She was trying to reassure him, and his smile became more forced. “I expect you will be pleased to have more free time, Miss Bennet.”
She shook her head. “Definitely not. I am hoping my uncle will permit me to take more of your time, so I may learn more of other business considerations. I have learned so much, and feel the stronger for my future.”
His gaze misted over, and he began shuffling through the papers, until he should feel more assured.
Once again, she understood what he needed. “I have had another thought, which can be added in a year or so, when this custom has been secured. If you are able to source leather and other accoutrements in this country, you could offer the backpacks, boots and other things needed by the well-equipped soldier.” She rippled into laughter. “Even down to the mug and spoon from the tin mines in Cornwall.”
He stared at her. “You have a bold imagination, Miss Bennet.” He spent a happy hour discussing the current needs of the business, as well as possible future directions. He took many notes, knowing his thinking was disordered, and his memory for detail would not be at its usual level.
At the end of the hour, Mr. Gardiner called them over to his desk. “You’ve had an interesting discussion, by the look of it. I know you like to walk out when you can, Lizzy. Why not ask Mr. Stoke if he could accompany you on a stroll around the park?”
His heart leapt; he’d wondered if he would have the confidence to ask her, and now he didn’t have to. Her delighted smile made his heart pound.
“I’d be pleased if you wish to take a walk, Miss Bennet.” He bowed slightly. “Perhaps your uncle could arrange a member of staff to follow us, to observe the proprieties for you?”
It was not far to the gardens, and within a few minutes he was walking beside Miss Bennet as she stepped out with a lively air. His heart went into his throat. She was the one person who’d penetrated his defences, carefully constructed over the last decade. Someone had wanted him dead, his only recollection the high-pitched shout of triumph as the horse somersaulted through the air.
He shuddered, and pushed the thought away. He would enjoy this opportunity to be with Miss Bennet, this opportunity to talk to her in a more informal way.
“You’ve been troubled this past week, Mr. Stoke.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”
He was surprised. “How did you know?”
“You seemed distracted,” she smiled; but there was a shadow of sympathy in her eyes. “Is there anything I might do to help? I don’t like to think of you not having anyone to talk to.”
He swallowed. “I had hoped to find an opportunity to speak to you for a few moments,” he admitted.
Her steps slowed. “Of course.” She looked round the small gardens, and he followed her gaze. There were people around, but not too many, and Molly was sitting on a seat by the gate.
“Would you like to sit on that bench there under the tree for a moment? Or is it easier to talk while strolling along the path?” Miss Bennet seemed to understand his dilemma.
He smiled, he must try and make it easier for her, too. “Which do you think I might find easier, Miss Bennet?”
She laughed, and his senses swam. It was only long practice at keeping his expression closed that prevented a foolish smile.
“Let’s sit down, Mr. Stoke, and you can tell me why my aunt’s visit discomposed you so much.”
His heart plummeted. “How did you know that …”
“It was the moment when you first seemed alarmed, and since it, you’ve seemed — not disturbed, so much as — perhaps … oh, I cannot find the words. Almost a sense of foreboding. I’ve been concerned for you.”
William had to swallow. She’d been concerned for him. Not since Mrs. Pedder — and the apothecary —back in far-off Bishopstoke, had anyone seemed to care about him personally. He’d been on his own, and had built hard walls around his mind to protect himself from the loss of all he had been.
13
Elizabeth sat quietly, looking over at the church, solid, secure, and unchanging. She must wait for him to speak, and she wondered how much courage it must take to try and make sense of such loss as he had suffered.
The silence between them seemed comfortable to her, and she hoped he, too, wasn’t embarrassed by it. Her own heart was less easy to manage. She knew she was becoming important to him, and was unsure where it would lead.
She let herself smile slightly, Mr. Stoke was handsome, proper and thoughtful. He was the image of a gentleman — but he wasn’t a gentleman, at least, not now. She didn’t think Papa would object to that, after all, Mama was the daughter of an attorney. But it would all depend on how much security he might be able to offer her. Papa would not let her marry without it.
“I’m sorry, Miss Bennet.” He smiled wryly. “I am at a loss for how to begin.”
She looked at him, and smiled reassuringly. “I think you’ve had to keep your own counsel for a long time, and it feels safest to you to keep it that way.”
He considered her words for a moment. Then he sighed. “Yes. It seemed to me for the best, and I am used now to keeping myself apart from other people. Until your uncle offered his assistance, I had told no one what had happened, and even now, I’ve not told him the full story.” His gaze wandered around the little park, and the loneliness in his expression tore at her heart.
“Separation from others can seem the best thing, sometimes,” she remarked, slowly. “But, when there’s no end to it, the solitude might become pernicious and prevent a person from moving on from whatever caused it.”
He turned to her, and he looked resolute. “You have divined exactly my thinking, Miss Bennet, and been able to put into words what I could not. Thank you.” He looked away again, thinking. “I wished to tell you a little of my concerns, but I would not wish to trouble you. It seems to me to be a difficult thing to hear.”
