Page 9 of Gentlemen of Honor (Bennet Gang Duology #2)

A Call to Arms

Seated in the front parlor with her aunt, Elizabeth set aside the child-sized stocking she was darning and accepted a letter, delivered by special courier, with a frown. Her frown only grew when she saw that the missive came from Lydia. Her youngest sister rarely put pen to paper, and would never incur the expense of having a letter delivered with such haste.

Except that she had.

With trepidation, Elizabeth cracked open the seal. Inside, Lydia detailed events that had taken place in the garden the previous afternoon between Lord Franklin and their brothers. She also touched on Kitty’s growing affection for the man, obviously a secondary worry to Lydia but also alarming, and ended with, ‘I told Jane and Mary that I am writing, otherwise they would, but I saw what Lord Franklin did, and I’m the one who let him do it, so I said I would tell you.’

Elizabeth lowered the letter, her hand shaking.

“Whatever is the matter?” Aunt Gardiner asked, needle halting mid-stitch. “You have gone quite pale.”

“Matthew is unwell,” Elizabeth replied, folding the letter.

“Unwell enough to necessitate a special courier?” Aunt Gardiner sounded nearly as alarmed as Elizabeth felt, and she did not even know all.

Elizabeth nodded. “His nose keeps bleeding, and he complains of pain in his gut.” What could Lord Franklin have used? Would it run its course? If not, was there a cure?

Cold anger settled over Elizabeth, freezing her budding panic. If there was a cure, Lord Franklin would tell her of it. She would make him.

“Mum, a Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are asking if you are in.”

The voice of Aunt Gardiner’s maid intruded into Elizabeth’s churning thoughts, startling her.

“Oh, how splendid,” Aunt Gardiner said, then frowned at Elizabeth. “Their timing is perhaps not the best, but yes, we certainly are. ”

Elizabeth stared at her aunt, stunned. What was Mr. Darcy doing here? And Colonel Fitzwilliam? Wasn’t he the colonel who had caused a militia unit to be stationed in Meryton to hunt down her, Jane, and Mary? Had Mr. Darcy come to see her arrested?

“Now, do not be angry,” Aunt Gardiner said in a low voice as the sound of the gentlemen shedding their outerwear in the small entrance hall reached them. “Your uncle took the liberty of writing to Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth continued to stare, trying to reorder her thoughts away from hunting down Lord Franklin, or Matthew abed, ill, or Mr. Darcy watching her taken away in chains, but to little avail.

“Elizabeth?” Aunt Gardiner hissed. “Stop clenching your teeth. Put away that mending. Smile.”

Elizabeth shoved the mending under the sofa and snapped a smile into place, accustomed to obeying her very reasonable aunt, then stood as Mr. Darcy and a slightly shorter gentleman entered the room. Both were finely dressed, and while Mr. Darcy wore his usual dour look, the other man, Colonel Fitzwilliam presumably, smiled warmly.

After a moment of silence during which Mr. Darcy stood glowering at Elizabeth, Colonel Fitzwilliam gave the barest shrug and stepped forward to bow. “Mrs. Gardiner, thank you for inviting us into your lovely home. Please permit me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. This is my cousin, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”

Cousin?

Mr. Darcy bowed, the motion seemingly a reflex.

Aunt Gardiner curtsied. “And this is my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though I believe you are already acquainted with her, Mr. Darcy?”

His gaze shifted to Aunt Gardiner. “Indeed, madam. We became acquainted during my recent visit to Hertfordshire.”

“A visit that my niece informed me was cut unexpectedly short,” Aunt Gardiner stated in clear challenge.

“It was.” Mr. Darcy shifted his gaze back to Elizabeth.

They all waited for her to speak, but she could not find any words. Leastwise, not any polite ones. She’d come to London to seek Mr. Darcy, but that had obviously been an error. She’d left her brothers unprotected in Hertfordshire, simply to chase after a man. Whatever had she been thinking, placing a courtship above the welfare of her brothers? And what of Jane and Mary? How could they permit Lord Franklin anywhere near Thomas and Matthew? Had her sisters become useless ninnies now that they’d made their foolish vows to be Boney Bandits no more?

