“On behalf of my master, Senhor de Noronha, I thank you, sir,” the captain was now bowing. “Is there any other way in which I may be of service?”
Gardiner opened his mouth, but only a wordless huff escaped.
“Pardon me, sir, but I must return to my ship,” the captain excused himself.
Gardiner just barely remembered the proper words of farewell, and the man was gone. He stared, thunderstruck, at the thick purse in his hand, until his peripheral vision caught movement. The young woman cautiously approached, her expression full of doubt.
“Forgive me for surprising you Senhor Gardner,” she spoke softly, with a richly accented lilt. “I can see that I am not known to you, nor is my father. I regret coming to you in this way.”
He straightened. “I believe there must have been some mistake, miss. You are correct, I have never heard of your father. Perhaps he intended another Edward Gardiner? I know of no other in London, although I am certain that my name is not unique.”
“My father says you are known by my brother,” she tried to explain, her eyes troubled. “He is Captain Rodrigo de Noronha.” She watched him for signs of recognition, but he could give her none. One hand caught the slim fingers of the other, and she fidgeted briefly. “Forgive me sir, you did not know at all of my family?” she asked hopefully.
“To my regret, Miss, I am not familiar with your name.”
“Oh,” she looked down to the floor, blinking rapidly. “I see. I must beg your pardon, Senhor Gardiner, it is not my wish to trouble you further. I shall take my leave.”
“Oh, but just a moment, miss,” he put out a hand to stop her. “I may not have expected you, but let us sort this out. Would you have anywhere else to go? Do you have other friends in London?”
She had turned away from him and he felt certain that he heard a small sniffle. Certainly, her shoulders had rounded in distress, and she was withdrawing. “Sir, I am not without friends. Do not concern yourself. I will write to someone.”
“Write!” he protested. “Of course, I would not prevent you from seeking some other friend, but I will have no lady turned out of my house who is in need of help. That is what you came for, is it not? I cannot otherwise account for such a singular circumstance.”
Her hands clenched one another and she hesitated. “It was necessary that I leave Portugal for a time. My father thought you knew my brother, and that it had been arranged that I might come here if I had need. He did not know it to be an imposition on a stranger.”
“Well,” Gardiner said kindly, “I am known to many. Perhaps I have done business with your brother and have merely forgotten. Come, you must take some tea and I will speak to Mrs Gardiner. I imagine she will know what is to be done.”
“Madeline,”hecalledbeforehe had even entered his wife’s sitting room. “There is the most curious—”
He broke off when he beheld his wife’s white face, the small hand that fluttered near her breast. Her tea cup had fallen to the ground and still lay there, amid a cooling puddle and entirely forgotten. She looked up to him with wide eyes and pale cheeks.
“Madeline?” He started toward her in alarm. “Are you unwell?”
She held a letter in her hand and the paper shook gently as she tilted it to read the very bottom portion. “Edward,” she breathed, “I just opened the letter from Lizzy, and she reports the most remarkable news. Mr Darcy is alive, and he has returned to Pemberley!”
“What? That cannot be.” He leaned near to peer over her shoulder. “She must have mistaken another for him!”
“It is no mistake, Edward. He returned to the house on horseback… let me see, that would have been… five, or was it six nights ago?” She reread the letter, but the paper was trembling so violently that she eventually thrust it into her husband’s hands.
He read carefully, noting the frenzied, slightly uneven handwriting that was not at all his niece’s style. “Are you certain this is truly from Elizabeth?”
“Read the opening paragraphs, Edward. She penned those before his appearance. No one else would speak about Lydia in quite that way. Yes, it must be from Elizabeth, but how could Mr Darcy be alive?”
“I have no idea. Has he a brother, perhaps? What else does she say?” Gardiner read the rest of the letter, and eventually discerned his niece’s voice as she narrated the events of her last two days. “There can be no mistake,” he admitted. “This is clearly Lizzy, and it’s quite obvious that she, at least, is persuaded that this man is Mr Darcy.”
“I do not understand. Did he intentionally disappear for a time? Was he trying to cover up some scandal?
“The only scandal I can think of is the one involving Lydia. I wish I knew more, but Lizzy is rather short on those details. Look here, she says at the bottom that she will write more on the morrow, and that we are not to come to Pemberley just now. Apparently, Mr Darcy is not keen to have his reappearance known to all.”
“I simply do not understand,” repeated Madeline. “I hope nothing dreadful has taken place! It must have been a grave misunderstanding.”
“That is not the only one of its kind. We have presently in our drawing room a young woman from Portugal, whose father—or brother, I am confused as to which—claims a prior friendship with me. I have no memory of such a person.”
“Portugal!” Madeline Gardiner put her slender fingers to her forehead. “Oh, my dear, I think I shall be surprised at nothing after today. What does the young lady want?”
“Safe haven, or so it would seem. I cannot think of another reason why her family would have sent her to London alone, to reside in the care of a virtual stranger. Perhaps there is some political trouble from the war, but I still cannot think how they would have gotten my name. Come, I must have you speak with her, for I believe she has had the wits half frightened out of her.”
She rose to join him as he led her from the room. “Edward, what are we to do with her? Does she have family intending to come for her?”
