Page 11 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

A Quest for Forgiveness

Weary of sitting after the drive from London, Darcy went to the wide window of the small front parlor into which the Oakwood’s butler showed him and Richard. Outside, the shadow of the house stretched before them, reaching out to darken the smattering of trees between the home and the lane. Leafless branches stood out against the muted streaks of dark blue and dull pink, a dim reflection of the sunset that surely blazoned the sky to the west.

Richard came to stand beside him, drawling, “So, are you courting Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping you could tell me. I do not have the faintest notion.”

“You would be a fool not to be.”

Darcy cast his cousin a sour look.

Richard shrugged and wandered away, inspecting the room while Darcy watched the faintly mirrored sunset fade into darkness.

When Richard came full circle he said, “An elegant house.” He paused, then added, “Though the plethora of children’s artwork in the entrance hall seems to contrast with what else I have seen of the decor.”

“Not children’s,” Darcy corrected. “Miss Kitty Bennet’s works. She is, perhaps, a bit overindulged.”

Richard appeared bemused by that.

“Do you believe that Mrs. Oakwood’s sons are the Earl of Pillory’s heirs?” Darcy asked in a low voice.

“Lord Franklin seems to believe so, if his poisoning Master Matthew is any indication.”

Pondering that, Darcy replied, “From what I know of the man, he would harm the two Oakwood boys on the mere chance that they might supplant him, if he feels he can get away with it.”

“The line is known for their barbarism,” Richard allowed. “Although my brief acquaintance with General Oakwood showed no indication of such. ”

“But if the connection is real, he chose to conceal himself and his sons from his father. He gave up an earldom to remain hidden from his relations.”

“And we are beginning to see why,” Richard said wryly.

Darcy opened his mouth to reply to that, but Richard held up a staying hand. A moment later, Darcy heard it too. Footfalls returning down the hallway without.

Elizabeth and Miss Lydia entered, their nearly matching smiles speaking of success, and the former announced, “Our mother has agreed that you should be our guests.”

“Elizabeth didn’t need to say anything about courting,” Miss Lydia added. “She said that Colonel Fitzwilliam may know what ails Matthew and how to treat him, and Mama said you must both stay.”

“So you are under no obligation to court me, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth eyed him with amusement, though her humor had a hard edge. “That is, unless Hector or our footman convey your words to my mother.”

Annoyance flared in him. He’d behaved badly, yes, but he did not care for being tormented. “Let us hope not. I have no desire to offend you with attentions not to your liking, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, his manner seeming stiff even to him.

Miss Lydia looked back and forth between them with wide interested eyes. Richard’s face held bland amusement.

“Perhaps that is a conversation for another time,” Elizabeth said calmly, unruffled as always by his censure. “We have come to take you to Mrs. Oakwood so that Colonel Fitzwilliam may seek introduction.” She pivoted, sweeping out of the room.

With a startled hop, Miss Lydia whirled to follow. As he and Richard did the same, Darcy noted how the younger Miss Bennet cast quick looks at her sister, then pulled back her shoulders and leveled her gaze straight ahead, obviously striving to emulate Elizabeth.

She was a good person for a young woman to emulate. Georgiana could do with some of Elizabeth’s surety and strength of character. Perhaps—

He broke off that thought. Elizabeth was outwardly a laudable influence, but what of her secret life as a French highwayman? What sort of example was that to give other young women?

Perhaps he had relented too quickly in his olive branch of renewing their courtship. Seeing her, being with her, had all but erased his reservations from his mind. He needed a clear head. Perhaps he should—

That thought, too, he rejected. He would not flee to London again. He would look like a fool. But how could he find reason with the intoxication of Elizabeth surrounding him?

If he married her, would he ever see reason again? Would he care that he did not?

Darcy had found no footing for his thoughts by the time they reached the large drawing room where Mrs. Oakwood preferred to greet guests. To his relief, he already knew those within, which included only Mrs. Oakwood, Miss Bennet, and Miss Kitty, and thus was spared being part of the introductions that followed. Looking about while Richard made their acquaintance, Darcy noted that General Oakwood’s portrait had been replaced by an oil depicting a brace of pheasants. How odd.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Miss Kitty reiterated once introductions concluded. She crossed to stand before them, a frown marring what was, admittedly, a comely face. “Mr. Darcy’s cousin?”

“Second son to the Earl of Matlock,” Richard said dryly, obviously guessing the source of her intense thought.

Miss Kitty smiled, dropping her gaze in an expression of demureness that was patently false. “My, we are awash in the relations of earls of late.” She peeked up at him. “First Mr. Darcy, then Lord Franklin, now you. And do you know, sir, that my own brothers might be relations to the Earl of Pillory?”

Behind her sister, Miss Bennet frowned.

“It matters not if Colonel Fitzwilliam is related to the archbishop or the Prince Regent himself,” Mrs. Oakwood declared, coming forward as well, rather than suggesting they all sit. “What is important is that he knows what ails Matthew. Elizabeth, you must take him to your brother directly.”

