Page 46 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 46
“Y ou need to speak to your brother!”
The earl’s head snapped up from his desk as Darcy barged unceremoniously into his study. “Darcy! You nearly gave me a heart seizure. What is this?”
Darcy set his hands on his hips and screwed his mouth into something more civil than the oaths he longed to spit out. “Richard. You need to talk some sense into him before I render him unconscious all over again!”
The earl straightened in concern. “What, is he delusional again? Mother said something about that.”
“I cannot decide. He seems perfectly lucid, but he keeps rambling on about the army hunting him. It may be true, it may not, but in such a state as he is in, I cannot determine what is what.”
“Wait... the army hunting him? Are you certain he was not talking in his sleep?”
“Not this time.” Darcy stomped to the window and set his knuckles on the framing, peering intently through the glass. “He wants me to smuggle him to the coast so he can board a ship for Greenland. Worse, he means to take Elizabeth with him!”
“What? He is mad!”
“As a hatter. He says the army, his own fellow soldiers, chased him across Africa and he has the bullet holes to prove it. He says he never intended to be found and plans to disappear for good the moment you look the other way.”
Reginald scoffed. “Ludicrous. When I sat with him earlier, he was still drooling from the morphine and could not make his toes point the same direction.”
“He is not so now.”
The earl paced around his desk, then stopped and looked incredulously at Darcy. “Is he in earnest?”
Darcy shook his head helplessly. “He seems to be.”
“Well... as you say, it may be true, and it may not be, but how can this have come on so suddenly? He cannot walk ten paces without buckling over.”
“That is what I said, but the surgeon informs me his fever is clearing rapidly, now that he’s had proper care and a bit of rest. He grows stronger and more alert by the hour. What happens tomorrow when he becomes more restless? Or the next day when he starts feeling like his old self? Are we simply to let him go?”
Reginald’s brow clouded. “If his life truly is in danger, I do not see how we can stop him. He is a grown man.”
“He is your brother! You would let him vanish from the face of the earth?”
“I bloody well would, if it spares his life. Tell me, is this really Richard you are worried about?”
Darcy bared his teeth and fought to keep his fists from clenching in his cousin’s face. “It is both of them.”
“Indeed. Why is he running? I still cannot believe him capable of disloyalty, so what did he do?”
Darcy sighed. “Behaved damned decently, if what he says is to be believed. Apparently, that is enough to get a man killed. He released the family of a Boer officer and infiltrated the British prison camp to do it.”
Reginald crossed his arms and frowned. “And you said he was making sense when he told you this?”
“How should I know? None of this makes any sense.”
“It does—why else would the army be so reluctant to give us a death certificate? Because they knew he was not dead! The general had no wish to cause a scandal, and he would certainly have one if he branded my brother a turncoat. Everyone would find out just what happened, and the army would be risking a public outcry. They simply let us believe he was dead, and intended to make it so once they caught him.”
“And now they will know he is not.”
“Eh? How do you mean, have you told someone? I did heed your caution, and a timely one it was. I had been about to write to the War Office and give them a piece of my mind, but I refrained. I have told no one, and the surgeon and my servants I paid off for their silence.”
“Yes, but who wrote to us of his whereabouts?” Darcy demanded. “Someone knows who and where he is, and we have no idea of their name.”
“Surely, if whoever it was meant to do harm, they would have done it themselves,” the earl reasoned.
Darcy clenched his teeth. “Let us hope. Still, it makes me uneasy if Richard truly is in danger. If one person knows his whereabouts, you can be assured that five more do, as well.”
“So. Little as I like it, perhaps we need to give serious ear to his notion of going.” Reginald stuffed his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat, and his face looked more haggard and reluctant than Darcy had ever seen it.
“But he is in no condition to be on his own! Even if his body is well, his mind is extremely far from it.”
“You just said he wouldn’t be on his own, that he means to take his wife.”
“And you think that a better solution? I had to pull him off her not twelve hours ago because he meant to choke her to death! Did your mother tell you that? Do you think any place he would go could possibly be a safe place for her ?”
“Darcy, I understand your troubles, but it really is not yours to say what they do. They are married, and they are both adults. If she wishes to go with him—”
“Does she? She does not even know about it yet, but I know what her answer will be, and it will not be given with pleasure. She has lost enough, and I refuse to see her lose more out of some misguided sense of loyalty.”
