Page 40 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter forty

F itzwilliam leaned forward in the saddle. The rider must have gained the house, for he could see the silhouette against the light from the open front door. A guest? His father, or someone less welcome—the solicitor perhaps? His pulse beat thickly with unease for Georgiana. So long he had left her with little protection—Darcy would never forgive him if he did return!

He urged his horse to pick up pace again, thinking he must investigate this irregularity about Pemberley. As he drew closer, he could now clearly make out the form of the riderless horse being led away to the stables. Several persons milled frantically about the door, all proceeding inward toward the house. This late arrival must be welcome, and apparently someone of import, given the number of footmen. Darcy? Oh, why was the blasted drive so slick? Richard pulled his horse to the turf at the side of the drive and spurred him yet faster.

Before he could close the distance enough to recognise anyone, someone had rushed again from the door and down the steps into the darkness. Richard paid him no mind, thinking it likely that a message was being carried to the stables or elsewhere. Another moment, and he himself was panting at the bottom of the step, scarcely even waiting for someone to take his horse before he mounted the stairs two at a time.

“Colonel!” the footman greeted as Richard raced by him into the house. “Sir, it is a right good thing you are returned. Sir—Mr Darcy has just arrived!”

Richard whirled. “Darcy! So, it is true! Thank heaven! Has he gone to Miss Darcy already?” He started for the stair himself, heedless of his dripping coat, hat, and gloves.

“Sir, he has gone directly in search of Miss Bennet.”

“Miss Bennet?” Richard halted on the stair. “Why would he not—oh, never mind that now. Where is she that he has gone after her? I trust no one has yet spoken to Miss Darcy?”

“Miss Darcy’s maid was sent, sir, unfortunately before Mrs Reynolds could speak. I regret, sir, that the matter was handled so.”

“’Unfortunately,’ you say! Why, I should think the dear girl will be rejoicing that her brother has come back!”

“It is only, sir, that he seemed not at all himself. We all tried to stop him from going back out, but he would not hear of anyone restraining or following him. Sir, he looked and sounded like Mr Darcy, but I should not like to trouble the mistress if the man is an impostor. The master was killed, or so we all thought, was he not?”

Richard laughed. “So we did, but it was blessedly untrue, O’Donnell. I learned as much while I was away. We have nothing to fear. The man was, indeed, Darcy, and I am all the more certain of it as you tell me that he has gone in search of Miss Bennet. Now, in which direction was that?”

“The gardens, I believe, sir. Miss Bennet had taken a walk just before dark and had not yet returned.”

Richard’s brows lifted and he emitted a low whistle—a bad habit from his days on the field. “In the rain, even!”

“Shall I send someone out with an umbrella, sir? I think the master must have feared for Miss Bennet’s welfare.”

“Oh, it was not her welfare that sent him out in search of her, and I shall be the last to follow him now. No, obey Darcy’s orders and stand by for his return. Perhaps I will speak with my cousin while we wait.”

He had no need to climb the stair, for at that moment a door slammed above him. Georgiana, white as her bed linens and shadowed by an equally distraught-looking young maid, nearly flew down the stairs. “Richard! Oh, Richard, is it true? Have you brought him? Can it really be true?”

“Yes, dear one, it is!” he grinned. “Darcy is alive, but I cannot take the credit for returning him here myself. It seems rather that we happened to arrive at the same time.”

“Fitzwilliam is alive! But Richard, how can it be true? Oh, please do not tell me that I have dreamt all of it, pray take me to him directly! I cannot bear not seeing him!”

“In good time, dearest, for I have not yet seen him myself. It seems that he went to speak with someone, and I think it must have been urgent to keep him from you.”

She tilted her head. “But what could have been more important? Oh, do not tell me he has locked himself in his study with Mr Jefferson. I could not tolerate it! If he is alive, I must see him! Oh, Richard, why do you keep smiling like that? I shall declare you the worst person in the world if you are teasing me.”

“I am not teasing you, Georgie!” his tone dropped seriously. “You know I would never dream of sporting with your affections. Come, there are some things I must tell you before you see him, and they are not all pleasant.”

Georgiana followed him to her music room, protesting all the while that he was a brute for keeping her from the brother she had thought dead. He held his peace, dismissing the footman and closing the door firmly behind her.

“I do not understand,” she was growing nearly hysterical now. “How can he be alive? Did you not attend his burial yourself? Oh, I want it to be true, but I cannot believe it!”

He turned. “You may rest assured, Georgiana. It is true. I had my doubts about the body we buried from the beginning, that was why I left you to search out the truth. Someone wanted your brother dead, and someone else wanted him for leverage. He has spent several months imprisoned, while we were all led to believe him deceased. The veil seemed impenetrable, until some things looked strange to me and I began picking the threads. I followed him to Portugal and back, and it seems mine was the faster route home, for he left some days before I did, and has only just arrived.”

“But who could have done this? Richard, he is safe now, is he not? Oh, yes, everything will be all right now! Why can I not see him?”

“Georgiana,” he held a hand to her shoulder to still her. “He is far from safe, and you may be in danger as well. Tell me, has anything unusual occurred here in my absence?”

She paled. “There… there were two men in the hills. They wanted to kidnap one of us, but Elizabeth struck one with the carriage. The other escaped. Oh, Richard, they cannot be the same who—”

“It is likely,” he interjected. “We will speak of that soon, but there is something I must tell you about your brother before you see him.”

Her brow puckered. “What can you tell me that I do not already know about him? I know him as well as you.”

