by Jennifer Joy
Georgiana was stunned. Was he more concerned about his daughter's reputation than her safety? He would prefer for her to have been kidnapped than to have eloped with a lowly tutor?
Elizabeth moved her arm in front of Georgiana. "Of course. You were wise to entrust Mr. Nelson with her recovery." Turning to Mr. Nelson, she added, "We wish you success in your endeavor."
Georgiana felt weak and foolish. Would that she had thought to say what came so easily for Elizabeth.
When Mr. Nelson turned to face her, she felt her cheeks burn in shame.
He asked, "What is the name of the tutor?" adding for Mr. Morton's benefit, "I merely ask because he might be aware of another's evil intent toward Miss Morton."
She hesitated, hating how her pause would appear like uncertainty. That could not be further from the truth. It only took her a moment to adjust after she had been preparing herself for the rebuke that had yet to come. "Mr. Turvey. He is a kind man," Georgiana replied.
Mr. Morton's flabby jowls shook in rage.
"Then I am certain he will prove helpful. Thank you, Miss Darcy. If you will excuse me, I must away," Mr. Nelson said, his smile warming Georgiana's heart and confusing her mind. He ought to be upset with her, but his appearance and manners gave no evidence of it.
Elizabeth ushered Georgiana away from the apoplectic Mr. Morton. During the course of the evening, Georgiana felt her attention on her several times, confirming she was not imagining things when she caught Elizabeth looking at her askance.
Georgiana thought of a dozen different ways she could have better managed matters that evening. No doubt, Elizabeth could think of more, and her constant peeks were trying Georgiana's patience.
"What?" she finally asked.
Elizabeth smiled coyly. "I should not wonder if Mr. Nelson calls when he returns."
It was a question Georgiana spent the remainder of the evening pondering.
Chapter 5
Georgiana settled Ben on her lap, resting his chubby, sticky fingers on top of her hands as she pressed the keys of the pianoforte in the music room. She rubbed her cheek against his wispy, brown hair and inhaled his sweet, baby scent before he outgrew it.
At three years, Ben was taller than many boys his age. He also got into more mischief than most, but his disposition was so open and playful, it was impossible to correct him without cracking a smile. Even William struggled to control his expressions when discussing his son's antics.
Elizabeth rocked Rose, who was as serene as her brother was active. It was time for her afternoon nap, but Ben was intent on entertaining his little sister. He took her happiness seriously, viewing it as his personal responsibility to make Rose giggle. Crawling down from Georgiana's lap, he danced like a little monkey and made funny faces.
Rose's hearty belly laugh filled the room. It was impossible not to join in her glee. Elizabeth covered her children's cheeks with kisses. Ben squealed, squirming until he occupied William's arms, then squealing in delight when William tickled him.
Georgiana wrapped her empty arms around herself. Would she ever find the same happiness her brother had found with Elizabeth? They complimented each other perfectly.
Elizabeth sighed contentedly. "There is nothing like the sound of a child's laughter," she said, giving up her attempt to calm Rose to sleep.
The only dark cloud in the room was Lydia. She had been in a surly mood since their return from the ball the evening before. Not even Ben's playfulness or Rose's laughter pulled her away from the window where she peered outside with a gloomy expression that rivaled the rain clouds in the sky.
With a huff, Lydia crossed her arms and turned to them. "How am I not yet engaged? I am far prettier than most of the other ladies. I danced with every gentleman present — even the toads — and yet, I am as single now as I have ever been."
Chloe, sensing her mistress' distress, nudged Lydia's hand with her nose and licked her fingertips.
Ben's eyes widened. "They had dancing toads at the ball?" he said, shooting an acute look of disappointment at his mother for the marvels he missed because of his early bedtime.
Georgiana held her peace. Lydia did not want for advice, but rather, for the opportunity to air her complaints.
Flailing her arms heavenward dramatically, Lydia continued her diatribe. "Some ladies have all the excitement. Why does nothing exciting ever happen to me?"
