A Matter of Honor

by Abigail Reynolds

  “I am glad you recognize your error, but you may save your excuses for Miss Merton. I do not care a jot what a Sassenach army officer thinks of me, nor have I any concern for your comfort.” Mrs. Graham, seeing the strain on Georgiana’s face, added more gently, “Nay, dinna fret, lassie; I dinna blame you for what the English army did to us long before you were born! Come sit by me, and I will show you how to hold the harp.”

  DARCY FIDGETED, TRYING to see out the window in the gathering gloom. It had been more than three hours, and it was getting dark. Where could Elizabeth have gone? She had not mentioned plans to go out, but she had apparently left immediately after Richard leveled his insults at her. Damn Richard! Yes, it had no doubt looked suspicious to his cousin, but he might have given Elizabeth the benefit of the doubt.

  “Are you angry at me for coming?” Georgiana asked in a small voice.

  He reached out a hand to her, careful not to move his head. “Not at all, sweeting. It was thoughtful of you to be concerned.”

  “You look angry,” she whispered.

  Darcy closed his eyes. “I am worried about Miss Elizabeth, and my head aches. That is all.”

  “He is angry at me, poppet,” said Richard. “Pay no attention.”

  Darcy met his gaze. “Yes, I am. For thinking so poorly of both Miss Elizabeth and me,” he said levelly.

  “Good God, Darcy, how many times do you want me to apologize? What am I supposed to think when I find you secretly sharing a house with a girl I know perfectly well you –”

  “Richard!” Darcy warned.

  Richard threw his hands up. “Pray tell me when it is safe to talk to you again.”

  A light, melodic laugh sounded from the entry hall. Elizabeth was back! Darcy started to push himself to his feet.

  “No!” cried Georgiana. “You must not walk!”

  Cursing under his breath, Darcy lowered himself back into the chair. Damn his leg! He should be used to this by now.

  Hesitantly, Georgiana said, “Would you like me to give her a message?”

  What? Quiet, timid Georgiana offering to speak to a total stranger? She must be desperately worried about him. “If you would not mind,” he said slowly. “You could tell her that I will be greatly in her debt if she could spare a moment to speak to me.”

  “Of course.” She hurried from the room, and he heard the sound of her half-boots on the stairs.

  Georgiana returned a few minutes later. “She says she will be here soon, once she has finished what she is doing.”

  He could not help himself. “What is she doing?”

  “She is talking to a young man outside a bedroom – her bedroom, I think. They are looking at a paper,” said Georgiana.

  A man outside her bedroom? What man would dare go so far into the living space of Kinloch House? He narrowed his eyes at his damnable leg that kept him from going to Elizabeth. Could all these people not leave so he could be alone with her again?

  Darcy picked up a fortnight-old newspaper and pretended to read it. It kept him from staring longingly at the door like a lovesick fool.

  Georgiana, after a quick look at his face, returned to Mrs. Graham’s side. “Would you be so kind as to tell me the words to that song? I would like to learn it.”

  The older woman picked up her harp and set it on her lap. “Do ye mean ‘My Heart’s in the Highlands,’ lass?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  Mrs. Graham sang the song to her own accompaniment. Georgiana asked her to repeat it. On the second time through, she joined in on the chorus.

  My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here

  My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer,

  A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe -

  My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

  Finally Elizabeth appeared, a few locks of her hair escaping from the knot behind her head as if the wind had tossed them. Her cheeks were flushed from her recent excursion, and she stilled when she saw him. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She turned her back to Richard in a deliberate manner. He had never thought to see Elizabeth give anyone the cut direct, but Richard deserved it.

  Behind her came MacLaren the Younger, his perpetually furrowed brow smooth today. Why had Elizabeth brought him here?

  Mrs. Graham stopped playing mid-chorus. “Duncan, lad, this is a delightful surprise!”

  The young Scotsman smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “It is a delightful day in many ways.”

