Page 42 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter forty-two

E lizabeth shivered for over two hours while she waited for the colonel to return. She was not chilled—the generous farmer and his wife had seen amply to her comforts. Every pulse beat thrummed in dread. William! How could she have erred so grievously? Could there have been any worse betrayal than to be found meeting secretly with the man he despised the most?

Tears continued to brim in her eyes, and the hot tea offered by her hostess went almost untouched. She could not swallow, could not speak, could think of nothing but his name as it echoed over and over. He was alive, he had loved her enough to come to her, and she had wounded him unforgivably! Just now, when she most wished to rejoice and he most sorely needed a confidante, trust was dead—blasted utterly by unseen hands and her own indiscretion.

She did not miss the worried looks exchanged by her host and hostess. Oh, why was the colonel taking so long with the carriage? She could have walked the distance twice in such a time! And what was she to do about Lydia? Her stomach churned as she tried not to crumble before these strangers. Darcy’s tenants they were, and she would not have it whispered that one of his guests had fled his house, no matter how true.

At long last, the sounds of deliverance rattled outside the farmhouse. Colonel Fitzwilliam himself had returned for her, his manner urgent, but still gracious and gentle. Why could I not have fallen in love with him instead? He was so much less complicated than his cousin, and far more adept at civility. She allowed him to take her by the hand, looking curiously into his eyes. The depth, the ardent interest and devotion she had come to know so well, were absent from the colonel’s gaze. She swallowed and looked away. No, it was no happenstance of physical appearance, but some unique quality possessed by Fitzwilliam Darcy alone that perfectly matched her own heart, and none other could compare. They fit , were designed for each other, and she had destroyed any hope of a future.

She was gazing now at the floor of the carriage, her dried cloak huddled about her, when the colonel closed the door and slid close to her side. She raised her head in alarm when she beheld the intense expression upon his face. He took her hand again and leaned very close to her ear, and Elizabeth stiffened in dread. Oh, no, he was not about to try to salvage her honour after their late-night walk! She began to arch back in denial.

“Miss Bennet,” he spoke lowly, “I am afraid that I will not be able to deliver you to Lambton this evening as you requested. Darcy has vanished again.”

She blinked, startled at this reversal of her expectations. “He… he is gone?” Her eyes wandered from the colonel’s. She had seen him before, had she not? Or was it another delusion?

“He had left the house shortly before my return. I do not know why, or where he had gone. Hodges said that he saw Georgiana for a moment, and then our aunt found them out just as they were greeting one another. There was some altercation, then Darcy exploded. The last anyone saw him, he was marching out into the night without a hat or a coat.”

“Did they not follow him to ensure his safety?” Elizabeth was rigid now with fear for him. “It must be nearly midnight by now, and still raining! Oh, Colonel, he is not himself! Why would they not call him back or send someone with him?”

“They tried. He had some rather choice things to say about their efforts—Georgiana was still in her room crying over his words. Thank goodness for Mrs Wickham! Your sister was trying to comfort her when I left. Miss Bennet, I am afraid I need your help.”

“But what can I do?”

“When we find him, I need you to talk some reason into him. Clearly, he needs someone to whom he might listen, and my last conversation with him ended rather badly.”

“I should do more harm than good! Colonel, you know what happened tonight. You know he has every reason to despise me!”

“I know that he was a hairsbreadth from tearing the sword down off his wall to murder me because he was still out of his senses after seeing you.”

“And you think I ought to be your emissary? You just told me how furious he was with me!”

“Not with you; because of you. He cannot have rid his heart of you so easily, Miss Bennet.”

“I think you underestimate him.”

“No, Miss Bennet, I do not.” His voice dropped huskily. “No matter the blow, when a man takes a woman deeply to his heart, he will die still carrying that thorn. God help the man who is not also blessed with the rose petals to soften the sting.”

“Roses… perfect and dangerous,” she whispered. “They are for lovers. Will… Mr Darcy and I—we were never that.”

“Well, then, Miss Bennet, perhaps you ought to try wildflowers instead.” He adjusted his hat to slant her a brave smile. “I was always partial to buttercups anyway.”

Porto, Portugal

A mália held on tightly. The faces of the riders were unfamiliar to her, but they had at least treated her civilly. She was forced to ride behind one of them like a harlot from the docks, but nothing bound her there, save her own fear of falling from a moving horse. None would speak to her, however, which disconcerted her not a little.

She could not decide whether she were more or less unnerved by the fact that the road led away from the old Vasconcelos mansion. Perhaps Miguel desired to take her elsewhere… or perhaps Manuel Vasconcelos himself had intercepted her carriage, and meant to deal with his son’s disobedient wife in his own way. She closed her eyes, digging her fingers into the wool coat of the man she rode behind, and wished with all her heart that it was Richard carrying her away.