She smiled gently. “It cannot be harder to hear than it was to endure, Mr. Stoke. If it would ease your mind, and assist you to decide what needs to be done, I will be happy to listen.” She hesitated. “And you can be sure I will keep your confidences absolutely.”
He stiffened, and her heart jumped. Had she hurt him? “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you.” She knew her voice was anxious.
“No, no, Miss Bennet — but can you see, over by the gate? That officer on horseback, looking at me?” Mr. Stoke shuddered. “I have seen him several times in the last few days. I think he knows me.”
Mr. Stoke tore his gaze away and turned towards her with an effort. “Please remember his appearance. I am concerned.” He rose to his feet. “Perhaps we might walk further into the park, away from the gate.”
“We can do that, of course, if you wish.” She stood up. “But he has turned away, so we may choose to do what you think best.”
Her heart beat a little faster as he offered her his arm, and she hoped she could keep her thoughts straight with the warmth of his arm beneath her fingers.
He seemed to force his mind away from his thoughts. “I don’t know how much your uncle may have told you about my past, Miss Bennet. I would not wish to take your time up with what you already know.”
She shook her head. “Uncle Gardiner has not told me anything. When I was here when I was fourteen, I saw you waiting to see my uncle, and remarked that your apparel seemed very much at odds with your appearance. When I arrived here for this visit, I asked, and Uncle said he was not at liberty to divulge what had happened, save that he trusted you and is happy you’re working together and are not in competition with him!”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I will try and be brief, Miss Bennet.” He paused at the small pond, and seemed to be thinking.
Finally, he sighed. “I do not know my real name, but I it is not William Stoke, although it is as good a name as any, I suppose.”
Elizabeth stared at him, seeing the lines of strain at the corner of his eyes. “Are you sure you wish to talk about it? I wouldn’t wish to cause you any sorro
w.”
He smiled tightly. “No, I don’t wish to talk about it, but I know I must consider what to do, and I would rather speak to you than think endlessly about it alone — if you have no objection?”
She shook her head silently, allowing the slightest pressure of comfort of her fingers on his arm. Here was a good man, no matter what his past. His breath caught as he felt her movement, and he looked away, over the top of her head, his eyes blind to the sights in front of him.
“I think I was probably about fourteen or fifteen when I was discovered, insensible, on a remote path in the south of the country,” he said, the words suddenly seeming to come to him. “I had been stripped of all identifying clothing and items, and left for dead.” He suddenly seemed to push away the memory. “I was fortunate to be found and taken in by a local man, and cared for by his housekeeper. The apothecary was an excellent man, and I know I owe them my life.”
His eyes dropped to hers. “Someone wanted me dead — and they didn’t want me identified, either. I was intended for an anonymous pauper’s grave.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened convulsively on his arm. She couldn’t help herself. What a terrible thing to know was in your past.
But he didn’t acknowledge her movement, seeming to have to continue, now he’d begun. “It wouldn’t matter, of course, while I was working in a lowly position, and I made my way to London to be away from any possibility of being seen by those who might know who I was.”
She knew what was coming next. “But I’m sure you know that your appearance is distinctively that of a man who is from the highest class in the land, and such a family would come to town, even if they spent much time in the country.”
He nodded, looking depressed. “Once it began to matter, and I thought more deeply about it, I was working with your uncle. I owe him a great debt of gratitude for his help and assistance to me. I would not willingly leave town now.”
She nodded. “I understand.” Her thoughts turned to the officer he’d pointed out to her. “Do you think he has recognised you?”
He nodded reluctantly, and turned back towards the gate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider that Molly needed to be in sight.”
“Don’t think about it,” Elizabeth smiled. “She has been keeping up, but out of the way. Although, perhaps, if we sit at this bench, she might also be able to take a seat on that one by the far wall.”
He nodded, and she felt the loss of his touch as he sat at the other end of the bench after she’d taken her seat. But she turned at once to his dilemma. “That officer — do you think he might wish you harm?”
“I don’t know,” he said, heavily. “His features seem familiar, but I have never seen or recognised someone from my past before — to my knowledge, at least; so I don’t know if it’s because I’ve seen him at one of the post stops when I was working in the stables. It might be that.” He sounded more hopeful than convinced, and Elizabeth shook her head.
“I doubt you really believe that,” she remarked, trying to make her expression sympathetic. “But first, what have you thought might be the reason you were attacked?” She wanted to move up the seat, to sit closer to him, and found herself dismayed at the proprieties he would insist on for her own benefit.
He shrugged slightly. “I find myself hoping desperately it was not for any disreputable or vengeful reason. I would not like to find I was an objectionable person.”
Elizabeth sensed his shudder and couldn’t prevent herself moving along the bench towards him. She touched his arm. “I’m certain that cannot be true. Even the loss of your memory would not have made you a good man if you were not so before. Please do not be anxious about that thought. I do not believe it.”
He smiled slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s good of you to try and reassure me, Miss Bennet, but it’s difficult not to think about it.”
She nodded. “I think it more likely that someone wished to rob you — perhaps of more than what you were carrying?” She wouldn’t be explicit about what she was thinking, not yet.
