Page 5 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)

Chapter 5

Pemberley July 1900

D arcy passed his hat and gloves to the footman as he entered his own home and glanced up the stairs. Where was Georgiana, and why had she not come to meet him? The greater curiosity, however, was how she was faring with their guests.

“Is Miss Darcy out riding?” he asked the footman.

“I believe she is on the South Lawn, sir.”

He nodded. “Very good. And what of Mrs Fitzwilliam and her companions?”

“Mr Collins is in the library, and the ladies are walking the gardens.”

“Thank you, Wilson. I will change and go out. Oh, please inform Mrs Reynolds that Mr Bingley will arrive tomorrow. See that he has his usual room, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Half an hour later, he stood on the balcony surveying the South Lawn but caught no sight of Georgiana. Thinking perhaps she had joined the others, he passed back through the house and sought the gardens. Miss Bennet, the elder sister, was easy enough to find, for she was reclining under a temporary pavilion with a tray of refreshments. She leapt to her feet when he approached, but he motioned for her to be easy.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Is Mrs Fitzwilliam—” He stopped when a movement caught his eye from behind a tree.

Miss Bennet tipped her head with a nervous smile. “Lizzy has always been one to wander.”

“Indeed.” The young woman was, in fact, just stepping through a narrow path between the tree and a rose hedge, one typically used only by the gardener. She had not seen him yet—rather, she was glancing over her shoulder in curiosity, and when she turned round again, her face was darkly puzzled. Then she stopped.

“Oh! Mr Darcy. I did not know you meant to come today.” She hesitated, then dropped into an unpractised curtsey.

“That will not be necessary, Mrs Fitzwilliam.” He gestured to the chairs arrayed under the sun shelter. “Will you be seated?”

Her face adopted a suspicious look, and she glanced at her sister. “Have you some news?”

He sighed as they both lowered into the chairs. “Unfortunately, no. But take heart; it is too early to hear anything of value. My cousin, the earl, has exhausted what resources we have at hand, and we have been corresponding with the officers in South Africa to learn whatever we may.”

She nodded silently. “Mr Darcy, you are too intelligent to trifle with me. What, in your opinion, are the… the odds?”

He raised his brows. This was an unconventional sort of woman. And, despite his cautions to himself, he found her frankness rather… refreshing.

“I wish I could say, Mrs Fitzwilliam. I would like to hope, but just as you do not wish to dwell on baseless supposition, neither shall I. If he has been captured, time is of the essence.”

He left the rest unsaid—festering wounds, malnourishment, dehydration, tsetse flies… torture. Every day that passed decreased the chances that Richard would be recovered alive.

Mrs Fitzwilliam drew up. “I understand.”

“I have written to one who was stationed with Richard to see if any other word is to be had. And, naturally, the son—or, rather, the brother, now, of an earl will command the general’s attention.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Why him, more than any other man?”

“Why, their connections back home, of course. Many a high-ranking official owes his status to some family member in Parliament. Matlock can bring pressure to bear.”

Mrs Fitzwilliam’s eyes narrowed.

“Please, do not concern yourself with the matter,” he relented. “We are doing everything that can be done, and some that cannot.”

The corner of her mouth tightened in what she must have imagined to be a smile. “Thank you, Mr Darcy. Are you certain there is nothing I can do?”

“You? In fact, I am certain there is not. How should you?”

“Oh, I did not mean that I know people to write letters to, or that I can board a ship for South Africa, but…” She worked her lip with her teeth and sought the ground before stammering out her request.

“I meant, is there anything I can do to make myself useful? Everyone else is working or doing something. I am not accustomed to being idle, and I am afraid that two weeks of such has left my nerves a bit frayed. Is there nothing I can do to earn my keep, as we say?”

His astonishment must have shown on his face, for her expression sank before he even spoke. “Mrs Fitzwilliam, I can hardly have you polishing silver or clipping the hedges. I do not know what you are accustomed to in America, but here, you are the wife of a gentleman, and shall be accorded the dignity of such.”

“But surely, even such figures must have some occupation,” she protested. “You do not take your ease all day. Where I am from, even the wives of the wealthiest landowners must do their part.”

“You are a guest, and a lady,” he stated flatly, and in such a tone that she stiffened and offered no further argument. He wondered if she even understood what the term “lady” meant—or what it meant here.

“If you are seeking amusement, please avail yourself of the library, the music room, the grounds, or even Lambton’s shops as you choose. My staff will all attend your needs—you have but to voice them.”

The woman’s chin drew back, and there was some defiant spark in her eye, but she merely answered, “You are very kind, Mr Darcy.”

“I only do as I feel right. My cousin’s wife will not be treated as a beggar or a servant in my home.”

