Page 7 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

Darcy looked at Strathalt House with relief.

Georgiana had been brave and patient during the journey, never complaining once.

But he knew it had been difficult for her.

They had stopped at an inn late the night before.

Exhausted, Georgiana had not woken until nearly ten o’clock.

Still, they had pressed onward in the late morning.

“I’ll request the housekeeper take you to a room so you can rest,” Darcy said as the carriage stopped. He opened the carriage door and climbed down, then offered his hand to Georgiana. She took it and jumped down, attempting to seem as lively as ever, but stumbled and nearly fell.

Darcy caught her just in time. “Georgiana! The journey was too much for you, I knew it. I should not have pushed you so hard. You shall have your rest soon, I promise you.”

Georgiana rolled her eyes heavenward. “I know you are worried about me, brother, but I am fine. It was a long journey, but that full night’s sleep has done me a world of good.

I would very much like to see the house and meet Mr Campbell.

” Georgiana beamed up at him, then looked at the stone house, taking in a quick, awed breath.

“It is beautiful, is it not? Better than I imagined.”

“Yes, it is quite handsome, isn’t it?” Darcy asked.

It was not Pemberley, but it had a charm all its own.

The stones had a rugged grace, speaking of many long years of protecting the family within.

The grounds were wild, untamed, and he liked them all the better for it.

It was perfect, somehow — exactly what he had thought a Scottish house should look like.

“Well, let us not stand out here on the stoop all morning.” He offered his sister his arm, and they walked up the steps together.

A servant opened the door, and Darcy stepped forward. “Good morning. My name is Darcy — Fitzwilliam Darcy. I received a letter from Mr Campbell to come and see him about the house. Is he in?”

“Yes, sir. Mr Campbell is out inspecting the property at the moment. But I will alert Mrs Graham, the housekeeper, of your arrival. Will you follow me to the drawing room? The other footmen and I will see to your luggage.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. They were shown into a comfortable room, not too large. Given the rugged stone of which the structure was constructed, that might be for the best. It would be a chore to heat all the rooms in this grand house. Thankfully, there was already a fire burning in the hearth.

“I will send Mrs Graham to you directly,” the servant said. He bowed and left the room.

Darcy sat down beside his sister, who did her best to cover a yawn. He took her hand. “Are you certain you are well? I can ring for the servant and ask that you be shown to your room right away. I can see Mr Campbell on my own.”

“No, I am well. Only a little tired,” Georgiana said. Darcy frowned. It was obvious she was putting on a brave front for his benefit. “I am very intrigued by this house and its keeper. Is it not beautiful?” she exclaimed.

“It is,” Darcy replied. He looked about the room, then let his eyes rove toward the window and the impossibly green landscape beyond. “I like that it is so near Loch Ness. It will make for a beautiful stroll.”

“Yes, I quite agree,” Georgiana said. She covered another yawn.

Despite her claims that she had rested well the night before, Darcy was inclined to think she had fibbed a little.

It would be like her to attempt to spare him concern.

Georgiana had been stalwart in bearing up under the hardships the journey had wrought.

And they would have been here sooner if they had not run into trouble with the carriage wheel.

Thankfully, it had only delayed them a day, and the coachman had realised its sorry state before anything dire had taken place.

But he knew she would be thankful for a hot bath and a good rest that evening.

Many minutes passed without the arrival of Mrs Graham.

When the clock struck noon. Darcy stood and began to pace.

It was not a propitious introduction to the household.

Had they been forgotten entirely? As he watched Georgiana trying to keep her eyes open, his ire rose.

Despite her best efforts, his poor, tired sister was nodding off on the settee.

“What is taking them so long?” Darcy muttered.

Surely the servant would not have been so remiss as to forget to alert the housekeeper that they had arrived?

“It is a large house, Fitz. Do not be too hard on them.”

“It is not even half the size of Pemberley. And the servant mentioned he is not the only footman. They ought to have unloaded the carriage, taken our luggage to our rooms, and even unhitched the team by now.” He walked to the window to see if there was anyone about — a gardener or some kitchen boy that passed by.

