Mr. Darcy's Little Sister

by C. Allyn Pierson

  The next day was Sunday, and the entire family went to church together, sitting in the Darcy and Whitwell pews. Elizabeth heard hardly a word of the sermon, occupied as she was with saying several prayers: for Darcy’s return, for the success of Georgiana’s presentation, and for her new sister’s safety and future happiness. By the time the hour-long service ended, Elizabeth felt as if her legs were leaden and she was afraid that she would not be able to rise in her exhausted state. The colonel noticed her pallor as he passed up the aisle and offered her his arm.

  “Are you well, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked quietly, his face a polite mask, but his eyes worried. “Do you need to sit down again for a moment, or should I bring the carriage up?”

  “No, I am well, I thank you, Colonel,” she replied, barely above a whisper. “I am merely a little tired. The strain of the last few weeks is beginning to catch up with me.” She tried to smile reassuringly, but the effort was weak.

  “I will escort you and Georgiana home,” he said. “Perhaps you are too tired to come to Longford House for dinner again tonight?” He looked at her questioningly.

  “I will rest a little this afternoon and then I am sure I will be fine by evening. Do not worry about me, Colonel.”

  They caught up with the others and Elizabeth made a supreme effort to appear as usual, but she was very relieved to arrive at Ashbourne House. They were met at the door by Burton, who smiled happily and said, “You will be pleased, madam, to know that the master arrived not thirty minutes ago. He is upstairs in his room, changing.”

  Elizabeth thanked him breathlessly, left Georgiana to make her farewells to the colonel, and hurried upstairs. She arrived at their sitting-room just as Darcy, hearing her footsteps, came out of his dressing-room, fastening the cuffs of a fresh shirt, his hair tousled and damp.

  “Elizabeth!”

  He caught her up and clutched her tightly against his breast, his face buried in her hair, completely disregarding the presence of his valet, who quietly let himself out the other door. She felt tears of relief stinging her eyes as she clung to him. Then, suddenly, the room began spinning and she heard, from a long way off, Darcy’s voice say again, “Elizabeth!”—this time in concern and agitation.

  When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the settee in the sitting-room and Darcy was holding her hand. “Elizabeth,” he said in a worried voice, “are you ill, my darling? Should I have Burton call the doctor?” He glanced over to the door where Burton was peeking in, a worried look on his face.

  She struggled to a sitting position, saying, “No! I am well; I am just—rather tired. I am sorry to worry you. What happened?”

  Darcy nodded to Burton, who silently closed the door.

  “When I was holding you, you went limp in my arms,” he said with relief. “I did not know what to think… you were so pale and thin. I am afraid that the last few weeks have been too much for you.”

  “I cannot believe it—I have never fainted in my life! Of course, I have never had so much reason to be out of countenance.” She smiled wanly up at him, tears welling up in her eyes, to her great embarrassment. “You do not look well, yourself, my love. You look as if you have not eaten or slept in days.” She gently touched his cheek.

  “Yes, I am tired, but I will be fine now that I am home to stay.” He smiled and looked at her tenderly.

  After a few minutes, Elizabeth remembered Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.

  “You must call Georgiana and the colonel upstairs. There is something we need to tell you.”

  “Can it not wait?” he said in surprise.

  “I am afraid it cannot.”

  Darcy went slowly downstairs and found his sister and his cousin in the drawing-room.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she cried when she saw him, “I am so glad you are home! Is Elizabeth all right? She looked very pale after church today.” She kissed him affectionately and Darcy embraced her and said, “She seems very weak, but she insists that the two of you come up.”

  Georgiana and the colonel glanced at each other and then she said, “Perhaps we should get it over with.”

  The colonel nodded his agreement. “Yes. Darcy we have a tale to tell you and the sooner the better.”

  Looking perplexed, Darcy followed them upstairs to the sitting-room, where Elizabeth was still lying down.

  They all sat down, and Darcy looked at each of them, waiting for them to start. After a wordless consultation, Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded to Georgiana and began:

  “While you were gone, Darcy, we had a frightening occurrence.”

  At his cousin’s look he quickly said, “Everything is resolved now, but at the time it was… a terrible disaster.”

  He went on, with Georgiana’s assistance, to tell him the story of her kidnapping. In spite of her reassurances that she was completely unhurt, her brother looked like the wrath of God when they finished.

  “And what has been done about Walker?” Darcy snapped.

  Fitzwilliam glanced at Georgiana and Elizabeth and said, “I will explain later, Cousin.”

  Darcy did not press for further details, but changed the subject.

  “Fitzwilliam, could you arrange a meeting with your employer as soon as possible? I should like to finish this business and forget about it.”

  “As soon as I can.”

  Chapter 17

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

  —William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  The next morning at breakfast, Darcy went through the large stack of mail which had accumulated while he was gone, much of it invitations to various social events.

  “It is brought home to me while reading the mail how much has changed in my life in the last year,” he commented to Georgiana.

  “Why is that, my dear brother? Are there fewer invitations than in the past?” she asked in surprise.

