Fitzwilliam Darcy, Traitor

by Jennifer Joy

  The girl returned with a woman in a dark-colored dress buttoned close to her throat, her hair pulled tightly back from her face. A somber man Elizabeth remembered seeing at Netherfield Park accompanied her. He must be Bates, William’s valet.

  Mrs. Bernard looked at Elizabeth cautiously. “I am told you wish to speak with me,” said the housekeeper.

  Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her and took a step forward. “Mr. Darcy sent—” Elizabeth stopped herself short. William had most definitely not sent her. Clearing her throat, she began again, “I am here on behalf of Mr. Darcy.”

  Mrs. Bernard dismissed the servants, snapping her fingers when they did not leave the kitchen quickly enough to suit her.

  When all but Bates had gone, the housekeeper crossed her arms and glared at Elizabeth. “I find it difficult to believe Mr. Darcy would send a young lady here considering his current circumstances. He would never put another’s life in danger the way your presence here suggests. Who are you?”

  Elizabeth had been prepared to overcome disbelief from the constables outside the house, but she had not expected it from William’s housekeeper. She looked at Bates, but though she remembered him, he did not seem to remember her. If he did, he said nothing.

  Releasing her offense — of which she had no right to feel, given the housekeeper’s accurate sketch of William’s character — Elizabeth answered, “You know Mr. Darcy well. He is a good man who would never cause another harm.”

  Bates nodded gravely. “Then you have come to know Mr. Darcy well, too. I remember you from Netherfield Park, Miss Bennet, but what I do not understand is how you are involved in this disgraceful slander brought against our employer. What brings you here?”

  Elizabeth gave an abbreviated (and highly censored) account of the events which had thrown her together with William and ending with her intrusion into Darcy House. When she had finished, she pressed her lips together and waited.

  “He tried to send you away?” Mrs. Bernard asked.

  Elizabeth answered, “Only this morning.” She would rather have left that part of her story out, but it was vital to gain the trust of the housekeeper.

  “And yet you defied his wishes,” Bates commented. He shared a knowing look with Mrs. Bernard.

  Elizabeth did not feel the need to answer. Her presence was enough of a reply.

  She widened her stance, expecting them to oust her from the house any second. She had come this far, and she would not leave until she had asked about Mrs. Holton.

  Bates motioned to the table. “Please have a seat, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth could not help but notice how he seated himself at the far end of the table — as opposite from her as possible. The telltale wrinkle of his nose explained why. Her hope that the wind had calmed her dress’ odor had been in vain. Elizabeth stank like a week’s worth of sweat and dirty laundry.

  Mrs. Bernard rubbed her temple. “I have been reading what they say about Mr. Darcy in the newspapers. None of us believe it. I do not recall reading about you.”

  How could that be?

  “Have you read anything of a Mr. Bingley or Miss Jane Bennet?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No. There have been no names mentioned besides Mr. Darcy and Marquess Malbrooke,” said Mrs. Bernard.

  That was strange. Elizabeth asked, “You have heard nothing? Even from other servants?”

  Mrs. Bernard shook her head. “We are under constant watch. Nobody is allowed in, and we are too scared to venture out. It is not safe for you to be here.”

  Elizabeth looked at Bates. How had he got into Darcy House?

  He read her thoughts, answering Elizabeth’s question before she could ask, “I was granted entry because I have been Mr. Darcy’s valet for many years. Where I am, my master is sure to be. They assumed I would lead them to him.”

  Mrs. Bernard added, “If it becomes known you are attached to Mr. Darcy, they will follow you to him. You should stay away. You should have heeded his wise advice.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and twisted her fingers together. She felt like a fool for acting on her emotions as she had. William must have drawn the same conclusion his housekeeper had and blast it all if Elizabeth did not love him more for trying to protect her.

  Mrs. Bernard reached across the table to pat her hand. “I apologize for chastising you, Miss Bennet. It is done out of concern. I do not see a way out of this difficulty for Mr. Darcy, but I wish it with all of my heart.”