Anyone — if only they would remind the housekeeper that they were waiting.

“Come and sit down. Tell me what you will do with the house if you are to inherit.” Georgiana patted the settee beside her, and Darcy reluctantly came to her side.

He sat down, though shifting restlessly.

“I have not really thought much on the subject. I do not see why we would not inherit. Perhaps it would make a good hunting lodge. How would you like that? I have always wondered what it would be like to hunt stag,” he replied.

“And perhaps one year we could come here for Christmas?”

“Oh, that is a lovely idea,” Georgiana said, giving a small smile. She seemed too tired to do anything else. “I am eager to see the rest of the house and grounds. It is nearly too good to be true, more of a fable than reality.”

“I am glad you like the house,” Darcy replied with a small smile. “Perhaps I will make a wedding present of it to you when the time comes. Would you like that?”

Georgiana shrugged. “I suppose. I do not know if I will ever have the chance to be a wife, though.”

Darcy frowned. “Why would you say that?”

She smoothed her dress down over her knees and then picked at her gloves. “I do not know,” she said, letting her words trail off. “If a man were truly interested in me, he would not be for long once he found out about what happened at Ramsgate.”

Darcy’s heart sank. It had been nearly a year, and still the shadow of guilt and shame hung over her.

He would have done anything to see it removed from over her head.

“Georgiana, you are quite wrong. Your reputation is intact, and no rumours have got out. If you wished, you need never tell anyone, not even the man who will be your husband.” Indeed, he had paid handsomely to ensure there was not so much as a hint of rumours.

His staff were loyal to him and had said nothing.

They would take the story to their graves.

And Wickham would never breathe a word of what had happened.

A combination of money and threats had taken care of that.

“I could not keep something so monumental from a man who was willing to marry me. I could not lie like that.”

Darcy could not help but respect her view, though he did not think the situation was nearly so dire as Georgiana seemed to imagine.

“Any man worth having will forgive and forget, Georgiana. He will see what a treasure you are, and the past will have no bearing on the happy future you might have together. I rather think you will have the opposite problem. Your dowry is more than substantial, and the consequence of our family impressive. You are likely to have too many suitors, not too few.”

Georgiana shrugged. “I suppose you are correct, and yet I can hardly imagine such a thing.” She let out a short laugh. “As I’ve said before, I think you will be stuck with me for a long while yet.”

Darcy searched for the right words to console her, hating himself for his failure. “We need not worry about any of that now,” he attempted. “Besides, I would be happy to have you with me for as long as you would like — forever, if it came to it.”

Georgiana yawned once more and leant back on the settee. “It is lovely in this room, so close to the hearth. Perhaps I will just rest my eyes for a moment.”

Darcy looked at the clock again, trying to push down his anger. It had been nearly an hour since they had been shown into the drawing room. Much longer, and he would go in search of the housekeeper himself.

Just then, the door opened. A young woman entered — unusually young for a housekeeper, and surprisingly pretty and well-dressed.

Though the style of her gown was rather simple, it was remarkably becoming, and would have better suited a young gentlewoman.

Perhaps that had been the problem: Strathalt House had a housekeeper who paid more attention to her appearance than to the needs of guests.

But such woolgathering was not helping to procure a bedchamber for Georgiana.

Darcy immediately took control of the situation.

“You are here at last, and not a moment too soon. We have been waiting for a very long time. I hope this is not how Mr Campbell allows the house to be run.” He took a slow, measured breath, keeping his temper with difficulty.

“If I am to inherit, I certainly will not permit such slackness.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said. She raised her chin as though offended by his rebuke, her dark brunette hair tied back in a tidy bun.

Soft curls were pulled out on either side, framing her face.

Nothing was covering her hair, not a white cap or bonnet.

Very unprofessional, if he had his say. Indeed, the young woman was dressed much too elegantly for a housekeeper.

While the cut of her gown was simple, it was a pale pink linen — another faux pas.

Any housekeeper worth her salt would choose to wear sombre, professional colours.

But perhaps things were done a little more laxly here in Scotland.