The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (33 page)

He tensed and waited for the group's attention to lessen before he forced himself to nonchalantly say, “I have been sent by my family to address an issue at Alpin Hall.”

“There be truble?” Munro asked suspiciously.

“No trouble. Some concerns for my cousin.” The fact that this man insisted on questioning him came as a warning. Men of Munro's disposition did not make simple conversation. In fact, his presence would normally be statement enough. Despite despising every moment of his service in the British army, Wickham was still a soldier, and he had developed specific skills to recognize an enemy. He had endured hours of training to fight a foe he had never met. His instincts now said that the man called “Munro” could be involved in Georgiana's disappearance. As he carefully observed the man through slitted eyes, he added, “My cousin has lost her way on the moor.”

Munro rearranged his cards, but Wickham became aware of an unusual stillness about the man—a stillness that spoke of death. “What be the gel's looks? Mayhap we be seeing her.” The other men at the table chimed in their agreements.

Wickham took no heed of the others. Only this dangerous stranger mattered. He thought to tell Munro a lie, but then he reconsidered. It would be best to observe carefully the man's reaction. “Mrs. Fitzwilliam is of a little less than twenty years of age. In
truth, it has been several years since I last beheld her, but I suspect my cousin has altered little. She should be to my shoulder in height, very lithe, with golden blonde hair, and eyes of blue.”

One of the other men asked, “Ye say the lady be a missus. Where be her husband?”

Wickham constructed his tale as he shuffled the cards. “In all reality, the Major General likely lies on a bloody battlefield in Belgium.”

“So no one searches for the lady?” Munro rearranged his hand.

“Only me and a few the Earl's staff.”

The men nodded their understanding. “Too busy to search for their own,” the man on his right grumbled.

Realizing he needed a bit more legitimacy, Wickham added a significant fact he had discovered over a similar game in Pemberley's stables. “With the Major General's long-overdue arrival, I imagine the Earl is seeing to his heirs. If the spare is gone, the eldest son's newborn has taken on more significance than usual. The family's bloodline is reduced to the Viscount and his son.”

“Ye be not part of the inheritance?” Munro asked.

Wickham's frown crumbled, and he laughed robustly. “Not unless I could arrange to kill off the four poppycocks ahead of me in succession.”

“Fer the right price,” Munro said menacingly.

Wickham said haughtily. “If I had the right price, I would not be in a public inn in Ayrshire.”

“No, I donnae suppose ye wud.”

With a few discreetly placed inquiries, Wickham determined that the menacing Munro was part of the MacBethan family, which oversaw Normanna Hall.
The same estate at which the trader reported seeing Mrs. Fitzwilliam's horse
, Wickham said to himself as he enjoyed a brief
respite from the card game with an evening meal. He watched as Munro MacBethan claimed another pot.
I imagine the gentleman is a poor loser, as well
.

Wickham scowled as he considered his options. If he were to tarry in Ayr, he must first determine if Georgiana Fitzwilliam had taken refuge at Normanna Hall, and if she had, had the lady done so of her own free will? He continued to wonder about the sensibility of pursuing his former friend's sister.
But it could shift the power to my grasp
, he observed silently.
Honor would require Darcy to act against his natural arrogance. At a minimum, Darcy would have to permit me my freedom. There is also the possibility of a reward. Darcy's pride would require it
.

They had circled the manor house and crossed the lower gardens and the pastureland. “We should return to the house.” Domhnall noted the increasing shadows.

The girl sighed deeply. “Thank you, my Lord. The exercise and the fresh air have bolstered my spirits.”

“As they have mine,” he said intimately.

She had fidgeted when he leveled his gaze upon her, but his tone created a calm. “You might think me brazen, but I must know: why have you spoken to me so personally? What do you expect of me?”

Domhnall curled his fingers hard around her wrist. “I have no way of explaining it. I cannot allow my mother to manipulate another to her own ends.” Realizing his grasp bruised her pale skin, he released his hold and then gently kissed the inside of her wrists.

Her breath caught. “What would you do with me?”

“I would bind you, m'Lady, to me forever.”

