Fine Eyes and Pert Opinions

by Maria Grace

Bennet approached. “I understand you are no longer acting.”

  “No, the playwright determined that the father’s role was unnecessary.”

  “I recall making your participation a condition of my daughters’ participation.”

  “It was a very recent change. Would you rather I had permitted publicity and a wider audience?”

  Bennet grumbled. And glanced over his shoulder. His daughters whispered among themselves and giggled. “No, that would not have been an improvement. But you should have told me. You were to participate so as to be able to protect my daughters and your sister.”

  “Georgiana wrote to Miss Elizabeth, but she has not written back.” Darcy clasped his hands behind his back and stared over Bennet’s shoulder, through the open parlor door.

  “I am sure she will soon. Lizzy is an attentive correspondent.”

  “Georgiana misses her friend very much. She says she has been waiting for Miss Elizabeth’s advice on a matter.”

  “Lizzy’s aunt has kept her schedule very full.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Though it is none of your concern, her aunt and uncle have been introducing her to their rather broad circle of acquaintances. As I understand, Lizzy’s company has been quite in demand. On their at-home days, there are callers constantly coming and going, and their evening engagements have been equally full.”

  He swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. “It would be disappointing to think that she would forget Pemberley.”

  “It is not like Lizzy to forget her friends. Mark my word, she will write to your sister soon.”

  “Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Reynolds ran in, red-faced and panting. “I cannot understand it. I do not understand.”

  Miss Mary took her arm and helped her to a chair.

  “What is wrong?” Darcy’s pulse hammered in his temples, throbbing behind his eyes, fuzzing the edges of his vision.

  “Miss Darcy. It is Miss Darcy. I cannot find her. I have searched the house twice and I cannot find her.”

  “She is probably just nervous about the performance and is in the garden rehearsing.” Miss Mary patted Mrs. Reynolds’ hand.

  “Lydia and I shall go and find her.” Miss Kitty grabbed her younger sister’s hand, and they skipped out.

  “There you see, it will all be well in a few moments.” Miss Mary knelt beside Mrs. Reynolds.

  “No, no, you do not understand.” She pulled a scrap of paper from her sleeve and passed it to Bennet and Darcy.

  Bennet unfolded it, squinting and turning the sheet this way and that. “It is difficult to make out.”

  “Georgiana must have written it!” Darcy edged behind Bennet and peered over his shoulder.

  “I have…” Bennet pointed at a smudged word.

  “Decided?”

  “Yes, I think it is: ‘I have decided. I am going with him.’” Bennet looked over his shoulder at Darcy, brows knotted.

  “Lord, no!” Darcy staggered backward, room spinning, breath knocked away as though he had fallen from his horse.

  Mrs. Reynolds choked back a sob. “I cannot find her. Her dressing room is upturned, and there are gowns missing from her closet.”

  “I will find her maid. I am sure she can explain what is going on.” Miss Mary dashed from the room as Mrs. Reynolds burst into tears.

  “I found them, together in the morning parlor one night,” Darcy whispered.

  “I had no idea he would stoop to such a thing.” Bennet trudged to the settee.

  Darcy collapsed beside him. “What do you mean? Had you any idea he had designs on Georgiana?”

  “I am as shocked as you are on that account. I was certain if she were away, then all would be safe.” Bennet covered his face with his hands.

  “What are you talking about? Did he impose on Miss Elizabeth?”

  “If I had only known earlier, I would have required the girls to return home at once. But she did not tell me.”

  “I demand to know! What happened?”

  “After Lizzy wrenched her knee, she told me that one morning whilst she was walking, he sought to kiss her. Apparently, you conveniently walked in and stopped that scheme, never knowing what had happened. Then he offered her his protection—”

  “To be his mistress?” If he ever saw that wastrel’s face again….

  “After she refused him, he recanted and made her an offer of marriage, which she also refused.”

  Damn and bloody hell! “That is why she had to go to London? To be away from him? Why did you not tell me?”

  “It is my business as her father. Not yours.”

  “It is my business as master of Pemberley, and as her friend. I should have known.”

  “No, it is not your concern.” Bennet met Darcy’s gaze. “She is not of your sphere. Your concern needs to be for your sister.”

  “You will write to Miss Elizabeth and ask her to come home? She is much needed here.”

  “No, I will not. Pemberley is your home, not hers. She is about the business of establishing her own home now, and nothing that happens here should take her from that. Miss Garland must be the one you turn to now.” Bennet’s voice was firm, but not unkind.

  Damn it all, he was right—but everything about it felt wrong.

  Miss Mary dashed in, dragging a young maid by the hand. “Tell them what you told me. No one will be angry with you. I promise you will not be sacked.” She looked into Darcy’s eyes with an expression reminiscent of Miss Elizabeth.

  “What do you know, girl? Tell what you know.” Mrs. Reynolds rushed to the maid.

  “Tell me the truth, and you have nothing to fear,” Darcy said.

  “The young mistress, this morning, gave me clear instructions on the things she wanted packed up into her trunk and to have sent to be loaded on the baronet’s coach.”

  “Do you know when they departed?” Bennet asked.