“You must pardon my niece,” Aunt Gardiner said. “She moments ago received a letter informing her that one of her brothers is ill.”

Elizabeth looked down at the letter she still held. Folding it in half, she shoved it into her skirt pocket.

“I am very sorry to hear that,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said when it once again became apparent that Mr. Darcy did not intend to speak. “Perhaps we should depart and call another time.”

“There will be no other time,” Elizabeth said crisply. “I am returning to Hertfordshire as soon as my maid is ready and my case is packed.”

Aunt Gardiner turned to her in surprise. “I understand your alarm but surely the local apothecary is more fit to deal with whatever ails Matthew than you are.”

Struggling to find the words to convey her worry without revealing too much or disparaging her relations, Elizabeth replied, “I agree that Mr. Jones knows far more than I do about ailments, but I fear a certain lack of reason in Dovemark at the moment. Jane and Mary are both in the throes of new love, and the remainder of the household is distracted by an eligible young lord and his siblings visiting Netherfield Park.”

“I see,” Aunt Gardiner said slowly. “Your concern is laudable, but I must speak with your uncle about use of the carriage.”

“If Uncle Gardiner cannot spare his, I will hire one.” Elizabeth would not normally squander her pin money on hiring transportation, but as with Lydia and the express, desperate times called for such frivolity.

“I will take you,” Mr. Darcy said, stepping forward.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up.

“If you will permit me to,” he added softly. “I will have you at Dovemark this evening. I need only inform my sister of my destination.”

He seemed so hopeful, and Elizabeth was in need of transportation. Mr. Darcy had a fine conveyance, and a team of four that would make quick work of the journey. Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. My maid and I will be ready within the hour.”

“I will return ere then.” Mr. Darcy bowed to her, then turned to her aunt. “Mrs. Gardiner, it has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please thank your husband for his letter.”

“Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam added, bowing to them as well, his eyes alight with interest.

She and her aunt gave their farewells, and Elizabeth excused herself. She rang for Lucy and together they readied to depart. True to his word, when Elizabeth followed her case down not an hour later, Mr. Darcy waited, his carriage without.

Having given her farewells to her cousins before descending, Elizabeth turned to her aunt. “I am sorry to rush off. Please give Uncle Gardiner my love when he returns from work.”

“I will.” Aunt Gardiner hugged her, whispering in her ear, “And do hear the gentleman out, dear. They are skittish creatures, afraid to find love, but I daresay he will be steadfast once committed.”

Elizabeth hugged her aunt back, wishing she dared to confide all of her secrets so that her aunt could fully understand, or that she had no secrets to hide. That, in truth, would solve all her troubles.

But it wouldn’t solve Matthew’s and it wouldn’t protect him and Thomas, so better to bear the burden of secrets than to face the Hargreaves unarmed, metaphorically or in truth.

Releasing her aunt, Elizabeth turned to the door, and Mr. Darcy. “I am ready to depart, sir.”

He led the way out to where Lucy was supervising the addition of Elizabeth’s case to a second, smaller carriage with two horses tied to the back. She spied several other cases and servants, and wondered how much luggage and assistance Mr. Darcy felt he required.

He handed her in to the sight of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth reevaluated the amount of luggage and number of staff occupying the smaller conveyance. Sitting opposite the colonel, she dipped her head in greeting. “Colonel Fitzwilliam. I did not realize you would be accompanying us.”

“I convinced Darcy to permit me to come along. I have the suspicion that he will need me, in one capacity or another.” A grin split his affable face. “I suspect, as well, that this trip to Hertfordshire will be highly diverting.”

Mr. Darcy handed Lucy in and she joined Elizabeth on her seat before, finally, Mr. Darcy took his place beside his cousin, asking, “Is everyone settled?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you for this. It is very kind of you to return us to Hertfordshire.”

“I deem it the least I can do.” He knocked on the ceiling of the carriage, signaling their readiness to the driver. Lowering his arm he added, “Though I do ask in return that you permit me a private word or two, when circumstances allow.”