"Dancing toads are exciting," mumbled Ben, pulling a smooth, round stone out of his pocket and flicking it across the carpet for Chloe to chase.
Lydia must have heard about Miss Morton. Though word had spread of her kidnapping, it would not last. Not when an elopement explained her disappearance fully — especially given Mr. Morton's reaction to the suggestion. The man had turned as purple as a beet.
Elizabeth warned, "Be careful for what you wish, Lydia."
Naturally, Georgiana's thoughts turned to Mr. Nelson. Was there room in his life for anything beyond his profession and investigations?
"I wonder if Mr. Nelson was able to find Miss Morton before she did something her father would regret," Elizabeth said, cooing at Rose and smiling at Ben, who scratched Chloe's tummy until her back leg shook uncontrollably.
Had Elizabeth guessed her thoughts? While Georgiana treasured her friendship and ability to see beyond Georgiana's cool demeanor, she did not wish to be so transparent. Some thoughts were best kept to oneself.
A complete change in the subject would be too obvious, and so Georgiana altered its focus slightly. "I suspect Miss Morton would rather marry a man she loves than to be stuck in an arranged marriage that would benefit her family at the cost of her happiness. No matter what Mr. Nelson finds, someone is bound to be disappointed."
Georgiana knew how fortunate she was. Both of her brothers had married for love, and they would allow her to do the same. William would never use her as a pawn to gain fortune or prominence as many society fathers did.
However, though she had been careful not to place undue importance on anything concerning Mr. Nelson, Georgiana could not help but notice how silent William had become.
Lydia plopped onto a chair, patting her lap for Chloe to join her. "I wish I could have seen Mr. Nelson. I was too busy dancing and avoiding Mrs. Wiggins to take notice, for all the good that did me. I shall content myself that the evening was not a total failure if my best friend wins a worthwhile suitor."
William scowled.
Impervious to his reaction, Lydia continued, "What does Mr. Nelson look like? Is he handsome? Is he wealthy?"
Elizabeth shifted Rose over to her other shoulder, effectively hiding her smile from William.
Georgiana wanted to hide behind her hands, to press her cool fingers against her burning face. But in two breaths, she regained control of herself. Choosing her words carefully, Georgiana answered, "He is tall and thin, a gentleman who is no stranger to activity. His hair is the color of sand. He has a firm chin and eyes that waver between green and gray." She left out how bright his smile was and how it illuminated his face and darkened his eyes to the shades of a jade forest. Also omitted was how in his presence she had instantly felt secure … and important. The intensity of his gaze bespoke an undivided interest in her. Far from the judging looks she loathed.
The silence in the room nudged Georgiana out of her thoughts. How long had she been lost in her own meditations?
Elizabeth smiled slyly at Georgiana, answering the question with the reply she had feared. Too long.
"My love, we ought to invite Mr. Nelson to dine with us when he returns. It would be the perfect opportunity to renew our acquaintance with him as well as learn the results of his chase after Miss Morton's alleged kidnapper."
William gritted his teeth.
Lydia exclaimed, "How diverting! We could hear all the details first, and I shall be much in demand in relating them."
Elizabeth chided her sister. "You will do nothing of the sort."
"If Mr. Nelson is truly interested in my sister, he will find his way
to Darcy House without me inviting him," William snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and flaring his nostrils like an angry bull.
Snuggling Rose to her, Elizabeth said under her breath, "Oh, what awaits you when you become of an age to marry."
William groaned, his expression one of misery as he met Georgiana's gaze. She imagined he saw the innocent maiden of fifteen years who had been so easily persuaded to give her heart to a man who had taken everything she blindly gave of herself without any proof he would offer her more than promises in return.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "With two overly protective older brothers guarding Georgie like ill-tempered, fire-breathing dragons, it would be a wonder for any gentleman to brave calling at all."
Elizabeth quieted William with a touch on his arm. "It is true. You have the whole male population in London afraid of you with your stern looks and gruff manners."
