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He debated not being forthcoming, but seeing the resolve in his mother’s manner he knew it was pointless. When she stopped to peer at him to ascertain the truth, he nodded.

“I have heard the rumours of this cousin that we both know is not any relation. I assume that this woman is—what did you call her—the love of his life?”

Richard nodded again, not sure what to expect, but his mother’s only reaction was to stare past him for a few seconds before continuing.

“Fitzwilliam is a very intelligent man, and I have to trust that he knows what he is doing. I suppose you have met this woman and approve of her?”

“I approve of her very much. She is a gentlewoman, very kind and good hearted, but also extremely bright and well-read. She brings out a liveliness ...” Richard paused, trying to think of what to say. “When he is with her, I see glimpses of the boy that I knew before Uncle George died.”

“And you are certain she is not a fortune hunter?”

“She refused his offer of marriage two years ago at Kent, so I would have to say no.”

Her brow knit quizzically. “Refused? She refused Fitzwilliam Darcy? Is she mad?”

“Darce says she was right to refuse him because he was very arrogant in the way he made his offer.”

She seemed to ponder that statement for a moment, then ventured. “Is she married, as is said of her?”

Since his mother already knew parts of Elizabeth’s story, Richard thought he had no choice but to tell her more in an attempt to gain support for his cousin.

“Do you swear not to tell anyone what I am about to tell you?”

His mother squared her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height—all five feet. “You have my word.”

“I cannot tell you all the particulars, but Elizabeth’s situation is closely associated with Anne’s, and we will have all the answers when we find that cad.” At her shocked expression, he added, “Please keep an open mind until the truth is revealed.”

Her head dropped, and she seemed to be studying her shoes, so Richard lifted her chin with his finger. As identical blue eyes met, he volunteered, “I can tell you this. They are so much in love that no one will ever come between them.”

Evelyn Fitzwilliam sighed heavily. “I will allow my nephew to find his own happiness and try to offer encouragement. If she loves him as he needs to be loved, then I can only champion her.”

“I am proud of you, Mother, for not trying to force my cousin into something he cannot abide, as Father once tried to do. I pray he will understand as well.”

“Let me handle your father.” She tried to smile. “He has come down from his high horse after the disaster with Jacqueline and Edgar. I think he will surprise you,” she paused for a moment, “at least, I hope he does.”

“As do I, Mother.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my boy.”

~~~*~~~

Chapter 31

London

Darcy House

As the coach neared the centre of London, John Williamson observed his surroundings with great curiosity. At his age, he seldom visited, preferring the quiet countryside to the noise of Town, but it was interesting to venture forth on occasion and see what progress had been wrought in the heart of England.

On the outskirts, there were several new houses and a few new shops, but little had changed in the older, fashionable area of Grosvenor Square. As he progressed toward his destination, he remembered the summer, when he was in his early twenties, that he had stayed here with a friend whose widowed mother had married a much older man. That gentleman owned a townhouse several streets over, and he and his friend had enjoyed an entire month here all by themselves.

Williamson smiled, recalling a lovely park near the townhouse that turned out to be the perfect place to sit and watch the ladies parade about in their finery. Suddenly a park came into view out the opposite window, and he craned his neck to see if it was the one of his memories. He was still trying to decide when the coach came to an abrupt halt, and he turned back to peer out the near window. They had stopped outside a huge townhouse in a long row of townhouses, each grander than the next.

The elegant facade of the classical brick structure drew his attention, and his gaze traversed the three stories straight up to the roof, which was itself surrounded by an intricate ironwork parapet. That same ironwork decorated the long windows and a balcony that was partially visible on the side of the house. Certain that the interior of the home would rival the outside, he felt just a bit nervous; his friend’s home, grand though it was, could not compare to this. He had no time to dwell on it, however, as at that very moment a footman opened the coach door and folded down the steps.

Williamson was pleased to escape the confines of the coach and stretched to relieve the stiffness in his back. He became aware that the footman was waiting for him, so he immediately turned and began to ascend the steps to the portico. The elaborate front door opened before he had attained it.

“Mr. Williamson, I presume?” Mr. Barnes declared, reaching out for his hat and gloves.