Reginald rounded his desk once more, a hand to his forehead as if it pained him. “Darcy, you know I love you like a brother, but I will say this one time. Stay out of it. Do not interfere between Richard and his wife, or so help me, I will wash my hands of you.”
Darcy braced his fists on the desk and bent forward with a snarl curling his lip. “And if you let him guilt her into going, following him off to some god-forsaken backwater wasteland where she is never heard from again, I will have done with you! ”
“Y our playing has improved.”
Elizabeth’s fingers froze on the piano keys at the sound of Georgiana’s voice. She looked up, and her face warmed slightly in welcome. “I have not been practising as much as I ought, but today it has been the only thing to bring relief.”
“Maybe that is the secret. You are not approaching it as something you are forced to do. It is finally something you can do for pleasure.”
Elizabeth lifted her shoulders. “Perhaps.”
Georgiana eased onto the bench beside her and appraised the music. “I never thought you would master this piece, but at last, you managed it.”
Elizabeth gave a weak smile of gratitude. “I had an excellent teacher, and the composer was quite considerate of my abilities. Have you decided what to do with your talent?”
“I am determined on Boston. I had settled it some while ago, but I have not yet confirmed it with William. I do not think he is ready to hear of me leaving him.”
“His fondest wish is to see you happy. I think he would be glad to think of you finally pursuing your passion.”
Georgiana waved her hands in vehement denial. “Not yet, and probably not for a while. Especially not today—he is an absolute bear at the moment.”
Elizabeth’s fingers strayed absently over the keys. “Did he tell you why?”
“He said Richard was to leave, and you were going with him. Is it true? Do you mean to go?”
Elizabeth blinked and held her breath, the understanding that had been hanging over her all afternoon like the sword of Damocles at last slicing down with brutal finality. “I don’t see that I have much choice. His life is in danger if we stay.”
Georgiana snorted indignantly. “What do you mean ‘no choice’? Of course, you have a choice! He would not force you to go with him.”
“Force me? Perhaps not, but I certainly cannot stay here.”
“Well, why ever not?”
Elizabeth’s eyes wandered to the far side of the room, and her throat worked helplessly. “I—I cannot be so close to William and not be with him.”
“But that is just it. If Richard disappears, the rest of the world will continue to think he is dead. Nothing changes for you.”
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “How simple you make it sound! It would be illegal, Georgiana. William and I did not marry before because we had not the freedom to do so. It was not right without lawful documentation, and that was when we had every reason to think Richard was really gone.”
“He is gone, if you ask me.”
“He is wounded, Georgiana. Hurting from terrible memories. There is a difference.”
“Oh, no, I do not mean that. He is not himself, to be sure, but he is leaving because to us, he must be ‘gone.’ William told me to save him, we have to pretend he is already lost. Would it not be odd if you disappeared, too? Do you not think someone would realise he still lives and come looking for him because of you?”
“How many people even knew I was married to him? They would never make the connection.”
“That argument would work both ways,” Georgiana pointed out. “If you ask me, it would cause more talk if my brother’s bride-to-be vanished. They would not miss Richard, but they would miss the future Mrs Darcy. But if you do stay, who could possibly think you were ever married to Richard and had a reason to go with him?”
“I do. I promised to be a wife to him. When he was the only one who stood by me, I made a vow. I will not revoke it when he needs someone most.” Elizabeth sniffed and tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump that had become a permanent fixture in her throat. “I am the only one who can go with him, Georgiana.”
Georgiana’s fair features dropped into a pouting scowl. “You are just as stubborn as William and Richard are.”
“Well,” Elizabeth replied with a heartless chuckle, “at least I am in good company.”
“You would really do this? Go with Richard as soon as he is well enough to walk? And you do not even know where he means to go! Would you even tell Jane goodbye?”
Elizabeth blinked back a sudden film over her eyes. “I... I do not know,” she rasped. “I have already written to her three times. I expect when she and Mr Bingley return from their honeymoon…”
“If Richard has his way, you will already be gone when she gets back. Worse, if matters truly are as he says, you won’t even be able to write to us to tell us where or how you are.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could not even write to Jane?”
“Will you use the name Elizabeth Fitzwilliam?”
She gestured helplessly. “I don’t think it matters what name I use. Elizabeth Bennet would be just as dangerous, depending upon where we are, I suppose.”
