The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (43 page)

“Ye be askin' about the gel. About yer Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”

Every nerve ending came alive as Darcy set his own bowl of stew on the small table with a loud thwack. Out of his eye's corner, he had seen his cousin stiffen. “What do you know of Mrs. Fitzwilliam?” he demanded.

The change in his tone must have warned the Scot that the man trod on dangerous ground. Their captive swallowed deeply. “I 'ave been 'onest with you. Even spoke ag'inst me own family.”

Darcy threatened with his tone. “Your point being what, MacBethan?”

The Scot shot a glance at Edward's menacing scowl. “I want out. Want me own place, but I's need a stake to start ag'in.”

“If what you say proves true,” Darcy said before Edward could respond, “then you will be fairly rewarded. However, if you lead us a merry chase, I will permit my cousin to take out his frustrations on you.” Darcy leaned closer to the man—his face mere inches
from the Scot's. “I assure you, MacBethan, the Major General has learned his lessons well on both the battlefields of the American front, where the Indians scalp their captives, and on the Continent, where the guillotine takes a different cut. Mrs. Fitzwilliam is his wife. He would not take kindly to your playing games with us.”

Once more, MacBethan's Adam's apple worked hard to swallow his fear. “I understand, Sir,” he said on a rasp. “I'll tell ye the truth.” It was the first time that the Scot had lost some of his swagger, and Darcy judged the man to be speaking honestly.

“How do you know of Mrs. Fitzwilliam?” Edward's voice held the cold restraint Darcy had expected.

MacBethan eyed them both with caution. “I's met a man recently over a card table in Cumnock. He be English, and he tells a tale of a missin' cousin.”

Darcy shot a glance at Edward. “Could you describe the man?”

“We be callin' him handsome. Like a woman only with a touch of manliness. His appearance be greatly in 'is favor; he 'ad all the best part of beauty—fine countenance, a good figure...” His voice trailed off as if he recognized their interest.

Darcy nodded to his cousin, who understood completely that the Scot spoke of Wickham. “Go on,” Darcy encouraged. “This man spoke of Mrs. Fitzwilliam?”

“Aye, Sir. But I be suspicious when I leaves the card table. I's ride to Kirkconnel to learn more of the lady. I be on me return when ye stop me on Normanna's lands.”

Darcy demanded, “Did you hope to profit from Mrs. Fitzwilliams's disappearance?” Even though MacBethan answered honestly, he despised how the man told only bits of the truth. Why could the Scot not tell the whole story without their questioning him so thoroughly? What was the man hiding?

“Not until I's sees me aunt earlier in the day. I be thinkin' when I come across Aunt Dolina out on the moor that I need to escape Normanna. If'n I kin find a way, I be foolish not to take advantage of me opportunities.”

Edward purposely fingered his sword's blade to make a point. “Your tale makes little sense. You meet an Englishman and then ride out of your way to learn of a woman whom you have never met.”

MacBethan's eyes followed Edward's gesture. “I be leavin' out why the Englishman's speech brings me to seek out Mrs. Fitzwilliam.” He turned his head to speak directly to Darcy. “Aunt Dolina had set me a task.”

Darcy fought the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. Would the man never complete his tale? “And that would be?”

MacBethan continued cautiously, “To discover Lady Esme's true identity.”

“Lady Esme?” Edward's scrutiny increased.

The Scot winced. “The gel Dolina 'as chosen fer her youngest son Aulay, although word 'as it that Domhnall 'as taken a liking to the gel.”

“Then Lord Wotherspoon purposely hid the woman's presence from us?” Darcy accused.

“I doubt me cousin saw it as such,” MacBethan said. “Domhnall jist be discoverin' of late the extent of his mother's maneuverings. Did ye ask Wotherspoon about Mrs. Fitzwilliam?”

“No,” Darcy said softly. Did all Scotsmen despise the English so much that they would purposely lie rather than to help his fellow man? “We thought it best only to ask of the horse.”

“As Domhnall likely knew nothing of the 'orse, me cousin most naturally dinnae judge the connection. And even if he did consider on it, he likely be cautious in disclosing the lady's presence to complete strangers.”

Edward refused to deem what Lord Wotherspoon did or did not know. Darcy's cousin simply wanted straight answers. He demanded, “What task did Lady Wotherspoon set?”

The Scot's confidence faded when he looked upon the major general's banked anger. “Dolina be savin' the gel for Aulay. Lady Esme 'olds no memory of her life before comin' to Normanna. Dolina sent me to discover wot I cud of the gel's history. Me aunt means to marry off the woman as soon as possible.”

“If this woman is Mrs. Fitzwilliam, she already has a husband,” Edward hissed.

“Then Dolina asks fer a reward to keep quiet. Besides the gel claims her husband be dead. She 'as no father fer her child.”

“A child?” Edward's voice exploded in the small room. He was on his feet immediately. “Georgiana is with child?” He turned pleadingly to Darcy.

