A Matter of Honor

by Abigail Reynolds

  The younger man stared at him as if he could not believe his ears. “What does Miss Darcy say to this prospect?” His voice was almost steady.

  “I have not presented it to her.” Darcy watched him closely. “Perhaps I might be wrong about your interest in her.”

  He chewed his lip. “You are not wrong. If she wishes it, I would be happy to accept that arrangement. More than happy.”

  “You do not look happy.”

  MacLaren exhaled slowly. “That is because I am about to say something I know I am going to regret.”

  That was unexpected. “What is that?” Darcy asked in a clipped voice.

  “I think...” MacLaren paused. “I think if she wants to become engaged at eighteen, you should insist on a year-long engagement, even if we both fight the idea.” He hit his forehead with his fist. “I cannot believe I said that,” he groaned.

  Despite himself, Darcy was impressed. “Out of curiosity, why do you suggest that?”

  “Apart from being an idiot?” MacLaren actually smiled. “It is what I would demand for a clanswoman who wanted to marry outside the clan, and I do not want to be a hypocrite. More importantly, I do not want her to have any regrets about her decision, and eighteen is still very young.”

  “I agree,” said Darcy. “When I said I would allow her to enter into an engagement at eighteen, I had a long one in mind. But I respect you for volunteering for it. I notice you have not asked about her dowry.”

  MacLaren laughed like a man just freed from prison. “Her dowry? I have never given it a thought, as I have never considered the possibility that she might marry me. But it does not matter, since it would be put aside for her and our children. I expect to be pumping every penny from the estate back into it for many years, so she should have her own income to spend on whatever luxuries I cannot provide for her.”

  “That is fair. I prefer to speak to Georgiana about this before you do,” said Darcy.

  MacLaren tossed back his whisky with an incredulous grin. “I cannot believe this! If this is a dream, I hope I do not wake up.”

  “Well, not a word to anyone until I have spoken to Georgiana,” Darcy cautioned.

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Georgiana sat across from him, perched on the edge of her chair. “Is something the matter?” she asked nervously.

  “Nothing at all. I merely want your opinion on something.”

  She relaxed visibly. “What is it?”

  “It has not passed my notice that you have developed a strong affection for the Highlands. How does that song go? ‘My heart’s in the Highlands; my heart is not here?’”

  She blushed. “Yes, well, it is a special place, and I wish it were not so far from Pemberley.” She sounded listless.

  He swirled the brandy in his glass, wishing Elizabeth were there. “I wondered if your heart might not only be in the Highlands, but more specifically in whatever vicinity Mr. Duncan MacLaren might be.”

  Her cheeks bloomed scarlet. In a choked voice, she said, “I... I think he is an admirable gentleman, but that is all he can ever be. I know my duty. If you are afraid I will try to elope again, you need not worry. I have learned from my mistakes.”

  “That possibility had not even crossed my mind,” Darcy said gently. “My concern is for your happiness.”

  She dropped her head, her hands folded so tightly that her knuckles showed white. “I am too young, and he is not an appropriate match.”

  “Time will cure your youth, and when you are twenty-one, you may marry whomever you choose.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “That is five years from now, and by then he will long since be married to someone else!” Her words tumbled out quickly, as if the thought had been haunting her.

  “Georgiana, I just told MacLaren I would not object if he approached you about having a private understanding. Just an understanding, nothing more, until you are eighteen, and then a long engagement. I do not believe he is a sort of man who would look at another woman if he had an understanding with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “He asked you for my hand?”

  “No; I raised the question to him. He thought he could not aspire to such a match. But I think there is a very happy young Scotsman outside waiting to speak to you.”

  GEORGIANA SEEMED TO be dancing on air after that. Spring had arrived, both inside the house and out. Apart from his frustration over the slowness of his recovery, the only storm cloud on Darcy’s horizon was Elizabeth’s worry over her father. Unfortunately, he could do nothing to help with that apart from waiting for word from London.

