A faint smile tugged at Darcy’s mouth. “That, and much more,” he agreed softly.
“And,” Ruy de Noronha reached behind him to close the door, “there is some history revolving about your family. I believe my father has some affiliation with a relation of yours, and Amália and I have both our connections as well.”
“A relation of mine?” Darcy frowned, his neck prickling with an almost animal sensation of danger. “Which, may I ask?”
Noronha’s mouth quirked subtly, his eyes taking on an expression Darcy could not read in the darkness. “Fitzwilliam.” Then he was gone.
Chapter twenty-two
Derbyshire
Elizabethwastheonlypassenger alert when the carriage rolled through Lambton. She glanced toward her uncle, thinking to nudge him awake for the sights that had so captivated him on their previous journey, but he appeared more comfortable as he was. His chin was burrowed deeply into his chest, his hands folded over his stomach, and his throat rasped lightly. She smiled to herself and left him to rest. He would have troubles enough within the hour.
Lydia and Georgiana had dropped off in slumber as well, their heads leaning against their respective sides of the carriage. Under her cheek, Georgiana had tucked a dainty pillow that seemed specially designed for the purpose of travel, but Lydia’s head was thrown fully back against the squab, throat exposed and mouth hanging open as half-slitted eyes fluttered in dreams. With each jolt of the carriage wheels she emitted a loud snort, then resettled herself. Elizabeth almost expected her to start drooling, so completely senseless was she to her surroundings. It had been her way through most of her pregnancy to sleep as if dead to the world, and this journey had proved little different. Elizabeth chuckled affectionately, then sighed.
Turning her eyes back to the window, she was just in time to catch sight of the inn where they had stayed last summer—the place where everything had changed. That moment, when he had walked in on her reading Jane’s letter, and offered comfort rather than condemnation, when his pain for her had spoken through eloquent eyes and gentle words—that moment had permanently marked her. To know him, as she had in those few precious minutes, and then to watch him walk from the room… forever! Oh, if she had only understood that it was not his own wishes, but something of a far greater and darker power that would define that word for her!
The carriage had rolled on now, and the little town of Lambton was already giving way to humble sheep pens, stands of bare trees, and dormant fields lining the quiet country road. Had Darcy taken this very route from the inn that day, or had he galloped pell-mell across the countryside, dashing home via some shorter route to set his secret, benevolent plans into motion? Somehow, that latter image seemed the more accurate. Pemberley lay to the north-west, if she recalled accurately, and their road now meandered almost perfectly north, so… her eyes gazed through one particularly thick grove of trees in the distance, imagining she could see the very gates of his drive just beyond them.
No. She clenched her teeth.Not his drive. Not anymore, unless….She drew a sharp breath, then bit into her own tongue so the sting of pain might recall her to reality. Colonel Fitzwilliam was loyal and stout-hearted, to be sure, but she could not afford to buy into his fantasies! Let him chase his hopes while he still had them, and if some miracle proved him right, then she would rejoice with him. Until then, she had already borne one earth-shattering blow. Far better now to crawl safely along the ground than to soar into the heavens, only to die all over again!
Georgiana awoke herself with a jerk, as though some sixth sense had alerted her to their proximity to her home. She darted a nervous, happy smile to Elizabeth, and they wordlessly shared the landscape for two miles. Georgiana pointed out the very moment the carriage passed the border of the estate, which was much sooner even than Elizabeth might have expected.
By the time the carriage wheels turned onto the gravel at the house, even Lydia had roused to make herself presentable. The butler and housekeeper both greeted the arriving party with all proper formality, and much to Elizabeth’s relief, neither so much as fluttered an eyelash when Lydia was presented to them as Mrs Wickham. Mrs Reynolds reserved her attentions primarily for Miss Darcy’s comforts, but Elizabeth was not insensible to a warm glance and a grateful nod from that kindly lady.Later,she seemed to smile, and Elizabeth understood instantly that she was to spend many an hour in confidence with the housekeeper during her residence at Pemberley.
It seemed that nearly a score of maids buzzed about to welcome them. Mr Gardiner appeared flattered by the attention, Elizabeth bewildered, and Lydia utterly dazzled. She turned artlessly to Georgiana as they were shown toward the stairs and declared, “Laws, I’d no notion you werethiswealthy! What a superb house to host a ball!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Georgiana’s back was mercifully to her, for she did not think she could have withstood the girl’s shock at Lydia’s bald statement. She groaned and continued climbing, but her uncle cleared his throat at her shoulder to claim her attention.
“Lizzy, I’ve just been introduced to the steward, a Mr Jefferson. He was to report any business doings to me upon our arrival, and I’m to meet with him in an hour.”
“Oh,” she nodded vaguely.
“Well, that’s but the half of it. Colonel Fitzwilliam requested that you should attend any meetings I have with the man. I am to leave again within the fortnight to settle my new contract, and he felt you ought to be apprised in my absence. He wished for Miss Darcy to be present at such meetings as well, but she is looking rather fatigued just now. I shall leave it to you to speak to her, but I think she might be excused this one time, if she requires rest.”
Elizabeth glanced up the stairs and noted the heaviness to Georgiana’s steps. “I think you are right, Uncle, but I will ask her what her wishes are. Where are we to meet with Mr Jefferson, in the study?”
“No,” his mouth curved wryly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam made it sound as if the study were completely sacrosanct, not to be disturbed. I should not wonder if he thinks the room haunted. Oh! Lizzy, pardon me, that was in poor taste!”
Elizabeth had gone quite pale, but she cleared her throat and affected nonchalance. “The library, then?”
“Yes, that shall suit. Do you know where it is? I suppose I may ask one of the servants.”
Her face softened.Yes, she did know.
It was that magical day when she and her aunt had taken tea with Georgiana, and then… he had stepped so gently into the room, such hope in his eyes, and invited them to stay longer. It was early that evening, after they had spent much of the afternoon smiling at one another. He had escorted her to the carriage behind her aunt and uncle, not precisely offering his arm, but walking very closely beside her.
Some way down the gilded corridor, he had checked his stride. It had been scarcely noticeable, but it had been enough to cause her to glance up at him and see his eyes flick to the conspicuously open doors to his left. A warm fire had lit the room, and enough candles glowed round the edges for her to count the rows… and lavish rows… all gloriously filled with more books than she had ever seen.
She had gasped audibly in appreciation, her eyes swiftly flying once more to his face. A modest warmth had tugged at his mouth—proud, yes, but not prideful. He had offered her a glimpse of what lay beyond those forbidding doors, and there was a welcoming light in his eyes—inviting, pleading her to step inside with him. Holding her breath, and smiling up at him, she accepted.
The fragrance of the room caught her attention first. There was that earthy aroma of aging leather and paper—paper made hallowed by loving fingers and long evenings curled by an ash wood fire. Elizabeth closed her eyes, drinking it in, and there…there.
Another scent, deeper and yet lighter than the first; possibly no more than her imaginings, but it seemed to permeate the furnishings and fill her senses nonetheless. It was of tight leather boots still damp from the grass, buckskin breeches warming by the fire, and dark curly hair freshly come in from the outdoors.
She turned slowly about, her eyes still closed in wonder, until she found the place in the room that seemed to draw her the strongest. Outstretched fingers touched soft, tanned skin, and came to rest. She could see him there; a hound perched at his feet as one hand lovingly tugged at the dog’s ear, and the other traced the page in his book. Then, he would look up to see her, smilingly setting aside his reading to take her hand. Slowly, unseeingly, she opened her eyes.
“Miss Bennet, please do pardon me.”
