Ruy was still stolidly in his place when his sister’s hand tugged urgently at his elbow. “He is gone? So soon, he is gone?”
Ruy caught her hand in his own, squeezing it in comfort. “He said he could not stay another moment.”
Her face drooped, and little sobs shivered through her small frame. “And so that is to be the end of it! Not even a farewell, as if all the past were as nothing. Oh, Ruy, he is too cruel!”
“Nay, this parting gesture shows you more honour than all the rest. I think he would not have been strong enough to resist a display that you would both later come to regret. He is right—it is better that he did not linger to tempt you. You must keep up your name even here, for the wives of the regiment will welcome and protect you as lionesses if they respect and perhaps pity you. If they do not, you would do better back with your husband.”
“We are not to stay here, are we? Is there no other post where you might be assigned?”
“Of course, there is. I may go on to Spain or anywhere else with my regiment if they are sent, or I may wait and see about arranging a return to Porto. I did not tell our friend as much, but his request to have me assigned to Brasil will be fruitless.”
“Brasil!” she cried. “So far! But why there?”
“It would be hard for Miguel and his father to find you, no? As for me, it would also be a great favour, for I should not be fighting. I think my general will not allow it; there is no need to send more men there when they are wanted here. Even if we do not fight at the front, the peace must be kept all over the country, and that is a weighty task in these times.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, blinking fiercely. “Where shall I go, Ruy? I cannot remain here, even with you, for Miguel will certainly think to look for me in Lisbon.”
He smiled and wound his arm about her. “We shall see what my orders say, dearest. For today, you are safe. In that, let us rejoice.”
“Safe. Yes,” she whispered to no one in particular. “But I could wish for more than simply that.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Pemberley
“Youaskedtoseeme, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth glanced up from the ledger, unconscious of the black smear below her cheek from her pen. “Yes, Mrs Annesley, please do come in.” Elizabeth rose carefully from the writing desk, sorting several sheets of notepaper and the ink well before she did so, to keep from unsettling them when she drew back.
Mrs Annesley looked curiously at the array. “Miss Bennet, are you certain you will not tire yourself overmuch? Surely, Mrs Reynolds or Mr Jefferson might be asked to attend you.”
Elizabeth turned a neutral expression toward the woman. “I thank you for your concern, Mrs Annesley. I do not require Mrs Reynolds’ assistance at present, for I only review matters of which we have previously spoken. I am expecting Miss Darcy at any moment, for we are to talk of the usual payroll for the household staff and the kitchen expenditures. Mr Jefferson is in Lambton today, but we have an appointment with him on the morrow to discuss last year’s grain harvest and some of the past tenant rents.”
Mrs Annesley lifted a brow in clear disapproval, but she said nothing. Though she, also, had been a gentleman’s daughter, her presence at Pemberley was by virtue of employment, not friendship and some liberal degree of authority. Elizabeth held entirely the advantage, and she had not yet determined how well Mrs Annesley liked that arrangement.
“Would you and Miss Darcy not be more comfortable in the study?” the elder lady suggested, after once more surveying the cluttered desk.
Elizabeth swept her gaze over her cramped little writing space. Certainly, she could have worked in the study more efficiently, but she felt as Colonel Fitzwilliam apparently had. That room belonged so inherently tohimthat she felt entering it would be akin to violating his private chambers. Both were tasks which, she feared, might one day fall to Georgiana and herself, but she was not yet equal to them. Bad enough that she had spent so many of her hours already in restoring his personal library, and now in perusing his private financial affairs. She could not wholly invade his domain! She did not fear dishonouring him—rather, it was the empty, inescapable pain of his absence, when in all other respects he was so undeniably present.
“No,” she answered softly, her eyes still lingering on a page written in his hand. “I am comfortable here.” She drew a breath and faced the other lady, all business once more. “I hoped, Mrs Annesley, to have a private word with you before Miss Darcy comes down. I understand that you have again requested a personal holiday. Is there some trouble with your family, or any way in which we can offer assistance? Mr O’Donnell has graciously offered to accompany you for protection on your journey.”
Mrs Annesley at first looked displeased at Elizabeth’s knowledge, then dismayed by the offer of escort. “That will not be necessary, Miss Bennet. My brother has arranged travel for me this afternoon.”
“I had heard that he had been unwell. Perhaps we may send for a physician to attend him? I know that Miss Darcy would be distressed indeed if we did not do all that could be done for your family.”
Mrs Annesley narrowed a flinty gaze, and her tones were clipped when she answered. “I shall leave that decision for Miss Darcy to make, Miss Bennet. I believe the estate and Darcy name belong to her.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her hands. “You do not trust me, Mrs Annesley. That is well.”
The lady stiffened, her face bright with protested innocence. “What can you mean by that, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth allowed one corner of her mouth to turn up. “I hope it means that you are earnest and faithful in your companionship, and that you are honestly concerned for her well-being.”
“I am,” Mrs Annesley returned briskly. “I should be sorry to see her led astray, and her trust compromised by those who might exploit their authority over an innocent.”
“Hmm,” Elizabeth smiled. “So should I. Tell me, Mrs Annesley, has your brother long been unwell, or has it only been these last few months?”
Mrs Annesley drew back her shoulders. “His condition is worsening. I should think it might only be a matter of time.”