  The solicitor proved to be a punctilious correspondent, sending a short account every day with his progress. Wickham was proving difficult to find, having fled his regiment some months earlier owing to debts of honor. Mr. Bennet had, as expected, refused to speak to Mr. Hollings on learning that he was Darcy’s solicitor, so the next step was to approach Mr. Collins.

  One morning the post brought two letters. Darcy selected the envelope with Richard’s scrawl on the front first, leaving the one with Hollings’s small precise hand for later. He cracked the seal and began to read. The first sentence made him straighten in shock.

  “What is the matter?” Elizabeth cried.

  He held up his hand as he scanned the letter. “A surprise, that is all. Collins says Wickham forged my uncle’s signature.” Of course. The one thing that had never made any sense was that Lord Matlock would put his hand to such a damning document. It would hardly be the first time Wickham had forged a signature. He had practiced on Darcy often enough.

  But relief warred with caution. If Lord Matlock had no part in the contract, then perhaps there need not be a family split and all the repercussions that would come with it. His uncle would accept Elizabeth as his wife.

  Or would he?

  No. It was a given that his uncle would disapprove of his marriage. If he had thought threats would have stopped it, he would have made them. He had still deceived Richard and kept him from his Indian wife. He might not have committed the particular crime of signing the document that had damned Elizabeth, but he was still a danger. More so, perhaps, if the document could not be used as proof of extortion.

  Elizabeth’s hand was over her mouth. “It was not him?”

  “He did not sign it, so your father may never have been at risk.” Darcy turned back to the letter. “Or he might have been. Collins has gone back and forth on his story about whether Lord Matlock made the threat and was just too clever to put it in writing. He says Lady Catherine called on Lord Matlock, so most likely he knew something, even if he did not sign.”

  He picked up the letter from the solicitor and jumped to the end of it. “Hollings says Richard is furious and plans to confront Lord Matlock, and he is accompanying him in the hope of providing a mitigating influence.”

  Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “But why is Richard angry now if his father never signed it?”

  “God alone knows, but sometimes strange things make Richard lose his temper. Or perhaps he only now feels safe enough to confront him. We will have to wait for the next letter to learn more.”

  DARCY WAITED ANXIOUSLY for the next post, but it brought nothing from London. Nor did the following day, nor the day after that. Elizabeth stoutly insisted she was not worried by the silence, but her face showed lines of strain, and when she thought no one was looking at her, her expression was bleak. Tears came easily to her eyes over everything and nothing, and she seemed uninterested in her food.

  The silence grew more ominous by the hour. Richard might be too busy or too angry to write, though that was unlikely given the gravity of the matter. But Hollings had been like clockwork with his daily reports. If he was not making them, it was because someone had stopped him. Had Lord Matlock found some excuse to have him arrested? Still, Richard would have written to tell him that. Surely Lord Matlock would not imprison his own son. Not for a crime, at least, but he might have held him incommunicado, and that was quite bad enough.

 
; Dammit! He needed to ride to the rescue, and instead he was trapped in Edinburgh, slowly re-learning how to walk on legs so weak they could carry him no farther than from one room to the next. Ramsay said it was nothing to worry about, just the result of months of disuse, but it was still frustrating. He could ride only until it made his head start to ache, usually only a quarter hour.

  Richard was in trouble, and Darcy could do nothing to help him, dammit.

  On the fifth day, he sent expresses to Mr. Gardiner and to his butler, Hobbes, asking them to make quiet inquiries about Richard and Hollings. What was the use of having so many acquaintances in the ton in London when none of them would dare anger Lord Matlock?

  But whatever else went wrong, he had Elizabeth beside him, and that made all the difference. And the constant chaos of life in the theatrical household served to distract him from his worries, too.

