible,” she protested, at last.
“Yes, I understand,” he said with some difficulty. “We all thought Edward invincible. But as Mr. Darcy is from home, I seek your assistance in informing my cousin of this tragic event.”
Elizabeth shook off his words. “Edward is not dead,” she declared with assurance.
He patted the back of her hand. “None of us wishes to acknowledge this awful truth.”
Elizabeth was on her feet immediately. “No,” she insisted. “Mr. Darcy received a letter from his cousin only this morning. It was posted but four days prior. The Major General stays at Rosings Park with Lady Catherine and Mrs. Southland.”
The viscount followed her to his feet. “Do you have this letter?” he said in a rasp. Hope laced his words.
Elizabeth turned toward the door. “Follow me.” With the bewildered aristocrat trailing, she lifted her skirt and rushed through Pemberley’s halls to Darcy’s study. Retrieving the letter, she thrust it into the viscount’s waiting hands. “Please read it. Edward was in Kent until this morning.”
With trembling fingers, the viscount unfolded the two closely written pages. He walked to a nearby window for a closer inspection. “Praise the Lord,” he gushed as his eyes scanned the paper.
Elizabeth watched as Darcy’s cousin swayed in relief. “Georgiana is in Scotland awaiting Edward’s return. According to the letter, your brother planned to depart for Scotland today to join her there.”
The viscount refolded the pages. “Mother had suspected that Georgiana would anticipate Edward’s return. She sent a carefully worded message to the Scotland estate. The Countess prayed that Georgiana had delayed her journey, but when Mrs. Fitzwilliam did not respond to the letter sent to Georgiana at Alpin, Lady Nora insisted that I travel to Pemberley to deliver the news in person.”
Elizabeth’s composure faltered. “The Countess sent word to Alpin Hall regarding this false report? When? When was the message posted?”
“Nearly a fortnight ago. I could not leave Father until I was certain of his survival.” Rowland tapped the letter’s edge against his open palm. “Is it possible for Edward and the letter to arrive in close proximity to each other?”
“I do not see how that could occur.” Elizabeth reached for the bell cord. “I had a letter prepared to send to Georgiana with the morning post to inform her of Edward’s delay. Let me retrieve it and instead send it with a Pemberley groom. I shall reassure Mrs. Fitzwilliam of the error of the report.”
The viscount reached for his gloves. “I despise leaving you to resolve this quagmire on your own. Yet, I feel an urgency to return to William’s Wood.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth followed him toward the door. “You must inform the Earl and the Countess of this change of events.”
“May I take this letter with me as proof? My father will want to read it for himself.”
“Absolutely.” The butler appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Nathan, the Viscount requires a fresh horse, and I shall require a rider to take a message to Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”
“Immediately, Mrs. Darcy.”
Lindale turned to embrace her. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I came to Pemberley with a heavy heart. You have dramatically lightened my return journey.”
“Give your parents my regard,” she said as he loosened his grip. “And when next you come to Pemberley, I shall expect your adulation for Mr. Darcy’s son—today I shall excuse you for more pressing matters,” she said lightly as she laced her arm through his and escorted the viscount to the main door.
“It is a duty I happily accept.” He bowed over Elizabeth’s hand before taking his leave.
Returning to the house, she searched through the outgoing post. Retrieving her earlier letter from the tray, she hurriedly added a postscript. “Word of Edward’s death shall drive Georgiana mad until she knows the truth,” she said as she wrote the correction to reassure Darcy’s sister. “It is a shame that Mr. Darcy knows nothing of this quandary. He could satisfy Georgiana’s mind with more certainty than any words I might offer on paper.”
“Lizzy, I have been searching for you,” her father said as he entered the nursery. On the floor, at her feet, Ruth Joseph entertained William with a colorfully painted wooden block.
“Yes, Papa?” Elizabeth hummed a lullaby as she rocked Bennet to sleep. She barely glanced up at her father. “Does something besides my son require my attention?”
Mr. Bennet touched the sleeping child’s curled fingers. “Nothing needs your attention more than my namesake.” He bent to kiss the top of Elizabeth’s head. “It is nothing of import. This letter was mixed in among those Mr. Nathan brought me this morning. It is addressed to Mr. Darcy.” He placed the letter in her outstretched hand.
“At least, you managed to forward it to the proper recipient in a timely manner,” she teased. Her father held a reputation for procrastination. Yet, that supposition was in error. For though Mr. Bennet was dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick in its execution.
He smiled at his daughter’s playful taunt. “It was a great effort, but I persevered for Mr. Darcy’s sake. Your husband refuses to ignore his responsibilities.”
