Page 10 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

Salvation

Lydia stood in Matthew’s window, looking out into a gray afternoon. Beyond the stretch of lawn and smattering of trees before her stretched the lane leading to Meryton, far more visible through November’s denuded branches than it would be come spring. With a scowl, she saw the Hargreaves’ carriage come trundling along the roadway to turn up their drive, but the sight didn’t worry her. Mama had declared that while there was illness in their house, as she deemed Matthew’s condition, only family and those who were very nearly family were permitted to call. From above, Lydia watched in satisfaction as the Hargreaves were turned away.

Behind her, Matthew slept fitfully, his face nearly as white as the sheets against which he lay. Mary was asleep in the chair beside his bed, having stayed up all night and through the morning, urging him to sip as much broth as he could. She was convinced he’d been poisoned with some strange herb she’d read about and that the best treatment was large quantities of liquid and tablets made of charred wood. She and Mr. Jones, who would not concede to Matthew being poisoned but rather felt that the cognac had exacerbated an existing weakness, had argued excessively, with the apothecary advocating leeching.

In the end, Mama had sided with Mr. Jones. Lydia didn’t know anything about treating ailments, but she didn’t think Matthew looked well enough to have leeches sucking on him, and after Mr. Jones finished, he looked even worse. Once the apothecary left, Mary had administered her treatment and Lydia had dared to think Matthew was improving. Unfortunately, Mr. Jones would be back come morning for a second round of laying those slimy, fat bodies on Matthew’s chest so they might feast.

Out in the lane, the Hargreaves’ carriage rolled back away, returning to Meryton, and presumably to Netherfield Park. Lydia watched it go through narrow, angry eyes. If only it would keep going, all the way back to London or Nottinghamshire, or wherever Lord Franklin and his twin sister called home.

And they could take Mr. Nathan Hargreaves with them.

He’d seemed so much kinder than his siblings. Censorious of them, even. Yet it was Nathan Hargreaves who had held her back outside the walled garden, and given Lord Franklin time alone with Thomas and Matthew. Lydia didn’t want to believe that he had done so on purpose, but she couldn’t shake the suspicion. After all, she found him amiable and handsome, just as she’d found Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham. Did that not point to Nathan being secretly vile?

She twined her fingers together, glaring at the spot where the Hargreaves’ carriage had disappeared from sight. If only Elizabeth were here. She would know what to do.

Behind Lydia, the bedroom door opened. She turned to see Kitty slip in. Her sister’s face was pinched as she crossed to the bed to look down at Matthew. She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. Her gaze drifted to Mary, then she glided over to stand before the window with Lydia.

“Matthew does not look well,” Kitty whispered.

“Because Lord Franklin poisoned him,” Lydia cast back, her voice hard but equally quiet.

“That is ridiculous. I heard Mr. Jones tell Mama that Lord Franklin assured him nothing untoward transpired. Mr. Jones went to Netherfield Park, you know, to ask.”

Lydia hadn’t known. “As if Lord Franklin would not simply lie.”

Kitty drew herself up. “He would not. More than that, Mr. Jones said that he pulled out his flask and took a drink, to prove it is only cognac.”

“And you do not believe he could have emptied out the poison and refilled his flask?” Lydia asked. Was Kitty so very naive?

“You sound like Mama.” Kitty pursed her lips, glaring out the window for a moment before turning to Lydia. “Lord Franklin did not poison Matthew. He will be an earl someday.”

“What about what he said, about Thomas and Matthew being heirs to the earldom?” Lydia added a dire frown to her question, trying to convey the severity of the troubles in which they found themselves. “Does it not occur to you that if Papa Arthur was the earl’s heir, that does more than make you the sister of a peer? It makes Thomas and Matthew what stand between Lord Franklin and becoming one.”

Kitty’s mouth fell open into a small O of surprise, but she closed it quickly. “Are you implying that Lord Franklin would harm our brothers?” she hissed .

“Can you not see that he already has?”

“And I suppose you have filled Mama’s head with this nonsense? Is that why she has forbidden me to attempt an attachment?” Kitty glared at her. “You will not ruin my chance to be a countess like you ruined our opportunity to remain in Longbourn by being born a girl.”

