Darcyleanedovertherailing of the steamer as it drew into port, taking in each sight and smell as if already conducting reconnaissance. The photographs printed in theDaily Mailhad failed to prepare him for the grandness of it all. He had anticipated little more than a rough outpost, but two and three-level houses lined wide streets, train whistles pierced the air, and telegraph wires sliced the clear skyline. To be sure, it was no London—there was a raw simplicity to everything he could see, but it was far better established than his mind had persuaded him to expect. But, then, what else could it be? The greatest empire in the world had enjoyed a presence here for some eighty years, and the Dutch long before that.
A young man named Jabu offered to carry Darcy’s bag—for a gratuity—and then agreed to show him to General Kitchener’s headquarters. The “headquarters” title was all for show, because the General and his entourage were probably in Johannesburg. Even if he were in Cape Town, a figure like Kitchener would never condescend to meet with a mere country squire audacious enough to beg an audience. No, Darcy’s best hope was a local commander of some sort—or better yet, a lowly field officer who had been and seen and would not mind saying as much.
Darcy left his card with an aide at the headquarters, along with the name of a hotel his guide recommended. The aide examined his name, asked his business, and recorded it all in his book with the promise that Darcy would hear something “soon.”
Pemberley
Elizabethstormeduptoher bed-chamber, her thoughts black and her face flashing red in her mirror. She could not remember being more irate… at least, not since she had come to England. It was not merely Miss Darcy’s insolence, although that was most vexing. The most provoking thing was the girl’s perfect contrast to her more amiable relatives. All the others had seemed forbidding at first, yet each in their way had softened, even in some cases proved welcoming, and none more so than Georgiana’s brother.Fitzwilliam Darcy…
And that was the real crux of it. For the first week of his absence, she denied it. For the second, she had shrugged off her more rambling notions as merely the result of yet another change in her circumstances, another episode in a life spinning wildly out of control. But now, she had come to confess the truth, and that was… she missed him.
What a strange thing was this! She had perhaps been in his physical company no more than three weeks together, but his influence had been felt almost since her arrival in England. Arrangements made for her that others should have undertaken; letters sent from London to share what little news he had, and to ask after her welfare; little comforts ordered by him to bring charm to her days. Where others had held her at bay, he had protected—out of duty, to begin with, it was true, but that first chess match in the quiet of his study had flung wide the window and allowed a ray of sun to shine in. After that, he had been different—had seenhersomehow, and discovered corners of her being that even Jane was unaware of.
She stopped her fretful pacing by the bedside table and plunged her nose into the dried spray of lavender he had sent up nearly a month before. He had been right about that, too. That simple gesture, that humble offering had secretly spread its tender essence until both the flower and the man who had given it both twined together in her heart, and nothing less than a sense ofhomeanchored her spirit to this place. Perhaps it was merely that he tried to understand her—he, the last man in the world she would have thought capable of such a gentle sentiment! But others had done similarly, and her feelings were not equally affected by them.
Was it possible, she wondered, that the heart was a villainous, rebellious thing from its conception? That it yearned for what it should never dare to claim, content only when it was causing torment and not pleased to nurture its own? She knew it was wrong—wickedly and deceitfully wrong—but it was not some other voice that soothed her now in her more fitful dreams. It was William’s.
Why could it not be Richard she saw and heard and felt? Why not her father or mother or any of her sisters? She could have none of them, either—just as Mr Darcy, they were as far out of her reach as the moon in the heavens. She wept over them by turns each night, but the moment she closed her eyes, the one who drew near was the one she had no right to dream of.
There was nothing for it. Regardless of what was learned of Richard, or how near or far his family desired to keep her, one day she would have to leave Pemberley. No matter how friendly the master was with her, no matter how cordially the future mistress might address her, she would be doing everyone a disservice, and not least of all herself, by remaining.
She leaned her head against the windowpane, her fingers idly teasing the lavender spray beside her. More than all other things, another worry loomed. There was much she had not told her friend—things that would be sure to make him misunderstand everything, to doubt her and even to turn from her, as others had done. He deserved the truth, all of it, regardless of what other circumstances arose. He might cast her out, but she owed him this courtesy, at least.
So resolved, she straightened and walked to Jane’s room to knock on the door. “Jane, may I speak to you?”
“Oh!” Jane cried when she opened the door. “There you are, Lizzy! I thought you were out taking some exercise. I was just rushing out myself to walk with Mr Bingley.”
Elizabeth smothered a proud grin and wriggled her eyebrows. “Do you need a chaperone?”
Jane blushed hotly. “Oh! I hardly think… I’m sure he does not intend…”
“No,” Elizabeth answered for her, “you do not wish for a chaperone. Never mind, I will ask my question later. I suppose I needn’t remind you to stay in sight of the house,” she said with a sly wink.
“Lizzy!” Jane whispered in horror. “Mr Bingley is not that sort of man!”
“They are all ‘that sort of man,’ but some are more honourable than others. Enjoy your outing.” She kissed her sister on the cheek and watched with almost maternal fondness as her sister giggled, blushed again, and gathered her things to meet the man who struck her fancy.
After Jane left, Elizabeth sat by her hearth for half an hour. What price would Jane pay for Elizabeth’s past? What of Billy? And what of Richard, if he still lived? She argued with herself, making one excuse after another about why she had to stay, why she had to go, trying to order her thoughts and rehearse what she must say to William when he returned; and, more importantly to the moment, trying to sort out precisely how she was going to face Miss Darcy at dinner. Then, an inspiration struck. What had William recommended to clear her head?
“Margaret?” she called into the sitting room. “Will you please send word to the stables and ask them to saddle a horse for me?”
Chapter 20
Cape Town, South Africa
Ninedayslater,Darcystill had not spoken with anyone. No one official, that is. He lurked in every establishment in Cape Town devoted to food, drink, and entertainment, but he had yet to discover any of Richard’s fellows in arms. The best he could unearth was two men who had once trained under his cousin back in England but had not seen him in better than four years.
Repeated calls at the headquarters had yielded nothing, so at last Darcy determined upon a train ride to Johannesburg himself—against the advice of Jabu, who had attached himself to Darcy in hopes of being found useful. “If you will do this thing,” he said, “go no farther than Kimberley. You are notisosha—you should not go.”
“No, I am no soldier, but neither are the journalists or photographers who accompany the army on their campaign. In fact, a man called Churchill came for that very purpose and made a great name for himself when he returned home and published his memoirs. Although his train was captured, the rail lines are now firmly under British control, and I cannot think the present danger very great.”
Jabu shook his head and uttered a soliloquy in his own tongue. Then he gestured towards the rail station, and said, “I will go with you.”
Pemberley
Theridewasinvigorating,just as she had hoped. However, it did nothing to solve her problems or satisfy her more anxious fears. She had no answer for what she was to do next, but she did know one thing. Out here, in the heart of the mountains and fields, there was peace. And out here, at least, there was no one to judge her thoughts and feelings.
She turned back before the rain started. Jane would be looking for her if she stayed out too late, and how embarrassing if Miss Darcy herself had to order the coachman to send riders out! She decided to take a shorter way back—over that low rail fence Mr Darcy had first taught her to leap, then round through the wood. As she turned up the clear meadow beyond, she could see the Grecian Folly, the path to which came down from the garden maze behind the house. It usually loomed grey and abandoned, but today a horse stood by, its reins tied to a tree.