“Sometimes to the deficit of his own well-being,” Elizabeth said good-naturedly. “But Fitzwilliam’s dogm
atic nature is not among his faults.”
Her father chuckled lightly. “Some day, Lizzy, I wish to hear you recite those qualities that you believe to be among Mr. Darcy’s foibles. Preferably in the man’s presence.”
“Do you wish to have Bennet and me taking up residence on Longbourn’s entrance step?”
He seated himself beside her. “I would never complain if you should once again wish to live under my roof.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said softly. Feeling a bit embarrassed by her father’s sentimentality, Elizabeth turned the letter over to inspect the direction. “This is from the housekeeper at the Fitzwilliam estate.” No longer reluctant to read Mr. Darcy’s mail, Elizabeth handed the sleeping child to Mrs. Prulock and then broke the letter’s seal. Rapidly, she read the words that would change everything. Elizabeth paled and her hands visibly trembled.
“Elizabeth?” her father pulled her to her feet and encased her in his protective embrace. “Lizzy, what brings you anguish?” Mr. Bennet removed the letter from her grip and handed her off to Mary Joseph’s ministrations. Stepping to the window to take advantage of the light, he, too, read the missive. “This makes little sense,” he insisted.
Elizabeth took a deep breath to steady her composure. “The housekeeper claims that Georgiana is…is missing…and presumed dead.”
“Yes, I have gleaned that fact.” He remained by the window to reread for clarification. “It says that Mrs. Fitzwilliam went riding on the moors and did not return.”
“How many times did they search for Mr. Darcy’s sister?” Mrs. Joseph inquired.
Mr. Bennet returned to the letter. “It says they sent out searchers for two days straight, but were unable to turn up any clues.”
Elizabeth stiffened her shoulders. “I must go to Scotland. Mr. Darcy is to call at the estate. When he is told of his sister’s disappearance, or worse yet, of her death, Fitzwilliam shall require my presence.”
“What of Bennet?” Ruth Joseph asked quietly.
Elizabeth froze in midstride. “Bennet must come with me. I cannot tolerate a long separation; plus, having his son near will bring Mr. Darcy comfort if this information plays true.”
“Ruth and I shall accompany you,” Mary declared. “Mr. Joseph will see to Mr. Darcy’s emotional needs, but someone must see to yours.”
Elizabeth reached for the bell cord. “We shall stay at the Bingleys’ estate tonight and be on the road north in the morning.”
“Jane and Mr. Bingley have departed for Carlisle,” Mr. Bennet reminded her.
“Just the same,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mr. Bingley’s staff shall have unexpected guests.” She reached for the door handle. “Excuse me, I must see to the packing. Mrs. Prulock, I expect you to travel with us. I shall send Hannah to help you pack.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy.”
Georgiana surveyed the room carefully. Although the light remained dim, she could decipher the furniture’s sparse outlines. She had erred greatly by wandering so far from Alpin Hall. She had thought she knew the way to the ancient ruins, but somehow she had made a wrong turn, and no matter what she had done, she could not recover her bearings.
Then she had heard something behind her, and the Jacks’ warnings of highwaymen and mystical beings had played with the little composure she had had remaining, and so she had bolted like a frightened hare. Without considering the consequences, she had raced frantically across the marshy bogs and through ragtag woods. Over rocky terrain. Whatever it was had pursued her for what felt like hours. Yet, she had continued running, with the panic filling her lungs. Then Bracken had reared up. Frightened as well. Sensing her fear. Pawing the air with his sharp hoofs. She had found herself slipping from the saddle with nothing to hold her but her leather gloves against the saddle horn. Slipping. Sliding.
Even then, the sounds of dread pounded in her head. Even as she slammed into the hardened earth. Even when the air rushed from her chest with a great whoosh. With an effort, she had struggled to her feet. Bracken had galloped away, leaving her alone in a vast wilderness. All alone. Just she and the child she had planned to share with her husband. Frightened beyond reason, Georgiana had run. Ran until the pain stitched her side. Ran through bramble that scratched her arms and face. Then it had happened. Her foot had sunk into a rabbit’s hole, and she had fallen face first onto the rough outcropping. That was the last thing she remembered until she had awakened in this small room.