“Yes, Mama. Is that where Mary is?”

Mrs. Oakwood nodded, twisting the handkerchief she held.

“If it is not too much imposition, may I be shown to my room?” Darcy asked, preferring to accompany Richard and Elizabeth than remain.

“I will show you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said, gliding past her mother and younger sister.

“Yes, you show him, Jane,” Mrs. Oakwood twisted her handkerchief tighter. “And you bring Colonel Fitzwilliam to Matthew, Elizabeth. I must sit down. My nerves cannot endure having my sweet baby boy so ill.”

Instantly solicitous, Miss Kitty took her mother’s arm and helped her back to the sofa across from the drawing room doorway.

“I had not planned on supper, sirs,” Mrs. Oakwood added. “You will forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, madam,” Richard replied, then bowed .

Darcy mimicked the action, following the eldest two Bennet sisters out. No one commented as Miss Lydia fell in behind Darcy and Richard. In the drawing room, Darcy could hear Miss Kitty speaking soothingly to her mother.

They returned to the entrance hall and started up the staircase, Miss Bennet saying, “Mama told Mrs. Hill to put you in the family wing, so that Colonel Fitzwilliam may be near to Matthew. I hope that is not an imposition.”

“Not at all,” Richard replied. “What did Mrs. Oakwood mean, she does not plan on supper?”

Almost to the top step, Miss Bennet glanced back. “She has been too distraught to dine.”

“Don’t worry, though,” Miss Lydia said from where she trailed Darcy and Richard. “Mrs. Hill will have asked Cook to have cold roast and bread ready, and all manner of things, and if you want any, there is ever so much broth. Mary insisted on large quantities and she spoons as much of it into Matthew as she can.”

“Miss Mary is your fifth sister?” Richard asked, gaining the upper hallway alongside Darcy.

Elizabeth nodded. “You will meet her now.”

Jane halted in the hallway, gesturing to the doors before them. “The first door on the right is your room, Mr. Darcy. That door leads to the adjoining sitting room, and the one beside that will be yours, Colonel.”

Elizabeth turned to her sister. “I believe we should all go to Matthew’s room for a moment,” she said before looking to him. “If you do not mind, Mr. Darcy?”

“I do not.” He winced, finding his tone harsh and his words clipped. A reaction to the tension both about and within him, not Elizabeth’s question, but would she realize as much?

They entered a large, elegant bedchamber, marked as a child’s only by the collection of rocks, soldiers, cards, and other evidence of youthful pursuits on the writing desk by the window. Miss Mary regarded them with mild surprise. Behind them, Miss Lydia closed the bedchamber door. In the bed, young Matthew slept, his face waxy white and his cheeks already appearing hollow.

“Mary,” Elizabeth said softly, hurrying around the bed to her sister.

Miss Mary rose and embraced her, closing her eyes and, for a moment, resting her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Then she straightened, smoothed her skirt, and adopted her usual reserved, competent demeanor .

“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Mary greeted softly, then turned to Richard. “Sir. I do not believe we have met.”

“This is Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said. “He and Mr. Darcy will be staying with us for a time. They have come to help keep Thomas and Matthew safe, and the colonel believes he may have encountered the poison given to Matthew before.”

“Keep them safe?” Miss Bennet repeated sharply. She cast Darcy and Richard an assessing look, her calm, astute inspection at odds with the easy, almost uncaringly pleasant demeanor she usually evidenced. “How much do they know?”

“I have not been at liberty to ascertain that,” Elizabeth replied. “I believe a great deal, and they have read Lydia’s express.”

“You took Mr. Darcy into your confidence without even a formal courtship?” Miss Mary asked with a frown. “And told another gentleman as well?”

“Oh, but they are courting,” Miss Lydia said, coming forward from her place by the door. “At least, I think they are. Mr. Darcy said that he is almost family, because they’re courting.”

“He said no such thing,” Elizabeth replied crisply, trampling Darcy’s heart. “And I did not take him into my confidence. He worked the matter out on his own, as you both know. He had Papa Arthur’s spyglass. Furthermore, I did not tell Colonel Fitzwilliam anything. Only showed him Lydia’s letter once I ascertained that Mr. Darcy had already revealed much.”

“Mr. Bingley told me that Mr. Darcy had guessed the truth,” Miss Bennet said softly before turning to him. “But I did not realize he had passed that truth along to others.”

Darcy took in the hard glint in Miss Bennet’s eyes and swallowed. Rather than her usual sweet self, before him stood the woman who had shot his hat, and relieved Wickham of two pistols in an even more brilliant display of marksmanship. Miss Bennet, for all her usual calm cheer, was a dangerous woman. He wondered if Bingley truly knew what he was getting himself into, taking her to wife. Darcy cleared his throat and said, “My cousin’s discretion is assured, and I was in need of counsel.”

She studied him for a moment longer, then dipped her head, her usual affability reappearing. “Thank you, sir, for returning my sword. It is a favorite.”

Richard’s eyes were wide. “It is all true, then?”