She gave herself a small shake to clear her thinking. This situation had become more bizarre than ever. She had no clear memory of her family or her former life. She was relatively certain that Lady
Wotherspoon had taken her as a captive with the purpose of placing her in Aulay's way. She knew absolutely that the MacBethans currently held her prisoner. Now, the eldest, Lord Wotherspoon, offered her a position as his wife. At least, she thought he meant to marry her. Perhaps Domhnall MacBethan meant to make her his mistress. “Without the truth of my past, I have no future.”

After questioning each of the Alpin staff who had come in contact with their recent guest, Darcy held no doubt that their intruder was none other than George Wickham. “How much did the man pilfer?” Darcy asked flatly.

Elizabeth watched him with those sometimes hazel, sometimes forest green eyes that seemed always to speak to his soul. “Mrs. Jacks has not completed her accounting, but she reports several pieces of silver and two sets of candlesticks of note.”

“Likely very much more,” Darcy grumbled as he strode to the window. “I have considered how we must proceed.”

“It is late in the day,” Elizabeth noted.

Darcy's anger rose to a red haze, and he struggled not to alarm her. “I have sent the head groomsman to the village. I want additional men scouring every inch of the estate and the surrounding area with the first streaks of light. Until I find my sister, no rock is to remain unturned.”

Elizabeth observed cautiously, “There is an abundance of rocks to search.”

Darcy wished to rail at her about the injustice of it all. How could a benevolent God have permitted anything foul to happen to Georgiana? “What if my sister suffered alone?” he asked in pure frustration. “What if Georgiana died on the moor and her remains are even now being abused by some wild animal?”

Elizabeth rushed to his side. “Fitzwilliam, you must stop this madness. Georgiana is not dead. I refuse to accept our sister's passing. She may not be well, but Georgiana has not left us. Your sister is a part of you. Do you truly feel her loss?”

Darcy reached for her hand. “I feel the white, serious heat of my anger. The severe ache chipping away at my heart. I try to fight the images conjured up by my own ineffectiveness. Yet, I cannot permit my mind to consider Georgiana's absence from my life.” He sank heavily onto the window seat.

Elizabeth knelt before him and caressed his chin. “Oh, my love. Do not despair so. We are in Scotland, and we shall not rest until we find our sister. Georgiana is much stronger than you give her credit for being. She is likely injured, but we can rectify that quickly enough. She may even be in a place where she cannot send us word of her survival, but my heart tells me that Georgiana has not met our Maker.”

Darcy turned his cheek into her palm and accepted her tenderness. He said valiantly, “I will place my hopes in your most capable hands, Mrs. Darcy.” He kissed her inner wrist.

Elizabeth pulled over a footstool upon which to sit. “Then let us plan the search. Besides sending the groomsman to recruit others, what should we do?”

“I plan to call at the MacBethan estate tomorrow. It is the only clue we possess. Did Georgiana's horse wander in? Is she recovering at this family's expense? If my sister is not at the MacBethan estate, and the family has no knowledge of her existence, then I want to ascertain where the horse was found.”

Keeping her voice even, Elizabeth asked, “And what of Lieutenant Wickham? Do you think him likely to use what he knows of Georgiana's disappearance to feather his bed?”

Darcy's jaw tightened as if a sharp pain frayed his nerves. “Absolutely. If he can benefit from the effort, Lieutenant Wickham would
defy the Prince Regent. Lieutenant Wickham has no way of knowing whether I have brought the law after him after his attack and Mr. Joseph's injury. The man is many things, but unintelligent is not among them. He must realize that I will not rest until justice is served. That I will not turn my head and offer the other cheek. The man has repeatedly slapped away my proffered hand. Lieutenant Wickham's continued perfidy has tarnished my revered father's memory. My promise to my father no longer holds my allegiance.” He sighed deeply. “You must realize, Elizabeth, that I can no longer protect your sister. The man set out to kill me.”

“Of course not,” she said automatically. Darcy knew her loyalty had deep roots, but he gratefully accepted her decision to choose her life with him over her need to protect her sister. “You have been most generous to the Wickhams. No one may say otherwise.”

When Munro MacBethan called it an early night, Wickham waited long enough for the man to resaddle his mount before making his own excuses. He had ordered his horse held in readiness. Watching Munro ride away into the darkening shadows, Wickham mounted and turned his horse in a tight circle before giving pursuit. “Let us see which way our pigeon flies,” he said to the stallion as he allowed it to break into a canter.