Page 25 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter twenty-five

Pemberley

“L izzy, when are you going to set aside that dull stuff and join us?” Lydia poked a fist into her bulging abdomen and cocked an impatient frown toward her sister. “First that fat old diary, and now the accounts. I begin to think you will turn into one of those books!”

Elizabeth looked up from the ledger, rubbing her eyes when they failed to adjust. “I cannot make heads or tails of this. Surely, there is something I have overlooked.”

“Is it not the steward’s duty to keep track of all the books? Come, Lizzy, you must listen to Georgiana learning the harp, she is really quite remarkable!”

“Our uncle promised to keep apprised of matters on behalf of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I was to report to him and begin teaching Georgiana to look things over.” Elizabeth kneaded her brow as her pen scanned down the page once more. “It would seem that Pemberley is somewhat larger than Longbourn! I do not understand some of these entries. There appears no proper justification for these expenses here, and yet here, I see the budget has corrected itself as if by magic.”

Lydia waved her hand impatiently. “That is why there is a steward for these matters. Surely, to be employed at Pemberley, the man must know his business! Now come!”

Elizabeth sighed and closed the ledger, marking the page of curiosity with a slip of scrap paper. “Lydia, how does Georgiana seem to you today?”

Lydia paused and looked back to her sister. “Quiet.” She started to walk on, then turned round once more. “Lizzy, did you know that George once deceived her as well?”

Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. “She told you, did she?”

Lydia nodded, her face a blank. “I wonder that she is so friendly to me, after everything.”

“I do not. You can be quite enchanting, you know. She must have come to think very highly of you to confide so much.”

“But my name is now Wickham! How can she overlook that, after what nearly happened to her? I even told her about her brother coming to my rescue. She said she had wondered about it, and she cried a little, thinking of her brother, of course. I thought she would throw me out of the house altogether, but she did not. She simply wiped her tears and hugged me. Fancy that! She said it was just what she would have expected of him, and that what happened after was not my fault. She ought to have gotten angry, oughtn’t she?”

Elizabeth turned away, dashing some moisture from her eyes. After all her fears, Georgiana had proved as generous as her brother! William …. She drew a tight breath and then offered her sister an easy shrug in reply. “Georgiana is a Darcy. They are kind by nature.” She blinked and touched Lydia’s cheek affectionately. “And she knows what it is to believe in someone who proves false. I believe you have her whole sympathy.”

“She almost ended up as I did,” Lydia mumbled. “Pregnant and abandoned, with all her money stolen!”

Elizabeth draped an arm about her sister. “But her brother looked after her,” she smiled wistfully.

“Just as he tried to do for me! And just as you have done. It is too bad you were not born a man, Lizzy, you would have made a capital brother.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I have not Mr Darcy’s capacity to intimidate my sisters’ prospective seducers with a mere glance!”

“You speak too little of yourself, Lizzy. Even Mr Bingley told me once that he sought your approval before daring to approach Jane. I hope you are about if I ever do see George again.”

She raised a bemused brow. “You wish for me to run him off?”

“No, to hold him still. I should like nothing better than to twist his nose off!”

Elizabeth fixed her sister with a stern expression. “You must leave off this nonsense, Lydia. You only cause yourself more pain by dreaming up ways to avenge yourself on a worthless rascal.”

“You do not know what it is like! My body is a wreck, and in every way that matters, I am a stupid nobody! Everyone here knows George for what he is, and they all know very well what my circumstances shall be once the child is born. I will go back to my father’s home, and I will live as a widow with a child to raise.”

Elizabeth tugged her sister a little closer with a mischievous grin. “Come, Lydia, matters could be worse. Remember that Mr Collins will one day inherit Longbourn.”

Lydia glared back. “Do you know, sometimes I wonder why I like you, Lizzy.”

“It is for my bonnets of course,” Elizabeth chuckled. “And my clever wit.”

Lydia marched away in an affected huff, but she was giggling. “It is not fair, how you always make me laugh when I would rather be cross!”

“Not at all,” her sister agreed. “But at the moment, it seemed preferable to weeping over what is beyond our control. Now, was Georgiana awaiting us in the music room?”

“Yes,” Lydia brightened once more, her frustration temporarily banished as only one of impatient spirits can manage. “Did you know there is a shorter way through the portrait gallery? Georgiana says that she never goes that way in the summer when so many visitors are about, but at this time of the year… Lizzy, did you forget something?”

Elizabeth had stopped short, her blood turned to ice. “Oh… you go on ahead, Lydia. I shall… that is, I will go round by the library and the blue parlour. I believe Mrs Reynolds should be there at this time of day, and I had—”

“Do that later, Lizzy. It is only that dull Mrs Annesley keeping Georgiana company, and she was reading letters when I left.” Lydia caught her sister’s hand and verily dragged her, leaving Elizabeth helpless to object.