A few moments later, the horse’s pace slowed. Her eyes were still closed—perhaps if she did not open them, the horror that must lie before her would consume her before it could terrorise her further. The rider was turning to her now, however, and hands from the ground were pulling at her. Grimacing her useless protests, she allowed herself to slip to the ground and looked about.

She was at the ship yard. Her ears caught the distant ringing of eight bells from various ships in the harbour, and voices from the nearby dock gave directions for the loading of another ship. Where could Miguel be taking her? Brasil seemed too strenuous a journey for one of his constitution, but not for his father. She shivered.

“Amália?”

She turned at the familiar voice, unable to believe her ears. “Father?”

Senhor de Noronha shouldered his way through the riders, his face grey. “Amália, you are safe! Thank heaven!”

She tilted her head. “I do not understand, Father. Why are we here?”

His eyes took on a pained expression. “My dear, I beg you would forgive a foolish old man. I have been wrong—so wrong, all these years!”

“Father?”

He reached hesitantly for her hand, and his fingers were cold. “Miguel was unworthy, and I ought never to have asked it of you. You were right, my daughter, to come to me, but I failed to protect you as a father ought.”

She looked away, unable to accuse him of the truth that already convicted him.

“Amália,” he spoke haltingly, “It is too late, and I have sinned too greatly. There is nothing else I can do. I cannot protect you.”

She sagged. For just a moment there, hope had taken seed. “Surely, Father, I can come back home with you! Perhaps Miguel will permit me to live there—”

“No, my dear. You know as well as I that I can do nothing! You cannot come to me. I have no power against the bishop and Vasconcelos. They would take you, and I….”

“You would be stripped of office,” she answered dully. It was just as she had supposed. Her father could not lose his grip on power, once he had got it.

“I have no office,” he sighed.

“Father?”

He glanced to the ship. “Forgive me, my daughter, but we have not long. I am still mayor in name, but no more. It has been so for a long while, and I failed to see it.”

Her heart fell. “Then you are taking me somewhere for Senhor Vasconcelos. Have you arranged for me to enter a convent?”

His head remained bowed, but his eyes rose. “No. I do not come on his behalf.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then… how did you find my carriage?”

He winced and withdrew a paper from his coat, cradling it in trembling hands as if it would crumble. “Ruy—he had written this and ordered his batman to see it delivered by express, should anything befall him.” Senhor de Noronha’s tear-filled eyes lifted again to his daughter. “I can do little enough for him, but I can send you away.”

“Away? Where might I go?”

“Ruy gave the name of one with whom you might shelter. He says none could know to seek you there, and it is an honourable situation—a merchant’s family, he says. The name is not familiar to me, but what has my protection secured you? I do as your brother demands, for perhaps by his word, at least, you will be safe. Here is a letter he has given, and the address of Ruy’s friends when you dock. I have already spoken with the captain; he will look to your welfare and carry some remuneration for your expenses.” He tipped his head toward the ship at the nearest dock. “She sails within the hour. You must be aboard.”

She turned to survey it gravely. Wherever the ship was bound, she already preferred it to her husband’s home. She breathed a silent thanks for her brother, and all his foreign connections. “Do you come with me?”

He withdrew a handkerchief to dab his forehead, the strain of consigning his daughter into the care of strangers showing in the lines of his face. “I cannot. If I were to follow you, you might be found the more easily. I go instead to Lisbon, to speak on behalf of my son. Perhaps…” his frown deepened and he stared at the ground, “perhaps I might do him some good. I have failed both my children,” he sighed, “and now others will determine their fates.”

She rested a hand on his forearm. “Father, you have not failed.”

“I have! You are too gentle, my dear—like your mother! But I have known of my sins for far too long and done nothing. It took your English colonel to lead me to confession.” He took both her hands again, his shoulders shaking and his eyes filling with tears. “Forgive me some day, my daughter! God willing, I will see you again, and I hope you will find something in me of which to be proud.”

Amália was beginning to sob. Did he truly speak of her leaving him, possibly forever? Ruy, her home—everything? “Father,” she sniffled and fell into his embrace, “I will write to you! I must see you again. I must know about Ruy, and you, and—”

“No! Do not write.”

“But I must know! Did Ruy’s batman say whether he will recover from his wounds, or is he—”

“The knife wounds are the least of his worries, and I will do all I can do for him. Do not write. You are still a married woman, my daughter. Nothing can change that, but if Miguel cannot find you, perhaps at least you will be safe. You must not write.”