Lydia’s hands balled into fists. “I didn’t pick being a girl.”

Kitty sniffed. “You would have if you had been able to. You always spoil everything.”

Lydia struggled mightily against the urge to stamp her foot, her sister’s words stinging. Mastering that need, and the even stronger desire to yell, she hissed, “I haven’t said a thing to Mama. She simply sees how evil the Hargreaves are.”

“I do not believe you.” Kitty leaned in, her eyes slits of ire. “I have seen you whispering with Mr. Hargreaves at tea. You are trying to make him fall in love with you. You two are conspiring to see Lord Franklin stripped of his inheritance and thrown in gaol so that you can rob me of being a countess just as Mary robbed me of Longbourn. You all hate me because I am Mama’s favorite and she gave me her five thousand pounds.”

Anger drained from Lydia. “No one hates you.”

“Do they not?” Kitty swallowed down tears. “Our older sisters are always together, and now that Jane and Mary are leaving, Elizabeth has been teaching you and Thomas and Matthew how to ride. Do not imagine I do not know it.” She blinked rapidly against the moisture forming in her eyes. “She did not invite me, though, did she? And did I tell Mama? I did not, because I actually love my sisters.”

Kitty whirled away, storming from the room before Lydia could think of what to say to that.

“That was an unpleasant way to wake up.”

Lydia turned to see Mary rubbing at the back of her neck, grimacing, and asked her, “Should I go after her and explain that I made Elizabeth teach me?”

“And that you insisted she instruct Thomas and Matthew as well?” Mary asked pointedly. Reaching out, she smoothed the hair back from Matthew’s brow.

“He looks so small,” Lydia murmured, coming to her brother’s bedside. “I am so sorry I didn’t stop Lord Franklin. I was almost in time.” Sorrow clenched her chest.

“Jane and I should have been here,” Mary said quietly. “We should never have both gone out at once. ”

And Elizabeth should be here, Lydia thought, a swirl of emotions roiling through her, ranging from anger to hope. “Elizabeth will have my letter by now.”

“She will know less about what ails Matthew than Mr. Jones.”

Lydia had nothing to say to that because she knew their older sister did not study such things, as Mary did, and yet she felt that Elizabeth would do something. Think of some way to help. Saying so seemed to disparage Jane and Mary, though, so Lydia held her tongue.

Mary stood. “I am going to change and see if I can find any more references to ailments such as this in my books. Will you stay with Matthew or should I call a maid?”

“I will stay,” Lydia said instantly.

Mary gave her a tired smile and left.

Lydia settled into the chair beside Matthew’s bed. She hated sitting there, useless, watching his pale face. Her thoughts drifted to the letters hidden in Papa Arthur’s desk. The ones for Thomas and Matthew’s grandfather, to be used if things became too dire. Was Matthew being poisoned dire? It seemed very, very bad to her.

After a time, she returned to the window. Outside, thin clouds drifted through a dull periwinkle sky. Below, nothing brightened the late November landscape, the early snow they’d had a distant memory. Lydia watched the slow movement of the clouds, wondering if Mary had fallen asleep over her books. She’d only drifted off around noon, which meant she’d had only a few hours of sleep.

Outside, the sun began to sink. Unable to help herself, Lydia let out a long sigh.

A rider came up the lane, his livery resolving into that of the Hargreaves as he neared the end of the drive. Lydia pursed her lips, wishing him well away. To her surprise, he drew his mount to a halt. Then, rather than come up the drive, he led his horse into the smattering of trees that dotted the natural lawn between their more tamed gardens and the roadway. Leaving the animal tethered to a branch, the man, footman or groom, she knew not which, cut through the trees to the garden. He did not angle to reach the front door, but rather the side of the house.

Frowning, Lydia checked that Matthew still slept and then slipped from the room. She went into the next, the sitting room that adjoined Matthew’s bedchamber and Thomas’s, and checked the Hargreaves-liveried servant’s progress. As he strode down the side of the house, she went from room to room, following him .

