“A community you cannot tell me you even knew existed,” Richard cast back. “One to which you will never return once we leave here.”
The muscles in Darcy’s jaw continued to work.
“I am sorry the means by which my superiors and I have elected to save your hide and to remove threats from the streets of London do not meet with your approval,” Richard said stiffly. “But I cannot, will not, unravel this scheme. It will be seen through, with or without your cooperation. You may leave come morning.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Leave? While you, Bingley, his relations, this entire community, are in danger because of George Wickham? What do you take me for?”
On her end of the couch, Georgiana let out a sob.
Darcy flinched, casting a look of guilt her way, then turned back to Richard. “I will permit your ruse, and I will remain.”
Richard nodded, uncertain if he truly wished Darcy to do so, but unwilling to reward his assent with dismissal, even assuming Darcy would depart if asked. “Very well, but you must continue to play the part of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, second son to the Earl of Matlock.”
“Does the local populace know that?”
Richard raised his eyebrows, confused. “Know that you are Colonel Fitzwilliam? I introduced you as such before half the village.”
Darcy shook his head. “That Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of an earl?”
Richard thought back. “I do not believe so. I made no mention of that today, and my, that is, I suppose, now your, name has not come up before now.”
“Then I add to my reluctant acceptance of this scheme that I do not wish the fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam is the second son of an earl to be known. It is bad enough that my very presence here will be part of a lie. I will not have people believe me a member of the peerage.”
Richard shrugged, seeing no reason to argue that. “Very well.”
“And what of me?” Georgiana whispered, uncurling to reveal a wet, blotchy face.
Sorrow in his eyes, Darcy offered, “Patrick and a maid can escort you on to London, where you will wait for Mrs. Annesley to arrive. She can return with you to Pemberley.”
“No.” She dragged her palms across her cheeks, smearing tears. “I am staying. This is all my fault.”
Silence filled the room. Richard looked back and forth between his cousins, expecting Darcy to refute Georgiana’s words.
Quietly, Darcy said, “You are certain you wish to remain? You will have to socialize with the people here, at least somewhat. With Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and some ladies of the local community. We can, as we did in Derbyshire, put out that you suffer a broken heart, but that will not excuse you from all activities.”
Georgiana swallowed, then wiped her eyes on her sleeves. Belatedly, Richard fumbled for his handkerchief and held it out. She did not seem to notice as she whispered, “I understand. Please permit me to stay. This is all because of what I did. I cannot believe George would…” She trailed off, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. “I did not know how horrible he is.”
“Because I sheltered you from the worst of his behavior.” Darcy sighed. “I always look on you as a child, but you were correct earlier. You are not a child, even if I wish you still could be. That is impossible now, and we must both behave accordingly. If you wish to stay, it is your decision to make.”
“But you must agree to address me as your brother, and Darcy as me,” Richard added hastily.
Georgiana turned to him, finally taking note of the handkerchief he proffered. She took it, nodding. “I will. I will do whatever must be done to fix the mess I have made.”
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth breathed deeply of the early morning air. She’d dressed quietly in the room she shared with Jane, then gone down before anyone, save her father, was awake, and slipped from the house. She required time alone with her thoughts. Solitude she’d been unable to obtain the previous afternoon upon returning to Longbourn after the incident in Meryton, having never gone to visit Aunt Phillips.
Even the truncated version of events Elizabeth and Charlotte provided had sent Mrs. Bennet into a fit of nerves. Lady Lucas, still at Longbourn upon Elizabeth and Charlotte’s return, had gathered her daughters after hearing the tale, obviously intent on pursuing more gossip. She would have found no difficulty there. The whole village was abuzz.
In their retelling, Elizabeth and Charlotte had, by mutual accord, made no mention of Miss Bingley’s statement that Mr. Darcy was under threat of abduction. Elizabeth did not know if Charlotte would tell her parents. She and Charlotte had both agreed that a certain amount of discretion was required, and neither Sir William nor Lady Lucas were known for such. Nor was Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth might tell her father, to seek his advice on whether the village knowing the threat to Mr. Darcy would be wise, but she had not yet decided.
Before acting she must contemplate the matter fully, and neither the afternoon before nor the long night had provided the opportunity. Her afternoon had been full of clamor, and bedtime, normally quiet, of Jane’s questions about Charlotte walking with Mr. Bingley. These had continued, relentless, despite Elizabeth passing along Charlotte’s reassurance.
And Elizabeth’s night…her sleep overflowed with half-dreamed images of the tall colonel who had appeared among them. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. A man who, at a glance,embodied everything an officer should. Tall, handsome, and reserved, with intelligent, shadowed eyes. In her dreams, he whispered of the source of those shadows, and she murmured reassurances to banish them, but upon waking, she could not recall what her dream-colonel had said.
Now, in the early morning light, her feet took her along familiar trails, her thoughts tumbling and her breath in cottony puffs before her. How odd Mr. Darcy had seemed in the midst of the crisis. He had not faltered or squawked about his importance. Nor had he balked from going into an alleyway to seek the source of that cry. He’d seemed almost eager to enter the darkness alongside the inn. And the way he’d overseen the march of his would-be abductors to the magistrate’s office… He’d seemed like a different man from the supercilious one who’d walked the assembly hall belittling all of Meryton.
Then came the conundrum of Colonel Fitzwilliam, arriving in Mr. Darcy’s carriage and with his sister. Why was the colonel, a cousin, caring for Mr. Darcy’s sister? Because of the threat to Mr. Darcy? And how old was the girl, to be asleep in a carriage? Should she not have a mother, or at the least some sort of nursemaid or companion? Why a grown male cousin?