  Elizabeth would not allow herself to be disheartened. She would not give up until … until the end. It was time to state the motive of her call. Elizabeth said, “My purpose in coming here was to ask for any information you might have about Mrs. Holton, Mr. Bingley’s housekeeper at Netherfield Park. If we can find her, she might help us trap Wickham.”

  Neither of them seemed surprised that Wickham was responsible for their troubles. Elizabeth could not believe she had ever trusted that viper. It troubled Mrs. Bernard greatly to learn of involvement of Mrs. Holton — a woman she had personally recommended to Mr. Bingley.

  Withdrawing her hand, Mrs. Bernard stood. “Mrs. Holton’s niece is a chambermaid here. I will ask her where her aunt currently resides. Wait for my return.”

  Bates followed the housekeeper out of the kitchen.

  Elizabeth kicked herself for her impulsiveness. What if she had been followed? What if she led the men who would capture William right to him? She could not return to Mrs. Fuller’s home now. Stupid, stupid!

  Mrs. Bernard and Bates returned, interrupting Elizabeth’s self-deprecation. The housekeeper handed Elizabeth a scrap of paper. “This is where you can find Mrs. Holton’s daughter. She is residing there currently to care for her grandson, who I am told is gravely ill.”

  So, it was true. If Mrs. Holton had told the truth about her grandson, if she had intended to travel to care for him, then there was a chance she could explain her involvement in Mr. Wickham’s scheme. Mrs. Holton might help them.

  Bates held a coin pouch out to Elizabeth. It looked exactly like the one the colonel had given William at his apartment and the one she had found under the squabs of William’s coach. Bates said, “Mr. Darcy will need this. Pray tell him we believe in him.”

  Elizabeth put the leather pouch in her pocket. “Thank you. I will give this to him.” She could not return to Mrs. Fuller’s, but she had to see William again. She would find a way. Somehow.

  With a weak smile, Bates said, “You must go.”

  Thus dismissed, Elizabeth departed the way she had come in, and the two constables met her in front of the house (at a safe distance).

  “Did you secure your position?” the guard asked.

  The hair on Elizabeth’s arms stood on end. She felt watchful eyes on her. The thief-snatchers. They would follow her if they thought she could lead them to William.

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground as if she were gravely disappointed. “I was dismissed just as you said.”

  “It is no wonder.”

  Elizabeth wiped her eyes, her chin quivering. If she was going to continue her impressions of Lydia, she would do a thorough job of it. “I have nowhere to go. Nobody will give me a place.”

  The other constable said, “None of that, now. Wash up, clean your uniform, and you will get work. You are better off away from this cursed house. Any day now, you will hear of Mr. Darcy’s capture. You would have been without a place and without a reference. Nobody would want to take you on if they knew you had been employed by a traitor.”

  Elizabeth sniffed and nodded, hoping the thief-catchers believed her act.

  The guard stomped his feet against the ground and slapped his hands against his arms. “Would we could capture him soon. It is cold out here.”

  His associate added with a cackle, “Or better yet, Mr. Darcy could have the decency to turn himself in and save us all this trouble.”

  Elizabeth bid the men good day, and they resumed pacing in front of the house.

  S
he kept the slow pace of a disappointed maid until she was out of their sight. And then she walked as quickly as she could in the direction from which she had come. Dear Lord, what if William had done as the constable had suggested and turned himself in?

  Her brisk pace warmed her, and when she had covered enough distance, she looked over her shoulder.

  Nobody seemed to be following her. She did not see any grimy thief-takers. Something was going right. With a sigh of relief, she continued forward until a dark figure rushed at her.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream.

  Chapter 33

  Darcy clamped his hand over Elizabeth’s mouth and moved behind her to avoid her kick.

  She clamped her teeth over his fingers.

