The Remarkable Miss Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  Michael's heart went out to the lad when he shuffled his feet and clasped his hands behind his back — looking for all the world as if he could not quite figure out what had landed him in this current predicament but knowing he needed an explanation for it.

  Mrs. Darcy helped him along. "Perhaps it would be best for you to explain what has brought on this sudden desire to leave," she said to the nanny.

  Pinching her lips together and drawing a steadying breath, the nanny said, "Just now, I found a frog in my bed. And that is not all! On the floor, beside the bed, I found Master Darcy's jar — the one where he likes to keep his collection of insects. My bedchamber is infested with vermin." The nanny shivered.

  Michael bit his lips together. While he understood the nanny's upset, he suspected there was a perfectly reasonable explanation (from the viewpoint of a young boy) for the presence of the frog and banquet of bugs in her bedchamber.

  Mrs. Darcy kept her face composed, but her eyes sparkled in contained merriment. Michael imagined she had a lot of practice using the expression with a son like Master Darcy.

  "Bennet Beauregard Darcy, how do you explain that?" she asked.

  Uh oh. She had used his name in full. That was never a good sign.

  Master Darcy tensed. Hesitantly, he began, "Nanny Kelly told me the most beautiful story about a frog that turned into a prince. She said it so nicely … and she is pretty. Princesses in stories are pretty. I thought she might like to marry a prince." His chin quivered. "Even if it meant she would have to leave me to live in a palace."

  Michael cleared his throat to cover over his chuckle.

  Nanny Kelly sighed heavenward.

  Miss Darcy covered her smile with her hands.

  Mr. Darcy asked, "Was it necessary to put the frog in her bed?"

  "He looked cold."

  "And the bugs?" asked Mr. Darcy.

  Master Darcy swallowed hard. "I like a little bite to eat before a nap. I thought the frog might sleep better if he was not hungry."

  Mrs. Darcy said, "So you brought your jar into the room?"

  He nodded. "They all flew out! I tried to catch them, Mama, I really tried! Johnny helped, but there were too many!" The poor boy's eyes teared, and the effort with which he sucked them in stirred Michael's heart. Not one juror in possession of the smallest measure of sympathy would cast judgment against the lad.

  Mr. Darcy sent a maid to open the windows in the nanny's room.

  As for the nanny, her face twisted in a display of weakening will and pity. Finally, she gave in. Placing her hand over her heart, she exclaimed, "Such sweet-hearted mischief I have never known. How can I leave after that? I apologize for the intrusion and would like to keep my place if you will still have me."

  Mrs. Darcy thanked Nanny Kelly for her change of heart, and as soon as the appeased nanny had departed from the room, Mr. Bennet burst into laughter.

  Miss Darcy explained to Michael, "Nanny Kelly tries to leave at least once a fortnight. She was past due."

  Mr. Tanner ruffled his nephew's hair while Mrs. Darcy determined to take greater care which stories were told to her children (although from the smile she bore, it was an empty threat.)

  Mr. Darcy hugged his son to him, looking at his wife as he said, "You are so much like your dear mother," with the tenderest tone. He arranged to speak at greater length with his son in his study about what he had done wrong, but Master Darcy knew he was no longer in trouble.

  At least, he should have known. The child looked about the room, concern pinching his face.

  "What is wrong, Ben? You are not in trouble now," Mr. Darcy asked.

  "Where is Auntie Lydia? I miss her. I want to play with her."

  The room fell silent.

  Mr. Bennet wiped his eyes and stood. "I have a story to tell you if you would like to hear it." He extended his hand to his grandson.

  Master Darcy looked at him thoughtfully. "Does it have a frog? I would rather it not have one."

  Mr. Bennet pinched his chin and considered. "Nay, not one frog. It does have a pirate with a peg leg and a talkative parrot perched on his shoulder though. And it involves a sword fight which might not be to your liking…" His sentence trailed off, his eyes twinkling as he took in his grandson's obvious excitement.

  "Pirates!" Master Darcy exclaimed along with his cousins.

