Darcy pursed his lips. The man was volatile and clearly deluded. Perhaps patience might render him more reasonable, and reason might effect his release. “I beg your pardon, sir. There is not, nor has there ever been, a debt owed to my family by a foreign country, nor have we ever been given land as a repayment. How should such a thing have even come about?”
Vasconcelos had turned away, but at Darcy’s innocent question, he spun around. The back of his right hand slashed across Darcy’s cheek, leaving him dazed and more than a little indignant. “I have the proof in our own records! What is more, I had written assurance from my contact that the deed was yet in England under your name.”
Darcy’s hand cupped his bruised cheek. “From whom? This supposed enemy of mine, who doubtless would scruple not to lie over such a matter? What ally have you who could legitimately know of my personal affairs?”
Vasconcelos’ mouth turned to a bitter expression. “One who may not have my own interests at heart. I received word only yesterday that the deed was not found among all your possessions, and now it is for me to discover where you have hidden it.”
“You speak nonsense!” cried Darcy. He was quickly rewarded with another blow from the back of Vasconcelos’ hand.
“Senhor Darcy, allow me to be perfectly frank,” he sighed, ignoring the startled curse from the man he had just struck. “I know you have it, and think to hold it yourself. Your grandfather was not ignorant to the land’s value—this is evidenced by the king’s own documents. I will have it returned to me, to reclaim the riches for Portugal and to restore my family’s honour.”
Darcy was simmering in rage, restrained from violence only by the recognition that there was no escape from this place but by the pleasure of the very man he would wish to strangle. “I cannot give you what I do not possess!” he bellowed. “If you are so certain that the deed is in English hands, I may employ my own resources to help you recover it, but it is not among my belongings!”
“I had another who promised me the very same—one of even greater influence than you yourself,” retorted Vasconcelos. “However, nothing has yet been recovered, and my partners grow impatient. Now, Senhor Darcy, you must be made to cooperate. Perhaps if this sister of yours were questioned instead, you might be more willing?”
Darcy’s colour drained, his stomach falling to his feet. “Do not youdare—”
“I do dare! And I have been patient enough. You will tell me all there is to know about your estate, your family, and your personal holdings, or I will ensure that your existence here becomes one of misery. You will long for your solitary detention after one hour with Pereira!”
A savage fire burst within Darcy’s chest, and he leapt with a snarl toward the other man, flinging caution away with the last of his calm poise. “You are mad!” he cried, pulling back his fist to crash into the other man’s jaw. Before he could release the blow, an iron grip caught each elbow and checked him back, just as he was careening in mid-stride.
More quickly than he could think, his hands were bound together and two strong men pulled him down, while a third tied a sack once more over his head. He spun and fought, as he had before, but in his heart, he knew himself beaten. Still, he struggled until Vasconcelos’ chilling words sounded, and he paused only long enough to listen.
“I trust, senhor, that you shall prove more agreeable in the future. Certainly, you will prefer to spare Senhorita Darcy a similar discomfort.”
Darcy stilled, forgetting to even breathe as he was dragged to his feet.
Overtwelvehundredmilesaway, on Christmas morning, Elizabeth Bennet awoke all Longbourn with her screams.
Chapter eleven
Pemberley
“Youaregoingagain!Please, Richard, you cannot leave me during Christmastide. Wait through Twelfth Night, I beg you, and then please take me with you!” Georgiana fell theatrically forward on the arm of her settee, her imploring blue eyes rounded and her little white hands clasped beneath her chin.
“Georgie,” he sighed, taking her hands and lowering them to a less pitiful posture. “I thought you wished to remain here at Pemberley. Did you not long to be home, far away from London and nearer to your happy memories? Think of your Christmas traditions, and boxing all the gifts, do you not relish that every year?”
“Oh, yes! But Richard, I cannot abide Aunt Catherine. I never found her so very overbearing before, but since she has come here, she behaves as if Pemberley were quite her own. I have not the courage to dissuade her!”
“I also have had little success in that regard,” he frowned, “save from ordering the keys to Fitzwilliam’s study to be ‘lost,’ for she wished to have his desk replaced with an old one from the attics. I fear she will still prevail in that matter, once she has satisfied herself in the library. She has proved rather trying, but surely, Georgie, she means well.”
“Richard, I hardly recognise my own home! She has ordered all the furniture rearranged, and demanded that Mr Jefferson examine the ledgers for discrepancies. She has even dismissed two of my favourite maids for what she deemed ‘slatternly behaviour’!”
“I spoke with Mrs Reynolds about that,” he assured her. “She has retained them, for the fault was not theirs. They will simply not be employed anywhere above stairs until our aunt takes her leave.”
“She will not do so,” Georgiana insisted. “Not unless I should go to my uncle’s house. Even if we open Darcy House in London, she will take up residence with me, for she says I need a better chaperon than ‘an ignorant old soldier.’”
“She is correct there,” he smirked ruefully. “Georgie, I do not know how long I shall have to be away. Surely you would prefer to remain in your own home, would you not? I go to London first, perhaps I may speak with my father about our aunt.”
“What do you mean to speak of me to my brother?”
Richard and Georgiana both froze, their eyes locked guiltily as they wondered how much their aunt had overheard. Lady Catherine herself breezed into the room, carrying an old leather volume. Richard unconsciously straightened his cravat and rose. “I thought to ask him to inquire after affairs at Rosings, Aunt. With you so long away, perhaps we may send my father’s man of business to Kent, to ascertain that all is well.”
She flicked her hand dismissively. “My steward has matterswellin hand and requires no assistance fromthatuseless fellow.”
Georgiana was standing by now as well, and both assumed postures of meekness before their noble relation. “Of course, Aunt Catherine,” Richard answered smartly, hoping his burning ears did not give away his little falsehood.
“Now, Fitzwilliam, there is a matter of great import we must discuss,” asserted she, holding aloft the leathern tome. “Were you aware thatthismonstrosity was kept and, indeed, accorded a place in Pemberley’s library?”