“Not to my knowledge,” Darcy said quietly. “But my sister has been away from Pemberley for nearly six weeks. Perhaps she wished to tell you before telling the rest of the family. But allow me to caution you, Cousin. We do not know for certain that Lady Esme is our family.”

Edward paced the open area. He ignored Darcy's suggestion of prudence. “We must recover Georgiana, Darcy.”

Darcy stood before his cousin. “We will, but we require more information before we can go using a battering ram on Normanna's door.”

Edward nodded curtly. Then he pulled his chair to where MacBethan would see only him. “You will tell us everything you know of this Lady Esme and where she is being held inside Normanna Hall.”

Domhnall knocked sharply on Lady Esme's door. He had set himself the task of ridding his home of his mother's influence and that exorcism would begin with Lady Esme Lockhart. When the door opened to reveal the woman who had quickly captured his heart, Domhnall breathed more easily. “Would you walk with me, my Lady?”

A quick nod signaled her agreement. She closed the door behind her and accepted his proffered arm. Domhnall turned their steps toward the garden's entrance. He waited until they were well away from the house before he spoke. “Normanna had visitors today.”

She kept her eyes diverted from his gaze, which worried him more than Domhnall would have cared to admit. “I observed the gentlemen from my window.”

“Did you recognize them, my Lady?” he asked with more calmness than his racing heart would betray.

Her eyes sharpened. “Should I have?”

“The gentlemen inquired of a missing horse, but I wondered if they knew of your presence at my home,” he confessed. “If they be your family, my Lady, I will return you safely to their bosom.”

“And if I am not part of the gentlemen's families?” she asked tentatively.

He brought her fingertips to his lips. “I have developed an affection for you, Esme. Without destroying everything for which my ancestors stood, it is my wish to clear Normanna of all vestiges of my mother's reign. I would claim you as my own and pledge to spend my days as your husband and protector. I would raise your child as my own and offer him or her a fine settlement upon his coming of age.”

“Tell me of the gentlemen, Lord Wotherspoon,” she said simply.

Domhnall seated her on a wooden bench, but he did not relinquish her hand. “They were a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Major General Edward Fitzwilliam, whose family owns a property in Galloway.” Domhnall reached into his pocket to retrieve two calling cards and handed them to her. He watched closely as Esme examined the cards carefully before she returned them to his open palm. “Do you recognize either name?” he asked anxiously.

She shook her head in the negative, and Domhnall expelled the breath he did not know he held. “I do not believe the gentlemen are my kinfolk,” she said with some disappointment.

Domhnall squeezed her hand. “In many ways I am sorry for it, my Lady; yet, my heart speaks a different language. I wish nothing more than to bestow my name upon you.”

“Yet, I maintain the need to know of my past, my Lord. Before I can make a commitment, I must know the truth of how I came to Normanna.”

“Could you describe the woman known as Lady Esme?” Darcy asked with more calm than he felt. He had to keep Edward focused while attaining as much information as he could from Munro MacBethan.

“Ye will see me paid fer me information?” the Scot asked tentatively.

Darcy's gaze narrowed. “If what you say proves true, then you will earn my gratitude, but if you waste our time with some perverted scheme, you will find Scotland too small to escape my wrath.”

The Scot nodded his understanding. “I only see the gel twice. Once when she be in the cells and once when she walked about with Wotherspoon.” Neither Darcy nor his cousin responded, so MacBethan continued his tale. “The lass be fair of hair and lithe of figure.”

“How tall?” Edward asked.

“Mayhap to me shoulder,” MacBethan responded.

Darcy said softly. “Taller than Georgiana.” He meant it as a caution to his cousin not to place all his hopes on MacBethan's story, but Edward was singular in his thoughts. Darcy understood the major general's urgency; he felt it also. Every day that Georgiana went unfound decreased their chances of locating his sister alive, but something about MacBethan's tale spoke of sclerous devices operating at Normanna.

“What else can you tell us of the woman?” Edward sounded remarkably calm for a man whose face held such sorrow.

“The gel be English in 'er speech and 'er manners,” MacBethan declared. “That be probably the reason Domhnall 'as taken a liking to Lady Esme. He spent most of 'is life in England. Me cousin could never convince 'is first wife Maighread to reside in England, while Domhnall could not tolerate livin' in 'is homeland.”

Darcy took up a position by the window. He attempted nonchalance. He would ask questions not of Georgiana's disappearance but of Wotherspoon's obvious nefarious actions. “You spoke previously of this woman, Lady Esme, being held in a cell. What type of cell?”

“There be cells from the monastery's ruins. Even religious men have enemies.” A shiver shook MacBethan's shoulders. “It not be a place for good men, Mr. Darcy.”

“And what happens to those held in the cells?” Darcy asked cautiously. He thought he knew the answer, but he would have MacBethan spell out the truth.