“It is only a euphemism, and you know that very well. Any excuse to test our horses over the highest fences. I thrashed Winston rather soundly, but you are not letting me finish. We saw the flames and… egad, were youinsidethat thing when it burned?”
“I helped a couple of people escape,” I muttered, wiping my hand unconsciously on what was left of my breeches as Lord Belmont and Lord Matlock trotted up.
“What the devil were you thinking?” George grasped my shoulders with a searching look. “Are you quite well? Is anyone else trapped?”
I shook my head wearily. “The last workers are now accounted for. My overseer believes some manner of sabotage sparked these voracious flames, but the investigation must wait. I rather wonder if it was an accident.”
“Accident! Like as not, it was Luddites among your workers. I say, you look a fright. Are you sure you are well? I cannot afford for you to be injured, you know.”
I arched a brow. “I expect I will keep, but why this sudden concern for my welfare?”
“Well, you do not think I want to take over all that desk work you do? The very idea!” George laughed and slapped my shoulder just as Lord Matlock and Lord Belmont dismounted. They were wearing identical looks of stern appraisal at smoking wreckage surrounding millworkers still salvaging tools and wagons. Lord Winston was slower, for he was circling his mount around at the stream, inspecting the ruin of the mill.
Belmont addressed me briskly. “No need to elaborate on how this new catastrophe arose, Mr. Darcy. Evidence proclaims itself plainly before all.” His incisive glance took in various small clots of workers sporting resentful scowls and folded arms. I prickled under an accusatory look, implying blame cast too swiftly toward underprivileged masses over a smoldering disaster.
Before an indignant retort took shape, however, Belmont continued neutrally. “But perhaps now is not the time. What are the injuries? Have you summoned a doctor?”
“No, we’ve not had time. There are a number with burns and lacerations from falling debris. And everyone is coughing.” I glanced around and caught Bingley’s eye, for he had ridden up just on George’s heels. “I will go, Darcy!” An instant later, he was gone, his mount’s hooves churning up the earth.
Matlock grunted, eyeing the naked ironwork that once held up the roof. “Aye, it seems that costly experiment of your father’s proved its worth. The roof held long enough for everyone to get out, at least. Recall how I told your father they were a waste of good coin when a stout oaken beam would serve?” He shook his head. “George Darcy, still schooling me from beyond the grave.”
Amidst shifting rubble and dazed wounded, one small figure caught Lord Belmont’s suddenly riveted gaze. I tensed as Elizabeth dropped a self-conscious curtsy under such intense noble scrutiny, trying vainly to shake the worst of the soot from her gown and tangled hair. Instinctively, I shifted nearer, shielding her from his prying examination. But swift movement drew the Marquess’s intense stare from the bemused maiden onto where I stood, dusty and hollow-eyed, my arm still wrapped about her slender form.
Belmont’s ruddy skin blanched deathly white, features contorting as shock rapidly evolved to impossible recognition. “It cannot be!” A shaking hand passed across his eyes like one beholding a fearful apparition. Then wonder eclipsed incredulity before overflowing eyes, and he spoke in a broken whisper. “E… Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth merely blinked in bewilderment while I stiffened to stone beside her. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Have we been introduced?”
Belmont straightened, some of his color returning as he jerked his lapels and shot self-conscious glances between Lord Matlock and me. “No. But… heaven help me.” He set his hands on his hips and cast a look to the sky… and perhaps it was the smoke, perhaps my imagination, but I thought I detected a tear in the nobleman’s eye. He blinked and swallowed and said something that sounded very like a prayer. Then, he shook his head and smiled at Elizabeth.
“My dear girl,” he offered in a cracked voice, “I thought never to see your face in this lifetime.”
Elizabeth was still tilting her head in confusion, but my stomach felt like I had swallowed a rock. My mouth fell open, and I could not help the instinct that compelled me to tug her a little closer. “You?” I murmured.
Belmont smiled weakly and removed his hat. “Indeed.” He shuddered a sigh, staring at his hat. Then, with a tremulous smile, he laughed quietly and gazed fondly at Elizabeth. “I would know you anywhere, my child. George Darcy was right. You look so much like your mother.”
I swallowed and glanced at all the assembled faces, every one of them registering varying levels of shock.Belmont!But how?
I tightened my hand in Elizabeth’s, and found hers trembling as mine was. For here stood the only man besides Gardiner capable of unveiling long-buried secrets. Belmont had the power to spring Elizabeth from her cage… or lock her behind it forever, barring her from my reach.
“If I may, Darcy,” he suggested, “Perhaps we may discuss this at length in a more amenable setting. I believe you have more pressing matters before you.”
I came back to some semblance of awareness. “Quite right. I must see to the wounded.” But then, I paused. He would not think… he could not insist that Elizabeth leave me now. For now, I could not know of whom to be more wary—Mr. Gardiner, who had only been trying to keep a promise he made to my father, or Lord Belmont… who might insist that she leave my sight forever. Stubbornly, I whirled to stare back at Belmont as I reached for Elizabeth’s hand once more.
He chuckled and replaced his hat. “Is that how the matter lies, eh, Darcy?” He shook his head. “Very well. I will present myself at Pemberley this evening. I fear a number of explanations are in order. Please, finish your business here, and I will speak with you later.”
Elizabeth
Bone-wearyandachingfromthe ordeal, despite now being freshly bathed and dressed, I straightened my gown nervously as a squadron of unfamiliar nobles entered Pemberley’s impressive drawing room. Lady Belmont’s piercing eyes instantly found and assessed me when she posed artfully upon the divan. My courage melted swiftly under such daunting inspection.Flee!some instinct screamed, before Fitzwilliam’s comforting clasp bolstered me upright again.
Lord Matlock’s face, I remembered. Dimly, but he granted me a curt nod—not unfriendly—and a look that seemed to wonder what had become of the adolescent he had last seen. I dipped him a curtsey as he passed by me.
By order of precedence, Lord Belmont and his lady had entered the room first, and they stood somewhat apart—he staring at me in wonder, and she as if I were mud on her shoes. Fitzwilliam invited everyone to make themselves comfortable, giving Lady Belmont the preferred seat by the fire.
A handsome young man, whom Fitzwilliam whispered to my ear was Belmont’s son, Lord Winston, took up post behind his father’s chair and regarded me with shadowed curiosity. Lady Lucilla hovered slim and pale beside her brooding brother until George made his way to her side and led her to a seat. My heart fluttered wildly, lungs fighting my suffocating corset for air. Was that lady truly my own flesh and blood sister, by some unfathomable twist of providence?
Perhaps if I strained my imagination, I could trace a resemblance. There was a wrinkle around the edge of her mouth, perhaps etched there by many smiles… or frowns. I really could not be sure which, but the clear, direct way she was regarding me was quite obviously inherited from her father. Did I do the same? I would have to look at my glass to decide.
I peeked sideways where George hovered, an irrepressible grin suggesting he thoroughly enjoyed this drama’s latest sensational twist, with himself squarely at center stage. Insufferable scamp! Small consolation that Lady Lucilla now played chief lady in that theatrical repertoire. I permitted one discreet but indelicate inner snort. They say leopards cannot change their spots, and neither could George.