“What is all true?” Miss Lydia asked in a breathless voice, her eyes wide. “Why would Jane have a sword?”

Miss Bennet cast Miss Lydia a startled look before saying to Elizabeth, “I thought you took Lydia into our confidence.”

“I did not have time to do so before departing.” Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. “And how much is true about anything depends entirely on how much each of you knows, which is something we will sort out another time. For now, let us learn what is wrong with Matthew and what can be done.”

Miss Lydia appeared mutinous, a sentiment Darcy could appreciate, but Richard moved to the side of the bed. He began questioning Miss Mary, who replied with obvious expertise, and soon the two were deep in conversation about some herb of which Darcy had no knowledge.

“If all is in hand, I will go check on Mama,” Miss Bennet said. “Kitty is doing her best, but our mother is very distraught.”

“Lydia, could you check on the broth and ask Cook to boil water for tea, please?” Miss Mary asked. Without waiting for an answer, she added to Richard, “I will fetch the text of which I speak, and mugwort.”

Still appearing rebellious, Miss Lydia nonetheless nodded and left the room with Miss Bennet and Miss Mary. They left the hall door open, apparently unconcerned to leave Elizabeth alone with him and Richard, with only a sleeping child as chaperone.

Elizabeth moved to the foot of the bed, looking down at her younger brother in worry, but the gaze she raised to meet Darcy’s was unclouded by grief. “How much do you know?”

Under the intensity of her gaze, Darcy resisted the urge to ease the tightness of his cravat. “I know little, but I surmise much, including that you, Miss Bennet, and Miss Mary are the Boney Bandits. I also know that Miss Bennet saved Bingley’s life twice over, and was injured while doing so.”

She gestured to Richard. “And you informed Colonel Fitzwilliam of this?”

Darcy nodded, wishing he didn’t feel as if he’d betrayed a confidence. One he should have been afforded.

“So rather than speak to me about your suspicions regarding myself and my sisters, you went to London and informed the man who caused an entire militia to come to Hertfordshire to hunt us?”

“This seems like a conversation better suited to a room that is not our brother’s sickroom,” Miss Mary said, reentering, a small glass jar and a book in hand. “That is, if you do not mind, colonel?”

Richard, who had indeed been watching the exchange with interest, shrugged. “I do not mind. Now, let us see your text. I wish to ascertain if mugwort is indeed the same herb the women on the cape employed. ”

Miss Mary handed over the jar, sealed with a cork, then opened the book she’d brought. “Even if it is not, it should not harm him, and I have here a rendering of the living plant.” She began to page through the book.

Darcy remained by the door while Richard and the two ladies examined the herb, Miss Mary and his cousin debating how long to steep the mugwort and in what temperature water, to best infuse it into the tea without losing any medicinal properties. A short time later, Miss Lydia returned with a tray bearing broth and a pot.

Elizabeth moved back, coming to Darcy’s side. “Let me walk you to your chamber, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe I am of much use here at the moment.”

Glumly, Darcy nodded, aware that he was even less helpful to the pale young man asleep in the bed. As they stepped out into the hall, a sense of guilt welling up in him, Darcy said, “I should have fought harder against Lord Franklin being invited to Netherfield Park. I am passingly acquainted with the man and already had a keen impression of his distasteful nature. Hurst was on my side. We could have rallied.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head. “I imagine nothing would have prevented Miss Bingley from writing to Miss Hargreaves and once she did, invited or not, Lord Franklin was bound to arrive. He has everything to lose if Thomas is the Earl of Pillory’s heir.” As they moved down the hall to Darcy’s door, Elizabeth added, “I have not met him. Is his evil truly so plain to see?”

“It is, and had I any say in the matter, you would not ever meet him. He is the sort of man from which any reasonable gentleman would seek to protect ladies of his acquaintance.”

She pulled a face as they came to a halt before the door Miss Bennet had indicated as his. “Although I do not long for it, I imagine I will have the pleasure.” Elizabeth’s lips quirked. “Rather, the displeasure.”

Darcy stared down at her. They stood there, Elizabeth making no move to depart. The sun had long since set, removing what little daylight might have reached up the staircase from the entrance hall. The glow from the sconces that dotted the hallway glinted off her shimmering dark tresses and augmented the mystery of her eyes.

“You never answered,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She shook her head slightly. “Never answered what?”

“I asked to court you, and you did not answer. Bingley and your sister returned, and you pulled away from me without a reply.”

“I pulled away from you because we were about to kiss,” Elizabeth said softly, her gaze locked with his in the candle lit hallway .

“Precisely.” Darcy leaned nearer. “I was about to kiss you. Instead, I had no answer.”

“Do you not believe, Mr. Darcy, that me offering myself up to be kissed was your answer?”

She stood quite near, her face turned up to him. Darcy dropped his gaze to her full lips. How easily he could cup her cheek. Draw her to him. He could well imagine the softness of her skin beneath his palm. The silkiness of her tresses as he twined his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her neck to angle her head, bringing her so perfectly into his embrace.