Lord Matlock narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had a month’s leave.”
“I did, but the War Office wants me back early,” he prevaricated.
Lady Matlock poured another cup of coffee. “How odd. I did not see any letters for you yesterday.”
Sometimes he loved his family. Sometimes he wanted to strangle them.
Before he could think of a plausible excuse, Georgiana accused, “You are going to Scotland. You told me it was nothing, and now you are going!”
Everyone stared at Georgiana, who never spoke unless asked a question.
Richard colored. “Just a quick jaunt so I can reassure you he is perfectly well.”
Georgiana’s eyes were wide. “I wanted to go! He will talk to me, and I can raise his spirits. All you can do is to make him drink too much.” She clapped her hands over her mouth as if she could stuff the words back inside.
His sister snickered. The rest of the family watched him with interest.
“This is a tempest in a teapot,” he said in his best commanding officer voice. “Georgiana is fretting because she has not received a letter from Darcy recently. I did not wish to worry her more by telling her I was going to check on him. I can travel faster on my own.”
“You can ride faster than Georgiana on Bucephalus?” his sister asked mockingly. “On what winged steed?”
Occasionally Richard loved his family. This was not one of those occasions. “I plan to travel by post. A post coach is no place for young lady.” Dammit. He had planned to ride.
His mother said placidly, “No doubt you would prefer to ride. You may take the small coach for your servants and trunks, Richard, and Georgiana can retreat to that if the weather is poor. More coffee, dear?”
His sister smirked. Richard ground his teeth. No wonder Jasper had run off.
“THIS IS THE PLACE,” Richard told Georgiana as they stood outside the house in Edinburgh’s New Town. They had stopped at an inn to bathe and change clothes, since otherwise they would have looked like vagabonds. Georgiana had kept up with the punishing pace he had set with nary a complaint.
Richard handed his card to the butler who answered the door. “We are looking for Mr. Darcy.”
“He is nae longer here, sir.”
Richard exchanged a glance with Georgiana. “Would you be able to tell us where he is?”
“I cannot say, sir. The master might know. Would you care to ask him?”
IT SEEMED STRANGE TO sit in the drawing room without Darcy there. Elizabeth found herself listening for the sound of wheels on the tiled floor of the entry hall. “I had not expected Mr. Darcy’s meeting with the steward to go on quite this long,” she said to Mrs. Graham.
“I doubt they need so much time, but poor Mr. Darcy deserves to enjoy his freedom, such as it is. He has been trapped in the house, and before that the hill fort, for so long, that even an outing to the steward’s office must seem like a delightful change. And if his chair had broken, they would have told ye long since, lassie,” said Mrs. Graham with a chuckle.
“I have no worries about that,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Young James told me he had tested it thoroughly with Big Tom. He does not lack for inventiveness!” After discovering there was no Bath chair to be found locally, James had convinced the blacksmith to cobble together an improvised one from an old caned chair and two wheelbarrow wheels. It was clumsy-looking at best, but it meant Darcy could be wheeled from room to room rather than carried, both in the house and across the small yard behind the kitchen to the steward’s office.
MacLaren the butler entered and announced, “There are two visitors for Mr. Darcy, Miss Merton. Their appearance is that of fashionable people.”
Visitors for Darcy? But he knew no one here. His only friends were in Edinburgh. “Does that mean the pass is open?”
“I would imagine so, Miss Merton, since I do not recognize them.”
The pass was open, and she was free. Free to leave Darcy forever. She had known it was coming, had prepared herself for it, but still it felt as if the world were melting under her feet. But there was nothing to be done for it except to welcome Darcy’s friends and to tell her maid to pack her bags.
She straightened her shoulders. Perhaps Darcy’s Edinburgh friends had decided to deliver his trunks personally, but she really should train the butler in the use of calling cards for those rare occasions when a stranger came to the door. “Show them in, but in future, pray ask for a calling card from callers you do not know.”
She heard the butler murmur, “This way, if you please.”
