For the majority of the ride to Darcy House, the gentlemen were in silent accordance of their fears and concerns regarding Darcy. Upon reaching his cousin’s house, the gentlemen scaled the steps quickly and immediately asked to speak with the butler. Their concerns were alleviated slightly to learn that, though Darcy had not had any kind of accident himself, he had quite abruptly secreted himself away at Pemberley for the better part of the last two months.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir. If I may say something?”
The colonel looked up from his impassioned pacing to see that Mrs. Carroll had entered the room to join her husband, the butler, in his interview regarding their master.
Colonel Fitzwilliam slowed to a stop and nodded to the housekeeper. “Have you something to add, Mrs. Carroll?”
He watched, somewhat more alarmed, as the usually composed, and frankly a little imposing, housekeeper wiped a tear from her eye with her apron. “I have been in contact with Mrs. Reynolds, sir, at Pemberley. We fear that the master is troubled by something. He works himself most exhaustingly during the day and then paces his chambers much of the night.”
“I see. Thank you, Mrs. Carroll.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam began to have some suspicions regarding his cousin’s behavior and was not best pleased by his stubborn determination to fight his inclination for this Miss Elizabeth Bennet. When the servants left the room and the gentlemen were once again alone, Colonel Fitzwilliam turned fiery eyes to Bingley.
“I could easily and quite happily box his ears!”
“I do not believe I understand your frustration, Colonel. I agree that whatever is troubling my friend must be grave indeed for him to be so uncharacteristically reclusive but — ”
The colonel laughed, effectively halting Bingley’s speech. “Uncharacteristically reclusive? Do we speak of the same man? Darcy’s very character is defined by his reclusiveness! He prefers to keep his own counsel, especially when he ought to do the opposite — the bacon-brained buffoon.”
Bingley sat silent for a minute. “I suppose I would have to confess that I am usually the one seeking counsel.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam waved away Bingley’s guilt-ridden words. “He does not wish to burden others and is arrogant enough to believe it is his responsibility to fix everything himself.”
“What do you suppose is troubling him, Colonel?” Bingley said as he helped himself to a generous measure of Darcy’s port. Though the colonel had brushed off his concerns, Bingley was acutely aware that he had never quite been as useful a friend to Darcy as his friend had been to him. He sought now to remedy that in some way.
“I haven’t a clue, to be sure, but I would wager my quarterly earnings it has something to do with this lady.”
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Indeed, it is my experience that a lady is almost always to blame when a man acts foolishly. Delightfully charming, little wicked darlings. God love them.”
“It is a wonder you are still a bachelor, my friend.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked at Bingley’s wry tone. He went to pour himself a measure of port, too, and took up a relaxed pose in a chair by the hearth.
Noting his companion’s change in anxiety, Bingley questioned him. “Are you not concerned for your cousin anymore, Colonel?”
Richard shrugged and brought the glass up level with his eye as he watched the colors from the fire dance through the liquid. “Not in the least, my dear sir. There is nothing so easy as working my cousin. It takes only provocation.”
“I confess, Colonel, I am not following your logic in the least. Kindly explain what you mean regarding Miss Elizabeth and Darcy. What is it you suspect of him?” Bingley was baffled as he took up the chair across from the military man.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over to his companion with a smile. “The way I see it, my cousin has again determined in his mind that there is some impediment with regards to this lady.”
Bingley’s brows rose, though he said nothing.
“Darcy is fantastically able to imagine problems of his own invention and skilled at stubbornly standing behind them.”
“And you plan to provoke him past his stumbling blocks?”
“Indeed and get his addle-pated arse back to Hertfordshire to win the lady’s hand so that we all might enjoy a damn drink and stop worrying about him.”
Bingley half smiled, detecting the familial bond the gentleman before him felt for his cousin. Despite his easy manners just now, Bingley could detect a small amount of concern lurking behind the colonel’s eyes. Glad to have some useful part to play, Bingley said, “In that you may find some difficulty, Colonel.’