“And we are very grateful,” Miss Bennet put in, with a quick look to her sister. Mrs Fitzwilliam stilled, then offered a thin smile.

“Then let us speak of other matters. I have a guest arriving on the morrow—an old friend who is asking for my opinions on certain business dealings. I am happy to receive him; however, his arrival does create some… complications.”

Mrs Fitzwilliam’s interest piqued. “Such as?”

He hesitated. “I would not wish you to feel obliged to alter your daily routine for his benefit.”

She frowned. “You do not want him to know the precise nature of our connection. I am to remain your little family secret until you verify my claims.”

“You need be at no pains to entertain Mr Bingley,” he answered firmly. “And as to your claims, have I not accepted them? But you are correct in that I feel it wisest to limit introductions at this point. It is best for Richard, and best for you.”

She rolled her eyes faintly but remained silent.

“Thank you for understanding. And now, I must speak with my sister. Have you any knowledge of her whereabouts?”

At this, Mrs Fitzwilliam’s expressive features took on a conscious look. “I believe she was touring the walking paths. I saw her going in that direction a few moments ago.”

“Excellent. Then I shall see you at dinner, Mrs Fitzwilliam—Miss Bennet.”

She merely nodded in silence, her eyes tight, and her lips puckered in thought.

“Lizzy, what are you thinking?”

Elizabeth watched Mr Darcy walking across the manicured green scape, then out of sight behind a tree, and collected her words before answering. “Nothing, and everything, I suppose. Have you the sense that we are desperately out of our class here?”

Jane frowned. “Not especially. Why, yes, everything is different. The customs, the foods, the way they address one another—and the house is so large! But has not everyone been kind to us?”

“Kindness to fulfil an obligation is merely ‘hospitality,’ and anyone can do that who has the resources.”

“I do not think they are so vastly different from us, Lizzy. Do you? Certainly, they are very wealthy—exceedingly so—but they are just people, after all.”

“Precisely, but sometimes I feel like they believe they are better than that. Why, think of what we were just talking of. Why would Mr Darcy not permit me to meet anyone else from Richard’s family? Why is he so anxious that we do not mingle with his other guests? The reason is obvious, Jane. They think of me as a stain on the family. You can be assured that only a few persons, and those only the most intimately involved, have even heard my name.”

“But can you blame Mr Darcy for that?” Jane reasoned. “Think, Lizzy, if some stranger arrived and claimed to be married to… well, to me, for example. If you had reasons to doubt and I could not be consulted, would you not do all you could to protect my reputation?”

“Protecting one person’s reputation does not mean slighting another. I would treat such a gentleman with respect while I examined his claims.”

Jane cleared her throat. “Lizzy…”

Elizabeth groaned. “Oh! I suppose you mean for me to see that Mr Darcy has done precisely that. And that, perhaps, brings me back to my point. Why the veil of silence over everything? Why can he not simply tell me, to my face, exactly what to expect and how I should act? Back at home, I would have understood why and how everything was to be done, but here, it is like we are caught in some enormous social web that I shall never comprehend. I do not dispute that Mr Darcy has shown us every consideration, and more than many would have done, but I had hoped to feel…” She broke off, puckered her brow, and then decided, “Useful. No, that is not right. Family . I wish it felt like that.”

“All families look different, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth let out a frustrated sigh. “I suppose. I feel so torn, Jane. I am worried—terrified for Richard. Mr Darcy tells us he is dreadfully concerned, and he says others are as well, but I cannot see it. What I would give to clasp his mother’s hands and have a good cry with her, as we would do with Mama.”

“That would make you feel better?”

“No, but it would give vent to my feelings, so I could go about doing something useful. But it seems I shall not even be permitted that consolation, because Mr Stuffy won’t allow it.” Elizabeth made a mock moustache with her fingers and stuck her nose up in the air until Jane snorted and giggled. “Ladies must be accorded the utmost dignity,” she intoned in a deep, nasal falsetto.

Jane clutched her stomach and nearly rolled back in the grass in laughter, but then her eyes widened, and she drew a sharp breath, putting out her hand. “Lizzy!”

“—And pray do not argue with me, Miss Bennet, for you see, I have this manly facial hair and my servants will—”

“ Lizzy! ”

Elizabeth dropped her fingers in some annoyance, but then froze when she saw where Jane was pointing. Mr Darcy had emerged from behind the rose hedge—his features dark and his eyes stormy. Elizabeth gracelessly clambered to her feet as she watched his fists clenching and his chest rising in steady, measured breaths.

Before she could apologise, he clipped out, “I meant to ask you both if you would care for some afternoon tea, but perhaps that would be a bit too stuffy for you.” He turned on his heel and marched away.

Elizabeth covered her face with her hands and wished she could crawl under a rock.