I cannot simply lie here, she chastised herself. I have been here for too long as it is. Slowly and painfully, she uncurled from the fetal position she had assumed to keep herself warm while she recovered. Pushing herself to a seated position, she straightened her gown over the swell of her abdomen. Tentatively, her fingers splayed across the wrinkled material. “Oh, Edward. Ask God to send me a sign that they are wrong,” she whispered to the darkness. “To give me hope.” She swallowed the fear that had returned. “I must find a way to Alpin Hall.” She touched the ringlets that had escaped from her long braid. Although it hung down her back, surprisingly, the bonnet remained tied about her neck. Untying it, she sat a bit straighter. Mustering her courage, she said, “I require a bit of Elizabeth’s tenacity and some of Fitzwilliam’s intelligence if I am to survive this catastrophe of my own making.” She sucked in a deep steadying breath. I must survive this madness, she chastised herself. “I refuse to believe that Edward did not overcome the worst of Napoleon’s forces. If he can persevere, then surely his wife can manage to extricate herself from this entanglement.” Yet, even as she said the words aloud, a tinge of self-doubt lingered.
Carefully, she lowered her skirts, and using her arms to push herself upward from the small bed, she straightened her knees to shift her weight to a standing position; yet, her best efforts would prove fruitless. An excruciating pain shot through her right leg, and she collapsed upon the hard floor.
She scrambled to sit on the cot’s edge when she heard the key turn in the lock. Shoving the loose strands of hair behind her ear, she searched the disappearing darkness to find two figures by the open door.
“Ah, ye be up,” the woman’s familiar softness brought the girl a sense of comfort, but the imposing figure lurking in the woman’s shadow caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. “We be movin’ ye soon.”
“Caution,” came a whispered voice from deep within her. With tension creeping up her spine, she could not withdraw her gaze from the man. Memories of the one who had caught her in the woods had plagued her nightmares, and the sounds of what she assumed were others with a similar fate had filled her waking hours. The screams of pain were long and agonizing. Her only escape from the horror had been to slip into a fretful sleep.
Ravenously, she watched the woman place the food on the usual stool, but she made no move to satisfy her hunger. “Are ye not’ungry?” the woman asked quietly. Unable to remove her eyes from the broad-shouldered hulk filling the door, she shook off the offer. The girl could tell his figure to be squat, but strong and forceful.
Finally, the woman noted her distress, and although the lady remained in partial shadow, the girl saw the frown deepen. “Donnae be afeared of Aulay. He wudnae hurt the smallest of God’s creatures. I be tellin’ ’im that ye be a smart one. Aulay and I be thinkin’ ye might like ’is company. Ye kin play cards or read or just talk together.”
“In the dark?” she asked hopefully, but she refused to uncurl from her defensive position.
“Nay, Child. Aulay’s brother ’as given permission to move ye later today. Be gettin’ you some more clothes—clean water—ye be likin’ a bath, wud ye nae?”
She cautiously unfolded her legs, but did not stand. The tingling had begun again. For what she estimated to be the past two days, her legs had felt numb from lack of use. “A bath would be an exquisite pleasure. Please thank your master for the privilege.” She continued to eye the man as he stepped into the light’s circle. He possessed the same intensity as the one who had taken her prisoner, but his face
was softer, with fewer lines and lighter eyes. Younger. Likewise, the dark curl falling over the man’s forehead made him appear less formidable.
“I’ll leave the door open. Aulay and I be returnin’ for ye in an’our or two.” The woman handed the man the wooden plate from yesterday’s meal and the used chamber pot. “Ye be eatin’. Ye need yer strength, gel.”
“And the light?” she said tentatively. She had hated to plead for any concession from her captors, but keeping the light was more important than the food.
The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval, but the girl did not care. She needed the light to survive. “The light’ll remain, gel.” She pointedly set the candle on the small table. “We’ll be returnin’ soon.” Then she shooed the man from the room before sweeping out the door. Good to her word, the woman left the door ajar. Cold air rushed into the room. Along with it came the rancid smell of rotting flesh.
The girl straightened before lowering her feet to the stone floor. Wrapping the blanket about her shoulders for warmth, she ignored the pungent odor. All she considered was her need to survive. She would eat the bread and cheese. She would eat for the child growing in her womb. With difficulty, she pressed her weight into her feet and straightened her knees to stand. Easy, she warned herself as she shuffled forward. Fiery pinpoints of pain shot through her muscles, and her right leg buckled. She reached for the bed, but the manacle held her in place, and she crashed to the floor. Twisting her torso to protect her child, her head smacked against the dampened stones; for a moment, the light increased, and then everything went dark.
“Mam!” Aulay burst into her sitting room. “Mam!”
His mother was on her feet immediately. “What be it, boy? What be the fault?”
“The gel, Mam,” he choked out the words. “I’s go to git her just as you says, but she be on the floor.” He paled as he pawed her arm.
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery Page 12