Elizabeth’s heart surged into her throat. Not the portrait gallery! She could not face him, not with those expressive, life-like eyes gazing down at her. She could almost curse the artist’s talent, but one day—some far-distant day, if his image ever faded from her memory, she knew that she would greedily revere the perfection of the rendering. If only the flush of his skin was real, the light in his smile bestowed once more upon her!

He was looking down on her again, the curl she remembered so well falling defiantly over his forehead, his form looking so hearty and robust. She almost expected his hand to reach for her, for his smile to waver uncertainly as he asked her to dance a reel.

“He was a handsome fellow,” Lydia observed beside her.

“What?” Elizabeth jerked. Had she really stopped their little procession to gape at the portrait?

Lydia stuck her lip out as she gazed appraisingly upward. “A pity he never wore regimentals, for that would have made him nearly perfect.”

Elizabeth returned her eyes to his. “No,” she answered softly. “He was perfect just as he was.”

Porto, Portugal

N oronha was still pacing his study like a caged tiger. Foolish girl! Every risk he had taken, every sacrifice, every leverage employed to ensure her station and keep her safe, and she had dashed all of it— all of it! — in one heedless night. Reckless, headstrong—

He whirled when a firm knock sounded at his study door. “What is it!?” he demanded.

The door opened slowly to reveal a glowering British officer. His peaked hat was tucked formally under his arm, and his shoulders glittered with gold braids and epaulets—marks of status Noronha well understood. The man’s badges of distinction and his sudden appearance in his home were singular enough, but Noronha swallowed hard when he recognised the face.

“Major—er, forgive me, Colonel Fitzwilliam! I had not anticipated the pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all yours, I assure you,” growled the younger man. Fitzwilliam slapped the door closed behind himself and advanced, as though the house and the study belonged to him rather than the reverse.

Noronha fell back, smoothing the front of his waistcoat and attempting to restore his dignity. “To what do I owe this visit by an old friend?”

The colonel’s brows rose. “Old friend, is it? I seem to recall being formally dis-invited from your home, dating over three years ago and extending henceforth. I have chosen to overlook your previous inhospitality, depending rather upon your good sense and the precarious situation in which you now find yourself.”

“You must know, of course, that the past was all a misunderstanding,” Noronha protested. “We always valued your friendship in your official capacity, and I am still indebted to you for the service you rendered Rodrigo on the field. I am afraid I came to believe at the time that your designs were of a more… personal nature. Well! I beg you would forgive me, for no harm came of it, after all.”

“No harm!” thundered the incensed officer. “I have just seen your daughter. Do you mean to tell me the bruises on her face are of no consequence? Did you always intend to sell her off to secure your position with Vasconcelos?”

“Now, hold a moment, Fitzwilliam! Do not be so hasty in your conclusions! Amália has not yet learned her place. I admit to some displeasure at her circumstances, but she brought it all upon herself!”

Fitzwilliam’s temper snapped. In one instant, he had cuffed the older man about the forearm and yanked him off his feet, so that Noronha fairly dangled from his grip and was left to kick and writhe helplessly beneath him. “ I would have taken care of her!” he hissed. “She would never have come to harm, had you not interfered! And now look what your pains have bought you—your daughter is trapped with an abusive man, and your son’s very life is endangered!”

Noronha paled and ceased his struggling. His hands draped to the floor to catch himself, and with a contemptuous scowl, Fitzwilliam released him. “Ruy in danger? Why do you say that?”

“Was he, or was he not, ordered to the front lines by Vasconcelos as soon as my cousin’s release had been effected? Did you pause to wonder which officers are in Vasconcelos’ pocket and what measures they might employ to exact revenge?”

Noronha staggered to his feet, rubbing his arm self-consciously. He heaved a weary sigh and looked away, unable to meet the young colonel’s eyes.

“You knew of it!” Fitzwilliam accused. “You were a party to my cousin’s abduction! How long before you planned to have him murdered in truth? What was the price, Noronha?”

Noronha had wandered to his desk, wagging his head as if by willing himself not to hear, he could shake off the stinging truth of the colonel’s words. “It was not for myself,” he was muttering. “No, not for me!”

“Then for whom? Amália? Need I remind you how delighted she was with your efforts toward her?”

“You do not understand!” cried Noronha, spinning about. “Vasconcelos—Miguel—he always wanted her! I thought she would do well enough with him, but I was prepared to allow her to refuse him—and then things grew worse with the war. I had to make promises! I did not dare risk his displeasure, and I thought at least there, she would be secure. You remember how it was, Bonaparte was at our very doorstep! We pushed him back, thanks to Wellington, but Porto was nearly ruined. It is difficult, yes, to rebuild with little money.”

“So, you took a favour from Vasconcelos! How cheaply did you sell your daughter’s heart and my cousin’s life?”

