Both men watched breathlessly as Elizabeth pondered the issue. It was all Darcy could to not to sigh in relief when she nodded and said, “Very well, then, gentlemen. What happens now?”
Chapter 19
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded gravely. “The first matter of business is verifying the boy’s identity.”
Her arms instinctively crossed. “You think we might be mistaken? That the child Meg rescued--”
“Not mistaken,” he said gently. “But confirmation is necessary. Has the boy any birthmarks?”
She hesitated only a second. “Yes. On his left thigh. A small mark, heart-shaped.”
She could see the change in the colonel’s countenance the instant she said it. His shoulders, which had been held with the rigid alertness of a soldier on duty, dropped just slightly. A slow breath left his lips. For the first time since she had met him, Colonel Fitzwilliam looked less like a man accustomed to carrying secrets, and more like one unburdened—for the moment.
“That is him,” he said quietly. “Without a doubt.”
Elizabeth did not speak right away. The implications of that certainty bloomed in her chest like a cold ache.
“And what will happen to him now?” she asked. “Will you be taking him away?”
The colonel’s eyes widened, and Darcy stepped forward almost at once, shaking his head.
“No,” the colonel said firmly. “There is no plan for that. There is nowhere safe—no court or crown prepared to acknowledge him. And we do not yet know how deeply the French have infiltrated our channels. He is safer here, as he is.”
Elizabeth’s arms dropped to her sides. A measure of relief stirred within her—but not enough to quell the lingering fear. “What is his name? His real name, I mean.”
“He had not been christened,” the colonel replied. “He was only a day or two old when Denisse took him. There is no official record of a name, though we know his father’s bloodline.”
“Then what was his father’s name?” she pressed.
But the colonel shook his head. “For now, he is safest being known as Benjamin Bennet, a foundling orphan. To change his name will bring speculation that would prove to be unsafe.”
He looked at her closely, waiting until she had nodded in understanding before continuing. “But what concerns my superiors now is this: a Crown agent was murdered in broad daylight, not far from where the child was hidden. The question is whether the French have discovered the child’s location—or whether Mr. Gardiner knew more than he let on, and committed the act to protect his family.”
The cold inside Elizabeth was no longer from the wind.
“How dare you—” she began, her voice trembling with anger. “My uncle would never—”
Darcy raised a calming hand. “Miss Elizabeth, please. I agree with you—it is highly unlikely Mr. Gardiner would ever stoop to such an act. But my cousin is doing his duty. He must consider all possibilities.”
It took a great deal of restraint to not fire back—but his voice, calm and certain, gave her pause. After a moment, she nodded stiffly.
“Well,” she said at last, “if we are speaking of possibilities, then perhaps we should also consider Lieutenant Wickham’s warning—that many new militia recruits are less than reputable. Desperate men, with unclear pasts.”
The colonel frowned slightly. “Wickham? As in, George Wickham? Your father’s godson?”
Darcy gave a short nod. “Yes, he has taken a lieutenancy in the local militia.”
“But did he not say he was going to study the law? Or at least that’s what he said when he took the money from you in exchange for the living you gave my brother.” The frown on the colonel’s face deepened as he considered the matter.
“Apparently, he did, but the fire ruined the business where he was clerking,” Darcy explained. “He took a position in the regiment for the same reason many others have: to earn a living. He did not wish to live on the principal of my father’s bequest.”
“That is certainly quite the coincidence,” the colonel said. “He was in London when the fire began, and now he’s here where the baby is.”
“Surely you cannot think—” Darcy began to protest.
His cousin cut him off. “As you just told Miss Elizabeth, it is my job to consider every possibility.”
“He was dissolute at school, yes, but so were many others,” Darcy countered. “It is quite the leap from carousing to treason. Besides, he paid a call on me at Netherfield to apologize for the past and assure me that he was attempting to reform himself.”
