Page 51 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter fifty-one

Lambton

R ichard did not sleep for most of the night. He prowled the floor until half past eleven, his boots clapping loudly against the boards until he began to fear that Williams, the innkeeper, would come personally to see what was the matter with his guest. He tossed himself on the bed then, prying off his boots and wishing for his batman. Any face would have been welcome, for that matter, save his cousin’s!

He fell back on the pillow, staring at the black ceiling. How dare Darcy cast aspersions on the woman who had thrown herself into danger to save his worthless hide! Had the man any notion of the sacrifice she had made? Had he even noticed that hideous bruise over her beautiful face—the price of disobedience?

How fresh and angry it must have been then! Richard’s own fingers pressed into his eye sockets, wishing he could blot out the image, but instead revisiting it. The tender purple streaking over her cheekbones, the tears slipping over it from her golden eyes, it was all as real now as it had been days ago. How had it happened? Had that beast Vasconcelos thrown her to the ground, held her against her will—forced her?

Richard snatched the pillow from under his head to crush it over his face. At least it muffled the broken sobs and captured the hot tears, if it did not erase the horrible scene in his mind. She… she must be safe now! He had to believe she was, or he would go mad. Surely, the captain would have arranged something for his sister, if she could not remain at the camp. Ruy would have found a way….

T wo hours later, sleep had still not found him. He was up and pacing again, now in his stocking feet. His thoughts had turned back to his block-headed cousin, because he preferred anger on which he could act over grief he was helpless to mitigate. The fool was staring at the harmless insect, and was going to look right over the snake until it rose out of the grass to bite him!

Richard stopped pacing for a moment, then fumbled through his travel case until he found a small bunch of notepaper. He lit his lantern and scratched a few notes to himself, listing out possible avenues. Not that he expected Darcy to pursue them, of course, but he could investigate on his own. It was his family involved as well, after all.

Broderick—perhaps he might uncover something. Richard listed a few possible places for the man to search. Wickham had been seen in the area recently, that seemed a plausible place to begin. He seemed to know something, though whether he had intended to feed Miss Bennet the truth or a lie was yet unknown. Richard would give his whole inheritance, pittance that it was, for just one hour alone with the man in a windowless room!

It was a shame that he had not found an opportunity to question the ladies at Pemberley a little more. Elizabeth had expressed her reservations clearly, but by that moment he had already set foot in his carriage and would not be turned. Perhaps he ought to reconsider, for she was certainly correct that at least Mrs Annesley’s behaviour merited some explanation.

He narrowed his eyes. That was easy enough to investigate. Perhaps he might stop by her brother’s cottage outside of Weston, just to… enquire after his health.

Pemberley

D arcy was still on his balcony when he heard his valet enter the bedchamber just before dawn. He had spent the night there, grateful for the portico that shielded him from the weather. He jumped from his chair, somewhat embarrassed at dragging half the bed coverings out of doors.

Wilson found him almost at once, but his expression was perfect professional neutrality. “Good morning, Mr Darcy. I trust you rested well?”

“Yes, thank you.” He held a blanket in his hand still, and Wilson patiently offered to take it from him.

“Would you like your shave now, sir?”

Darcy felt of his chin. Yes, he would very much like the clean, fresh feeling of a shave. Never in his life had he tolerated even a shadow to besmirch his jaw, but there was a certain comfort—an anonymity, perhaps—in the unsightly thatch he had cultivated. Elizabeth had not made any objections to it yet, and if she did not mind, perhaps there was no great rush. “I think just a trim.”

Wilson, good man that he was, refrained from grimacing. “Very good, sir.”

In a moment, Darcy was seated in the chair that he had used to occupy every single morning of his adult life. His paper was at his right hand, and a fresh hot towel draped about his neck. Just as if the last months had never happened. Darcy waited for Wilson to turn round, then tugged the stifling towel a little lower, away from his face.

He watched Wilson silently, observing with care all the little things he had once taken for granted. Details so simple as the rich bowl of shaving cream, the polished water kettle, the lavish basin without crack or chip, were all almost foreign to him now, despite his intimate familiarity with them. Wilson lifted the gleaming scissors, the rays through the window dancing off their brilliant surface, and Darcy’s heart stopped.