  Stooping down to Miss Marianne's height, Mr. Bennet added, "They fight the hero who is attempting to save the beautiful princess and find the buried treasure so he may make his fortune and marry her." He stood up, patting his pockets. "Which reminds me … I have treasures in my pockets … if I could only remember which one. Oh bother, how shall I ever find it?"

  The children rushed to help him, and Mr. Bennet did his best to bend so his pockets were within the reach of their prodding fingers. From an inside pocket, he produced a silver rattle for Baby Rose. She grabbed the shiny toy with a look of wonder and delight, laughing when it made noise and shaking it harder. Little Angus reached for it, and like a proper lady would, Baby Rose let him shake it too.

  Master Tanner and Miss Marianne filled their hands with sweets, and Master Darcy squealed in delight when he found a catapult hidden in his grandfather's deepest pocket.

  The parents groaned in unison. Mr. Bennet ignored them. With his grandchildren and their cousins in tow, he departed for the nursery.

  Mr. Darcy said, "I wager I will have to take that away from Ben before the end of the day."

  Michael teased, "He is only three years of age. What trouble can he get into?"

  Mrs. Darcy replied, "You would be amazed. Only last month, Ben sneaked into the parlor where he ate a tray full of sweetmeats meant for the guests of a tea party I was hosting. Cook was beside herself, and Ben suffered a stomach ache for the rest of the day."

  Never had Michael known a more charming family than the Darcys. They were nothing like he had imagined them to be. They were nothing like the Pringles or the other families in society. During their ordeal, they closed ranks, relying on each other for strength, supporting and protecting each other with abounding love.

  Michael wondered how different his life would have been if he had a family. Outside of Nathan and a brother too busy managing the messy inheritance dumped on him, Michael had nobody on whom he could rely. The longing to belong ached in his chest.

  There was only one thing to be done. He had to get Miss Bennet back to them. He had to help the Darcys, to keep them safe. To keep Miss Darcy safe.

  He would occupy himself with worthy pursuits until his want faded. In making others happy, he would be happy.

  The butler entered the room, his hands shaking and his skin ashen white.

  Mr. Darcy stood to meet him.

  "It is another message, sir," said the butler, extending a note for his employer to take.

  Mr. Darcy read it aloud.

  Tick tock. Tick tock. Two more days. Is Miss Darcy worth thirty thousand pounds to you? For her sake, I hope so.

  Miss Darcy.

  Michael's heartbeat deafened him. He steadied himself against the instrument.

  Miss Darcy was the one who was supposed to have been kidnapped.

  Her cheeks were as white as the paper resting against her pianoforte.

  Georgiana rubbed her hands over her skirt, but it did not help her feel anything. She was so numb, she doubted she could stand.

  The same thought repeated itself over and over in her mind.

  "It is my fault. It was supposed to be me," she said it aloud.

  Her brothers were quick to reassure her otherwise, but Georgiana remembered too well. She had been the one to suggest switching masks with Lydia. It had been her idea.

  William said, "We must calm our nerves to think rationally. Nobody is to blame here."

  Georgiana did her best to curb her emotions, but the weight of her realization was crushing. For the benefit of her family, she did as William bid, but she wished it came easier for her not to feel so much, so intensely. She felt as wretched
as she had the day her brother had found her with Wickham at Ramsgate.

  Georgiana had sworn she would never put her conscience through such anguish again. And yet, here she was.

  Arabella joined her, moving her over on the piano bench and wrapping her arm around Georgiana's waist. "I know what that look means, and I wish you would not compare the two incidents when the motivation behind them cannot be the same."

  The last thing Georgiana wanted to do was bare her past faults before Mr. Nelson. And certainly not now when they must focus all of their attention on Lydia.

  However, the implication that she was less than perfect did not seem to bother Mr. Nelson. He commented, "Compassion moved you to trade masks with Miss Bennet, despite the discomfort you endured as a consequence. Pray do not punish yourself for displaying kindness."

  Arabella squeezed her closer. "He is an intelligent young man," she whispered into Georgiana's ear.

  He was intelligent. And he was right. She had offered to switch masks with Lydia out of compassion, not out of rebellion and the need to belong to someone who encouraged her to behave selfishly. It was not fair to compare the two events. Not to herself. Not to Lydia.