“And how is that?”
“Because I escorted the lady here in my carriage with her sister short of a se’nnight ago. Jane is shopping for her trousseau, and Miss Elizabeth was to travel on to Kent for a few weeks.”
“What the devil is she doing in Kent?” the colonel asked with some frustration. He was beginning to feel like a director having to deal with the emotional fits of his actors.
Bingley’s brows lowered in reflection as he lifted his glass in preparation to take a drink after he finished speaking. “She travelled on from London with her neighbor to visit his daughter, her friend. She has been out of sorts since her accident, and her father felt she needed a change of scenery, so he sent her to Hunsford.”
“Hunsford?” Colonel Fitzwilliam sat up, a smile growing at his lips. “This friend of hers, she resides in that village?”
“She is lately married to the vicar there. Mr. Collins lives in the parsonage in Hunsford. In fact, I believe his patronage is through your aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The parson said as much when I was introduced to him in November.”
“Indeed? Interesting. So Miss Elizabeth is in Hunsford, a mere mile from Rosings Park.”
“Yes, and I am sorry to say I do not know the duration of her stay. I could ask my betrothed about her sister’s travel plans if you wish, sir.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam waved the offer away with a smile, strategies already formulating in his military-trained mind. “I believe, Mr. Bingley, it is quite time for Darcy’s and my annual visit to our Aunt Catherine. Indeed, I believe I shall depart tomorrow and collect my chuckle-headed cousin from Pemberley.”
Chapter 22
“Miss Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you are most welcome to Pemberley,” Mrs. Reynolds said tenderly as she embraced the former and patted the cheek of the latter. Barely reacting to their unexpected appearance, she turned quickly to issue a few clear orders to the servants regarding chambers for the new arrivals before she turned once again to them. “I do not believe the master is expecting you and will, no doubt, be very pleased at your surprise.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed at this, “I am certain you are correct at least with your prediction, Mrs. Reynolds. He is certain to be much surprised, though ‘pleased’ remains to be seen. Where might I find the dear man?”
The housekeeper eyed Colonel Fitzwilliam with a knowing glint after recognizing the slightly forthright tone in the gentleman’s voice and actually found herself sighing with relief. Her master’s constant exertion was troubling. Colonel Fitzwilliam at least seemed on a mission to look into its cause, but if he were piqued at Darcy for another reason, she at least knew the colonel could be trusted to take notice of her master’s distraction and demand some kind of explanation.
“He is currently in the library, sir. Shall I notify him of your arrival?”
Georgiana spoke up then. “Not just yet, Mrs. Reynolds. Let us freshen up a bit from our journey, and we shall surprise him after.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at his young cousin with surprise and a little chagrin, as he had planned to charge into battle directly upon reaching Pemberley. He was also a little unhappy with her use of the collective when it came to speaking to her brother. He anticipated a heated skirmish and did not wish to offend her sensibilities by being witness to it.
The housekeeper smiled and nodded
, lifting her hand to indicate they were free to ascend the steps to their usual quarters.
Upon reaching the landing, Colonel Fitzwilliam made to go right towards his usual chambers while at Pemberley when he felt Georgiana forestall him, pulling him in the opposite direction towards hers. When questioned, she shot him a stern look but did not answer until they were securely enclosed in her sitting room.
Rounding on her cousin, Georgiana crossed her arms about her and spoke fiercely. “I certainly hope the thought has not occurred to you, Cousin, to confront my brother without me.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam started at this and, with an amused smile at her show of temper, replied, “Indeed, I had, Sprite. There is no need for you to concern yourself with this. I shall have your brother sorted out in no time. Lord knows I have plenty of practice at it.”