  “Not at all, in fact there might possibly be more; however, last year most of the invitations were from families who had unmarried daughters while this year they are from families with unmarried sons.”

  Georgiana blushed and Elizabeth laughed at her. When Darcy had nearly finished his last cup of coffee, Burton came into the breakfast-parlour and announced that Colonel Fitzwilliam was awaiting him in the entry hall.

  During their ride to the palace, the colonel said uneasily, “Darcy, you are as thin as a rake. Did you eat at all while you were gone?”

  “Fear not, Cousin, I am well enough; and I will be more so when I finish my report today.”

  “So, you were successful?”

  “In more ways than one.”

  “Meaning what, Darcy?”

  Darcy held up his hand. “Wait just a few minutes, Cousin, and you will hear part of the tale when I tell it to His Highness and the rest afterwards.”

  “All right, all right, I will be patient.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, Darcy with his eyes closed and the colonel watching him in concern. A few minutes from their destination, Darcy roused himself to say, “Oh… I will tell you one thing, Cousin, which might amuse you. His Majesty’s nubile young French woman is at least thirty-five years old and of rather—shall we say—ample proportions?”

  The colonel laughed heartily and commented, “I am not at all surprised!”

  When they reached the palace they were ushered into the Prince Regent’s presence immediately. When the door had closed behind the majordomo, the prince eyed Darcy with some apprehension and said, “Well?”

  “Well, Your Majesty, I can report some success with my errand.”

  “What the devil does that mean, Darcy?”

  “I will give you a précis of the tale, Your Majesty, if you will give me leave.” He paused briefly for the prince’s nod of assent.

  “My man and I left London the morning of the fifteenth and hired a ship
to take us from Dover to Calais. The weather was a little stormy, but we found a captain who was planning to make the passage anyway and convinced him to earn a little extra money transporting us. We took the post chaise to Paris and found lodgings near Frau Klein’s auberge. Over the next week we watched her appartement and I met with her almost every evening to discuss the ransom, but she was just playing cat and mouse with me; I could see she had no intention of giving up the letters without the money. My man made friends with the lady’s maid and convinced her to obtain the letters for us if she could get them. She thought that her mistress kept them in her dressing case, which mademoiselle was not permitted to touch, but she was finally able to break into the case while Frau Klein was entertaining a gentleman. The man who was visiting apparently is English and visits her occasionally for some type of business. When the Frau expects him the maid is sent on an errand, always something which takes an hour or more to perform. On this occasion, the resourceful girl pretended to go out then quietly returned and crept into her mistress’s bedchamber. She was prepared to use a hairpin to open the lock, but she found the case unlocked and there were no letters inside.

  “On March the twenty-ninth, the English batteries south of the city began a desultory firing upon the city. They did not seem to be very serious about the bombardment, but there was some minor damage to a few buildings in the area. The populace, however, was panicking and pouring out of the buildings to flee, and I suspected that the Frau would use the disorder to try to flee with the letters now that she was undoubtedly convinced that she was not going to receive the money she was seeking. I stationed my man at the rear door of the auberge, and I took the front. My man caught her leaving through the rear, shrouded in an enveloping cloak. Her maid obliged by searching her person, and she found the packet of letters in the pocket of her petticoat. There were two bundles, the thicker of which was tied in pink ribbon and directed on the outside to you, Your Majesty.”

  Darcy pulled the packet out of his breast pocket and handed them to the Prince Regent, who rifled through them quickly.

  “There are twenty-two letters in the packet. I trust that is all of them, Your Majesty?”

  “I believe so. It looks about the right thickness.”

  “Then, if you will give us permission to withdraw, we will leave you in peace, Your Majesty. I would give you one piece of advice, however, Your Majesty. Burn the letters or they will give another blackmailer another chance in the future.”

  The prince was engrossed in reading the letters and merely waved his hand in dismissal, so the two men bowed and left St. James Palace.

  When they had regained the carriage, Darcy spoke, “Cousin, I did not tell His Majesty the entire truth in there.”

  “What do you mean?” the colonel said in surprise.

  “I did not just look at the directions on the letters. I felt that I needed to truly confirm that they were the letters we needed, so I read one of them.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam merely looked at him enquiringly, one brow raised.

  “It was from Mrs. Fitzherbert and addressed His Majesty as ‘My Dearest Husband.’”

  “Good Lord,” the colonel exclaimed quietly. “So he really did marry her. Were the letters dated before his marriage to the Princess of Wales?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then it was no exaggeration to say that they could affect the succession, was it?”

  “No. Although the marriage was not legitimate in the eyes of the law since it was not legally sanctioned by the king, it could be legitimate in the eyes of the Church, which would make the Prince Regent a bigamist. I hope he destroys the letters. He was a fool to keep them in the first place.”

  “I am appalled,” the colonel said in a resigned tone. “I cannot believe that His Majesty would be so blind as to think that it was safe to keep them. It is an open invitation to blackmail at the very least, as we have already seen. Imagine if she had succeeded in delivering them to Napoleon.” He shook his head in dismay.