  “Not for certain. But, I think, I think it might have been three hours ago.” The girl wrung her dusty hands in her smudged apron.

  Bennet leaned close and softly said, “And in what direction did they go?”

  “I … I … did not see the carriage leave. I have no idea.”

  “Why did you not tell Mrs. Reynolds?” Darcy asked.

  “The young mistress said I would be sacked if I said anything. Please, sir, my mum is ill. I need to pay the apothecary.”

  “Of course, girl. There would be no way for you to know that Miss Darcy could not follow through with such a threat.” Bennet cleared his throat and stared at Darcy.

  Hardly subtle, but appropriate. “Indeed. Mrs. Reynolds, see the apothecary bills brought to me.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The girl sobbed into her hands.

  “Come.” Mrs. Reynolds helped her out.

  “Mary, go and find Kitty and Lydia and take them home. It is best you tell your sisters that Miss Darcy has taken ill. Not a word of this is to be spoken to anyone under any condition. Do I make myself utterly clear?” That was a tone that not even Darcy would dare cross.

  Miss Mary, pale and wide-eyed, scurried out.

  Bennet rubbed his chin with his fist. “The question is: where would Sir Alexander go? Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam or Miss Garland might be able to offer some insight. I imagine they are better acquainted with him than you are.”

  “I will find them.” Darcy strode out as briskly as he could manage.

  Where would Blanche be? The music room, check that first.

  He all but ran down the corridor, nearly stumbling as he flung himself into the music room.

  “Darcy? Heavens, what has taken hold of you?” Blanche put down the flowers she had been arranging and moved toward him with languid, elegant strides.

  “Your brother, where is he?”

  “How should I know? Before a performance, he is usually hidden away somewhere brooding and does not come out until the last possible moment. This is entirely normal for him.”

  “Georgiana is missing.”

  She flicked
his concern aside. “Stage fright, I am certain. The poor dear will do very well indeed, but she has been imagining disaster from the very beginning. The performance will do a world of good for her confidence.”

  “She left a note. She said she has gone with him.” He grabbed her shoulders.

  Blanche gasped and lost a bit of color in her face. “No, no, I am certain it is not possible. Georgiana’s hand is so atrocious. I am certain it was misread.”

  “A maid said she had instructions to pack Georgiana’s trunk and send it to be loaded on your brother’s coach.”

  “No, no, no!” She pulled herself from Darcy’s grasp and paced the width of the room. “Foolish, foolish boy. Both of them, utterly foolish!”

  “Where might he have taken her?”

  “How should I know? It is not as if he discussed this with me. Has he no compassion on any of us? Does he not know how this will affect our reputations, my reputation?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and I—we are tainted with the very association with them!” Who knew that a Valkyrie could shriek?

  “This is not the time for those concerns. I need to know where to find her.” Darcy balled his fists until they trembled at his side.

  “This is Bennet’s fault. Miss Elizabeth should never have been sent away. If she had been here to distract Alexander, he would never have bothered your sister.” She turned on him, icy fire in her blue eyes.

  “He already offered her his protection.”

  “Foolish girl! She should have taken it. The ridiculous article should know she will never have a better offer than that. How dare she put my reputation at risk—”

  “Hang your reputation! I do not care—” Another word on her reputation and he would surely shake her. “I must protect my sister.”

  “It seems a little late for that now.”

  “Where might he have taken her?” Darcy took her hand and pulled to her to face him. “Tell me where they might be.”

  She wrenched herself away. “Unhand me! I do not know. He writes for a private theater company in Derbyshire; they might go there. He also has connections to London theater as well: two private companies and a friend associated with Drury Lane. There may be one or two beyond that.”

  “Write their names and directions for me, now—all of them.”

  “Do not order me about like a servant.”

  “You are my betrothed, and I expect you to act like a helpmeet to me. I insist.”

  “I shall go upstairs and find the directions and send a maid with them directly. I have a devastating headache now and do not wish to be bothered for the rest of the evening. I am most truly and completely distressed.” She swept out of the room, dodging Richard as he stormed in.

  “I just heard—Bennet told me. What is to be done?” Richard fell into a chair that was supposed to have been for the theatrical’s audience.

  “I am still working that out.” Darcy paced through the fully-dressed set, skirting the awkwardly placed chairs and the scenery boards left at awkward angles. “All I can say for certain right now is that I will have Mrs. Reynolds see to it that all the staff have sufficient incentive to keep quiet about what has happened.”

  “And the Bennets?”

  “They would never betray me. Neither would Bingley, and he will see to his sister. Anne is connected to us and will support us. Since Georgiana is not out and not known in society, there is still a chance her reputation can be spared. We must find her before her identity is known.”

  “Will you force them to marry?” Richard steepled his hands and pressed the to his chin.

  “Not if I have any alternative. The man is a bounder. I would not see her attached to such a creature if there is any other way.” It was already too late for himself. “As soon as Blanche gives me the directions she promised, we must be off.”

  “The sun is nearly set, and there will only be a sliver of moon tonight. We cannot travel now.”

  “I insist—”

  “No, we will do her no good if we are killed by highwaymen or thrown from our horses who cannot not see the road in front of us.”

