One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (61 page)

“Aunt Catherine?”

“She returned to London as soon as her prey left the field.” Fitzwilliam picked up a book and thumbed through it. “She was really quite
 
put out
 
with your sudden departure.”

“That is excellent—I am glad she came away. What news of ... Collins?” Darcy asked, almost as an afterthought.

“Well, now, there
 
is
 
a bit of news, to be sure.” Fitzwilliam stepped to the far side of the room, away from Darcy. “Mr. Collins came to the house with the Bennets while I was speaking with Aunt Catherine. I did not know he was in the house.”

“What does that mean; you '
did not know
?'“ Darcy stood, his eyes riveted on his cousin.

“In some respects, I cannot tell you exactly what it means—I do not know all the particulars....”

“Particulars? What particulars?” Darcy's face reddened. “You were supposed to protect her from him!”

“I will tell you what I know if you will just calm yourself.” Fitzwilliam sat down, maintaining an erect posture. “Are you quite certain you wish to hear it? You will not like it.”

“Cease with this prevaricating, Fitzwilliam, and get on with it.”

“Very well. When I came across Collins, he was in the bedchamber alone with Miss Elizabeth, who was reclining in the bed, fully covered by the bedclothes. He was leaning across her, as though he had been sitting just a moment before, although one of his hands covered her mouth and the other pinned her down as she struggled against him.”

Darcy fell backward into his chair and covered his face with his hands, exhaling loudly. “Was she...?”

“Compromised?” Fitzwilliam suggested and shrugged his shoulders. “The harpies of the
 
ton
 
would say yes, but for practical purposes, no, it did not go that far. I interrogated Collins thoroughly, and I am satisfied that we got to the essence of the matter. The incident began when he proposed to her, and when she refused him, he would not believe she was sincere. He was pressing her for a different answer when I arrived—I believe in the aroused state he was in, he well may have compromised her—had I not intervened.”

Darcy raked his hands through his hair. “The man must be publicly disgraced, exposed and removed from his position. It cannot stand!”

“Would you expose Miss Bennet as well?” Fitzwilliam asked gravely. “Aunt Catherine would most certainly use such knowledge against her.”

Darcy looked pained. “Did he harm her?”

“I do not believe so.” Fitzwilliam crossed his leg, relaxing slightly.

“I could kill him.” Darcy said softly, through gritted teeth. “So help me, if he so much as bruised her, it may take your entire regiment to stop me from vengeance.”

“I am the fierce one who threatens death to scoundrels, Darcy.” Fitzwilliam scolded. “You are the one who keeps a cool head and prevents it. That is the order of things.”

“You need not remind me of it.” Darcy replied grimly. “Your threats against Wickham were of great interest to at least one officer of the law.”

“Turned me in, eh?” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “First I was cheated of the opportunity to dispatch Wickham, and now I am betrayed by my favorite relation. This is not a good day! It should be simple enough to sort out, however. There is nothing there to hold their interest. By what means was he killed?”

“His assassins were not so imaginative in their means as you would have been.” Darcy replied. “I believe he was bludgeoned to death.”

“How came you to hear of it?”

“He was left, nearly dead, upon the doorstep of this house. He died within moments, but not before he named me as his killer in front of a witness.” Darcy frowned. “That was a lie, but I know not who it was that did it.”

“Whoever did it knew enough of your object to bring Wickham here.” Fitzwilliam stood and began to pace. “An accomplice, perhaps?”

“I openly sent men into the streets in search of Wickham. Half of all London knew of my desire to locate him,” Darcy railed against himself.

“Then half of all London is suspect, I imagine,” Fitzwilliam replied cheerily. “That narrows the field considerably—only half the city.”

“I was the prime suspect for a short time.” Darcy frowned and then added with a slight smile, “Now it is you.”

“You, a suspect for murder? Preposterous! Which runner had the audacity to level such an accusation?” Fitzwilliam finally appeared bothered by what Darcy was saying.

“It was not a runner, Fitzwilliam, but the first policeman on the scene—an officer of no true consequence. I sent a dispatch to Sir Vincent Parker at Bow Street once the officer quit the house. Justice will prevail, and I suspect we may never see that particular officer again.”

“Why did you not eject the man from the house? He had no right!” Fitzwilliam was indignant.

“Cooperation, cousin, establishes that I have nothing to hide. I have already disclosed any incriminating facts they may stumble upon in an investigation, which he is certain to relate to his superiors. In particular, it is possible that Bow Street will discover the letter Georgiana wrote to Wickham, so I told them of it myself first.”

“So there is a letter.” Fitzwilliam sighed and shook his head. “We must find it before anyone else does.”

“Agreed,” Darcy replied with a firm nod, looking meaningfully at his cousin. “It has been over seven years since we engaged in such a venture—I never expected to do so again. Our costumes from before are woefully unsuitable.”

“If that is code for 'they do not fit anymore,' never fear. I will acquire new ones in the morning.” Fitzwilliam suppressed a laugh. “You are no longer the slight youth you once were.”

“You speak as though
 
you
 
are.” Darcy half-smiled. “I am more concerned about putting on vulgar manners than I am in finding coarse attire. We are no longer practiced, and have never done it for serious reasons, but for sport only, and even then only in our youth.”

“It is like riding a horse, Darcy. Once you learn to do it, you never really forget, and our former adventures will serve in good stead for the matter at hand.” Fitzwilliam laughed. “What shall we call ourselves?”