  “Well, it is over now. I pray God he has no other incriminating items that he is keeping secreted in his rooms.”

  “Amen, Cousin.”

  “Now, I have one other piece of business for you, which I think you will find interesting.”

  The colonel raised his brows. “More business?”

  “Yes. I mentioned that when I obtained the prince’s letters from Frau Klein, there were two additional letters in a separate packet. Both were directed to her. He drew two envelopes from his breast pocket and handed them to his cousin. They were on thin, poor quality paper and were written with a leaky quill. The first said,

  Frau Klein,—

  I have all the merchandise your employer requested and will deliver on April the twentieth. W. is becoming nervous and does not trust me. He insists on accompanying me. We may need to deal with him. I will meet you in Calais at the usual place and time.—

  Schwartzmann

  The second letter was in a similar hand and simply said,

  It is too dangerous to wait until the twentieth. I must deliver earlier. Meet me on the fourteenth.—

  Schwartzmann

  The colonel looked at them, a frown on his face.

  “These are written in English in what looks like an English hand, yet the writer has a German name or nickname. What does Schwartzmann mean in English?”

  “Did you not learn German?”

  “You know I despised my German master,” he said with a grin.

  Darcy sighed and shook his head. “It could be a description or an attempt to hide his identity as well as a name. It means Black Man.”

  The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “Or could it be Blackman?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Darcy, this is in strictest confidence. Horace Blackman is a sea captain who has been an informant for the Crown for many years. Only a handful of men at the palace know of his identity. It sounds from the letter as if the correspondent is smuggling something. If he is meeting the lady in Calais on the fourteenth, he must be leaving Dover on the thirteenth at the very latest, and today is the eleventh. If he is the one who is smuggling the arms to Napoleon then…” He paused for a moment in thought and then said sharply, “Take me back to the palace, Darcy. I must speak to someone immediately.”

  Darcy obligingly ordered the coachman to turn around and head back towards St. James Palace, where he dropped his cousin.

  ***

  The colonel did not reappear at Longford House, where Georgiana was having the finishing touches put on her ballgown. She examined herself in the glass critically. The creamy, sheer silk with the fine lace emphasised her clear complexion and fit beautifully, the bodice delightfully décolleté. Her gloves came above her elbows and fit like a second skin. Her silk fan had a delicate floral design which added a touch of colour to her ensemble as she opened it and practised giving it a slight flutter as she peeked over the top of it. A little coy, but not bad, she thought. She put her shoulders back and turned to see the side view. Very nice. Thank heavens she had a good figure! She went into the sitting-room where her aunt and Elizabeth were waiting and rotated with her arms out so they could see the gown and then opened the fan so they could envision the entire effect at the ball.

  Lady Whitwell gave her a pleased smile. “Lovely, Georgiana, dear.”

  Georgiana looked at Elizabeth for her opinion.

  “You look positively delicious, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  “Take off the gown, dear girl. Do you wish to take it to Ashbourne House, or would you prefer to dress here before we go?”

  “Since we are going together I may as well come here to dress. Can Hatfield do my hair, or should I bring Durand?”

  Her aunt considered. “Durand has not done your hair for a ball and she is still a little inexperienced. Bring her with you and she can assist and learn from Hatfield.”
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  “That sounds like a splendid idea. Shall we go, Elizabeth? We both should rest before the big night and Kitty will return from the Gardiner’s in a few hours.”

  “I am ready whenever you are.”

  “It will only take me a moment to change.”

  ***

  On the way home in the carriage, Georgiana cleared her throat and hesitantly said, “Elizabeth… I think that after tonight’s ball I will move to Longford House until my presentation, if that is all right with you.”

  “Why of course, if you want, my dear.”

  “I thought that I would take Kitty with me so that you and my brother may have some time alone.” She blushed slightly in embarrassment.

  Elizabeth squeezed her hand and thanked her with a quiet smile:

  “You are very sweet, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

  “Just promise me that you will come to Longford House every day to help me, my dear sister,” she added in an anxious tone. “I am relying on you.”

  “An easy promise to make—I would not miss it for the world.”

  ***

  That evening, Elizabeth and Kitty dressed early and escorted Georgiana to her aunt’s house. Kitty’s eyes sparkled in excitement over the prospect of being the guest of an earl, and she was occupied with her own thoughts in the carriage. On the way to Longford House Elizabeth said, “Georgiana, I understand from your aunt that your cousin Lord St. George will be at the ball tonight.”

  Georgiana answered indifferently, “Yes, I heard something of the sort.”

  “I have heard very little about the colonel’s brother,” Elizabeth said. “What is he like?”

  “In looks he is rather similar to the colonel—fairly tall with curly brown hair and blue eyes—but in temper he is quite different.” Her voice became tart. “His name is George Lewis Winslow Fitzwilliam, Viscount St. George, and he is aware of that title and of the fact that he will inherit the earldom from his father, every minute of the day, I do assure you.”

  “It doesn’t sound as if you like him very much, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said in surprise.