The footman bowed and withdrew. Darcy stood a moment longer, staring toward the door with more agitation than the occasion warranted. Mr. Philips. Here, in Hertfordshire. The coincidence was almost absurd. Two evenings earlier, he had seen a young lady whose eyes brought back the memory of Gracechurch Street with such force that he had behaved like a fool. And now the uncle of that same long-remembered young woman had appeared at Netherfield.
What were the odds of such a thing?
He found Mr. Philips in the green parlor a few minutes later, standing near the window with his hat in hand. The attorneyturned as Darcy entered, and Darcy was struck at once by how little the man had altered in two years. A little more gray at the temples perhaps, a few deeper lines about the eyes, but the same steady intelligence remained in his face.
“Mr. Philips,” Darcy said, coming forward with genuine warmth. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”
Mr. Philips smiled and shook his hand. “Colonel Darcy.”
“Only Mr. Darcy now,” Darcy replied. “My commission has been laid down. I completed my service with the militia this summer.”
“Then allow me to congratulate you, though I daresay Derbyshire has lost a diligent officer.”
“Derbyshire may find compensation in gaining a more attentive landlord.” Darcy gestured toward a chair. “Pray, sit. I hope you have been well.”
“As well as a country attorney may be, which is to say never idle enough to be ill for long.” Mr. Philips sat, his manner amiable but not quite easy. “I had business with Mr. Bingley concerning the lease and took the liberty of asking whether I might speak with you as well.”
“I am glad you did.” Darcy took the chair opposite him. “I have often wondered how matters proceeded after I returned north. The museum, the Crown, the children—my uncle assured me all had been settled, but he was maddeningly brief in his letters.”
Mr. Philips’s expression softened. “Then allow me to tell you what I should have said long ago: thank you. We are forever indebted to you for those introductions. Lord Matlock’s influence altered everything. Without him, I suspect the matter would have become a tangle of officials, claims, delays, and gossip. As it was, the treasure was treated with respect, the children’s interests were protected, and all proceeded with an order I should not have believed possible.”
“I am very glad to hear it.”
Mr. Philips hesitated, then leaned slightly forward. “May I ask how much you know of the final arrangements?”
“Very little,” Darcy said honestly. “My uncle told me only that everything had been arranged to general satisfaction, and that those involved had requested confidentiality. He made it clear I was not to pry.”
The attorney’s shoulders eased almost imperceptibly. “Good. Forgive me, but secrecy has been necessary. In a small town, even a little knowledge becomes a full history by the time it has passed through three parlors and one milliner’s shop. If certain facts became known here, lives would be altered radically, and not for the better.”
“I understand.” Darcy did, far better than Mr. Philips could know. “Pemberley is only now becoming solvent again, and even the rumor of improvement made me a target during my last brief stay in London. Men who have never cared to know one’s burdens become remarkably attentive when they hear of one’s income. I can imagine what gossip might do outside of the city.”
Mr. Philips regarded him with approval. “Precisely.”
For a few minutes, the conversation settled into easier channels. Darcy asked after the Gardiner children, and Mr. Philips spoke of them with open affection. They had settled remarkably well at their uncle’s estate, he said, though the youngest still clung fiercely to those she trusted and the eldest had begun to ask questions that must soon require more careful answers than childhood had first allowed. They were healthy, loved, and secure, which was more than Darcy had dared hope the day he first heard of their orphaned state.
“And your sister?” Mr. Philips asked. “Lord Matlock spoke of her with great fondness.”
Darcy smiled despite himself. “Georgiana is very well. She thrives under Lady Matlock’s care, though I hope soon to reopenenough of Pemberley to have her with me for a year or two before her come-out, should she wish it. She has grown steadier than I expected, and more courageous than she knows.”
“That is good to hear. And your cousin, the officer? Lord Matlock mentioned him also, when we were managing the London business.”
“Richard?” Darcy’s smile faded somewhat. “He is on his way home from the Peninsula. He served under Lord Wellington and was wounded a few months ago. Not too gravely, thank Providence, but enough that the army insisted he return to recover. He will be insufferable about it, of course, and claim the whole concern excessive.”
“Soldiers are very inconvenient to those who love them.”
“So I am told.”
Mr. Philips smiled, then rose as though the formal purpose of his visit had been achieved. “I am glad to have found you here, Mr. Darcy. I wished again to thank you. My brother-in-law’s children have better prospects because of your assistance.”
Darcy stood with him. “Mr. Gardiner once helped me when he had no obligation to do so. I did very little in comparison.”
“You did enough.”
Mr. Philips turned toward the door, but Darcy heard himself speak before prudence could restrain him.
“Mr. Philips.”
The attorney paused.