  The older woman turned to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, may I present my nephew, MacLaren the Younger? Duncan, Miss Darcy is Mr. Darcy’s sister, and over yonder is Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Her voice turned chilly when she introduced Richard.

  Georgiana arose from her curtsy and asked shyly, “Are you a chieftain’s son, then?”

  The ginger-haired man smiled down at her. “I am. My father is the MacLaren.” His Scottish accent seemed to entrance her.

  If Georgiana’s eyes grew any wider, they might pop from her head. “I feel so fortunate to be able to visit the Highlands. The Lady of the Lake is my very favorite book. I have read it, oh, countless times.”

  MacLaren said, “I am glad to hear it. Did you know Loch Katrine is but a few miles from here?”

  “Truly?” Georgiana squeaked.

  “Perhaps you would like to ride out one day to see it,” said MacLaren.

  Elizabeth added, “Mr. MacLaren lives in an old castle on an island in the middle of a loch, just like Ellen’s father. I was able to walk across the ice to go there, but usually one has to be rowed across to visit him.”

  “There are still such things here?” asked Georgiana in an awed voice.

  “Georgiana,” Richard said quellingly.

  “Och, dinna stop the lass,” said MacLaren genially. “I have a fondness for those who love the Highlands.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Unlike me.”

  MacLaren turned to her. “You have other sterling qualities, my dear.”

  My dear? How dare he?

  “But you have reminded me of our task,” said MacLaren with a pleased expression. “I must trouble you for your congratulations. Miss Merton has done me the very great honor of agreeing to become my wife.”

  It was so unexpected that at first Darcy thought he must have misheard. Then it hit, like a blow to his stomach. Once, as a child, he had fallen from a tree and had the breath knocked out of him. He remembered the helpless sensation, his inability to draw air into his lungs or to call to his nurse, the fear he would die from lack of air. That was how he felt now, except that this time he was afraid he would not die.

  Elizabeth.

  Chapter 14

  ELIZABETH FELT SICK. Darcy had gone pale at the news of her engagement, and he had not even looked at her as he mechanically offered his congratulations in a low voice. If only she could tell him the truth! But that would put her father in danger again, and that price was too high. She had accepted Colonel Fitzwilliam’s clumsily abject apology, not for his sake, but because Darcy did not deserve the extra strain of a quarrel between his cousin and her. For Darcy’s sake, she even forced herself to invite him to stay at Kinloch House in case the colonel’s presence might provide some consolation for him.

  But the bright conversation between Mrs. Graham and Mr. MacLaren could only do so much to cover up the dark silence from Darcy, much less the pain in her heart. She had to get away. “Mr. MacLaren, I must share our news with my aunt’s young ward upstairs before he hears it from one of the servants. Would you be so kind as to join me? He will want to meet you.”

  MacLaren bowed. “It would be my very great pleasure.”

  She felt Darcy’s eyes on her back as they left the room.

  Just outside the door, the housekeeper awaited them, wringing her hands. Her eyes flew to MacLaren’s face. “Is it true, then?” she asked.

  He smiled broadly. “Aye, ’tis true enough. We are to be married.”

  Mrs. MacLaren wiped a tear from her cheek. “O
ch, laddie, ’tis the best news I’ve heard this ten year and more! Miss Merton, it was a blessed day you came here, a blessed day indeed.”

  Elizabeth said uncomfortably, “That is kind of you to say.” She had not given a thought to the effect of her sudden engagement on the servants.

  “Do ye wish to tell the staff yourself, or shall I?”

  She had much rather not tell anyone, least of all the servants who had more animosity towards her than anything else, but they were MacLaren’s people, too. She looked questioningly at him, and he nodded. And it was no longer the case that she could leave this place behind her forever when she went back to Edinburgh. A lump formed in her stomach. Her life was different now.

  “We will tell them,” said Elizabeth wearily. “I have a question. In England, I would have told you to give the staff a bowl of punch to make merry. Would that be appropriate here?”

