Page 3 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

Fitzwilliam Darcy laid the last letter face down in a stack on his desk. The study of his London townhouse was filled with light from the tall windows, and a gentle breeze blew refreshingly through the room.

It helped little. Even with the calm surroundings and cheery light to bolster his mood, he could not help feeling on edge.

After putting an advertisement in the London Times for a companion for his sister, he had received several replies.

He had hoped the Darcy name would present him with a goodly supply of candidates, and it was so.

Of course, he had also thought that the last time he had hired a paid companion for his sister.

His lips turned down into a disgusted frown. Mrs Younge had come highly recommended, but the references she had supplied had lied. Darcy now suspected she had had them forged, or had done them herself. With everything that had happened at Ramsgate, he would not have been surprised.

Darcy sighed heavily and stood, stretching his back.

He had remained sitting for far too long, and he needed to put some distance between himself and the letters to sort out the best way forward.

After the debacle with Mrs Younge and the perfidious Wickham, he would not take any chances with his sister’s well-being.

He gave the stack of letters a sideways glance.

The applications included several respectable ladies, but none who seemed good enough for his dear Georgiana.

She had been so entirely innocent until Wickham had nearly convinced her to elope to Gretna Green.

Thankfully, Darcy had made an impromptu surprise visit to Ramsgate.

Though Darcy’s only motive had been missing his beloved sister and wishing to give her joy, Georgiana had too much affection and respect for him to keep the secret when actually in his presence.

Thus, he had discovered the truth just in time to avert disaster.

Darcy shuddered. Grateful as he was for the reprieve, Georgiana had come much too close to disaster, and Mrs Younge had led her along every step of the way. It could not be allowed to happen again. He must find her a companion truly worthy of her trust.

A knock sounded on the door, and he was glad of the interruption from his dark thoughts. “Come!” he beckoned, and a footman entered bearing a silver tray.

“A letter for you, sir,” he said and approached when Darcy waved him forward. “It seems it was delayed, as it was first sent to Pemberley instead of here,” the young man said with an apologetic nod.

“I see,” Darcy replied, and took the letter from the tray. “Thank you, Peterson.”

The footman bowed and exited the room, leaving him alone to read the mysterious missive. He went to the window, holding the letter toward the light so he might read it.

∞∞∞

Dear Sir,

My name is Ewan Campbell, and I am the estate manager of Strathalt House here in the Scottish Highlands. The late owner of the estate, Hamish Sinclair, has died without direct heirs. However, it was stated in his will that the house and modest lands should go to his nearest living relative.

I am writing to inform you that you may be the closest living heir.

If my information is correct, Mr Sinclair was your second cousin twice removed.

As of this letter, no nearer relation has yet been discovered.

I would ask that you come to Strathalt House with proof of your ancestry to see if you are the heir I am looking for.

If I may be so bold, I should like to ask that you come at your earliest convenience; if possible, without the delay of waiting for another exchange of letters.

I would be very grateful to determine the future master of the estate, as there are several matters of increasing urgency beyond my own authority.

Your faithful servant,

Mr Ewan Campbell

∞∞∞

Darcy set the letter down, blowing out a long breath in surprise. He had never imagined learning that he had a distant relative in Scotland. He had never even visited the country, and now he might own an estate there? The news was difficult to fully take in.

Then too, he was asked to come to Scotland without delay.

That was a strange thought, and one that he would have to share with Georgiana.

Thankfully, his sister had insisted on coming with him to London on this trip, and so he left the study and went to seek an audience with her.

There was never any difficulty in finding Georgiana. He simply went to the piano.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, listening as her expert fingers coaxed a beautiful melody out of the ivory and ebony keys.

Though the music was beautiful, he did not like how much sorrow seemed to be expressed in every note.

Georgiana had never been a boisterous girl, but the events of Ramsgate had left her disheartened and withdrawn, doubting herself at every turn.

No amount of reassurances that he was not angry with her seemed to make a dent.

Georgiana would recover in her own time, surely.

She must. Only, it cut Darcy to the quick to feel how much she still suffered.

She seemed to sense his presence. Georgiana turned around and looked up, making eye contact with him. It was only then that her drawn features brightened with a slight smile. “Fitz. Are you spying on me again?”

She stopped playing and stood a little awkwardly, clasping her hands loosely in front of her.

Darcy frowned slightly. Though Georgiana’s dress was quite new, he was not entirely sure that it suited her.

Surely a young girl should not wear such a dull grey, one that made Georgiana’s pale complexion look almost ashen.

Worse still, the dress was so loose that it might have fit a woman considerably larger than Georgiana.

Taken together, the effect was anything but pleasing.

Yet another thing that Darcy hoped a suitable companion might fix, for he was hardly capable of advising her better himself.

To recognise what did not suit was one thing, but to choose better for her quite another.

But after all, there were more important things than one’s appearance. He went over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I am never one to spy unless I have good reason. And there could be no better reason than the chance of hearing you play, dear sister.”

Georgiana laughed and swatted playfully at his arm. “Surely you jest. And do not tell me you have interrupted your work just to come and hear your little sister tap away at the keys?”

“Well, no, that is not the only reason. But it should be reason enough if I deem it so.” Darcy led her to the little sitting area at the far side of the room, taking a chair opposite hers. “I have had some news,” he said.

Instantly, Georgiana’s face fell. Darcy silently cursed himself for a fool.

He ought to have told her immediately that it had nothing to do with the incident from the year past. Even though he had tried to tell her she would never have to see Wickham or Mrs Younge again, Georgiana still feared they would come back to haunt her somehow.

“It is nothing for you to worry yourself over, I assure you, Georgiana,” Darcy said quickly. He took her hand and pressed it reassuringly. “I have had a letter that I may come into an inheritance — a house — in Scotland.”

“In Scotland?” Her mood seemed to brighten instantly. “Really? How very exciting! Where is it?”

“It is called Strathalt House, and it is in the Highlands,” Darcy replied.

“But there is more. I must travel there to see the place and present the papers that might establish myself as the heir. I should very much like it if you would come with me. It would do us both some good to get out of London — to escape the vapours and get some fresh air and sunshine.”

Georgiana laughed. It was a sweet song to his ears, even more precious for how rarely he heard her laugh these days. “I would hardly expect to be met with much sunshine in the Highlands.”

“Perhaps that is so. Nonetheless, will you come with me? I cannot send you back to Pemberley all alone.” He held his breath, waiting for her to demur.

After the mistake that had nearly ruined her life, she had cloistered herself behind the walls of Pemberley.

And even though it was a beautiful and spacious house.

It had slowly turned into a tomb for his younger sister, who had been so full of life before Wickham had snuffed out the joy behind her eyes.

“Yes, I rather think I would enjoy coming. It would be a change of scenery, if nothing else,” Georgiana said cautiously.

“I am glad you are willing, particularly as I have not found a suitable companion for you yet.” Relieved as Darcy was that his sister had agreed so readily, it would not do to give her an overly rosy view of what the journey might entail.

“I will warn you that it is not the easiest of travelling conditions, and there are few civilised accommodations once we cross the border into Scotland and head into the Highlands. But I will endeavour to make the carriage as comfortable as I can.”

“Do not worry yourself on that end. I am not a porcelain doll, Fitz.” Georgiana looked off into the distance, seeming to stare through the frosted glass and into the garden.

But she saw nothing of this world, he warranted.

Was she reliving those days when Wickham had nearly convinced her that his love was genuine?

Was she back in the sunlit days and months leading up to the bitter disappointment that Wickham did not truly love her, but her money?