A young woman, practically a girl, entered first, followed by a familiar figure. Too familiar. A leaden feeling invaded Elizabeth’s stomach.
“Miss Bennet!” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam with an air of pleased surprise. “You are the last person I expected to find here.”
“I no longer use the name Bennet. I am Miss Merton now.” Elizabeth could hardly speak for her suddenly dry mouth. Now it was real. Darcy’s family had learned he had seen her again, and they had sent the colonel to put a stop to it. “Welcome to Kinloch House, Colonel.”
His lips quirked. “I had intended to be just Mr. Fitzwilliam here, as I was advised to forget my army rank when I entered the Highlands. May I present...” Suddenly his face turned rock hard. “Georgiana, wait for me outside the house. Now,” he commanded.
The girl gave him a timid glance, bit her lip, and scurried from the room.
What was that about? She had to be Darcy’s sister. Even if the colonel were here to keep Darcy from marrying Elizabeth, why did that make her unfit to be in the same room with his sister?
Colonel Fitzwilliam said coldly, “Perhaps you would be so kind as to inform me where I might find Darcy, since it is hardly appropriate for me to wait in your company, and I cannot leave Miss Darcy standing outside.”
Inappropriate? She stared at him in confusion, and then it all became clear. He thought she had an improper relationship with Darcy. Good heavens, first his family worried that she would entrap Darcy, and now this! “You think I am his mistress? How dare you!” she exclaimed.
He scowled. “The facts speak for themselves. Where is Darcy?”
She had forgotten Mrs. Graham’s presence in the corner by the window, but now that lady came bustling towards Colonel Fitzwilliam. Without a word of warning, she slapped him smartly across the face. “Mind your manners! Ye are in Scotland now, where we treat ladies with respect.”
His hand rose to his cheek. “Madam, this is no business of yours.”
“Indeed it is, as I am Miss Merton’s chaperone!”
Enough was enough! “It is certainly inappropriate for you to remain after you have made such insulting and ungentlemanly assumptions about me, Colonel,” she said icily. “Perhaps Mrs. Graham will accompany you to the steward’s office where you will find Mr. Darcy. She will no doubt explain to you the importance of speaking to him quietly and keeping him away from bright lights, as loud noises can exacerbate his concussion and send him to bed for days. I hope she will also prevent you from encouraging him to attempt to walk unless it is your desire to see him to limp for the rest of his life. Good day, Colonel.” She brushed past him as she left the room.
She hurried to the side door, her hands trembling. This was a disaster, far beyond the harsh insult from a man who had once admired her. Darcy’s letters had spread the word that he had seen her again, and his family had sent Colonel Fitzwilliam to stop it. He would report back to his father and aunt, and then the consequences would begin. Her father’s face flashed before her, bringing a wave of nausea with it.
Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock would assume she had engineered this meeting with Darcy. They would never believe she had not planned it, nor would they accept a new promise from her to go away. Even if they did, she did not want to leave Edinburgh. She had established a new life there, and she could not bear to leave her aunt. Without her, she would be all alone, with no means of supporting herself. Surely there must be some
other way to convince them that she would not marry their precious Darcy.
She swallowed hard. Her one route of escape was still open. Claiming to be married would no longer be enough. She had to find a husband, and quickly. That would be proof enough that Darcy was safe from her. But whom? Almost anyone connected to the theatre world would be happy to take her and her inheritance to wife, but the only actor she liked well enough was Jasper Fitzpatrick, who had already told her marriage was impossible for him. What other men were single? Sampson was too profligate and regularly visited the brothels. Jamieson had a cruel streak. Both of Mr. Siddons’s sons were married, and his grandson was but a boy of twelve.
Frantic, she nibbled on the edge of her thumb, her stomach whirling with nausea. Surely there must be someone she knew, even just a little, who would make a tolerable husband.
MacLaren the Younger. That was it. Her pounding heart began to slow. He seemed likable, he had a reputation for fairness and generosity among the common folk of Kinloch, and he wanted to marry an heiress. He had even said they could live in Edinburgh if she chose.