He went all along the side and then around to the back. Rather than enter their mother’s rooms, which dominated the end of the hall, Lydia gave up watching and raced downstairs. Hurrying, she caught a glimpse, through the library window, of the man going along the back side of the house.

Was his goal the walled garden, or the kitchen? The washroom? Several doors opened into the back garden. During the day, they kept none of them locked.

Where was Thomas?

Lydia barged into the washroom, startling two maids. Dodging around them, she raced outside. The Hargreaves’ servant disappeared into the kitchen. Lydia charged along the back of the house. She nearly collided with the liveried man as he stepped back out.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, glaring at him.

He looked her up and down. “It is none of your concern, child.”

“I am Miss Lydia Bennet and it very much is my concern, and I can definitely yell loud enough to have everyone in the kitchen out here in moments, and I will not hesitate to tell them that you are up to no good if you don’t tell me why you are here.”

The man grimaced. “I was delivering a note from my master.”

“Why not take it to the front door?”

The servant shrugged. “I was told to bring it to the kitchen door.”

“Why?”

The man raised his nose into the air. “It is not my place to question Lord Franklin’s orders. Only to carry them out.”

“Who was the note for?”

“Master Thomas Oakwood.”

She doubted there was any point in asking after the contents. The man wouldn’t have dared crack the seal, assuming he could even read. “Who did you give it to?”

He shrugged. “A kitchen maid, I assume, as the young lady was dressed as a maid and in the kitchen.”

Lydia continued to glare at the man, trying to think of more questions. When she couldn’t, she pointed back the way he’d come. “Leave our property.”

He shrugged and walked around her, his expression holding disdain.

Teeth clenched, Lydia went into the kitchen. Loudly, to be heard over the din of dinner preparations, she said, “Did someone take a note from that fellow, for Thomas?”

One of the girls who chopped vegetables nodded to the back staircase with her chin. “Sarah did, miss. She took it up the back way to Master Thomas, miss.”

“Thank you.” Lydia raced across the kitchen and up the staircase.

She met Sarah coming down and halted her to ask, “Did you find Thomas?”

The girl nodded. “He was in the schoolroom, miss.”

“Thank you,” Lydia repeated as she hurried past the maid.

She entered the schoolroom, empty of all but Thomas, to find that her brother had pushed several desks together and created a large battle with all of his and Matthew’s soldiers. But Thomas wasn’t at the tables. He stood before the fireplace, watching a piece of thick vellum burn.

Lydia joined him, but could only make out, ‘-ell no one o-’ before the page completely blackened. “What did it say?”

Thomas cast a quick look at her, out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing. Some…some threats about…about an earldom.” Twin spots of red colored Thomas’s cheeks. “Do you know what this is about, Lydie?”

She did, and it was high time Thomas did as well, so she said, “Lord Franklin believes that Papa Arthur was secretly the heir to an earldom, and that now you are, and that will make him into Mr. Hargreaves and not a man destined to be a peer someday.”

“Then that cognac really was poisoned?”

Lydia nodded. “I believe so, and Jane and Mary do, too. I think Mama even believes it was, although she doesn’t believe Mary that she knows better than Mr. Jones what should be done for Matthew.”

Thomas turned to her, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “What if Matthew and I tell him we don’t want to be heirs? Do you think he will leave us alone?”

“I don’t know.” Lydia pursed her lips. Lord Franklin’s note floated through the flames as charred bits.

“He is very evil, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

Glumly, side by side, they watched the flames in the grate dance. Lydia sighed. She should go back to Matthew’s room. He was all alone, unless Mary had returned.

Distantly, Lydia heard the front door open. Her first fear was more Hargreaves or their servants, but Hector, though his words were obscured by distance, gave a warm greeting to whoever entered. Then, her words indistinct but her voice unmistakable, Elizabeth answered.

Relief surged through Lydia. She exchanged a look with Thomas, blurting, “Elizabeth,” at the same moment he did. They both took off across the schoolroom at a run.