  BREAKFAST WAS ALWAYS served late in Aunt Emmeline’s house in keeping with the schedule of the actors, so arriving at breakfast long after the others did could be particularly egregious, or, in the case of the newlyweds, particularly embarrassing. But what was Elizabeth to do when her new husband turned those intent dark eyes on her while she was dressing, and she could feel the thoughts behind them, and guess what sensations he was wishing to induce in her? Certainly anyone would understand her decision to send her maid away and be very late for breakfast.

  No one even noticed. Georgiana was preoccupied with Duncan MacLaren, Jasper was pacing the room studying a script and occasionally stopping for a bite of toast or sip of coffee, and he paused only long enough to thrust another copy of the script into Elizabeth’s hand. The pressure of playing lead roles every other night was beginning to tell on him, so Elizabeth took it graciously, set it down at her place at the table, and filled her plate before glancing at it.

  “Lovers’ Vows?” she asked. “This is not on the schedule.”

  “It is now.” Jasper gulped down his coffee. “Just got word. Special request from Lord Granton. Lord President of the Court of Session. Siddons cannot refuse him.”

  “Who are you playing?”

  “Anhalt.” Jasper reached past her, opened the script, and pointed to the line.

  Georgiana said, “Pray let me do it until Elizabeth has a chance to eat.”

  Elizabeth gratefully handed her the script. “I thank you.” As she broke open her roll and began to spread jam on it, she felt Darcy’s boot rubbing against the side of her slippers. She smiled affectionately at him. Who would have thought the sober Mr. Darcy she had met at the Meryton assembly would trade surreptitious caresses under the breakfast table?

  The footman entered and offered a salver to Darcy. “The messenger is waiting for a response,” he said quietly.

  “Excuse me.” With a frown, Darcy took a bite of bacon, broke the seal of the note, and began to read it.

  He stopped chewing as his eyes moved across the first line. He read through it once, twice, carefully folded it, placed it in his pocket, and patted it as if to make sure it was secure. A muscle twitched beside his eyes. He slowly lifted his coffee cup, seeming to study it for a minute, and finally sipped it. “Tell the messenger to inform the sender that I will be there in an hour.”

  “No, no, your line should be, ‘Again you misconceive and confound me.’” Georgiana told Jasper.

  “Right,” Jasper said in his own voice before returning to character. “Again you misconceive and confound me.”

  Elizabeth asked Darcy quietly, “Is something the matter?”

  Darcy’s eyes flicked towards Jasper. “Not at all. Would you be able to join me in paying a call after breakfast?”

  “Of course. Whom are we visiting?”

  Darcy hesitated. “The Ramsays.” It was an obvious prevarication, and he gave her an apologetic look.

  “Very well.” What was the mystery? She rubbed her slipper against his foot, but got only a distracted smile in response.

  Georgiana had gone to stand next to Jasper as they ran lines. Darcy turned to MacLaren. “What are your plans for the day?”

  MacLaren said, “Your sister mentioned an interest in walking up to the castle.”

  Darcy frowned slightly and lowered his voice. “I would be obliged if you were to quietly persuade her to an activity which keeps her off the streets of New Town.”

  MacLaren’s eyebrows rose. “I will see what I can do. Perhaps a ride to Arthur’s Seat.”

  “An admirable idea.” Darcy touched his finger to his lips to indicate silence.

  Elizabeth’s curiosity was high as they returned to their room to prepare for their outing. It rose even more when Darcy sank back into a chair and rubbed his forehead. “What was that note?”

  He looked up at her. “I hardly know how to tell you this. It appears Lady Matlock is here and wishes to see me.”

  She froze. “Lady Matlock? Your uncle’s wife? What could possibly bring her to Edinburgh?” Now the silence from Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed even more ominous.

  “I do not know,” said Darcy darkly. “I cannot recall her ever traveling so far north, so I must assume it has to do with us.”

  There was no point in trying to hide from it. She might not be able to win against Lord and Lady Matlock, but she would fight them every step of the way. “Are you certain you wish me to come with you?”