Her fingernails digging into her palms, she asked for her coat and headed to the stables.
STARTLED, DARCY EXCLAIMED, “Richard! What in God’s name brings you here?”
“That is my question for you, or it was,” Richard drawled. A reddened mark showed on his cheek. “Georgiana was worried about you. With some reason, it seems.” He gestured to Darcy’s leg.
“Nothing that time will not heal,” Darcy said dismissively. It might be true of his leg, but the injury to his heart was a different matter. Richard’s presence was only going to make that worse. It would be like Rosings again, watching Richard’s flirtation earning smiles from Elizabeth. “Pray tell Georgiana I am perfectly well, and I will write her a long letter soon.”
“You may tell her yourself. She is outside.”
“Outside? In the cold? Well, bring her in!” What was wrong with Richard?
“Not until I understand why you are here.” It sounded like a challenge.
Darcy gave him a strange look. “I was attacked on the road, and afterwards unable to travel, so I was invited to stay here.”
“Or perhaps you were here already,” Richard said darkly.
Darcy stared at him, baffled. “What is wrong with you, Richard?”
Mrs. Graham pushed past Richard and faced him, arms akimbo. “Perhaps ye should learn to keep a civil tongue in your mouth if ye do not want me to warm your other cheek.” She glared at his cousin.
Darcy rubbed his temple. Their loud voices were making his head ache. “Would someone be so kind as to explain to me what is happening? Quietly, if you please.”
Richard scowled. “Georgiana has been worried sick about you, while you have been taking advantage of the gently born young lady, who has had to hide her shame under a false name. I am ashamed of you, Darcy.”
Mrs. Graham’s hand flashed out and connected with Richard’s cheek. The resounding clap echoed painfully inside Darcy’s skull. “Ye dinna learn quickly, sir!”
Darcy did not need a woman to fight his battles. He began to push himself to his feet to respond to Richard’s ridiculous accusation, but large hands descended on his shoulders and shoved him back into the chair.
Big Tom, the footman, stepped in front of Darcy to face Richard. “I dinna suppose ye would care to repeat those words about Miss Merton,” he said silkily, rubbing his fist in his other hand meaningfully.
Good God, the man could hang for hitting an officer in His Majesty’s Army!
“Stop it, both of you!” Darcy commanded. “Richard, you are wrong. There is nothing improper between us.”
“No?” Richard demanded belligerently. “It is a mere accident of fate that you and she should both find yourselves in this godforsaken nowhere?”
Darcy’s head throbbed. “Not an accident at all. I was traveling here for the purpose of having a conversation with Miss Elizabeth – with the permission and encouragement of her guardian, I might add. When I was injured, Miss Elizabeth had me brought here rather than leaving me lying helpless on a pile of heather in a truly godforsaken hovel. Even if I were physically capable of trying to dishonor her, I would never do so, and you may have observed she does not lack for defenders.”
Richard blinked owlishly at him several times. “It does look very bad,” he said grudgingly.
“I am well aware of it. That is why Mrs. Graham is here as Miss Elizabeth’s chaperone.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “I suppose I should apologize to Miss Bennet, then.”
“Miss Merton,” Darcy corrected. “She changed her name when her aunt adopted her.”
“Ye certainly should apologize, but it is too late.” Mrs. Graham pointed out the window. “Do ye not see her riding away? Now, if ye will excuse me, I will go find that poor young girl ye left standing out in the cold.” She hurried off without waiting for his agreement.
Why was Elizabeth leaving? She had not mentioned any plans to go out. “What did you say to her?”
Richard rubbed his cheek. “Much the same, I suppose. That Scottish woman does not hold back when she hits.”
Whatever he had said to Elizabeth must been very bad indeed, if it led to Mrs. Graham slapping him and Elizabeth fleeing the house. And now Darcy had to deal with Richard and Georgiana, and his head was pounding. He turned back to MacLaren the steward. “Perhaps you and I can continue this discussion later.”
The Scotsman bobbed his head. “Whenever ye wish, sir.”