  The housekeeper glanced nervously at MacLaren. “Aye, that would be welcome.”

  MacLaren added, “If you have no objection, Miss Merton, they might enjoy the freedom to make music and dance tonight after their duties are done. They will want to celebrate, as this means more to them than just their mistress becoming engaged. It is the freedom from years of worry.”

  At least someone would benefit from it. “I have no objection.”

  The housekeeper coughed softly. “It would not go ill if you mentioned that your new guests are to be treated with all courtesy. Otherwise I fear yon nasty Sassenach is likely to sleep in clammy sheets and find salt in his coffee.”

  It took a moment for Elizabeth to realize she meant Colonel Fitzwilliam. The servants must have heard her use his title. They would not accept an English Army officer kindly.

  MacLaren frowned. “What is this about?”

  The housekeeper lowered her voice. “Och, he insulted Miss Merton. The staff has taken a powerful dislike to him.”

  Because he had insulted her? Was this not the same staff that had met her with distrust, if not overt dislike? Perhaps she had won them over more than she had thought. It gave her a moment’s warmth.

  MacLaren said something quick in Gaelic, and the housekeeper replied in the same language, gesticulating with her hands.

  Elizabeth did not even mind that they were deliberately excluding her from the conversation. Another time it might annoy her, but she could not bring herself to care about the servants’ behavior, especially since salt in the colonel’s coffee seemed the least he deserved. She might draw the line at arsenic, but salt was definitely within reason.

  “IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?” MacLaren asked Elizabeth as they emerged from the servants’ hall.

  “Just a little tired. So much has happened today. What was it you told them in Gaelic?”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “Just that they could leave the defense of your honor to me, with a few pointed comments about your new guest. Hopefully this news will distract them from his sins.”

  “They certainly seemed distracted. I had not expected such a powerful reaction. In England, servants do not show such emotion.” Their announcement had been greeted by a shocked silence that had lasted at least a minute, and then the outpourings began – cheering, exuberant embraces, tears, and thanking her again and again as if she had become engaged for their benefit. The old butler had turned white, sank into a chair, and briefly sobbed into his handkerchief. “But I am glad it made them happy.”

  He halted and looked at her searchingly. “I know this marriage is not what you truly want, but I hope you can find some consolation in knowing that through it you are helping so many people. And I promise I will do whatever I can to make you happy.”

  She could not talk about this, or she would burst into tears, so she turned it back on him. “My happiness? What of yours? Is there not some pretty young girl you would prefer to be marrying?”

  “Me? Och, no. I have always known I would have to marry for the clan, so I have steered clear of the lassies.”

  “Does it not trouble you to marry me simply for my money?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “It is hardly an unusual thing in England, is it?”

  “But I imagine... Well, perhaps I should say that I worry I will discover later that you are angry about it.”

  He sighed. “That is fair, I suppose. I was angry when I realized I was our last salable asset, and I feared I would be forced to marry someone distasteful. When I went bride-hunting in Edinburgh, the heiresses I tried to court ranged from plain to cruel to foolish, and I was angry about it then. But even then the only ones who would even look at a Highlander did not have enough money to pay the mortgage, so it was pointless.” He expelled a long, slow breath at the memory. “I was an insufficiently valuable asset.”

  Elizabeth said, “That must have been very unpleasant.”

  “Perhaps I should just say that I am relieved to be marrying a young woman who is intelligent, witty, attractive, and connected to the clan. That is much better than I ever hoped for.”

  “But will you blame me someday?”

  He shook his head. “Since I was a babe, my father has drilled into me that the chieftain must above all be fair. You did not choose to be born English, nor to inherit Kinloch House. It would be unfair to blame you for those things. And I believe you and I can be friends.”

  “Yes, we can be friends.” And that would have to be enough. “And what of living in Edinburgh? Will you resent that?”

  He drew back and gave her a puzzled look. “Of course not. I am very much looking forward to that.”

  “You are?” Now she was truly confused. “I thought you wanted to live here.”

