Chapter forty-six
Darcyfoundhisstudyto be the most peaceful room in the house, but even there, he did not like to linger. Its one advantage was that few dared to trouble him there, but he was surrounded by the oppressive business of Pemberley. He sat in his chair, elbows on his desk and kneaded his aching forehead. There seemed no logical place to begin, no loose end that cried out for him to pull.
Jefferson had spent the last hour with him, apprising him of all the events centred around the attack on his sister and Elizabeth. And that other woman. He was still marveling that his quiet sister and his intelligent Elizabeth could tolerate the younger sister’s company. She was ignorant and crass, and her last name was Wickham! She should never have been brought to Pemberley, but that had been in part Richard’s doing. Surely Elizabeth, sensible as she was, had been unhappy with the scenario from the beginning, but there had likely been little she could do against it.
His fingers pressed into his throbbing eyes, and then he tried to look over his notes again. There could be no doubt that Woods was the second man described by Elizabeth. He had been sent directly to the magistrate—Darcy would not have him about the estate another moment—but Elizabeth had written a clear description of the fellow and given it to Mr Jefferson, then preserved a second copy for herself. Clever woman!
Sighing, he dropped the papers back to his desk and closed a portfolio over them to keep them in order. His head was growing dim and pained from the protracted period indoors, and there was nothing he should like just now quite so much as a walk in the cool afternoon with Elizabeth. So long he had ached for her, and now that she had come at last to his home, he scarcely had a moment to feast his eyes upon her, to bask in her presence and assure himself that she was real!
Just as he was rising, a footman entered to ask if Miss Bennet might be shown in. He smiled privately. So, she was thinking of him while he thought of her! His heart warmed.
She came, her steps light and soft on the thick carpet of his study, her smile weary but tender. “William, are you well?”
He took her hand and found seats for them near the window. “I am somewhat better,” he permitted a draw to his lips—almost a smile.
She threaded her fingers through his and looked to the floor, apparently gathering her thoughts. “William… have you thought more about Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Thought? I have scarcely thought of anything else. Would that I knew where to begin to unravel the mystery!”
“You still suspect that it involves him somehow?”
“I am merely cautious. I can take no chances, not even with Richard.”
Her fingers tightened and she drew a careful breath. “It is true, perhaps, that we can never know another person’s heart.”
“I do not think that true. I judge a person by their actions. Someone who is loyal and faithful displays a habit of looking to the interests of others.”
“So you have done, when you tried to warn me of Mr Wickham,” she answered quietly. “It was more than justification, for you shared sensitive information. You were looking to the interests of my family, not your own.”
“I would thank you not to remind me of that particular episode, Elizabeth.”
“Forgive me, of course! But that is surely not the only example of your goodness. What of the way you have cared for Georgiana all these years? Surely, she depended upon you a great deal—far more than a young man might have been prepared for. I have sisters,” she smiled, “and I know something of the demands of raising a young lady. It must have been difficult, all on your own, but you tirelessly sought her good.”
“I did not do so entirely on my own,” he objected. “Do not make me out to be a paragon, Elizabeth, for my failings were many. Were it not for Richard—” his voice trailed off and he narrowed his eyes. “Elizabeth, I seem to have forgotten how easily you are able to trap me with my own words.”
She smiled. “Perhaps that was unfair, for you must be weary. It was far too easy! I shall play by the rules of polite discourse, rather than attempting to provoke you.”
“You may tease and provoke me as much as you like. I find it rather comforting, and you are helping my aching head to think clearly. I beg you, Elizabeth, do not stop.”
“If you wish. I was just wondering,” she tilted her head and gave him a pensive smile, “would you count the colonel’s past behaviour as evidence of a loyal heart?”
His lips thinned. “By appearances, of course. However, how do I not suspect that he was merely preparing her to become his wife one day?”
“She does not need gentle manners, piano lessons, riding instruction, and a champion among her relations if her only destiny is to be forced into a marriage with her guardian. If that were his desire, why would he not have demanded a marriage after her brush with Mr Wickham, to ‘save’ her reputation?”
He heaved a rough sigh. “I do not know. I simply… I do not understand any of it.”
“William, did you know what he told me just before he left for Portugal?”
A questioning glance was his only answer.
“He begged me—nearly forced me, if I am truthful—to come to Pemberley to be a friend for Georgiana. Never once did he suggest that she hide at Longbourn, nor did he close the gates of the estate to her other family and friends. He merely wanted her to have someone else loyal by her side while he went to search for you.”
His expression twisted in confusion. “He told you even then that he suspected I was alive?”
“William, he pulled the body out of the grave to examine it, so great was his doubt.”
He pinched his lips. “Someone utterly disconnected with the business would not have suspected. Perhaps he merely had a guilty conscience.”
