The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (15 page)

Elizabeth's mouth lifted in that devilishly wicked way that had always made his heart race. “Oh, what a punishment!” she feigned in shocked alarm. “To be held in the arms of the man I adore. How shall I endure it?'

Darcy wondered if he had ever thanked her properly for the happiness she had brought to his life. He certainly had tried, but had he succeeded? How would he ever know for certain that she understood the depth of his devotion? “You will persevere,” he assured, “because you have learned to
tolerate
my presence on the dance floor.”

“
Tolerance
is such a noble quality,” she teased.

Darcy winked at her before turning to those in the large drawing room. “Friends,” he said loudly to draw their attention. “Mrs. Darcy and I would be honored if you would join us on this makeshift dance floor. Mrs. Grange has graciously agreed to accompany our efforts.”

“How long have you served the Darcys?” George Wickham asked as he played a spade to take the hand. When he had stormed from the curate's cottage, he had not considered his purse's weakened state. Therefore, he had sought Pemberley's familiarity. He had employed a small shepherd's hut off the north pasture as shelter. Having spent his childhood on the estate, Wickham
knew the land nearly as well as Darcy. “Maybe better,” he had told himself. After all, his father had been old Mr. Darcy's land steward, an exalted position within the Darcy household. Darcy's father had served as Wickham's godfather, and the old man's kindness had been liberally bestowed.

Not a day had gone by that he had not cursed his youthful disregard of the opportunity, which had once presented itself. The former Mr. Darcy had supported him at school and afterwards at Cambridge, but he had squandered away the completion of his gentleman's education, having been sent down from university before Mr. George Darcy could intervene in his behalf.

The elder gentleman had thought that he might accept a living at Kympton as his profession, but Wickham had had other ideas. Forsaking his vicious propensities was not part of his nature, so having resolved against taking orders, Wickham had written to Darcy and had requested a more immediate pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment. At the time, he had considered studying the law; yet, he soon abandoned that aspiration to the joys of idleness and dissipation. For three years, he had avoided Darcy, but with the decease of the incumbent of the living, which had been designed for him, Wickham had applied to Darcy by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, by that time, were exceedingly bad, and his creditors had been hounding him for payments.

He had tried to convince Darcy that he had had a change of heart and that he was absolutely resolved on being ordained. After all, many of the divinity students were of Mr. Collins's ilk, knowing less about religion than did those to whom they delivered God's word. However, Darcy had adamantly refused. Even when he had reminded his former friend of old Darcy's intentions, Fitzwilliam Darcy ignored Wickham's entreaty. Just the thought of those days still brought a hard fist of panic to his stomach.

“Been working fer Mr. Darcy come on four years now,” the groom replied. “Me Pa worked for the master's father. They both be fine gentlemen.”

Wickham had removed his uniform jacket to lessen a chance of recognition. “I knew the present Mr. Darcy when we were both youths. He was a bit starchy in those days.”

“He ain't no easy man, but Mr. Darcy treat me right,” the man argued. “Not a fairer master in the shire.”

Wickham refused any kind thoughts of the man he had once called
friend
. He laid out his hand and reached for his winnings. He would have preferred a game with higher stakes, but he would accept these men's meager earnings. It was a convoluted way of stealing from Darcy.

“What goes on at the main house?” he asked casually. For a brief second, he wondered whether his wife had been permitted to join her family festivities. Lydia, despite her immaturity, had aligned herself with him. No one had ever shown him such loyalty. Maybe in the future, he should see to the girl's happiness. Resenting having been trapped in their marriage, he had never given Mrs. Wickham the opportunity to become a good wife. He could possibly mold her into the type of woman that he needed to advance in his military career. Lydia did have a pleasing personality, and she was adventurous. Yet, he would not consider any such move until he had exacted some form of revenge on Darcy for the slight he had suffered at the man's hands.

“Big party for Mrs. Darcy's sister and the local clergy, Mr. Winkler. Ye know the man?” the groom continued to speak for the group.

“No. I departed the neighborhood a decade since.” Wickham reshuffled the cards for the next round. “Is the whole family in attendance? I recall Mr. Darcy having a cousin that was as close as a brother.” He had always despised Edward Fitzwilliam. The
earl's youngest son had thought himself too far above Wickham to claim a close acquaintance, and Fitzwilliam had often counseled Darcy to ignore Wickham's taunts and schemes.

“That be the Major General. He and Miss Darcy marry in March. The new Mrs. Fitzwilliam not be at tonight's celebration. She be meetin' her husband in Scotland at the family home. He be fightin' old Boney until recently.”

Wickham continued his interest. “Really? I suppose that will be pleasant for them both. I mean, a man likes to have his woman beneath him.” He smiled congenially at the men sitting around the makeshift table in Darcy's barn.

The groom snickered. “That he do.”

Wickham thought of how he had once schemed to make Georgiana Darcy his wife. He had nearly gotten away with it, too. He had manipulated his former amour Mrs. Younge, who had secured a position as Miss Darcy's companion. The woman had been easy to seduce. Almost as easy as Darcy's little sister. He had plied the girl with reminders of his kindness to her as a child, and Georgiana's affectionate heart had retained a strong impression of those shared memories. In fact, Wickham was certain the girl had fallen in love with him.

