Page 68 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter sixty-eight

I t was four more hours, and the sun had begun to rise before Fitzwilliam returned to the house. He dragged himself through the door, wearily shrugging off his coat and staring in haggard wonder at Georgiana, who still bustled about the house with the brisk efficiency of a battlefield commander.

“Richard!” she ran to him like the girl she still was. “What news of Mr Gardiner?”

“He will mend, my sweet. Where is Darcy?”

“He is in the library, with Elizabeth. They only just came back down from Lydia’s room.”

“And how is Mrs Wickham faring?”

Georgiana laughed. “Apart from being somewhat intoxicated still, she is tart as ever when she wakes. She asked me to have the dressmaker come measure her for a gown to wear to her sister’s wedding.”

Fitzwilliam gave a fatigued chortle. “Provided she can fight off infection, she may recover well. See that the surgeon attends her regularly. Have the man move into the next room, if you must. Excuse me, Georgie, but I must speak to Darcy.”

He found Darcy collapsed at one end of the sofa. Miss Bennet was curled beside him with her head on his shoulder, and her little slippered feet tucked up on the cushion. Both appeared to be soundly asleep, but at the creak of his foot upon the floorboards, Darcy awoke with a jerk.

“I say, Darcy,” he grunted, “I do hope Mr Bennet is a generous sort.”

Darcy stretched his neck and turned it to admire the woman nestled at his side. “On the contrary, I was hoping that he would rush us to the altar. If you were to have a word with Mrs Bennet, I would count it a very great service.”

“I do not dare. She still has two other daughters.”

Darcy began easing himself from under Elizabeth’s body. She mumbled something in her sleep, and Richard was certain that her eyes opened just a fraction when Darcy spoke her name, but she allowed him to settle her against a pillow. Darcy rose and walked quietly to him, motioning with his head toward the study.

“What is the surgeon’s evaluation?” he demanded quickly.

“It is as I thought. The knife did not penetrate deeply. It has been a few hours, and he can find no signs of internal bleeding, so it appears your future uncle had a lucky escape. It is fortunate that Vasconcelos was in a hurry, for the bump to the head seemed to have incapacitated the gentleman enough that he thought him dead. Gardiner is rousing now and he has taken some broth, so I think he will recover well.”

Darcy released a tense sigh. “That is well… very well, indeed. How are Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Vasconcelos?”

“Mrs Gardiner will have that bruise to her face for a month, at the least, but it does not appear that anything was broken. Amália… forgive me, Darce, I simply cannot call her by her proper name. I offered to escort her here, and she felt her presence had been enough burden to the Gardiners, but Mrs Gardiner would not hear of it. When I left, Amália was taking her turn watching Mr Gardiner while Mrs Gardiner tried to sleep.”

“And the body, I presume, was collected?”

“Yes,” Richard frowned, “but not by Manuel Vasconcelos. It was men from the ship; in fact, I understand that its departure was delayed for that purpose, but they could not tell me where their master was to be found. We ought to have gagged him and dropped him with the regiment. I hate that he escaped.”

“Escaped, perhaps, but not victoriously. He has lost a great deal tonight. Perhaps we should stop by that apartment once more to see if he left the larger part of those papers in his haste. They might reveal where else he had been, and perhaps yield some evidence of his corroboration with the viscount.”

“Perhaps. When do we speak to my father?”

Darcy sighed. “As soon as we can be made presentable, I am afraid. Wickham will attend us.”

Richard tilted his head and gazed speculatively at his cousin. “You have gone and done it, I see.”

“Done what, may I ask?”

“Trusted Wickham again. I see it, you have bought his lies for a fine price, and he shall string you along once more.”

“If he does, he shall have a greater force than I to reckon with. I believe his wife may make him suffer far more than I ever could.”

Richard grumbled and rolled his eyes. “That means I must vouch for the filthy blackguard. Perhaps I shall recommend assignment to Spain.”

“And you? Will you be throwing yourself away on the front lines as well?”

Richard turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “She is still a Catholic, Darcy, and I am still a penniless second son.”

“The Prince Regent is feeling considerable pressure for emancipation. I expect it will become a popular notion.”

“Not for the sons of earls,” Richard retorted. “She would be ridiculed, Darcy. Mocked, belittled, and abused. It is worse even than you marrying a country girl, for my father is a peer and she is a foreigner. I will not subject her to that.”

“She seems the sort of young lady who would care little what anyone said of her.”

“Aye, but matters are about to become rather ticklish. This tale of Reginald’s betrayal will be a fine handle for all those in the House of Lords who would destroy my father. The family can little afford another such scandal.”

“Are you saying,” Darcy interjected testily, “that this woman you have loved in vain for years is finally free, and you will not do something about it? You are a damned fool. If you had seen what I came upon tonight when I first entered the room—“

“I know what you saw!” Richard whirled, his hands raking his hair. “And I have no intention of letting her go.” He dropped his hands and paced before the fire. “She will have to mourn the bastard for a year. That should be more than enough time. Father will not like it, but I trust you might still come to visit me once or twice.”

“Visit you where?”

“Portugal, of course. And I don’t give a damn if her father objects. I’ll ask for permanent assignment to Lisbon. We will marry there, and she can be a little nearer her home.”

Darcy met this declaration with silence. Richard to leave England! He paced to the window and leaned upon it.

“I know what you think, Darcy,” Richard began.

“No, I would imagine that you do not.”

“You think I have lost my head, that I would give up everything on a romantic whim.”