"Good," he stated firmly and without a hint of remorse.
Elizabeth bit her lips. She knew the limitation at which teasing became torture to her husband, and she never pushed that boundary without good reason.
Georgiana watched her brother's struggle and the pensive calculations visible on Elizabeth's aspect. She did not know what to say to ease the tension in the room, while Elizabeth seemed to enjoy the conflict.
Finally, Elizabeth said, "It would seem you have gained another protector in Mr. Nelson. I saw how he got you out of the way of those three scoundrels seeking to win their stupid bet. William's darkest glares are no match when there is the lure of a fortune to be won." She looked to her husband. "I am sorry, dear, but you know it to be true."
Poor William clenched his fists. He would take on every money-grubbing, fortune seeker in London single-handedly for Georgiana, and she loved him for it. He was quick to rise in her defense.
But he had his own family now. He had his daughter, precious Rose, to protect and his son, sweet-hearted Ben, to guide. Not to mention Elizabeth, who deserved William's full attention. Georgiana did not want him to suffer on her behalf, nor to impose on his time with her troubles.
She reassured him, "You have nothing to fear from Mr. Nelson. He behaved the perfect gentleman."
Loudly, Lydia said, "But who knows when you will see him again? Has it not been years since your paths last crossed?"
Elizabeth pinched her face at her sister. "He will call."
In her heart, Georgiana hoped so, though she took care not to show it.
Chapter 6
Five days had passed since Michael had left London — days forever lost to him. Days wasted.
He had ridden like the wind, exchanging horses as soon as they showed the first hints of fatigue in his haste to intervene before the escaped couple made a poor start to their union by defying the wishes of the lady's father. And Michael had ridden just as hard on his return home, knowing Nathan would need him.
Of every day of the year, this was the most wretched — the anniversary of the day Nathan's father had finally succumbed to the bitterness slowly eating away at him since he had lost his fortune. He had died inside debtor's prison before Nathan was able to change their circumstances, the last member of his family to survive their shame.
Nathan would be overwrought with anguish, and it was up to Michael to pull his friend out of the past with all of its festering venom.
Dusty and sweaty from his journey, Michael pressed onward. He ought to have changed his clothes before going to Mr. Morton's, but there had been no time. He doubted Mr. Morton would have taken his news any better had he been more presentable.
Michael did not appreciate the extent of his exhaustion until his apartment came into view and stepping one foot in front of the other became a trial. It was an emotionally draining end to a physically demanding journey. He was disappointed, but for the sake of his friend, he could not dwell on it.
Leaning his shoulder against the door, his hands too weary to push it open without the extra weight, Michael entered his room.
Nathan sat in front of the empty fireplace nursing a snifter of brandy he must have brought with him. Aside from the wine he drank with his dinner, Michael preferred not to imbibe. It dulled his senses, and nobody ever improved their situation by ignoring the painful emotions a trial thrust upon them.
From the hazy look in Nathan's eye and the low level of liquid in the decanter on the table beside him, he had been seeking consolation for his old wounds for some time now. Michael was too late.
Going to the fireplace, Michael arranged the tinder to light. The room was cold, but Nathan did not seem to feel it. He stared blankly in front of him, swirling his half-empty glass.
Michael did not know how to lessen his friend's grief, so he said the only thing he could. "I am sorry, Nathan."
Nathan's jaw clenched, and he clasped his snifter with a grip Michael feared would shatter the glass and slice his friend's hand open. With a strained voice, Nathan said, "Let us talk of other matters. Tell me where you have been."
The first flames flickered to life, and Michael joined Nathan in the chair opposite. His disheartening news would have to wait. "I took your suggestion and danced at the ball," he said instead.
He wanted to tell Nathan about Miss Darcy. But he feared the news would be too happy and have the opposite effect on his friend. A middle ground of emotion was his aim. Nothing extreme.
"Excellent," Nathan said, his tone devoid of the emotion the word usually carried.
"I enjoyed myself for some time."