Richard laughed to himself, though the humor died on his lips when he looked across to his cousin, expecting her to share in his wit, and instead found a face devoid of humor and quite stridently fixed in a scowl. He sobered immediately, frankly a little intimidated by this new side of his young cousin. He had always experienced her tender and timid character with pleasure, almost as one might automatically love a sweet, little puppy. Before him stood an angry terrier in a periwinkle muslin traveling gown.
“Georgie, you said you were pleasure-bound when you requested to accompany me. I regret to inform you that I am not here on a pleasurable holiday. Your brother’s behavior of late has been more than disconcerting, and I intend to root out the source of it,” he said carefully though indulgently.
“I am surprised that you bought that bounder, Richard.”
“Georgie! A lady does not say such words,” admonished the good colonel, shocked by her language. He was certainly out of his element when it came to training females. His expertise and comfort lay in unruly youth enlisting in the militia. Young men were infinitely less foreboding than young ladies. Although he was her guardian, Georgiana had always had governesses or companions for that sort of feminine stickiness. He looked at her and saw that his rebuke fell on deaf ears.
“Not without me, you will not, Richard. I am not a child anymore, and he is my brother. My claim on him is greater than yours.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brows rose at her unyielding tone. He rubbed his jaw, uncharacteristically discomposed by her and realizing, with a touch of sadness, that she was correct at least partially; she was no child anymore. He walked to and fro another minute, contemplating her request — nay, demand. Although he was inclined to indulge her in this, especially after this show, he did not want her to know the extent of her power over him at that moment. After making her wait another minute, he stopped and fixed her with his own fierce glare, usually found disconcerting to any of his soldiers. Georgiana did not so much as blink an eye as she waited, delicate arms crossed about her chest, a dainty slippered foot tapping the carpet.
“Very well, Georgiana.”
He watched, baffled, as she smiled broadly, bounced up and down in excitement, and ran up to bestow a sweet kiss upon his cheek. This transformation back to the sweet puppy left him speechless.
“Oh thank you, Richard! I am certain that together we shall help my brother be well.”
“On one condition, Sprite!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, clearing his throat and the confusion from his mind. “We will do this my way, Georgiana. I know you love your brother, but in this, you must trust me to lead the way.”
She nodded eagerly and dismissed him with gentle, though determined, nudges towards the door. “Splendid, now go, Richard, I shall require a half hour to refresh myself and will meet you directly thereafter.”
Before Colonel Fitzwilliam could say another word, he found himself deposited outside her sitting room and the door at his back closed with a decided click. He stood there stunned for a minute, trying to decipher what had just happened, how he had been so browbeaten by his young cousin, and frankly a little proud of her. An amused smile began to tug at the edges of his lips as his bafflement transformed into good humor. He shook his head in wonder as he took himself to his own chambers to freshen and prepare for his — their — interview with Darcy.
* * *
Colonel Fitzwilliam eyed Georgiana with slight circumspection when she approached him, looking demur and docile in a refreshed gown of sage green. Never again would he underestimate her. It seemed that his young cousin had a bit of her brother’s stubborn determination, and it was as frightening as it was delightful.
Together they approached the library door and entered only to gape at the scene that met them. Stacks of books were piled high on many of the tables around the room, and the usually brilliantly maintained and warmly furnished room was in complete disarray. The most astonishing part of the scene before them was that of William standing on the top of a stool in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, covered in dust, his hair sticking up every which way. A few servants were scattered about below him, and his steward sat tiredly at a large table with many papers strewn about him.
At the sound of their entrance, all activity stopped, and the occupants of the room looked at the newcomers. Immediately, the steward stood, and the servants assumed their usual subservient positions, hands at their side, prepared to exit. Darcy stared, frozen on his perch. Then, blinking a few times before coming to life with an uneasy laugh, he came down from the ladder to welcome them.
“Georgiana, Richard, what a pleasant surprise. I had not known you were coming.”
Richard could see through the pinched smile and appearance of delight that Darcy bestowed as he came towards them. Clearly, his cousin was surprised but did not necessarily find it ‘pleasant.’