“Fools?” Darcy suggested.

“When it is over, we may have the luxury of saying so, but for now, I shall be Smythe, and you shall be Hedgecock.” Fitzwilliam said with a grin. “We are both George, to remind us why we are doing it.”

Darcy snorted. “Hedgecock, I know full well, means 'son of Richard'—your ruse to make me your subordinate has failed. I will choose my own name—I will be Pratt.” Darcy replied. “We must wait until after Sir Vincent has gone to don our disguises, and then we may be about our business. Although I abhor the very thought of this masquerade, I have given the matter much thought, and it is for the best. It will be a relief when we have brought Wickham's machinations to an end.”

“Aye,” said Richard sympathetically, “and a relief to return to Hertfordshire. It must be hard to be away from her at such a time.”

“It is,” Darcy replied as his thoughts turned back to Elizabeth. “Richard, I am unsettled and restless, as though there is something I have missed—some hidden danger lurking to injure me or those I care for.”

“I have felt the same.” Fitzwilliam replied. “I sense that something is amiss at Netherfield. How well do you know Bingley's sisters?”

“Very well, I think,” Darcy replied, knitting his brow at the question. “What do you imply?”

“There is a look about Miss Bingley that I do not trust. She looks upon you with a mercenary eye, and at Miss Elizabeth with malevolence when she believes no one observes her.”

“It is true that she has spoken ill of Miss Elizabeth, seeking my agreement; indeed, she has so spoken of the entire Bennet family.” Darcy reflected. “I suspect, although I have no evidence to support it, that she harbors a hope that I may offer for her hand.”

“In truth, she is envious of your attentions toward Miss Bennet. You are not so naïve as to believe that a woman of her temperament will calmly stand aside, are you?” Fitzwilliam prodded. “She will act.”

“This is impossible, Richard!” Darcy began to pace. “I cannot possibly be in two places at once. I must tend to matters here before I can return to Hertfordshire, but now you tell me that she may be in some danger from Caroline Bingley? What am I to do?”

“I left a note for Bingley,” Fitzwilliam said. “I could not specifically accuse his own sister without cause, but I did warn him that only the maid or Miss Bennet should be left alone with Miss Elizabeth. I can only hope that he takes my meaning.”

“She cannot remain at Netherfield under these circumstances.” Darcy declared firmly. “I will send my best carriage tomorrow, first to Mr. Jones to arrange it, and then to convey Miss Elizabeth and her sister back to Longbourn. She will at least be safe at home.”

“There is only one problem with that plan.” Fitzwilliam replied.

“What?” asked Darcy impatiently.

Fitzwilliam laughed. “Bingley may never forgive you.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Is This Not Love?

J
ane arrived at the bedchamber where her sister slept, happier than she could ever recall being. So anxious was she to tell Elizabeth of their mother's delight at the news of the betrothal that when Elizabeth did not rouse upon the opening of the door, Jane crept over to the bed to discern if her sister might be sufficiently awake to give excuse to disturb her. She discovered her sister sleeping soundlessly. Indeed, Elizabeth lay so still and quiet in the bed that Jane was immediately alarmed, and she reached out to discover whether breath was still upon her sister's lips. She discerned that it seemed shallow and she laid her hand on Elizabeth's neck, relieved to find the pulsing of her heart to be steady and strong.

At Jane's touch, Elizabeth's eyes reluctantly opened and she granted her sister a sleepy smile.

“Well? Did my father manage to frighten Mr. Bingley away, or did he grant consent? I hope it is the latter, for I have become quite enamored of the idea of his being my brother.” Elizabeth sat up with a delighted smile.

“He consented most heartily, Lizzy, and Mama—she would have died and gone to heaven she was so carried away with the thought of Mr. Bingley as my husband. She was somewhat preoccupied with pin money and carriages to be sure, but Charles did not even mind. In fact he, quite agreed with everything Mama said. It was so amusing, dear Lizzy. I am sorry that you could not be there!” Jane sat dreamily on the side of the bed. “Mama failed to mention fine clothes and jewels, and Mr. Bingley, he took Mama by the hand and said, 'Do not forget that I shall dress your daughter in silks, madam, and adorn her lovely neck with pearls and sapphires. She shall have the very best of everything!' Mama was very nearly overcome! I wonder what is the opposite of nerves. Whatever it is, Mama had a very bad case of it!”

Elizabeth's contentment at Jane's good fortune was evident as she sat smiling in the bed. “I know that you are not thinking about such material concerns as Mama—what are your thoughts on the matter?”

“I scarcely know what I feel, Lizzy. I know that Mr. Bingley is the kindest and most amiable of men, and I do hold to the deepest belief that we will be very happy together. I shall devote all of my attentions to making him content in his situation,” Jane sighed. “He has sworn to do the same, so we shall go about our days seeing to one another's comfort. Is this not love?”

“It well may be, Jane, but if it is not, it is a worthy second to it. Such unselfish devotion cannot help but thrive in your hearts and become love, if it is not there already.” Elizabeth put her hand over Jane's. “Did they agree to the short engagement as you had hoped?”

Jane nodded. “Oh yes, just long enough to publish and read the banns, and the wedding shall be upon us. Our wedding is but three weeks and two days away, provided the church is available.”

“So soon?” Elizabeth's eyes widened in astonishment. “There is much to be done!”