“Calm yourself, Cousin,” Darcy placed a staying hand on the other’s shoulder.
Richard eased himself off Vasconcelos’ stomach, but stood over him with fists cocked. “I would have the proof of a gentleman of your accusations, sir!”
Vasconcelos held up a defensive hand, eyeing Fitzwilliam warily, but he spoke to Darcy. “Your grandfather deceptively hosted my father with intent to defraud him! My uncle also was on the voyage; the eldest son and heir of the family. They went honourably to purchase back what was theirs, but once they arrived, Senhor Darcy refused to negotiate. The old earl as well, he was a partner by then and wanted to keep what rightfully belonged to my family.”
“Your family,” seethed Richard, “owed a debt! It wasnotrightfully yours!”
“It was no more Senhor Darcy’s!” shot back the defiant man on the bed.
Darcy frowned at his cousin for interrupting. “Do go on,” he commanded.
Vasconcelos glared once more at Richard, then seemed to come to a decision. “After a time, it seemed that Senhor Darcy might be led to accept the offer, but not Matlock. My uncle went to prevail upon the young countess to speak to her husband, but instead she tried to seduce him. When they were found, Matlock murdered my uncle with his own hands.”
The room was silent. Richard’s face had drained of colour, and he looked to Darcy with panic in his eyes.
“And that is not all,” Vasconcelos jeered, clearly enjoying Fitzwilliam’s discomposure. “My father had already discovered Lady Georgina Darcy to be a temptress, dissatisfied by her own husband. Shall I continue?”
Darcy’s eyes were narrowed. “These are your accusations?”
“I find it coincidental, sir, that both ladies presented their husbands with an heir less than a year later.” Vasconcelos was smirking confidently now. “And whence came the dark hair and eyes shared by the Fitzwilliam men? Richard Darcy and the old earl were both fair, according to my father’s description.”
“Darcy,” Richard rumbled in a shaking voice, “remember how I promised not to kill him? I have changed my mind.”
Darcy was silent for a moment, then he smiled. And then he laughed—laughed merrily and long. Richard was jarred from his outrage to gape at his cousin in astonishment.
Vasconcelos felt brave enough at Richard’s distraction to draw to a sitting position and he pointed an accusing finger at Darcy. “You mock me, sir! My father was obliged to bring back the body of my grandfather’s oldest son and heir, with no deed for the land he had gone to redeem, nor even the family treasury with which to begin again! Our family was impoverished and humiliated at court, and my father spent the rest of his life trying to restore our honour. Only five years ago he died, and I thank the heavens that he never saw us lose everything again at the hands of Napoleon.”
“I regret if you were wronged in any way, but as to your accusations against my heritage, I have evidence to the contrary, in the form of dated journals. My grandmother and great aunt were both visibly with child when the debacle began, and family records prove that my father and the present Earl of Matlock were born within a fortnight of one another. I also have this.” Darcy drew a yellowed paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it before Vasconcelos’ eyes.
“The deed, as you can see, is made out to Lady Georgina Darcy, and signed at the bottom with a date. There is a note just below the signature, written in what appears to be the same hand, conceding the land as a loss in lieu of ‘personal offences against her ladyship and her unborn child.’ What you have explained to me this night, as well as what my own family has revealed, lead me to surmise that your father attempted an assault on my grandmother, possibly out of revenge to Richard Darcy for refusing the land sale. It would be no great stretch to imagine that your uncle made a similar attempt upon my great-aunt, but that Lord Matlock was less forbearing than my grandfather.”
Richard’s mouth quirked. “The Fitzwilliams protect their own,” he pronounced with satisfaction.
Vasconcelos was staring at the deed in pallid disbelief. “It cannot be,” he whispered. “No, this is a forgery! I decry this for the slander it is!”
“Would you care to have it examined by an inspector? I can verify that my grandmother’s signature is a match.”
Vasconcelos glared up at Darcy. “And what English inspector would judge in my favour?”
“I doubt you could find an honest inspector from your own country who would. I invite you to return there now, for I believe I have had done with you. I will thank you never to intrude upon my life again.”
“You expect to wash your hands of me so easily?”
Darcy pursed his lips, then nodded. “Yes, I do. I know too much about you for you to ever again become a threat to me. I presume that you were rifling through these papers and collecting your belongings for a departure this very night? I hope I have not detained you too long, for I desire you to leave these shores at once.”
Vasconcelos slowly edged off the bed. “I will not be content, Darcy. Sign over to me the deed, and let us put this unpleasantness behind us. You wish to have done? I do doubly so. What need have you for something you did not know yourself to possess? It was ill-gotten under duress, if indeed my father’s signature is even genuine.”
Darcy folded the paper and slid it back into his pocket. “I think not. Perhaps some enterprising individual will approach me some day and offer to purchase it honourably, and I will be pleased to hear him. I shall bid you safe travels, sir.” He turned to go, but Richard’s voice stopped him.
“Darcy… look.” Richard nodded toward the far corner of the rented flat, still veiled in shadows. Another bed had been hastily put up, and the blankets had even been turned down for the night. A traveling bag lay open upon it, and an extra pair of men’s gloves rested beside the bag.
Richard was at Vasconcelos’ throat almost instantly. “Who is staying with you? Is it that worthless son of yours? Has he come to look forher?”
Vasconcelos was grasping helplessly at the hands which locked like vises around his neck. “I,” he gasped, then flailed desperately for air.
Richard loosened his grip just enough to hear what the man would say.
“I gave him one hour,” came the rasping words. Vasconcelos smiled, a look of cunning, and then wheezed again through lips that looked suddenly old and wicked. “He does not wish her to be left here for you.”