“Brother,” Georgiana began hesitantly, walking carefully into the room and looking about at the mess around her. “What have you done to our library?”
Darcy brushed awkwardly at the grey sleeves of his shirt, dirtied from their usual pristine white to that hue, straightened his waistcoat, and laughed a little uneasily. “As you see, my dear, we are cataloguing the books. There was no order to the room, and Jacobs and I are putting it all to rights.”
“Forgive me if I speak out of turn here, being that I am but a simple army soldier, but this does not seem like the normal job for a steward, let alone the master of the house,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a disbelieving look about him.
Darcy coughed, clearing his throat with discomfort. He was not happy for the interruption and certainly not happy to see his cousin at his door asking all manner of questions. He was bound to ask questions that Darcy did not want to answer. “Indeed, you are correct, Cousin. But we have had an unusually efficient few weeks, have we not Jacobs? I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.”
“Sir, I will leave you now to visit with your relations. Welcome home, Miss Georgiana. Welcome to Pemberley, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Jacobs motioned to the servants to leave with him, feeling all the strangeness of the situation and relieved for the break it provided.
“No, no Jacobs. I am sure that is not necessary. My sister and cousin will likely wish to refresh themselves after their journey. We can resume while they do so,” Darcy said with an expectant look sweeping from his steward to the new arrivals.
“We have already refreshed ourselves, William,” Georgiana said with a frown as she took in the cluttered tabletop near her.
Darcy feigned pleasure at this news and said, “Ahh, wonderful. Well then, perhaps you will excuse me a moment; I should like to clean up myself. As you see, I am a disaster.”
“That you are, Darcy,” Richard said with more significance than Darcy thought necessary for a simple agreement. With a worried swallow, Darcy nodded to his relations and made to walk out the door. If he could just have a few moments to compose himself in his chambers, he felt certain that he could come up with some ruse to avoid Richard’s inquisition.
“On the contrary, William, I think you ought to stay.”
Darcy’s head whipped around, stu
nned at the uncompromising tone of his sister.
“You may wish to pay heed to her, Darcy. To my misfortune, I have already experienced your sister’s new proficiency in temper, and it rivals even yours.”
Darcy frowned at his cousin and looked again at his sweet, young sister. The look on her face caused Darcy to involuntarily step back, nodding numbly as he instead led the way to the secret door to his study. “Very well then, let us escape this jumble and retire to my study.”
Georgiana batted her eyes sweetly at her brother and took his arm so he might escort her. As they walked, she threw a look behind her at Colonel Fitzwilliam, a mischievous smile on her lips. It was all the colonel could do not to burst into laughter. He was beginning to admire this new side of Georgiana, as long as it was directed away from him.
Darcy left his sister to sit on a comfortable sofa as he poured first two glasses of sherry and then, upon consideration, poured a third. Still not sure what it was that had spurred Georgiana, he distributed the glasses and decided he would play along until the two of them were successfully satisfied with their interrogation — and interrogation, Darcy had no doubt, it would be.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked toward his young cousin to remind her that she should allow him to lead the discussion before he turned to look Darcy squarely in the eye.
Darcy had just lifted his glass to his mouth when his cousin spoke.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Sputtering, Darcy spilled his drink down his already disheveled shirt and coughed to clear his throat. He winced at the sound of her name, a pain lancing through his chest as profound as it had upon first discovering she had no memory of their time together or their love for each other.
When he achieved some semblance of control over himself, Darcy lifted scared eyes to his cousin, the misery apparent. He did not speak, the heart in his throat preventing it nonetheless.
Though Richard was moved by the burning man he saw in his cousin’s eyes, he knew that, if he did not press at the wound Darcy was suffering, it would never have a chance heal. It was swelling deep within, and he knew that his cousin would suffer greater pain should he not release the pressure.
Haunting Mr. Darcy Page 30