“You have never seen a man just returned from war and imprisonment. I have, and I expect that Darcy will bear some resemblance. I was told something of his treatment in Portugal, and it would cost you a month of sleep.”

“But he…” Georgiana had somehow grown even more pale, “he is not… disfigured, is he? Or crippled? Oh, Richard, he was not tortured!”

“Torture would be an appropriate description, but from what I understand, his body is sound. I am less certain of his mind. You must prepare yourself, Sweetling, for he may not seem to be the brother you knew. It is likely that he will seem irrational to you at first. He may have odd fears, or his personality may seem altered. We must give him time, do you understand?”

Tears were starting down her face, and she obstinately shook her head. “Not Fitzwilliam, he is too strong to be troubled by such things! If he is well and healthy, that is all that is needed! Oh, please, Richard, let me to him! Where has he gone that is more important than coming to us?”

Richard sighed. “He went to speak with Miss Bennet.”

“But… but… Miss Bennet? Elizabeth? Why would he seek her out before me?”

“As I have just told you, Georgie, we must not expect to understand all his actions.”

“But he barely knows her!” Georgiana’s voice raised. “What comfort can she offer that I could not? I should be the one to welcome him home!”

“Georgie, surely you have seen it by now. Heavens, I am but an ignorant soldier, and I saw it months ago! You have been in the same house with Miss Bennet for some while, and you saw them together last summer. Did you not know that they were in love with one another?”

She was huffing wordless protests. “I—I—I suppose I suspected it, but Elizabeth denied it.”

“What lady would confess to something so impossible? Perhaps I do not know the depth of her affections, but of his I am assured. He needs her, Georgie, and I think he is not wrong in seeking her out. She is strong and cheerful, and clever besides. Has she not been a great comfort to you in your grief?”

“Well…” she frowned, “yes, she has. I do not know how I could have done without her, but he is my brother, is he not? She cannot take him from me!”

“If you would have him back, you must first give him to Miss Bennet,” Richard stated firmly. “I can assure you that he has spent these many months wishing to be home again, and many days now planning his reunion with all he holds dear. It speaks volumes to me that he sought her first, and we must honour that. You will only make things harder for him if you insist on everything returning to what it was before he was taken. Let him heal as he must, and do not burden him unjustly.”

“But he will come to us, Richard! He must, he would have wished to see us!”

“I have no doubt, Georgie,” he assured her. He took her hand to squeeze it comfortingly and gave her his handkerchief. An urgent knock sounded on the door, and he gave her one last smile of encouragement before he rose. “Enter,” he summoned.

Mr Hodges himself opened the door. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he bowed precisely, his professional voice only hinting at anxiety. “There is some disturbance in the gold drawing room. Mr Darcy has returned, and he seems to be in distress. I believe he was met upon his arrival by Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and he sounds rather displeased. Would it be possible for you to come, sir?”

“Lady Catherine!” he looked to Georgiana. “You did not tell me our aunt had come!”

Georgiana shrank unhappily. “I was to go back to London with her tomorrow,” she answered in a small voice. “Oh, Richard, she cannot take me away now!”

“No, she shall not. Georgie, why do you not wait here. I know you want to see Darcy, but allow me to divert our aunt’s attention if I may. I shall send him to you as soon as I possibly can, and you will have him all to yourself.”

Richard hurried to the drawing room, his feelings a swirl of joy and trepidation. How good it would be to see Darcy again! His aunt he was less delighted to greet, for he felt he must watch carefully all her actions and motives.

Lady Catherine’s voice was strident as ever and carried down the hall to him. However… he could not contain his smile when Darcy’s well-remembered tones echoed back. Never had he heard his cousin so furious, but Darcy could have been singing an opera solo for all Richard cared. He was running by now, his long strides faltering only slightly when something heavy crashed against a wall. Even at that, Richard could have laughed. What mattered a priceless vase when Lady Catherine was finally getting her comeuppance, and Darcy was alive!

He charged through the door in his eagerness, and there, in the flesh, stood his best friend, the cousin who was a brother, the man he had buried and then unearthed—alive and well, and looking to him with reddened eyes and a thick beard.

“Darcy!” he exclaimed. “By heaven, it is good to see you! Bugger me, but you are a sight!”

Darcy took one long step toward him, his eyes glittering strangely. “Richard!” he growled.

Before he could draw another breath, Richard found himself laid out helpless upon the floor, both ears ringing and his jaw aching from multiple fierce blows. What the bloody … A door slammed from somewhere, but he could not verify the direction through the swelling of his eyelid or the stars dancing in his vision.

Richard lay dazed a moment. Could that have been Fitzwilliam Darcy, truly? Surely, the man was not in his right mind! He sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head and carefully opening his sound eye. A cautious glance around the room revealed his aunt, Lady Catherine, but as he had never seen her. She appeared gaunt and wan, standing alone near the door.

“Get up, Fitzwilliam!” she chided, but with only half her usual grandeur. “Go, and speak some sense into your cousin!”

“My cousin! Was that not my cousin who just flattened me? What the bloody devil is wrong with the man?”

She held up a rumpled bit of paper between two fingers, her nose wrinkled in disdain. “This! Darcy found it in the Society pages. Richard Fitzwilliam, I am ashamed of you! Were I a man, I would have done the same as Darcy.”

“Aunt Catherine,” he cradled his head as he stood to his feet. “I have no idea what you can mean.”

She waved the paper before his open eye. He read, and then he slumped back to the floor.