His stiff formality sparked a touch of amusement in her, despite the anger she still harbored over his flight, and her worry for Matthew. “I notice, sir, that you did not add that stipulation until the carriage had already begun moving.”

Far from being flustered by her accusation, he actually smiled. “Quite deliberately, I assure you.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam took in their exchange with interest.

As the well-sprung conveyance carried them over the even cobbles of Gracechurch Street, Mr. Darcy’s expression sobered. “I am sorry that Master Matthew is ill. Do you know the nature of his malady?”

Elizabeth hesitated, suddenly aware of the letter she’d shoved into her pocket an hour ago. She assumed Mr. Darcy had fled because he’d learned her and her sisters’ secret. The return of Papa Arthur’s spyglass, which he’d taken from the Boney Bandits, seemed to confirm that, but could she be completely certain?

Rather than answering his question, she slanted a look at Lucy, then said, “It was very kind of you to return Matthew’s spyglass. I can only assume you found it while out walking and recognized my stepfather’s insignia?”

“Not immediately.” Mr. Darcy, too, glanced at the maid, who gazed out the window at the buildings they passed. “But eventually, yes, I did, and then I knew precisely to whom I should return it.”

Elizabeth nodded. With Lucy in the carriage, she would have to take that as confirmation. Regardless, if Mr. Darcy was to court her, she would need to ensure he knew the truth, as both Jane and Mary had done, so if he did not know all, he shortly would…assuming he still held any interest in her. She pulled the letter from her skirt pocket and handed it to him, not realizing until he accepted it that she had already forgiven him enough to wish to continue their courtship.

But she did not care to forgive him that quickly. Not after the sting of his defection. Of course, he didn’t need to know that he’d won her back over so quickly. Not until he offered an apology.

As Mr. Darcy unfolded Lydia’s letter, Colonel Fitzwilliam met Elizabeth’s gaze. With a nod to the missive he asked, “May I?”

She looked to Mr. Darcy.

He grimaced and dipped his head in confirmation.

So, he had told his cousin all he knew? Or, at least, all he thought he knew. Did Mr. Darcy trust the colonel so fully, or did he lack the level of discretion Elizabeth would have credited him?

With no way to know which, and no means to cause Colonel Fitzwilliam to unknow any information Mr. Darcy had already imparted, Elizabeth said, “Certainly. A military mind might offer insight.” The addition of the contents of the letter could be no more damning than anything the colonel already knew.

The two men read the letter together, Mr. Darcy’s features settling into a glower while Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He was a man of action, Elizabeth could tell. Much more her kindred than Mr. Darcy, who she suspected was apt to think things half to death.

“Well?” she asked when the two looked up.

“Do you imagine your mother would invite us to stay at Dovemark?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. “I find I am not desirous of disturbing Mr. Bingley’s vaunted guests with my presence.”

“We could take rooms at the inn,” Mr. Darcy said. “It seems rather an imposition to invite ourselves into Mrs. Oakwood’s home, especially with Master Matthew ill.”

His cousin cast him an exasperated look. “The inn does not afford us the proximity to Miss Elizabeth’s brothers that I would prefer.” His gaze slid to Lucy. “I may have seen this sort of ailment before. I would like to be near to daily monitor Master Matthew’s condition.”

Understanding filled Mr. Darcy’s visage. “You are correct. It would be preferable for us to be at Dovemark.”

The two men obviously felt they could better safeguard Thomas and Matthew if they were on hand. Elizabeth mulled over the idea, finding no flaw. Except the proximity with Mr. Darcy, for he definitely should suffer as a result of his defection, forgiven or not. “My mother is likely to be overjoyed by such an offer.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “Let us hope you are correct.”

Mr. Darcy handed back Lydia’s letter.

Elizabeth tucked it away and they traveled in silence for a time, leaving the city in the late afternoon light. Eventually, as she was wont to do in carriages, Lucy drifted off. Elizabeth knew the maid to be the soul of discretion, that being the reason she was her, Jane, and Mary’s favorite, but they had never taken Lucy into their confidence and now was not the time to do so.

Assessing Lucy’s even breaths, Elizabeth said softly, “I must locate my gloves,” a statement calculated to rouse the maid if she was not fully asleep.