Noronha flinched. “Darcy was to be released as soon as Vasconcelos had what he wanted. A death was faked out of necessity, but I am no murderer, Fitzwilliam!”

“And what was it Vasconcelos wanted? Even Darcy’s money would be insufficient to rebuild your entire city, and it would be impossible to lay hands on all of it.”

Noronha scrubbed his weary face and sank into the chair at his desk. “Steel. That was what he wanted. There was land—over three hundred acres in Braga—and Vasconcelos is convinced that Darcy holds the deed. A modest ore deposit was discovered in the region, and Vasconcelos plans to mine it, but he could not begin without the deed.”

“And what was your share to be?” Fitzwilliam asked coldly. “No—allow me to guess. Vasconcelos was to bring industry to your city. Refine the ore, build mills, ship everything from Porto—that was it, was it not?”

The older man sighed. “It is not wealth I seek, Fitzwilliam, but our city’s very survival after the war ends. Our economy will never recover if we do not begin to modernise! We have few enough raw materials, and we cannot afford to lose years before this source is developed.”

“Darcy is a reasonable man! Even if he does hold the deed—which I find doubtful—why the devil would you not simply ask him to sell it?”

“I asked the same thing, but it was done before I could object. Vasconcelos has a long history with Darcy’s family, and did not believe it would be so easily done as you claim. I do not know the details, but he knew of one other who promised greater aid. This party, for I do not know his name, guaranteed that he would procure the deed in exchange for… well, to put it bluntly—”

“Someone wanted Darcy dead, but Vasconcelos kept him alive as insurance.”

“Y-yes. I believe this party was a relative and intended to keep his hands clean, hence his desire for Vasconcelos’ involvement. I understand a deal of money exchanged hands; money Vasconcelos claimed to need for his venture.”

“Did you ever see him?” Fitzwilliam’s voice was lower now—still dangerous, but not snarling as before.

“Senhor Darcy? No. I never spoke with him,” Noronha confessed. “Vasconcelos did, a number of times. He claimed your cousin was… uncooperative.”

Fitzwilliam slammed his fists down on Noronha’s desk. “After such treatment! Amália told me precisely where and how she found him. The Darcy I know would have sealed his lips out of pure obstinacy! ‘Uncooperative!’ I shouldn’t wonder! I doubt he even knows of this deed you claim, for I never heard him speak of it, and I am familiar with nearly all his affairs. How dare you, sir, remain party to the mistreatment of an innocent man and the cousin of one who saved your own son?”

Noronha was shaking his head in denial. “Vasconcelos kept him as a guest in his own house! Oh, he was not free to go, but he was treated—”

“As a prisoner! You thought Vasconcelos set him up in his finest guest chamber? Did you even bother speaking with your daughter, or did you dismiss her words when she came to you for help?”

Noronha’s lips parted and he began to blink, lifting a shaking hand to his eyes. “Amália….”

“She cannot return to her home, Noronha.” Fitzwilliam’s tones were hard, and his eyes harder. “Vasconcelos is nothing that you have persuaded yourself to believe. If she goes back to her husband—damn you that I had to say that! —she will never be safe. You know this too well!”

Noronha was covering his face now, nodding weakly. “Sim, I know, but I cannot protect her! Miguel can go to the church and force her to return. If she had only stayed out of the business, left well enough alone—”

“You know her too well for that!”

Noronha lowered his hand to reveal tears glittering in his eyes. “Forgive me, sir! I know not what to do!”

Fitzwilliam frowned, evidently displeased that Noronha’s humility had disarmed his own anger. “She must go elsewhere, out of the city. Out of the country entirely would be preferable.”

Noronha looked up suspiciously. “If you mean to suggest that she accompany you to England, sir—”

“I would give my right arm if she could!” he vowed fervently. “But that is impossible, I know right well. Damn you!” he swore again, slapping his formal hat down on the desk. “The same obstacles exist now as three years ago, and more besides. I have my cousin to protect as well, for if what you say is true, Darcy will be giving someone a rather unpleasant surprise when he returns alive. No! She cannot come with me.” He chewed his lip in frustration and began to pace.

A moment later, he stopped as if pricked in the back. “I think,” he mused softly, “that I can keep both of your children safe for the present.”

Noronha lifted his head again, his dark eyes glowing with hope. “Ruy? You can have him recalled from the front?”

Fitzwilliam was nodding, still facing the wall. “I know General Cotton—was his personal secretary for some while. I presume that Vasconcelos has his contacts as well, but Cotton is not a man to be bought. I will ask him to grant Ruy a temporary leave, send him somewhere else where Amália may accompany him.” He turned and narrowed his eyes. “You will not know of their destination, sir, not until we can be assured of their safety. I will not risk it!”

Noronha swallowed and blinked his acknowledgment. “ Sim , senhor. I understand.”