However, Darcy had arrived before the intended elopement could take place. All his carefully executed plans had fallen through. Late in the night, he collected his belongings from where he had stashed them in a nearby copse. His resolve for revenge against the Darcys hardened against Georgiana, her aristocratic husband, and the haughty Fitzwilliam Darcy. He would have to content himself with Mrs. Darcy suffering indirectly for aligning herself with the Darcys of Pemberley.
After all
, he told himself with a wicked grin gracing his lips,
I cannot harm my wife's sister
.

“LIEUTENANT? IS SOMETHING AMISS?” Having his temporary aide follow him to Rosings Park had set Edward's disaster instincts on alert. He had called on his aunt and cousin as he awaited his release from duty. Lady Catherine's devitalized state had worried him, and he had made a point of spending time alone with the lady to better ascertain what had brought on his imperious aunt's reduced presence.

“It will be important that the household not treat Southland as an invalid,” he remarked as they shared tea in Her Ladyship's favorite drawing room.

His aunt smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her gown. “I shall speak directly to Mr. Varney and Mrs. Montgomery. It shall be as you suggest.”

“How goes Anne's transition to the estate's helm?” he asked nonchalantly.

Lady Catherine drew in a deep breath. “Anne has a good grasp of the ledgers, but she has no concept of the why and the wherefore of purchases and upkeep. It shall be a relief to welcome Captain Southland home.”

“Then Anne and Roman have found a measure of happiness in their joining?”

She busied herself with refilling her cup. “Neither shall handle the responsibilities of Rosings without the other. They have gaping weaknesses, but together, they shall persevere.”

“And you, Your Ladyship? How are you persevering?” Again he eyed his aunt suspiciously. Something was different, but Edward
could not pinpoint the exact change. Lady Catherine appeared less robust, but he was unsure whether that had to do with despondency over the idea of turning her beloved Rosings over to Anne, or whether is was something more pronounced.

“What do you insinuate, Edward?” Lady Catherine said tersely. “That I lack the magnanimity to see my daughter into my position?”

Before he could respond, Mr. Varney had interrupted their conversation with news of Lieutenant Conrad's unexpected arrival. Having asked the Rosings' butler to show his aide into the room and then having made a hasty introduction, Edward had asked, “Is something amiss?”

Conrad fixed his mouth in a tight line. “I beg your indulgence, Sir. Headquarters demanded that I seek you out.” He extended his hand, which held an official-looking letter.

Edward reached for the item. Despite his best efforts, his hand trembled as he accepted the message. “If Napoleon has escaped again, someone else must report to the Continent,” he said pointedly. Using the knife from the tea tray, he broke the wax seal and began to read. “What the…” he growled. “How could this happen?”

A raised eyebrow said his tone had worried his aunt. “What is it, Edward?”

“Some asinine clerk at Westminster has sent my parents and Georgiana news of my demise.” He was out of his chair and pacing the floor. “My God! The Earl must be devastated. And Georgiana. This mistake will destroy my wife. Lord! I apologize, Your Ladyship,” he rasped. “But I must leave. I must be to Derbyshire.”

She struggled to her feet with Conrad's assistance. “Of course, Edward. Tell me what I might do to settle this error. Poor Martin is likely to be apoplectic.”

“Would you write to the Earl and assure him of my survival? My father will believe you above some military missive. Explain to
him that I must reach Georgiana before this news becomes common knowledge. She is alone in Scotland, and I worry how she will handle such erroneous garble without family to support her.”

“I shall have Mr. Varney send for your horse. Go pack your things. I shall see to the rest.”

Edward caught her up in a quick embrace. “You are quite remarkable,” he whispered into her hair, and then he rushed from the room.

“As are you,” she murmured to his retreating form.

“You look absolutely lovely,” Lydia gushed as she joined her other sisters and their mother in Kitty's suite at Pemberley.

Kitty giggled. “I feel lovely.” She spun in place. “The gown is perfect.”

“I preferred the one Mrs. Swift designed,” Mrs. Bennet fussed over one of the seams, “but I bow to Jane's and Lizzy's knowledge of fashion. God only knows that I have no opportunity to observe the latest fashions in Hertfordshire. We are slow in the countryside to incorporate London's whims.”

Lizzy gave her mother's shoulder a quick squeeze. “Mrs. Bingley and I have cheated, Mama. We borrowed Mrs. Fitzwilliam's fashion plates.”

Kitty twirled again. “I do not care how it came about. This dress is exquisite. My gratitude knows no bounds.”

Elizabeth's smile tugged at her mouth's corners. “I have a present for you. This is from Mr. Darcy and me.” She handed Kitty a colorfully wrapped package.

“Oh, my,” Kitty gasped. With trembling fingers, she pulled the paper away and lifted the lid. “Lizzy,” she rasped breathily. “They are magnificent.”

“At Georgiana's wedding, I noticed your wearing the teardrop diamond. You seem never to remove it.”

Kitty thought of the secret she had shared with Major General Fitzwilliam and her special reward from the Prince Regent. “It is a gift from Mr. Winkler's grandmother,” she lied. She prayed that God would not strike her down for beginning her wedding day with an untruth.