“Oh.” Elizabeth stopped, and that protective arm he always escorted her with bumped against her shoulder. “About Georgiana…”
ReginaldFitzwilliam,ninthEarlof Matlock, slumped in his chair, his hand covering his mouth and his eyes fixed like stone on the floor. “I knew it in my head, but to hear it out loud… Damn.”
“Indeed,” Darcy breathed.
“There are simply no words for something this monstrous. My only brother! You said you spoke to the general?”
Darcy nodded. “Kenny-Kelly met me in person.”
Reginald brushed his lip with a finger as he gazed thoughtfully at his father’s portrait on the far wall. “Are you not the one who warned me that was exactly what would happen? Wealthy fellow shows up in South Africa, flashing some coin and asking after a missing colonel, and they trot out someone of rank to appease him and pack him on his way?”
“I did not think they would do that for me.” Darcy answered wearily. “Not that it matters now, in any case.”
“Then, you are sure of what he told you?”
“I wish I were not. He is gone, Reginald.”
The young earl’s face sank into his palm and Darcy fell silent for a moment, allowing his cousin a moment of composure as he drew out the letter from the old earl. “This was among Richard’s belongings.” He said nothing of any other correspondence Richard had in his possession.
Reginald accepted the envelope, turned it over once or twice to inspect his father’s script, but did not open it. “I cannot read this now. In a year or two, perhaps. Darcy, what of the widow? What is to be done for her?”
“I should think we would ask her what she desires. She is not a fortune hunter.”
“Why would you suggest she is?”
“I only mean to say that she is not seeking some advantage in the connection.”
“I should hope not. Mother has taken quite a shine to her—Sheila’s words, not mine. My wife speaks of nothing else. She was quite disappointed last week, in fact, when Georgiana was so stingy with her guests. She will come and stay now, will she not? And her sister, too, of course. Unless Bingley means to carry her off first.”
Darcy hesitated. In his head, he had persuaded himself that Elizabeth would stay at Pemberley, particularly now that Richard… and with matters as they were with Georgiana… “If she is still invited to do so,” he answered carefully.
“Why should she not be? Because Richard is gone, we would not treat his wife as family?”
“I thought you were concerned about appearances. She is not from fashionable circles.”
“I am not parading her about Mayfair, am I? Besides, she will desire to live quietly enough.”
“You hardly know her.”
“I shall get to know her. She is my sister now, is she not? My duty to see her at least provided for. I doubt she would like Richard’s flat in Town, so I shall sell that. Perhaps I will set her up with that pretty little cottage down by Darley Dale. What would she think of that? Or do you think she would prefer to go back to America?”
“No,” Darcy replied quickly, “I am certain she would not.”
“Well, that is a relief. This will all be another awful blow for Mother, and I think having Richard’s widow about will be some little comfort to her, even if the girl is an American. I will have to speak to my solicitor. Is the War Office getting up a death certificate, then?”
Darcy stirred, uncomfortable with Reginald’s sudden business-like manner, but knowing his cousin was only doing his duty. He was the earl, and all fell to him. “I would assume, but I heard nothing of that.”
Reginald nodded. “I will need that to carry on. His widow will inherit some interest there… although it is a bloody shame there is no son to pass it to.”
Darcy gave a broken snort and shook his head. “Yes, a pity. But easier on the widow, no doubt.”
“How does she bear up, Darcy?”
“As you might expect. No, perhaps I ought to explain that. I have noted in her before a tendency to ignore or defy her troubles. She may appear to you perfectly well, but do not assume that she is not struggling with shadows of the past, merely because she is able to laugh in the midst.”
Reginald raised his brows. “How very singular. A woman not devoted to ceaseless melancholy? Not very fashionable at all.”
“She is fond of exercise,” Darcy added, almost as he imagined an excessively affectionate mother might importune the headmaster when her darling child is sent off to school. “And of reading. I often discover her in the library, but most often, she finds it soothing to be outdoors. She will plunder your gardens and haunt your stables until the coachman is obliged to send her back to the house for tea time. Oh, and you had better let me give up my polo mare for her pleasure, or she will commandeer and spoil one of yours. I tried riding that mare again myself, and she nearly pitched me over her ears because she likes her new rider so well.”