Lydia outpaced her brother, who had not yet achieved his height. Throwing aside decorum, she held her skirts high and raced through the house and down the main staircase. Sighting two gentlemen, she jerked to a halt, dropping her skirt and grabbing the railing to keep from falling.

“Elizabeth,” she cried.

Elizabeth and the gentlemen turned, revealing Mr. Darcy and a man Lydia didn’t know. Nor did she care who he was. She flung herself down the rest of the steps and into her sister’s arms.

Squeezing Elizabeth tight, Lydia exclaimed, “I am so happy you are home.” Behind her, she heard Thomas clatter down the staircase and couldn’t help but smile a little as he pulled up halfway down, as she had, obviously sighting their guests.

Elizabeth returned her squeeze, then released her to smile over her shoulder at Thomas before turning to the men. “Mr. Darcy, you know my brother, Thomas Oakwood, and my youngest sister, Lydia. Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I present Master Thomas Oakwood and Miss Lydia Bennet. The colonel is Mr. Darcy’s cousin.”

Thomas, who had reached the entrance hall floor, bowed along with the two gentlemen. Mr. Darcy appeared as grave as always, and the colonel interested in everything about him, his quick gaze taking in Thomas, Lydia, Kitty’s paintings, Hector waiting to pass their outerwear to one of their footmen, Kenneth. He even seemed to study the staircase down which Lydia and Thomas had come.

“Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are hoping to prevail upon Mama for accommodations, as they do not wish to intrude upon Mr. Bingley’s exalted guests,” Elizabeth said.

Lydia exchanged a look with Thomas before saying, “Mama has declared that only those who are family or nearly so are allowed for so long as Matthew is sick.” She wanted to add that the stipulation was to keep the Hargreaves away, but didn’t know how to tell Elizabeth as much with Hector, Kenneth, Mr. Darcy, and the colonel all listening.

Elizabeth frowned slightly and Lydia could practically see ideas coalescing and being discarded in her sister’s quick mind.

“What if I were courting Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy rumbled. “Would that make myself and my cousin nearly family?”

Elizabeth whirled to stare at him in surprise, rather undermining his claim of courtship .

“Are you courting my sister, sir?” Thomas asked, standing as tall as he could and mustering an expression that mirrored Mr. Darcy’s usual frown.

Lydia elbowed Thomas, hissing, “It doesn’t matter if he truly is,” before turning back to Mr. Darcy. “I am certain that would be enough for Mama, and would please her greatly. Not as much as if you were courting Kitty, but Kitty only cares about Lord Franklin anyhow.”

Thomas shook his head, his expression stubborn. “But is Mr. Darcy courting you, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s gaze darted to the waiting butler and footman, who stood very still, their gazes straight ahead as if they couldn’t hear a thing. “Courting me is a plausible explanation for why Mr. Darcy would squire me here from London so expediently.”

Lydia smiled. That was one of Elizabeth’s non-answers. She was so good at them. Where he stood beside Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s lips quirked. Obviously, he realized that Elizabeth hadn’t answered, too.

“But one which I do not believe will be necessary,” Elizabeth continued. “The truth is that Colonel Fitzwilliam may have some expertise when it comes to what ails Matthew. That should be enough to persuade Mama to permit both gentlemen to remain as our guests.”

“That is good news,” Thomas said. A relieved grin spread across his face. “I am certain you are both most welcome here.”

Elizabeth turned to their butler. “Hector, please show our guests into the front parlor while I go speak with my mother, send a pair of footmen to see to their team, with my gratitude for taking on the unaccustomed duty, and inform Mrs. Hill that we will have two additional guests for dinner and that they require rooms.”

Hector bowed. “Yes, miss.” He turned to the footman and began issuing low orders.

“You are so certain that your mother will agree?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

Elizabeth smiled with enviable confidence. “Never fear, sir. We are well versed in directing Mrs. Oakwood. The three of us will see it done.” She looped her arms through Lydia’s and Thomas’s. “The drawing room?”

Lydia nodded, nearly as happy as she’d been the day the redcoats had come to Meryton. Elizabeth was here now, and she’d already found someone who could help Matthew. All would be well. Together, they set off down the hall to go speak with their mother.