  Raising her face, Georgiana asked Mr. Nelson, "What do we do then? Should we tell them they have the wrong lady and offer an exchange?"

  "No!" her brothers shouted.

  "But what will happen to Lydia if they learn she is useless to them?" Georgiana asked. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  Mr. Nelson said, "Miss Bennet could be in great danger if their mistake is discovered. Obviously, she has led them along up to now. Otherwise, they never would have addressed this note as they did."

  Elizabeth leaned against William, her eyes brimming with tears. "We will have to continue the farce. If I know my sister at all, I am confident she will do what she must to save her skin."

  Georgiana was confident of the same.

  Tanner folded his arms over his chest. "What they are interested in is the money. So long as Lydia can get through two more days, in time for us to make the exchange, we will get her back. If she has led them to believe she is you this long, she can manage two more days."

  William rubbed his hand over his face. "You will have to be a prisoner here, Georgie. We will speak with the servants and do our best not to draw attention to our activities. We cannot risk anyone making plain their mistake before we make the exchange."

  Tanner added, "You should post more guards in and around the property. I would be glad to help. Perhaps our unexpected visit will offer sufficient explanation for any unusual activity around Darcy House."

  Georgiana was happy both of her brothers were there to offer their protection — even though it meant she was not free to leave the house. She would do anything to keep Lydia from harm. Between them and Mr. Nelson, they just had to find her.

  Two days. Two agonizing days.

  Chapter 19

  Lydia was sorely tempted to grab the chamber pot and smack Miss Pringle over the head with it.

  Ivan had returned earlier with a chamber pot, a loaf of fresh bread with a bit of cheese, and a pot of tepid tea. He had not been happy about it, and Lydia could only guess the gentleman had forced him to do it.

  There were no cups, but Lydia discerned it best to complain no further. Ivan had a shiv at his side she did not recall seeing earlier. She had no doubt he knew how to use the knife, and she felt it best not to provoke him to use it on her.

  While the other ladies had been grateful for the comforts given them, offering their thanks to Lydia, Miss Pringle was spiteful.

  "You are a nobody! You do not belong here!" she said.

  Lydia rolled her eyes. Miss Pringle was only annoyed she had not been given the credit for the softer bread.

  Miss Pringle repeated, "Did you not hear me? Have you gone deaf or are you too dim-witted to understand? You do not belong here!"

  Lydia snapped, "I rather wish I was not here either, but do not tell me I do not belong in your lofty company when I am a gentleman's daughter the same as you."

  "You dare to compare yourself with … with me!" Miss Pringle's complexion flushed an unflattering red. It was most unbecoming.

  The footsteps outside the door prevented Lydia from uttering the insult on her tongue. There was nothing she wanted more than to bring Miss Pringle down a notch, but not at the expense of summoning Ivan with his sharp shiv.

  Stiffening her fisted hands at her side, Miss Pringle hissed, "I will show you." Spinning on her stained slipper, she ran to the door and pounded on it, shouting, "I wish to speak with the man in charge."

  Lydia sprang on her, pulling anything she could grab onto to get Miss Pringle away from the door.

  "Have you gone mad?" Lydia squealed as Miss Pringle squirmed and shoved her away.

  Ivan interrupted their dispute. Opening the door, he said, "I answer for him."

  The scar crossing his cheek from ear to mouth added to his threatening demeanor. He was the kind of man Lydia crossed the street to avoid. She would rather spend hours in a boring bookshop with Lizzy and Georgie than spend a minute in his company.

  With a haughty glance at Lydia, Miss Pringle said, "I wish to make a bargain with him."

  Ivan stepped inside the room, crossing his arms and blocking the exit with his body. He was quite large. Not Mr. Tanner large, but close enough. He filled the doorway.

  Miss Pringle pointed at Lydia. "She is not who she claims to be. She has only been posing as Miss Darcy. Let me go, and I will tell you how you can benefit from her hypocrisy."

  All the ladies raised their voices in protest, most of all Lydia.

  Ivan raised one hand and bellowed, "Quiet!" His other hand hovered over his knife.