She dashed away a tear. “But even from Brasil? Even Miguel would not follow me there.”

Her father kissed her on the cheek, then turned her to face the ship. “You do not go to Brasil. That ship sails for England.”

Pemberley

I t seemed that not a soul at Pemberley was in their right mind. Lady Catherine had shut herself in her rooms, commandeering at least five of the maids. The rest all seemed to be buzzing around as so many black ants with no direction. Mr Hodges stood in the centre of the chaos below stairs, conducting the household as best he could, but Mrs Reynolds—who would have brought some sense of order to the mayhem—was alone in her own room weeping.

Georgiana refused to answer to Elizabeth’s knock, though Elizabeth knew perfectly well that the girl was awake, and attended by Lydia. She could hear her sister’s urgings and blunt observations through the door, but sobs were her only answer. Sadly, she walked back to her chamber to change her clothing.

By three o’clock in the morning, the colonel and the riders from the stables still had not returned with word of Darcy. Elizabeth had occupied herself taking tea to poor Mrs Reynolds and speaking with Mr Jefferson regarding the search efforts. What Mr Hodges and the rest of the household staff thought they could do to aid the process remained a mystery to her, but every fireplace in the house blazed comfortingly, and every corner of Mr Darcy’s favourite rooms gleamed with polish and flowers from the hothouse.

Elizabeth paced, but from room to room rather than in one small path. Somehow, she felt as if she were accomplishing something that way. After another hour, Colonel Fitzwilliam at last sought her out. He lowered himself to a chair, still wiping his face and neck dry and caring little that he did so in her presence.

“You have found no sign of him?” she asked in a strained voice.

“He cannot have gone far, but damned if I know where,” the colonel grunted. “And I was so looking forward to a warm bed tonight! I think if I see another saddle this side of Easter, my feet will fall off.”

“You have looked in at all the tenant farms? He may have sheltered there.”

“Houses, barns, trees, yes, we have checked them all. The bother of it all is that it is still dark, and we might have ridden right by him unawares if he were not of a mind to make his presence known. Damned if I know how such a tall fellow can disappear so easily.”

“I still do not understand why he would do so! This does not suit with what I know of him, Colonel.”

Richard Fitzwilliam shrugged wearily, blowing air through his lips. “He is not a man given to violent temper, that is true. He was always one to brood, and I knew him often when we were boys to seek out his solitude. I never knew or cared where he went, but then, he never disappeared in the middle of the night like this. The only other time I saw him start out at truly odd hours by himself was at Rosings last year—but perhaps that may not surprise you overmuch.” He lifted a significant brow at her.

Elizabeth crossed her arms, warding off the barb. “Colonel, what happened to him while he was away? What do you know?”

He lowered his eyes. “That, Miss Bennet, is likely not fit for a lady’s ears. I heard he had a ghastly time of it, and there is probably much I do not know. I had warned Georgiana that he might seem… excitable. I never expected him to thrash me . It… did not help that he saw Mr Wickham the moment he returned. Or my aunt.”

Elizabeth covered her face. “It is all my fault!”

“Hah! Do you mean that my aunt remained here at your pleasure? If you have found a way to direct her actions, please share your secret with me, for I have never had an ounce of success. As for Wickham, yes, that was a damned foolish thing to do, but you were trying to save Georgiana. I do not entirely blame you for that, but it did a deal of harm.”

“What are we to do? Must we simply wait until he decides to return? Oh, Colonel, I must not be here when he does! I think you are quite wrong, for I will be the last person with whom he will wish to speak.”

“On the contrary, Miss Bennet, you are the only one who can speak to him. Remember that he rushed to find you the moment he returned, and only you can convince him that I do not wish him ill.”

“But surely, Georgiana—”

“Georgiana is a child. Forgive me for speaking of my cousin thus, but you know it for the truth. Darcy needs someone strong, someone who can love and reprove in equal measure. Had he found what he needs in his own sister, he would have remained here tonight. No, Miss Bennet, he adores his sister, but she is a burden just now. He needs a comrade in arms—if you know what I mean—and aside from my aunt, you are the only woman I know who is not afraid of him.”

She turned away, nibbling the tip of her finger and gazing out of the dark window. “What do you want me to do?”

He fell back against his chair, closing his eyes. “Slap him or kiss him, I care not. We have to find him first, and I am quite fagged.”

Elizabeth scowled at his coarse words, but then a shiver prickled over her skin. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Colonel… I think… will you permit me to look for him?”

He straightened, opening his eyes. “Permit? I would give you my favourite horse if you would!”

Her gaze had gone unfocused, but a light curve played at the corner of her mouth. “No horse for me, please, but I will need Georgiana’s phaeton and ponies.”