“But...” Georgiana said slowly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “Elizabeth Fitzwilliam could write to me when I am in Boston. I could send word to the others. It would probably be better if you did not write to Matlock or Pemberley yourself.”
“No,” Elizabeth whispered. “I could not write to Pemberley. Georgiana, I am past caring about my own future. I have been homeless and lost before, and I can survive it again. This is all new to William—losing Richard and you, even Anne, and... and us. You’ll look after him, won’t you? You will see he does not throw his heart away and spend the rest of his life regretting it?”
“I think he has already lost his heart.” Georgiana stared glumly at the floor. “I have never seen him as he is now, and I do not think anyone can soothe him—or even speak to him.”
“Someone will.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled and threatened to break, but she forced herself to breathe... to reason. “Someday—you will see, Georgie. There is someone out there who can patch his heart and hold it together again.”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, there isn’t. There is only one of you.”
T hree days passed—tense, miserable days for everyone who could call themselves a resident or a guest at Matlock estate. During that time, Richard’s health improved remarkably, to the relief of some and the dread of others.
At last, came the fateful morning. Richard arose with the sun and asked for the earl’s valet to shave and dress him. Then, his posture erect and his bearing nearly as robust as it had ever been, he came below stairs. Darcy watched in a nauseated longing as Richard greeted everyone around the breakfast table and then bestowed a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. She received it amiably enough, but her eyes did not seek the face of her husband when he straightened. No—they fell and raised again to Darcy… then closed and turned away.
Richard filled his plate and chose the only remaining seat, between Darcy and Georgiana. Darcy, he greeted with a minuscule nod of acknowledgment and a tight smile—the sort of smile that exists between brothers who have not yet recovered from a quarrel, in which the interests of both were dearly canvassed. Richard turned to greet Georgiana with the same fond affection as Elizabeth, then settled into his plate.
“I must say,” he said after a few bites, “I never thought I would have the pleasure of taking a quiet breakfast with all you dear folk again. It quite puts me in mind of other days. I am sorry to leave Derbyshire again, and to leave you all so soon.”
“Does it really need to be soon?” Georgiana pleaded, with all the impetuous naivety of her years.
He gave her an indulgent smile. “I am afraid so, dear one. I would have given my other eye to see you walk down the aisle one day to some lucky man, but I am afraid they would take more than my eye in payment of that pleasure.”
Darcy poked at the contents of his plate with his fork—so far from desiring food that it made him almost ill to watch others enjoying their breakfast. Elizabeth, he noted, was sipping conservatively from her tea, but her plate was largely untouched, as well.
The Earl, however, was setting to his own breakfast with gusto. “When do you think to go?” he asked.
Richard laid aside his fork and waited for Elizabeth to look his way—an interlude that lasted several uncomfortable seconds, as she appeared to be lost in thought. “I fear it must be as soon as possible. I have the schedules, and there is a ship sailing from Liverpool every day this week. The one setting out tomorrow morning is promising if we can be on it. What do you think, my dear?”
Elizabeth gave a tight smile. “I think that wise,” she agreed. Then she looked down to her cup again.
Tomorrow morning! Darcy’s chest nearly burst. His eyes burned, and he made a point of looking anywhere else, so he could reel in this staggering sense of loss without gasping aloud at the table. So soon! And she seemed to be accepting it so calmly!
“I still do not like it,” objected the earl. “Is there not somewhere you can go where we can know something of you? What about Spain? I’ve an old friend there, Don Miguel. Or France—now, we can all get to France easily enough to see you from time to time. Wait, I have it. You said you picked up a bit of Dutch. Have you thought of Flanders? Just over the Channel, quiet locale, strong economy for you to find work, rural enough for our Elizabeth to be content.”
“I have been thinking about it,” Richard answered, “and I spoke with Elizabeth about it just last evening. Do you know, New England is not so bad.”
Darcy’s fork dropped with a discordant crash. “It is precisely where she should not go!”
“I only meant to be a temporary landing place,” Richard answered defensively. “A month, at the very most, and there is a deal of international business conducted from there. It could take us anywhere. Besides, it is not as if the United States Marshal would be waiting for her to arrive in port.”
Darcy’s gaze bored into Elizabeth. “You agreed to this?”
Her eyes flicked up to him. “He makes a deal of sense. We can seek better opportunities there, rather than blindly stumbling ahead.”
“But you left America for your safety!”
“When someone was actively looking for me, and I had no one there to whom I could turn—yes.”