  "You do not know what you are doing, Maria. I beg you to be quiet," implored Lydia, her eyes flickering between Ivan, the sharp weapon at his side, and Miss Pringle.

  "She does not belong here. Her real name is Lydia Bennet. She is a nobody without a fortune," Miss Pringle said, raising her stubby nose and looking down its length at Lydia.

  Lydia's heart raced, but she assumed her regal air.

  Ivan shut the door behind him, and it was all Lydia could do to hold her head up when he stomped over to her and wrapped his hand around her throat. His grip was firm. "Is this true? Are you not Miss Darcy?"

  It was difficult to speak with his hand crushing her.

  He loosened his hold when a choke escaped her.

  "Answer me!" he demanded.

  "I never claimed to be Miss Darcy, but my family will give you what you demand if you return me unharmed. So you see? No harm done." She held his gaze, not wanting him to doubt for a moment that her family would meet his demands.

  Ivan lowered his hands, but the cold look in his flint-black eyes sent shivers through Lydia.

  Unfortunately, Miss Pringle could not care less about Lydia's fate. She said, "But Miss Darcy is rich, as are her brothers. With the information I have given you, you can demand for more at the risk of Miss Darcy's capture. Let me go, and her brothers will gladly give you a fortune in exchange. In return, you will let me go."

  "No!" Lydia lunged at her, arms flailing. But a wall of stench she could only guess was Ivan held her back. She strained against his hold, lashing out with words when her strikes pummeled the air. "Why are you doing this? Why must you endanger Miss Darcy when I am here already? My family will pay." Lydia pounded her chest. "I am here. It is enough without harming them."

  Miss Pringle insisted, "Let me return to my family, and you can extract double what you asked for my ransom from Miss Darcy's brothers."

  Did she not see how faulty her reasoning was? Was she stupid?

  Ivan released his hold on Lydia, shoving her to the side. "Why should I let you go when it would be a simple matter to take Miss Darcy from her home and demand more?"

  Exactly. Lydia stepped around Ivan to glare at Miss Pringle. She had never hated another being as much as she loathed Maria Pringle then.

  Miss
Pringle, however, failed to see the faults in her reasoning. She insisted, "But I helped you. Now it is your turn to do something for me. You would not stand to gain more had I not revealed the truth to you. It is only fair I should be recompensed."

  Ivan's laugh set Lydia's teeth on edge. The more timid ladies cowered in a corner where Lady Eleanor stood protectively in front of them, watching the ugly scene unfold.

  He said, "You expect me to treat you fairly when I could slit your throat right here? I owe you no favors, nor will I allow myself to be manipulated by you."

  Miss Pringle's eyes widened. "You will not mention what I have told you, how I have helped you, to your employer?"

  "Why should I? He will be pleased with my discovery and the prospect of earning another ransom."

  "But I want to leave this awful place!" Miss Pringle stomped her foot, her bottom lip bunching in an unseemly pout. Lydia could have shown her how to pout more prettily, but she was not inclined to offer. Not now. Not ever.

  Ivan was unmoved by her tantrum. "You will two days hence when your father pays for your freedom."

  Miss Pringle huffed, then broke out in tears.

  She ought not to have cried. Had she merely huffed, she would have come across as a spoiled lady who had not acquired what she wanted. Nothing more. But the tears suggested fear. And Lydia knew then the rumors were true. Miss Pringle's father could not pay.

  Lydia shushed her, but that only turned her tears into a full wail.

  This was bad. If Lydia suspected from whence her trouble sprang, it was possible Ivan would discern it too.

  He watched Miss Pringle closely, his eyebrows knit together. "Your father will pay, will he not?"

  "Of course, he will!" Lydia said, but she was ignored.

  Miss Pringle pinched her mouth closed — the first measure of sense she had shown since their capture. But it was too late. She had said too much already. Silence would not help now.

  "Accept my offer, and no harm is done," she said.

  The nerve! Lydia exclaimed, "Except to Miss Darcy, you selfish cow!" Turning to Ivan, she added, "My family will pay. They will do what you ask, and I am certain Mr. Pringle will pay, too. She is only overwrought with nerves. She does not know what she says."