  He had not lost so much of his sense of propriety to shout the colorful words on the tip of his tongue aloud, but it took a great deal of restraint not to. Elizabeth had a strong bite.

  “It is me,” Darcy seethed through his clenched jaw.

  Elizabeth released her hold on his fingers, twirling around with her hands upraised and her nails poised to lash at his face — like a fierce cat with its claws drawn, poised to attack. Darcy wanted to kiss her again.

  She dropped her hands and her eyes widened in understanding only to narrow at him again. “Why are you dressed in livery?” she asked.

  “Why are you dressed like a scullery maid?” he answered.

  Elizabeth shoved him. “You tried to get rid of me,” she accused.

  “It was for your own good.”

  The look she gave him was so heated, she could have warmed Pemberley with it. “Do not make me go away again. I can be stubborn,” Elizabeth said, walking down the pavement.

  Darcy chased after her. “So can I,” he said. He would not back down easily.

  Elizabeth whirled around to face him, stabbing him in the chest with her finger — standing so close, all Darcy had to do to hold her in his arms was to raise them. But his instincts told him she would not appreciate an embrace from him at that moment. Darcy clenched his hands behind his back.

  “Then let us be stubborn together. I know where to find Mrs. Holton,” Elizabeth said, flattening her palm against his chest and smiling. In her other hand, she held up a piece of paper with Mrs. Bernard’s handwriting on it.

  Curse his instincts! He should have embraced her.

  Spinning on her boot heel, Elizabeth sped down the pavement, leaving Darcy little choice but to follow her. He could not allow her to go to Mrs. Holton’s alone. They did not know if she was a friend or a foe.

  Nor could Darcy wrestle the address away from Elizabeth and continue alone (although the thought warmed him through.) She was too intelligent not to have memorized the writing on the paper before he could get it away from her.

  They walked some distance in silence, Darcy hoping that each step would bring him closer to the words he needed to say to Elizabeth. He could not help but feel he owed her an apology, but for what? For wanting to protect her? For loving Elizabeth enough to want more for her than an early death with him? Was it selfish of Darcy to wish that she could only find happiness with him? He felt selfish thinking it.

  “Elizabeth,” he began.

  She held up her hand. “If you mean to apologize, I will not hear it, so allow me to spare you the effort.”

  Darcy did not know whether to be relieved Elizabeth did not expect an apology he could not in all sincerity give or to be disturbed she had so accurately understood his mental struggle.

  “What will you hear then?” he asked. Darcy wanted more than anything to speak the words of his heart. If he had any more indication that a happy ending with Elizabeth was within his grasp, he would declare himself to her at that moment and beg for her to accept his offer of marriage.

  He would make certain she had no doubt that he acted out of love for her and not merely out of a sense of duty. He loved Elizabeth, and Darcy wished for her to know it.

  “What I wish to hear and what I need to hear are two very different things,” she said.

  Darcy understood her meaning. He was not the only one warring between his heart and his mind. Too many times, his enjoyment of Elizabeth’s presence had made him forget the urgency of their situation. Right now, with her insistence on accompanying him, he would be wise to resist the leanings of his heart when it endangered their future. He must distance himself.

  Elizabeth said, “Your housekeeper did not believe you had sent me. She said you would never involve a lady — or anyone else for that matter — in your predicament.”

  Darcy nodded. “I will hate myself forever if you come to harm because of me. Do you not realize how difficult this is when the thought of losing you…” He stopped before he said something he would later regret. If he intended to distance himself from Elizabeth, he was doing a poor job of it.

  She looked up at him, saying, “Then you understand how I feel. I could not bear it if I could have helped a good man live. After speaking with your housekeeper, I believed you capable of turning yourself over to a magistrate to protect your friends.”

  Was he so predictable? Darcy admitted, “That was my intention at first. I had written a letter to Georgiana explaining my decision along with all the reasons I am honored to have her as my sister. I also wrote to Richard and my uncle to secure their help, but by then, I had decided on another plan. I could not give in so easily when I stand to lose everything I hold dear.”