“You mean, the attempted murder was for an inheritance?” His strained features showed the prospect had occurred to him before, and the thought weighed heavily upon him.
“I do.” She was worried for him. “I’m anxious because you say the officer who recognised you has indeed returned to watch you several times.”
“I ought not to speak further to you, Miss Bennet. I have caused you undue distress, and I wouldn’t have wished to do that.”
He rose to his feet, but Elizabeth remained sitting. She wouldn’t move. He needed to talk to someone, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded from trying to help him.
“Mr. Stoke, you might find this difficult to hear, but I believe the officer seems familiar to you for another reason than the one you’ve mentioned.” She looked up at him. “But I think you need to know. The resemblance is unmistakeable. I believe he is a relation.”
He went white, and she reached out to him. “Please sit down again, Mr. Stoke. I’m sorry to have surprised you.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” he murmured, his mind seeming busy with the new thought.
“I hope — I think — perhaps you might agree to speak to my uncle.” Elizabeth touched his hand, knowing she ought not to be so forward. “Perhaps he can help us by making enquiries as to the man’s identity. Then we can ensure you’re safe.”
14
Richard sprang to the ground outside Matlock House, the groom hurrying to take the blowing horse. “Thank you. See he’s cooled down properly.” Richard ran up the steps. He needed to speak to his mother.
“Richard!” His mother looked up in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back in time for luncheon.”
Richard nodded wryly. “Darcy saw me this morning, Mother, and I think he showed some recognition.”
“Oh, dear.” She looked disturbed. “Come and tell me about it.”
Richard seated himself on the sofa beside her. Apart from his father, no one else knew the information imparted by their unexpected visitor, and Mrs. Gardiner didn’t know Richard had been able to follow her to her home in Cheapside.
He hoped their plans were not all for naught. He was certain Darcy hadn’t seen him before this morning. He’d been wearing his uniform deliberately. With so many soldiers about, he was just another officer, barely worthy of another glance.
“Where was he, Richard?”
“That’s another part of my concern. He was sitting in the small park which abuts St Mary-le-Bow, on Cheapside.” He glanced significantly at her. “He was with a young lady — and they were talking very seriously.”
“Oh, dear,” his mother said, again. “That makes our mission rather more urgent.”
“It does,” he said heavily. “She was dressed in simple country clothes. Perhaps she is the niece that Mrs. Gardiner mentioned.”
“Whoever she is, she must be completely unsuitable for a Darcy!” His mother sat up straight. “Perhaps it is time for Henry to go and see him.”
Richard shook his head. “I don’t think Father ought to approach him.”
“Why not?” The countess appeared surprised.
“If he doesn’t know who he is, the appearance of an earl may not be conducive to rational thought.” Richard shook his head. “I was also thinking of a more gradual thing, where I might greet him as if by chance in the street one day, and raise the issue that way.”
“But if he did recognise you, that possibility is now gone.”
“I know.” Richard stared thoughtfully at the footman as he carried in a tray of tea. Mother must have signalled for it. Richard would take tea with her, though he’d far prefer a whisky. He rubbed his forehead. “This matter of the girl forces our hand somewhat — although with his father becoming increasingly frail, I had been concerned that he have a chance to greet his son before he dies.”
His mother passed him a teacup. “I hadn’t realised you’d been having the same thoughts as I have.” She gave
him a sharp glance. “How do you think Georgiana will take the news?”
“Georgiana?” Richard looked at her. “I hadn’t thought much about it. She can’t remember him, so there is unlikely to be an immediate attachment. But she will, I think, be very relieved that she no longer has the responsibility of being the heir of Pemberley.”
He gave his mother a significant look. “As you know, I am much more concerned about what Wickham will think.”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I know you have always thought he had something to do with Darcy’s disappearance.” She was silent for a moment, deep in thought. She looked up. “Do you think Darcy will be in danger from him?”
Richard nodded, reluctantly. “I do, especially if we cannot persuade him to come to us as a place of safety before dear Wickham discovers what we are about.”
Her brow creased. “I cannot believe Darcy will not acquiesce to what we suggest! He will know it is for the best!”
“He has no way of knowing the good names of Darcy, or that of Matlock, Mother,” he reminded her. “There are many of our own class who are dissolute wastrels and not to be trusted.”
She grimaced slightly. “You’re not in error, son, of course.” She sat up straighter still. “Perhaps we ought to call your father to join us. We need to advance our plans, I think.”
Later that day, Richard, dressed in what he considered a perfectly ordinary, unremarkable way, made his way inside the inn where he knew Darcy lodged. He would sit in the main parlour until Darcy passed through on his way to his chamber. Then he would be able to greet him.
The first intimation that he did not appear as anonymous as he’d hoped came when he was greeted very deferentially by the innkeeper, who offered him a place at the table by the great fireplace. But Richard had come prepared.
“No. I thank you, but I’d like to sit in the far corner, if I may. I have some papers to peruse before I go and see the gentleman I have a later appointment with.”
The Lost Heir Page 6