  He grimaced. “At present I have no choice in the matter. I love the Highlands, but that does not mean I do not miss the wider world I saw as a boy, and being among people who have traveled more than ten miles from the place of their birth.”

  So he was not as provincial as she had thought. It was both a relief and unnerving to realize she knew so little of the man she had just agreed to marry. “I am glad living there will not be distasteful to you. But we must tell Timothy now. He will certainly have heard the noise from below stairs.”

  In the nursery, Timmy’s first question was, “Has something happened? What was all the cheering about?”

  “Actually, yes, something has happened,” said Elizabeth uncomfortably. “I have some news for you, but introductions first. Mr. MacLaren, may I present my aunt’s ward, Timothy?”

  “I know you,” said Timothy. “You were Imogen’s friend.”

  “Right you are,” said MacLaren. “You were very young then.”

  Timothy looked back at Elizabeth. “What is this news?” Clearly he expected it to be bad.

  “Only that Mr. MacLaren and I are engaged to be married.” It felt wrong on her tongue, as if she were trying to speak Latin. But that only made her think of Darcy again.

  The boy’s expression brightened. “Can I live here with you, then?”

  Now she would have to disappoint him, too. “I will still live in Edinburgh.” As Timmy’s face fell, she added hurriedly, “But I may well spend my summers here, and you could certainly come with me then.”

  “And can Bonnie Prince stay with me?”

  Oh, to be young enough that a dog’s love could solve all her problems! “When we are here, yes. Bonnie Prince would not have it any other way.”

  DARCY DID NOT KNOW how he had made it through dinner, mechanically raising the fork to his mouth and chewing without tasting the food, trying not to look at Elizabeth because the sight of her made his chest ache with the knowledge that she would soon belong to another man.

  Why had she done it? The question pounded at his aching brain. She hardly knew the man, and while she was perfectly amiable to him, he could sense no particular warmth. MacLaren seemed happier talking to Georgiana than Elizabeth. Richard’s insulting behavior should not have provoked this strong a response.

  There was only one possible answer. She had decided to marry M
acLaren because she could find no other way to stop his own attentions. Bitterness rose in his throat. How often had she asked him not to press her about marriage? How often had she said it was impossible? But he had not listened, and finally it had driven her into the arms of a Highland fortune-hunter. She would rather marry anyone but him. Did she hate him so much? Had he invented those moments of burgeoning warmth he thought he had seen?

  When Elizabeth and Georgiana withdrew after dinner, leaving Darcy with Richard and that thrice-damned Scot, she seemed to take all the hope of happiness with her. Now all that remained was emptiness. After the decanter went around, he kept it beside his glass. His only hope of sleep tonight was to drink himself into oblivion.

  MacLaren raised his glass in a toast. “To the lovely Miss Merton.”

  “Her name is Bennet,” growled Richard.

  “I know,” said MacLaren amiably. “I also know why she felt the need to change it.”

  That was more than Darcy knew. He drained his glass and immediately refilled it.

  MacLaren said, “I wonder if either of you might be able to clarify a point of English law for me. Are women permitted to make contracts in England?”

  “Only widows,” replied Richard. “Otherwise their husband or father or brother must act for them.”

  “Interesting. If a single woman did sign a contract, would it be invalid, then?”

  “Not worth the paper it is written on.”

  Darcy downed another glass of port.

  ELIZABETH WALKED MACLAREN to the front door at the end of the evening, wanting to avoid a farewell under Darcy’s pained eyes. Not that she expected MacLaren to attempt any familiarity; he seemed to understand her situation with Darcy too well for that. So she was surprised when he asked if he could see her the following day.

  She was tempted to tell him there was no need for him to pretend this was a love match, but in truth it would benefit both of them to be better acquainted. The prospect of another day of watching the agony in Darcy’s eyes, though, was not appealing. “Miss Darcy is very eager to see the castle. Perhaps I could bring her there instead.”