ELIZABETH SHADED HER eyes as the medieval tower of Castle Lochard rose across the water. She asked, “No one told me it was in the middle of the loch. How do I get there?”
The groom chewed on a straw. “The loch is still frozen, so ye maun walk it. The pony is too heavy.”
People had to go to the castle in a boat, as if they were living in a medieval Scottish tale. She supposed it made the castle more defensible, but it was certainly inconvenient. She would have to accustom herself to it. There was no other choice.
A well-used rowboat was turned upside down in the snow at the landing, near a path where the snow over the frozen loch had been tramped down.
“Here is the track, miss,” the groom said. “I’ll walk ahead to be sure the ice is safe.”
“Thank you.” As if this journey did not seem unreal enough already! She still had not decided on how to approach the subject of marriage, apart from having to push every thought of Darcy from her mind. Knowing she could not marry him had been bad enough. Deliberately marrying someone else broke her heart.
And it would cause Darcy even more pain, but perhaps it would be better this way. It would provide a clean break. Part of him might be relieved that his honor no longer required him to convince a disgraced actress’s niece to marry him. Her chest grew tight and ached. Probably just the cold air off the loch. That would explain the tears in her eyes, too.
She gingerly stepped onto the frozen edge of the loch. Surely they would have tested the ice regularly to make certain it would hold. She hoped she would not regret this.
Fortunately, it was a short distance to the island. As they drew nearer, she could see soot stains on the outer walls of the castle. There was a wing which appeared to be a ruin, its empty windows gaping. The grounds appeared unkempt, with shrubs that had not been trimmed recently. Perhaps this was not such a good idea if they cared so little for appearances. Or was it the result of saving every penny in the hope of keeping their lands?
She raised a heavy wooden knocker and let it drop. Several minutes passed before a young maid opened the thick wooden door. No butler, apparently.
“Can I help ye, miss?” asked the girl.
Elizabeth abruptly realized that her calling card case was in her desk in her bedroom. So much for setting a good example. “I am Miss Merton of Kinloch House. Is the younger Mr. MacLaren at home?”
“Aye, somewhere about. If ye will come into the solar, miss.”
“Thank you.” Eliz
abeth stepped gingerly over the threshold into a room with no more than a few chairs and a side table, the walls bare, but she followed the maid into a surprisingly snug room. The carpet covering the flagstones was attractive, if threadbare. Portraits graced the paneled walls and the room was pleasantly furnished. A fire burned merrily in the inglenook.
The girl bobbed a curtsey to an elderly man in Highland dress sitting in a wingback chair near the hearth, a plaid blanket over his legs. “MacLaren, Miss Merton of Kinloch House is here.”
Good heavens, not only did these Highlanders not use calling cards, but it seemed they thought introductions were optional, too!
The MacLaren acknowledged her with a nod. “Welcome to Castle Lochard, Miss Merton. Pray forgive me for failing to stand. It is not one of my better days.” He gestured to indicate his legs.
“Thank you, sir. I owe you a formal call, but today’s visit is informal. Your son kindly offered to answer any questions for me, and I came to take advantage of that.” She swallowed hard.
He gestured to the maid. “Fetch the lad, then.” He looked up at Elizabeth and pointed to a chair opposite him. “Sit down, lass. I canna bear having people loom over me.”
Elizabeth sat, grateful for the warmth of the fire, but trying to hide her anxiety. “I am sorry to hear you have been unwell.”
“It happens when you are old.” He was overtaken by a dry cough, and covered his mouth with his handkerchief. Once he could breathe again, he said, “My son will take you on a tour of the castle. The tower dates from the 15th century. The wing was added in the late 1600s and was somewhat more comfortable, but the cursed English torched the place after the Jacobite rebellion. We stayed out of the rebellion, but they burned it anyway.”
How could she, as one of the cursed English, respond to that? “You seem to have done a fine job restoring it.”
“The tower, aye. The shell of the wing is solid enough, and we had started work on that before the mortgage was called in. He’s a fine lad, you know.”
A Matter of Honor Page 23