Lucy’s eyelids did not so much as flicker.

Satisfied, Elizabeth turned to the two men. “Are you truly familiar with what Lord Franklin gave Matthew?” she asked, directing her words at Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Indeed I am. It sounds similar to a substance some of the men under my command encountered in the Cape Colony. The locals would lace all manner of food and drink with it, as a sort of rebellion.”

Hope rushed through Elizabeth. “Is there a cure?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I am afraid not,” he said quietly. “Recovery was highly dependent on how much of the substance was ingested, though one of the local women suggested copious amounts of liquid and tablets of charcoal, which did seem to help, and an herb that I do not know the English name of, but which I believe to be ubiquitous.”

Elizabeth drew in a slow breath, tamping down the worry and fear that threatened to rise in her, forming the emotions into a small, hard knot of anger deep in her gut. Anger which pulsed through her, seeking a focus. “Then we will administer that advice and hope for the best, as well as seek this herb. My sister Mary knows a great deal about such things. She will be able to find the plant if you are able to describe it.”

“I will do my best.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes were bright as he regarded her across the carriage. “May I say, if half of what my cousin has told me is true, you and your sisters are remarkable women, Miss Bennet.”

Mr. Darcy cast his cousin a scowl.

“As I am not privy to what Mr. Darcy has told you, I cannot comment to that.” Deliberately not looking at the man who’d asked to court her, Elizabeth continued, “But based on Mr. Darcy’s behavior, I cannot imagine he painted me or my sisters in a very flattering light.”

“But knowing him as you do, you can ascertain that he was honest in his description,” Colonel Fitzwilliam countered. “And I, for one, am impressed.”

Was the colonel flirting with her? “That is very kind of you to say, sir, but I cannot imagine that your standards are any less exacting than his.”

“On the contrary, I have remained unattached for so long because they are quite exacting, and from what I have heard, you meet all of them.”

“Except for her dowry,” Mr. Darcy cut in, his voice almost a growl as he glared at his cousin.

“You and I discussed that,” the colonel said lightly, before returning his attention to Elizabeth. “My cousin refers to the fact that as the second son of a peer, I am accustomed to a lifestyle I cannot in truth afford, and so have always sought a respectable dowry in trade for my lofty connections.”

“That is a shame, sir, for I have no notion of what my dowry may or may not be. My Uncle Phillips, an attorney, is keeper of that information in a father’s stead.” Elizabeth deliberately emphasized Uncle Phillips standing, looking not at the colonel as she did, but at Mr. Darcy. She strongly suspected that she and Colonel Fitzwilliam played a like-minded game of tormenting his cousin. She did not know why the colonel did so but, for her part, she could admit to wanting to punish Mr. Darcy.

But only for his torment of her, not for her brother’s illness. Elizabeth would concede that Mr. Darcy had not made her come to London. Nor had he caused Jane and Mary to be derelict in their duty to their brothers. He certainly had not poisoned Matthew. Lord Franklin had done that, and he was the one who would feel her wrath.

“Then perhaps I will apply to this uncle of yours,” Colonel Fitzwilliam was saying. “It is proper for a gentleman to know what may be expected. Though, as I told my cousin, some things are worth the hardship of genteel poverty.”

“Do you believe so?” Elizabeth asked, taking in Mr. Darcy’s murderous expression from the corner of her eye. “Then genteel poverty must not compare to the shame of having a scandal hidden in your past. That, I have learned, is an insurmountable obstacle, so you would do well to guard your intentions, or perhaps, once we arrive at Dovemark, you should flee back to London.”

“Oh, I imagine the Fitzwilliam name carries enough weight to endure a storm or two,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. “I believe I will remain, assuming Mrs. Oakwood is amenable.”

“Be it on your head, then,” Elizabeth said with mock despair. She turned to the glowering Mr. Darcy and cocked an eyebrow, inviting him to speak.

He looked from her to his cousin and back, folded his arms across his chest, and turned to stare out the window.

A stab of remorse went through her, for she had meant to tease, not to cause acute misery, but Elizabeth hardened her heart. A bit of torment was the least he deserved.