“No!” he jerked to his feet and yanked the towel from about his neck to throw it far away from himself. He stood trembling, his chest heaving.

Wilson was still standing by the chair, his mouth agape in astonishment and the scissors still poised in his hand. Darcy drew breath to apologise, but released it in futility. He merely shook his head and turned to the window. A few moments later, he could hear Wilson putting away the shaving items and discarding the water.

“Do you wish to dress now, sir?”

Darcy glanced back, almost looking over his shoulder but not quite. “No,” he replied in a low voice. “I shall call for you if you are needed.”

He heard Wilson draw a sharp breath, then answer with his typical, “Very good, sir.” The door closed softly, and Darcy was left alone with clenched fists, his breath fogging the glass of the window. He could bear its confines no longer, and he walked back out to his balcony. Leaning over it, he drank in the fresh, cool air and struggled for at least two or three calm breaths.

How was a man who had been wrenched from life to go on with it? Was he truly expected to simply step back into the world he had left? It seemed there must be some ritual to observe, some formal recognition to his reclaimed status as a living man.

Unfortunately, that notion raised its own dilemmas. At the moment, the only ceremony he thought he could endure was the one that would make Elizabeth his own, and that only because hers would then be the last face he saw each evening, and the first one to wake him each morning. It would be her hands that might soothe over his hammering chest, her voice that would comfort him when the fears pressed upon him. He smiled—and if she were very generous, she might not even object to helping him into his coat and breeches, rather than requiring his valet’s services.

Now that was an interesting prospect. He was starting to relax just a little, as pleasant visions of Elizabeth, instead of Wilson, struggling with his close-fitting attire roused his sleep-deprived mind to wakefulness. He felt his previous tension draining, and an entirely new energy was trickling into his body. Yes, in just a few more moments, he would be enough at peace to resume his morning preparations, and then he would see her. And he would ask her for a quiet moment….

“Darcy, by thunder, I was starting to think you had been carried off again!”

A jolt shot through Darcy’s arms, making his hands clench and his shoulders bunch for combat. He forced a few deep breaths and turned round. “Richard? What are you doing back here?”

Richard strolled easily out onto the balcony, his eyes sweeping over Darcy’s appearance. “I found something—or, rather, some one . But before I tell you more, why the devil are you not dressed? Has your valet forgotten how to shave you? Egad, but you look a fright.”

Darcy eyed his cousin’s approach warily. Richard seemed all ready cheer, but there was a tension in his shoulders Darcy knew all too well. Something had Richard agitated, and he supposed that it was himself. Why would it not be?

Richard drew close, apparently unperturbed that Darcy had not answered his questions about his personal regimen. Once by his side, however, his smile faded and concern lined his eyes. In a somewhat softer voice he asked, “Darcy, are you well?”

Darcy looked back to the rolling fields, his jaw working. “Well enough,” he returned quietly. He clutched the stone railing and breathed somewhat more easily when Richard also diverted his gaze in that direction, and a silent moment of contemplation passed. At last, he asked, “What brings you back, Richard?”

“Well, you are not the only member of our family concerned about some of the recent doings. I decided to look into some matters on my own.”

“And?”

Richard cocked his fist at his belt with a satisfied grin. “It turns out that some very unlikely individuals have found one another.”

Darcy sighed. “Your ability to keep me in suspense has not diminished, but I am not in the mood.”

“Darcy! You are disappointing my fun. Can you not think of anything that would drag me out of my bed in the wee hours, then back an hour out of my way to beard the lion—that’s you, old boy—and all before my breakfast? Think back to the night you arrived! Did you not have some lingering questions to answer?”

Darcy turned. “If you intend to cast my doubt upon Miss Bennet’s character, you may save your breath. I have confidence in her honour, and will thank you to let the matter rest.”

A faint scowl passed over Richard’s face. “I see that now you are quick to defend a lady’s dignity. Where was this sense of chivalry last evening, when you defamed the very lady who discovered you, rotting in your own filth?”