  “Without question. You are my wife, and I will not hide you. But we should go quickly. She does not like to be kept waiting.”

  Elizabeth glanced in the mirror. She was wearing a simple day dress, not at all what she would choose to call on a countess, but it would have to do. She would not be ashamed of who she was.

  Chapter 21

  THERE WAS A LONG GRAND staircase at the Customs House where Lady Matlock was staying in a guest suite. Darcy eyed it with distaste and then grimly began to ascend it, one slow step at a time, leaning heavily on the banister and his walking stick.

  “We could ask her to come down,” said Elizabeth.

  “No.” By the time he reached the top, his legs ached and he was out of breath.

  A servant showed them into a private parlor where Lady Matlock was awaiting them. “Darcy, how delightful that you are on your feet again. Richard told me about your injuries.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Darcy demanded, “What have you done to Richard?”

  Lady Matlock looked as placid as if he had asked about the weather. “Richard? Why, nothing. I imagine he will be here in a few days. Would you care for tea?”

  “I would care to be told the truth,” Darcy said, his words clipped short. “Richard went to confront your husband nearly a fortnight ago, and I have not heard a word from him since.”

  “And what an unpleasant contretemps that was,” complained Lady Matlock. “Richard is perfectly well, and of course he has written to you since then. But your lovely wife is not the only person who can intercept letters when it suits her purpose.”

  “You? That was why I heard nothing? It was you?” His hands clenched into fists.

  “Manners, my dear boy. Surely you do not expect me to let Richard handle communications of this nature when he is out of control. These problems need to be solved, not worsened by his injured feelings.”

  Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened. “Your ladyship, I withheld Colonel Fitzwilliam’s letters to save my father’s life. What was your reason?”

  Lady Matlock tilted her head. “My daughter’s engagement negotiations are at a delicate stage, my youngest son is missing, and the government is tottering. Richard may mean well, but when he is angry, he can be a loose cannon firing on a powder depot. The collateral damage could be substantial.”

  “Missing letters create damage, too. I have spent days believing my father to be in grave danger.”

  Lady Matlock lifted the teapot and began to pour as if nothing remarkable had been said. “Your father is perfectly well, too. The entail on his estate has been broken, and he has a new will leaving it to your next sister. I believe her name is Mary.”

>   Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “The entail is broken? Impossible.”

  The older woman sighed delicately. “Difficult, but not impossible. It was Richard’s idea. He said you were fond of Mrs. Collins and would not want that annoying husband of hers to be arrested for her sake, so I offered him the choice between being prosecuted or breaking the entail. After a ridiculous amount of bluster, he chose to break the entail. Darcy’s solicitor felt Mr. Bennet might not make the effort to have a new will drawn up, so I declined to leave until he had done so and signed it. Milk or sugar, my dear?”

  “Milk,” said Elizabeth in a strangled voice.

  “Two sugars for you, Darcy? Here you are. Richard also managed to find your former valet keeping company with none other than George Wickham, who had apparently suggested he apply for the position with you and forged his references. They are both under arrest and awaiting trial.”

  “Wickham’s friend?” It was a surprise, but also made perfect sense. Damn Wickham. “That explains a great deal.”

  His aunt nodded. “As for Richard, he will be leaving in a month on a special assignment to India, and he has agreed to keep the matter of his marriage private until after his sister’s nuptials. I have encouraged him to speak to his wife about returning here for the sake of the children, as their future in India will be quite limited.”

  At least she was acknowledging it was a marriage.

  Elizabeth said determinedly, “I wonder why so many Englishmen go to India for the opportunities it offers if the futures there are so limited.”

  Lady Matlock offered her a slice of almond cake. “Opportunities there are nearly limitless for those with two English parents. Sadly, those with only one English parent are barred from serving in the East India Company, the government, or even from holding land. Those children will never be trusted by either side in India. That is why most English officers now send their half-Indian children here to live. Richard knows this, and I cannot understand why he has failed to act on it already.”