“And how do you know they are not still seeking you?”
The earl held up a quelling hand, deliberately catching Darcy’s attention with a stern look. “Because no one in their right mind camps on the shore and waits for one lone woman to come back after a year away. Be reasonable, Darcy. So long as they take care not to write their whereabouts to her family or some-such, I think it a better plan than many they could have conceived.”
Reginald held Darcy’s gaze for several seconds longer, then looked back to his brother, who had already returned to his breakfast. “Richard, I know you will not like this, but I will insist on seeing you in my study before you go. This morning and perhaps this afternoon, at the very least. We should look over your will and see what is to be done about your inheritance. I can find some underhanded means of compensating you for what you must leave behind.”
Richard pushed back in his chair. “If it were only myself, I would tell you to keep all of it, every farthing and acre of land to which I could ever have laid claim, but since I have other cares now—” He rested a speculative glance on Elizabeth’s bowed crown. “Yes, I suppose it is for the best. And it will not hurt me to delay one more day before going, but I’m afraid we must make for the coast as soon as absolutely possible.”
Reginald gave a curt nod. “Very well. Enjoy your breakfast, for I expect we will be some hours. I will go call for my steward and make ready. Excuse me.”
Richard half rose from his seat to acknowledge his elder brother as he passed by. He sat down again to address his plate when something in Elizabeth’s manner must have caught his notice. Her eyes had gone glassy, her stare fixed on a bit of lace on the table. “My dear?” he asked.
She did not respond at once, but when she discovered he was speaking to her, she started and smiled, though it was a pale shadow of any smile Darcy had ever seen on her face. “I beg your pardon. I was only thinking of Jane.”
“We will see her again, my love,” Richard soothed. “When we are settled, we will send word and ask her to come to us for some months if it pleases you. And Bingley too, of course! That’s a chap whose company I could enjoy a long while without ever growing weary of it.”
Elizabeth looked at her plate again. “If you will pardon me, I would like to speak with Lady Matlock this morning, to take my leave.”
“An excellent idea,” Richard agreed. “I believe my mother was hoping to see you this morning, as well. I knew they would be taken with you, my dear.”
Elizabeth set her hands on either side of her chair and released an unsteady exhale before smiling thinly again and rising. She looked at no one as she left the room, and Darcy thought he saw—though it was perhaps wishful thinking—her fingertips raising to her cheek as she hurried out.
He sensed his sister peering at him now, around Richard’s happily oblivious figure, but he studiously ignored her. He knew precisely what she wished him to do and say—everything about Elizabeth and himself, everything about why and how he was not the same man his cousin had left behind, and why things between them could never again be what they were. In Georgiana’s frank and youthful mind, such explanations would serve to patch up any misunderstandings between them over his motives, his reluctance, and his failed enthusiasm for Richard’s recovery, but Darcy could only read disaster in that confession. Richard was barely speaking to him as it was because of one ill-judged comment—one that had doomed any further confessions before he could tender them. He had not yet dared to instigate a fight they would never have time on this earth to resolve.
His cousin would soon be gone—and Elizabeth with him. How they left, the manner of their farewell, depended on him.
Richard cleared his throat and touched a napkin to his mouth. “I do want to thank you both,” he said abruptly. “Elizabeth told me you took her in for months when my brother and mother refused. Thank you for that, Darcy, for giving her a chance. I hoped you would be a friend to her when I could not. You’re a good chap, and I am proud to claim a relation to you.”
Darcy hesitated, then nodded a silent acknowledgement.
“And you, Georgiana, I hear you are for Boston later this summer. There was a time I would have taken your brother to task for even entertaining such an idea, but I suppose I have no right to object now. Write to me often, won’t you, dearest?”
“Only if you promise to write to me first,” Georgiana retorted with a saucy smirk.
“Oh! I see my sweet cousin has been taking lessons in impertinence from my wife! I would ask you to forgive me, Darcy, but I quite like what Elizabeth’s influence has done in our dear girl. And you are grown magnificently, Georgie. Any man who dares to take you on had better prove himself worthy of such a creature. I dearly hope I am up to such a task myself.”
Darcy lowered his cup with a reverberating clatter and pushed to his feet. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” Richard asked in surprise. “I was about to ask you whatever came of Anne. No one has told me a thing about her or why she is not here.”
Darcy paused on his way out of the room and glanced over his shoulder. “She found someone who made her happier than I could.”