  Darcy pounded his fist into his palm “At first light then.”

  “I will handle the horses. Come, we must pack.”

  Richard was right, of course. But first, Darcy would share his plans with Bennet—it was as close to Miss Elizabeth’s advice as he could get.

  Bennet’s sympathy was genuine, not the uncomfortable kind that made him wish he had never mentioned his trouble. Moreover, Bennet offered useful direction on how he might approach Georgiana, if and when he found her; how to talk to her; how to encourage her to come back under Pemberley’s protection—if that was even possible. And if it was not, Bennet had thoughts on how to learn to live with that potentiality without losing his sister entirely.

  How did Bennet manage to be so entirely without judgment for both him and Georgiana? How had he overlooked the caring wisdom Bennet carried for so long? It should not have been surprising; they were the selfsame traits that Miss Elizabeth possessed.

  Near midnight, Mrs. Reynolds knocked at his dressing room door. Face drawn and eyes red, she offered him a letter she found in Georgiana’s dressing table. From Miss Elizabeth, it had arrived earlier that day. The wax seal remained intact. Georgiana must have set it aside in favor of all the activity of getting ready for the play. Perhaps he might find something useful in it.

  His hands trembled, and he tried to swallow through the cotton wool that filled his mouth as he stumbled toward his wingchair near the fireplace. Only two candles flickered from the mantelpiece, casting their faint glow along the dark wood paneling. Dim light, but sufficient.

  The letter was from her, the voice, the wisdom he longed for. The single person he desperately needed right now. No, it had not been written for his eyes, but what mattered that now? For a few moments her words would be there with him and perhaps something might begin to make sense.

  Heart hammering his ribs hard enough to ache, he cracked the seal and unfolded the missive. A bit of the wax fell off into his lap. He picked up the irregular red lump and worried it between his fingers.

  My dear Miss Darcy,

  I pray you, please, talk to your brother before you allow Sir Alexander to speak with you again. I implore you, do not allow his clever words to confuse you from what you know to be right. I understand how compelling he can be, but remember his craft is theater. He loves the dramatic far more than he could care about anyone, even you.

  I know you cannot be happy to hear what I have to say, but you know I can only tell you the truth.

  I also know you are angry with me for leaving you. I understand, I truly do. I wish there had been any alternative. I fear you will not believe me when I insist there was not. I expect you are tempted to ignore what I have told you simply because you are angry.

  So, I offer you another source of counsel. Before she died, your mother left you and your brother letters, tucked into the Darcy family genealogy in the drawer of the chest beneath her portrait in the gallery. My mother helped her write those letters.

  Your mother was like you—beautiful, brilliant, accomplished, and unable to read or write properly despite the best schools and tutors. She feared there would be a day you needed her and she would not be here for you, so she made sure my mother and I knew the location of those letters.

  I considered telling you of them many times, but your mother insisted that it would be very clear when the right time was, and I am certain it is now.

  Go and find your mother’s letter and let her voice guide you to make the right and honorable choices. Then talk to your brother. He is a trustworthy man in whose support you can always be certain. He is the best of men. You will not regret confiding in him.

  The letter fell from his hand, half-sliding off his lap. Breathe, he must breathe. But how could he force air into a chest so tight?

  Mother was just like Georgiana? He had never known? How was it possible? How
much more did he not know?

  Perhaps the letter for himself was still there.

  He grabbed a candlestick and made his way through the dark house. Dark, judgmental portraits stared down from the gallery walls, disapproving of his late-night wandering. Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he set the candlestick on top of the bombé chest.

  Cold, smooth drawer knobs so unfamiliar in his hands. Should he? He had to know. The drawer squealed and protested every inch he opened it. The Darcy genealogy—a black leather-bound tome with gold lettering—looked up at him, smelling of old leather and paper, much like the library and the study, his favorite sanctuaries. A pair of folded letters protruded from between the pages. He pulled them free. One bore Georgiana’s name. He set it aside and opened the one addressed to him.

  Fitzwilliam

  The lovely, feminine loops and swirls that formed his name called to him in his mother’s voice, even if they were in Mrs. Bennet’s hand.

  My son,

  I would rather say these things to you myself, and perhaps I will have the opportunity, but it is too important to chance that these words are left unsaid.

  You are so very observant; you probably already know my secret.

  No, not until a moment ago ....

  I am sure you have noticed; Mrs. Reynolds reads my letters to me and writes my correspondence for me. She is an excellent woman, and I hope that you will find a way to allow her to retire on Pemberley with a portion when the time comes—I value both her service and her silence that much.

  I hope you can forgive what I have done to your father. He did not know the truth about me until after we married. It was very difficult for him to trust me after that revelation.

  It is my fault that he has been so very difficult, so very hard on you. When you were born, you looked so much like me, and he feared that you might also share my failing. But you did not. I think he believed that it was because he was severe with you and had high expectations. You will not be surprised to know I disagreed with his sentiment.

  I know he was hard on you, and you have had moments where you hated him for that. If only you could understand the deep concern for you that was forever on his mind. Ask Miss Elizabeth about it; she will be able to tell you.