“I was thinking,” Darcy replied quietly, “that I would have done no less. You will never find another of half her worth. I know, for I have spent five years searching, and another coming to understand what it is to love such a woman.”

Richard blinked. “You do not think me mad?”

“No.”

“I have virtually nothing to offer her, save my soldier’s pay, and my father and mother would die before acknowledging her. Still, you do not think me heedless and rash?”

“I daresay the lady will have resources of her own. I had intended to give her this,” he withdrew the deed from his breast pocket, and handed it to Richard. “It is but a small token of my gratitude toward her. It is fitting that you should help to steward it, and I think she would prefer to hear the news from you, rather than from me.”

Richard took it in trembling hands, glancing back to his cousin in wordless shock.

“And,” Darcy continued, “you shall not be utterly abandoned by the family. I think perhaps Elizabeth would like to see Portugal one day.”

Richard’s arms dropped to his sides and a happy smile grew upon his face. “You are the last man I ever expected to advise me so, Darcy. Bingley, now there’s a chap who would have happily gone with the scheme, but you! It means a deal to me, Darcy.”

Darcy smiled and was about to suggest that they retire to dress for their visit with the earl when a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” he summoned.

“Excuse me, sir,” the butler extended a tray with a note. “This has just come from the Earl of Matlock. The messenger said it was urgent, and he awaits a reply.”

They traded apprehensive glances, and Darcy opened the note. He scanned it quickly, then read it again, more carefully. He felt himself beginning to tremble, and made his way to a seat.

“What is it?” Richard demanded. “What has Father done?”

Darcy shook his head vaguely. “You said that the viscount had been missing for a few days?”

“Yes, left town, so Father said. I assumed he went to Matlock.”

“Did your father mention that he had men searching for him?”

“Yes, now that I think of it. He was beginning to wonder if there was something to all this nonsense, and wanted to learn more for himself. They found him in London?”

Darcy extended the note, his face white. “Not before Vasconcelos did. It would seem, Richard, that you are no longer the second son.”

“What?” Richard snatched the note and read. When he had finished, he dropped into the seat beside Darcy, his eyes shocked and staring. “Reginald has been strangled in his sleep!”

Matlock House, London

“D arcy, my boy, you are a sight.” The Earl of Matlock, his face aged ten years since Darcy had last seen him, clapped a limp hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “At least you are come back to us, if not….” He broke off with a weary sigh and shook his head.

“Sir,” Darcy answered, “may I express my deepest condolences.”

The earl seemed still too dazed to comprehend, and he waved lethargically. “Never mind that now, Darcy. Too many things to condole over. Richard,” Matlock placed a hand in his younger son’s, and then his haggard features crumbled. His great shoulders shook, his head bowed with shame and grief. Richard put an arm around the aging earl and led him to the privacy of his study. Darcy followed and closed the door as Richard eased his grieving father into his leather chair.

“Father, how is Mother?” Richard asked in a trembling voice.

“I have not yet told her. I wished you to be here my boy—and you, Darcy. It will help soften the blow. She was so… so proud of him! Such a strapping lad. Handsome, clever, just what he ought to have been. Too late, I suspected!”

Darcy narrowed his eyes in interest. “You did suspect him?”

“Not until the rumours began that you lived,” the earl confessed. “He was my son! How should I have thought him capable of such a monstrous thing? He knew all the old family secrets, of course, because I thought as my heir he ought to be the guardian of such information. I pray to heaven that he suffered at least some moments of doubt in his conscience. That my own son could conceive of this!”

“Father, you are not to blame for Reginald’s greed.” Richard shot Darcy an imploring glance, urging him to concur.

“Indeed, sir,” Darcy added stiffly, “none could find you at fault, save that it was, in fact, kept a secret from so many. The dated, signed proof to counter all claims against our family was in our possession, had we but the cause to search for it.”

The earl was numbly shaking his head, combing trembling fingers through his hair and scarcely attending Darcy. “I thought it a fine notion to match him to Georgiana after Priscilla died. I never thought him to be playing me for the patriarchal old fool I am. He knew his wife was dying for nearly a year, and he knew precisely how I would act. To think he would try to have you killed just to lay hands on Georgiana and all your fortune! I should have seen… should have done something. Darcy, my boy, forgive an ignorant old man!”

“Here, Father, let us not dwell on that just now. What is to be done? Where was he found?”

“He had rented some flat over on R— Street—I presume to keep his identity quiet when he was meeting with others. When they found him….” The earl drew a rasping breath and rubbed his eyes. “The place looked to have been robbed. A witness placed two men there early last night, speaking a foreign tongue and carrying away a crate of papers. And Reginald… Reginald was….”

“You needn’t say more, Father. I know. I also have a clear idea of who must have done this.”

“So do I. I have already had the man dragged from his ship, for he was waiting for someone before sailing, and his own spies gave him up.”

Darcy and Richard exchanged eager glances. “Manuel Vasconcelos?” Darcy asked.

“That was the knave. We have enough proof already. He will hang for murder, but I would consult with you both on the matter. Darcy, can you provide further evidence against the man?”

“Naturally, sir,” Darcy answered. “First, may I ask if this miniature of myself might have been taken from your gallery?”

The earl took the small portrait and studied it. “The countess dismissed a maid over the disappearance of this miniature. Where did you find it?”

“I believe it was in my cousin’s possession. I am sorry, Uncle.”

The earl closed his eyes. “Richard, my boy, do something. Permit me not to linger in sorrow, for I cannot bear it. Let us do something. Spare me this agony! An old man should not bury his son.”

Richard Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Matlock, drew an arm about the weakened earl. “Yes, Father.”