  Elizabeth asked quietly, “But you were on your way to Darcy House. Why did you risk discovery?”

  Darcy would never forget the dread he felt when Mrs. Fuller told him Elizabeth had traded clothing with the scullery maid. He had known where she would go and how futile her efforts would be.

  He answered, “I had to stop you. I knew my housekeeper would not believe you. Necessity has forced me to act in ways I would not normally act, but Mrs. Bernard would expect me to behave as I always do — predictably, it would seem.”

  “I would sooner describe you as steady and reliable, but not predictable. Bates gave me this for you.” Elizabeth pulled a pouch from her apron and handed it to Darcy.

  He could not prevent the smile the leather pouch provoked. “I see I shall have to change the location of my secret stashes.” Darcy explained, “It was a habit I picked up at University. Wickham would call and help himself to whatever loose coin he could find lying around. I took a lot of enjoyment in frustrating him, hiding my coins in different places.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Did he ever find them?”

  “Not once. I went so far as to have my initials stitched inside the lining on the chance he found one of my stashes, thus proving he had stolen property, but the only one who ever found them was Georgiana … and now Richard and Bates.”

  “What did you do when she found your coins?”

  “I let her keep it to spend as she pleased. Georgie would purchase a novel and, if there was anything left over, she would purchase a little trifle for one of her younger cousins.”

  “Hm, it sounds as if she found your stash more than once. Clever girl. I always end up forfeiting my pin money to my younger sisters. It brings them more joy than it does me … so long as my father allows me access to his extensive library.”

  Darcy teased. “You have benefited greatly from improving your mind, just as my sister has.”

  “I think Miss Darcy and I will become fast friends.”

  Darcy thought the same.

  In a lighter tone, Elizabeth added, “You still have not explained why you are dressed in full livery. I did not recognize you until you spoke.”

  “I could not show up at Darcy House dressed as a gentleman, could I? I would have been recognized immediately, even with the whiskers covering my face.”

  The corner of Elizabeth’s lip curled up. “Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, dressed as a servant.” She arched an eyebrow and peeked at him from the corner of her eye. “Who would believe such a thing?”

  Darcy chuckled. “I would not have believed
it possible a week ago. However, I might be tempted to dress in livery more often as it allows for anonymity. Not even you recognized me.”

  “Only because you came at me from the side. All I saw was a blur before you clamped your hand over my mouth to prevent me from screaming. It is a satisfactory disguise, though, and should help us continue unnoticed.”

  “And if the plan does not work?” Darcy asked.

  “We will be satisfied we did our best. I am certain I need not remind you how unbearable regrets are.”

  Darcy groaned. He regretted everything about Wickham.

  He would not make the same mistake again.

  The streets became noisier and more crowded. The clean snow that had powdered the ground near Darcy House was trampled and muddy from carriages and pedestrians scurrying about their business. In this section of town, people labored to earn their keep.

  Washer women huddled over steaming vats, their faces and hands bright red and chapped.

  After a few inquiries, he and Elizabeth walked down a narrow alley and knocked on a door that was so rough, Darcy had to brush splinters from his knuckles.

  Mrs. Holton answered, her complexion turning a ghostly white when she saw him. “Mr. Darcy! What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 34

  Elizabeth wanted to ask the housekeeper a series of questions, but the tears welling up in Mrs. Holton’s eyes prevented her from voicing a single one.

  Covering her mouth as teardrops ran down her hands, Mrs. Holton continued, “I am so relieved you are alive. This past week has been wretched, and I promised myself that once my grandson … that once he did not need me anymore … I would find out what happened to you somehow.”

  Elizabeth looked up at William. His shock was equal to hers. Mrs. Holton did not know.

  William asked, “You are not aware of what the papers have been saying about me?”

  She sniffed, “Why should I? I do not read the paper, and my daughter is too tired at the end of the day to discuss anything besides her son.”