“A great many. As I understand you have as well, Mrs Wickham, I would advise you not to trust everything you hear.”
Jane gasped and turned pale at this ill report of a man of whom she had been inclined to think well, but Elizabeth only looked grave. “I will remember your cautions. As you are on a mission of mercy, I shall not keep you. It was a pleasure, Mrs Brown.”
She inclined her head to the woman, then clasped Jane’s hand to turn back the other way. “Jane,” she whispered when the woman was safely behind them, “did you notice anything odd about the way she spoke?”
Jane glanced over her shoulder. “No. She talked just like all the other farmers.”
“But that is just it!” Elizabeth hissed. “She spoke thus until she began slighting Mr Darcy. Then she was suddenly able to pronounce her ‘h’s and her inflections sounded more polished.”
“Oh, Lizzy! You do sound far too suspicious. One would almost think you were searching for some conspiracy!”
“Perhaps I am. Mr Wickham spoke warmly of her, and I have since discovered reason to doubt his assertions. I think I shall ask Miss Darcy if she knows Mrs Brown.”
Jane sighed and shook her head. “All I wanted was a pleasant walk this afternoon.”
Elizabeth linked her arm through her sister’s. “Dearest Jane! Let us go on, then, and have no more talk of Wickhams or Darcys or anything but that which gives us pleasure.”
Strangely, however, Mr Darcy was foremost in her thoughts all the rest of the day.
Twelve
September 1812
Darcynudgedhismountinto an elegant trot, taking some satisfaction in the way the mare arched her glossy neck and lifted each step with elastic suspension. The creature had been worth every penny of the exorbitant price demanded by Viscount Atterbury, for she never failed to turn heads in Hyde Park. Not that turning heads was ever his ambition, of course. But, occasionally, it was convenient, such as when a man’s mind was turning numb from boredom and he was in the mood for a brief conversation with no threat of anything more demanding.
“Darcy!” A hand raised in the carriage he approached, and Darcy drew up.
“Lord Matlock,” Darcy greeted his uncle, then tipped his hat to the ladies in his carriage. “Lady Matlock and Lady Sophia. A pleasure to see you this afternoon.”
“Likewise,” Matlock answered. “Richard was by last week, and he said you paid him a call. Why have we not seen more of you?”
“I must beg your pardon. I have been much occupied, I am afraid.”
The earl grunted. “Let that not stop you. You must come to dinner on Tuesday. No, no, I absolutely insist. Lady Matlock has been longing to host you again.”
Darcy considered the notion. He had always enjoyed the company of his Fitzwilliam relations, and he truly did need to begin conversing with Lady Matlock about Georgiana’s come-out. It might be just the thing. But then he permitted his gaze to rove to Lady Sophia and the cold, almost assured look in her eye, and a chill rippled down his spine.
“I am afraid I have another obligation,” he answered politely. “But perhaps we might go to White’s together.”
“Of course, Darcy. Yes, that would be most agreeable.”
Darcy touched the butt of his whip to his hat once more. “Tuesday next, then. Good afternoon, Lord Matlock, Lady Matlock.”
“Good afternoon, Darcy. I—no, hold a moment! I had nearly forgot why I wished to see you.” The earl turned to his driver and his wife, making his excuses, then, shockingly, stepped down from his carriage. “A word, if you please.”
Darcy tried to conceal his astonishment, following Lord Matlock to the side of the path. “Is there some urgent concern, my lord?”
“A rumour, and it concerns you. You were the one managing Bernard Wickham’s affairs, were you not?”
“I was. He had many ‘affairs’ requiring management.”
“I imagine he did, the wastrel, but there may yet be one more. Were you aware of a legal complaint regarding his parentage?”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “Who makes such an accusation?”
“I do not yet know. I only heard this from a private investigator your father and I once employed, who came to warn me of the matter. I rewarded his loyalty handsomely, of course, and asked to be kept apprised. Shall I send you word when more is known?”
Darcy’s fist tightened on the reins. “Please do.”