"Until?"
Michael did not like the negative turn Nathan demanded in their conversation. He kept his tone light. "You are astute. A gentleman required my help in chasing after his daughter just as I had renewed an old acquaintance with a charming family."
"You allowed him to interrupt your diversion when you ought to have told him to go away?"
"You know me too well. Of course, I did, and a fine chase he sent me on, too," Nathan said, now able to appreciate the irony of it by the warmth of the fire.
"Pray tell me what happened. Anything to get my mind off the path it has gone," Nathan begged. Desperation pinched his eyes, and he shoved his glass away from him on the table, the contents spilling over the sides.
His grief was greater this year, reinforcing Michael's presentiment that there was another motive behind Nathan's wretchedness. He prayed it had nothing to do with Miss Gladden, but he feared it had everything to do with her.
Trusting Nathan's discretion, Michael said, "A gentleman by the name of Morton sent me after his daughter, fearing she had been kidnapped at the ball."
"Kidnapped!" Nathan scoffed. "More likely she ran off with some poor fool of whom her father would never approve."
"Miss Morton fled town of her own accord, as you discerned, but I was too late to prevent her marriage to her dancing tutor."
"Her dancing tutor? Now, that is rich! Mr. Morton will be the laughingstock of the ton," Nathan said with a chuckle that was too gleeful for Michael's taste.
"I also doubted the wisdom of such a match, the lady being accustomed to all the fineries her upbringing granted her. However, the couple looked so contented together, I departed from the north confident in the knowledge Mr. Morton might be consoled with the happiness of his daughter. While she did not marry into a fortune or a title, she was fortunate to have married for love."
Nathan scoffed again. "Let me guess. Mr. Morton held a different view about his daughter's marriage and future." His words dripped with scorn and a bitterness Michael had not heard since his last visit to Nathan's father. Mr. Bradford had been full of venom and spite. It had consumed him like gangrene.
"He claims he will disinherit her, but I have reasons to doubt he will go through with it. While her match will affect his family's standing in society, Mr. Morton's concerns were not entirely rooted in the loss of the prospects he stood to gain through a more advantageous match. He fears she will become bitter with her husband when he is unable to provide what she has taken for granted since birth
; that her friends will spurn her company now that she has permanently attached herself to a tradesman. Mr. Morton is of the opinion he does her no favors by softening the consequences of her actions."
As much as it pained Michael to agree with anything Mr. Morton had said, he had to admit there was a lot of truth to his views — unjust though they were.
Nathan sneered. "Ah, the taint of trade. He is right. Society will scorn her. All the upper classes are the same, without exception."
Michael bit his tongue. He dared not ask about the Gladdens now, for Nathan's animosity was proof his conversation with Mr. Gladden had not gone well. What had happened? Michael wished to console his friend, but he knew better than to press for details Nathan would willingly share in his own time.
Staring into the blazing flames, Nathan continued, "They only look after their own best interests without a thought for others. My father was right."
Michael gasped. He could not believe Nathan would cast the same defamation over a lady like Miss Darcy as he did over the degenerates who had swindled his father and cast Nathan out when he made his fortune in trade. "Your speech reeks of bitterness. You must let the past go before it consumes you as it did your father," Michael warned.
"How can I forget when we were forced out of our home and society's good opinion? When I watched my mother, then my sister, and finally my father succumb to despair in debtor's prison — a wretched place where we did not rightly belong? If I am bitter, it is deservedly so."
Michael knew the circumstances which led men to despair; that drove men mad and made them seek the peace of death rather than the tumultuous course a man who fought to better his life chose. But he had to hang onto the hope that not every man was a lost cause; that he could be of some use in easing their struggles; that every person, no matter how poor and ill-used was worth the trouble. It was this belief that drove Michael to work as hard as he did.
He had to help Nathan see. "But you have done well for yourself. You have amassed a fortune great enough to rival the wealthiest families. Your wardrobe is the envy of Beau Brummell."