“I hardly see a reason for you to take offence. Certainly, I am indebted to her for my life, and more than that, if indeed matters are as they appeared. I did not spare even you from scrutiny—why should I not question a woman who is known to me only as a relation of my captor?”

“She is genuine.” Richard crossed his arms and glowered.

“You speak with great certainty. How can you know the lady so well?”

“I know her.”

Darcy regarded his cousin narrowly. Richard’s stance brooked no argument; his jaw was set, his arms still crossed and bulging with tension. “If you vouch for her,” Darcy allowed, “then I shall return to thinking of her as my benefactress.”

Richard’s arms fell to his sides. “I do not know whether to congratulate you on coming to your senses, or to ask if your good graces now extend to me as well.”

“You claim to have brought news,” Darcy’s mouth tightened on one side. “Do you not know that the bearer of good news is always well received?”

“Is that an apology?”

Darcy turned, his eyes down. “From the depths of my being. I cannot answer for what came over me, Richard. I beg you—”

“No!” Richard interrupted. “Beg me for nothing. Your pride could not suffer it. It is enough for me to know that you no longer intend to brain me for entering the house.”

“I do beg you,” Darcy repeated through clenched teeth. “You were right, and I have not been myself. I have never had cause to doubt you before, and I will not allow my adversary the satisfaction of seeing me doubt you now. I am heartily ashamed of the way I have behaved, and I am grateful that you have enough forbearance to still speak to me.”

“Well!” Richard seemed to stand somewhat taller, a surprised little smile growing. “I say, Darcy, I never thought to hear such from you, but damned if it doesn’t make things easier. We’ve a deal to do, you know, and I would rather have your sword at my side than pointed in my face.”

Darcy released an unsteady breath. He still felt he had done an abysmal job at confessing his wrongs, but it was a beginning, and Richard was right. They had work before them. “What have you found, Richard?”

“You will never believe it! But perhaps I ought to start from the beginning. I had heard before that Mrs Annesley’s brother was ill. She was taking leave constantly to attend him, but she was rather close about his illness.”

“Which was?”

“Syphilis.” Richard shuddered. “Poor devil, it’s a wonder he can even speak, but he makes no sense when he does. It’s a bad case, I fear, and little wonder Mrs Annesley did not confess his condition. Rather a black mark, naturally.”

“Do you mean that she was in need of help, and she was afraid to ask?”

“Well,” Richard gestured good-naturedly with his hands, “while you have a reputation as being generous, you are also rather exacting. I expect she feared that Miss Darcy of Pemberley could not have a tainted companion. It was well known that the last was dismissed on mysterious grounds, and she hoped to retain her employment. It seems she took whatever help she could get for her worthless brother, and got in rather too deep. By the time I first brought Georgiana back to Pemberley, she had few choices left to her.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes, suspicion glimmering. “Whom did you find with her?”

Richard grinned. “The devil himself. Yes, yes, you have guessed it. Wickham had been supplying her with medicine and money. I have not yet discovered the source of those, but I have my suspicions now. Mrs Annesley had had quite enough of him, and I think she was glad for me to find them out at last. The condition for had been that she would remain in Weston to nurse her brother—and, of course, stay away from Pemberley as much as possible in the process.”

“So Georgiana would be less protected,” Darcy mused. “Where is Wickham now?”

Richard jerked his head. “I feared permitting the ladies to know of his presence. I left him in the stables, under the eyes of several footmen. Oh, and tied up, of course, not to mention somewhat the worse for wear.”

“You captured him alone?”

“Well,” Richard chuckled, “he still had his trousers about his knees when I came upon him two hours ago. On that thought, are you planning to see him in your nightclothes?”

Darcy glanced down at himself, and he saw his cousin’s eye catch the outdoor chair, which still held a pillow and another blanket. He straightened, suddenly wishing for all the world that Richard had called on him in the study at a decent hour like a civilized human.

Richard was giving him a quizzical look. “It appears you require a few moments to make yourself presentable, Cousin. I will step out so you can call for Wilson; I’ve no intention of acting as your valet.”