The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (52 page)

ELIZABETH RAISED HER EYES to meet the deep blue of Georgiana's. “I have never been so happy to see anyone.” She was on her knees before the girl. Instantly, Georgiana caught her up in a strong embrace.

“I had lost hope,” Georgiana whispered.

Elizabeth caressed the girl's cheek. “You should know that neither your brother nor I would rest until we found you.”

“Where is Fitzwilliam?” Tears began to trek across Georgiana's cheeks.

“Your brother will arrive shortly,” Elizabeth said softly. She glanced to where Lieutenant Wickham obviously eavesdropped on their conversation. “As crazy as it sounds, I had a vision of where I might find you. When I described this place, Mr. Jacks located a groom who recognized my sketch of the cottage's exterior.”

Georgiana grinned widely. “I believe it wholeheartedly. I had dreams of someone tending to my needs, and I imagined it was you. Actually, at first, I thought it was my mother.”

Elizabeth wiped away the girl's tears. “Who says it was not Lady Anne? I am certain that the former Mrs. Darcy looks down fondly upon her children.” She kissed Georgiana's cheek. “Now, allow me to tend your ankle; otherwise, the Major General shall have my head if you suffer further.”

Georgiana caught her breath on a sob. “Edward is here?”

“Oh, yes, the man is quite adamant about finding you quickly.” Elizabeth teased, “You must do something to calm our cousin's surly
nature.” She winked at Darcy's sister before lifting Georgiana's skirt to examine the girl's ankle. However, she could not wipe the smile from your words when she noted how Georgiana sat taller and how the girl unconsciously tried to straighten her hair. “I expect both the Major General and Mr. Darcy shall shower you with affection.” Elizabeth braced Georgiana's foot on her lap. “This is quite unique. However did you conjure up the idea?” She carefully turned the girl's leg to admire the makeshift splint.

Georgiana giggled nervously. “I really do not remember how this came about. I woke from a dream in which I had tended my leg to find I had broken the chair and tied the rundles to either side of my ankle. Did I do it properly?”

“I would say that it was an exemplary effort.” Elizabeth untied a few of the cloth strips that Georgiana had, obviously, torn from her petticoat. She retied them carefully. “As it shall take some time to return you to Alpin Hall, it is probably best to leave your creative medicine in place. It shall assist the bone in healing faster. Do you have other injuries?”

Georgiana shook her head in the negative. “A few bruises which have already turned lighter in their healing and more scrapes than I care to mention. A major dent in my pride.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, that your brother has enough pride for the two of you,” Wickham said sarcastically from behind them.

Elizabeth gently returned Georgiana's foot to the floor. Turning toward where Lieutenant Wickham sat with his back to them, she picked up a torn sheet from the bed and came to stand beside him. Motioning for the man to remove the blanket, she sat about examining a bruised area under his left arm. Enjoying bringing the man a bit of physical pain, she pressed a bit harder than necessary against
his injury. Smiling sweetly, she said, “So you believe Mr. Darcy has too much pride?”

Wickham winced as she poked the swollen area below his left nipple. “You once said…the same…of the man,” he countered.

Elizabeth used her thumb to massage the multicolored area. “You speak the truth, Lieutenant Wickham. I once thought Mr. Darcy was eaten up with pride. Yet, now my husband's pride does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favor, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud. And despite what you may accuse, Mr. Darcy has never been idle. He has nearly doubled Pemberley's wealth.”

“I could easily forgive Mr. Darcy's pride if he had not mortified mine,” Wickham said harshly.

“Pride,” Georgiana observed from where she remained on the cot, “is a very common failing. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinions of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us. I would pronounce Fitzwilliam as possessing pride.”

Wickham had turned his head to watch her carefully. “I suppose that means that you would pronounce me vain, Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” he said scornfully.

Georgiana raised her chin defiantly. “Those are your words, Lieutenant Wickham.”

Elizabeth bit back her cheer. Georgiana had suffered so after the girl's botched elopement with the man. Mr. Wickham had recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart had retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, so much so that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to the elopement. But fifteen and unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she looked up to almost as a father, Georgiana had acknowledged the whole of the matter to Darcy. Elizabeth's husband had protected his sister without public exposure of Georgiana's credit and feelings. Yet, even with the girl's shame hidden from everyone but Darcy and Edward Fitzwilliam, it was many years before Georgiana would willingly meet another's eyes. Darcy had required Elizabeth's assistance in handling a romantic-hearted girl straight from the schoolroom. Over the past three years, she and Georgiana had shared every female confidence possible. They were more than sisters in marriage. “Permit me to wrap your ribs, Lieutenant Wickham,” Elizabeth said as she distracted him from his fixed glare on Georgiana's countenance. She pressed the heel of her hand against an especially tender spot on his chest. Taking the sheet and tearing it into strips, she began to tightly wrap Wickham's ribcage. “There. That should assist in the healing, but you should seek a surgeon's opinion as soon as possible.”

Testing his movements, Wickham stood slowly. “I am eternally grateful for your
tender
care, Mrs. Darcy, but I will take my leave of you lovely ladies.” He reached for his still-damp shirt. “You require private time to reunite, and I cannot imagine that Darcy will approve of my accompanying you and Mrs. Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth straightened and began to clear away the mess. She tossed the pieces of cloth into the fire and casually reached for the
water pitcher. “We shall take our loss with a saddened heart,” she taunted. Finally, she paused in her tidying. “Might I ask, Lieutenant Wickham, how you planned to escape our company?”

Wickham stirred uncomfortably. He considered carefully before speaking. “Although I respect your and Mrs. Fitzwilliam's newfound proficiency in weaponry, I am well aware that neither of you has the desire to shoot an unarmed man. It is not within your natures.” He slipped the shirt over his head and began to stuff the ends of it into his breeches. “Besides, I do not believe you would purposely create widowhood for Mrs. Wickham,” he said confidently.

“You are likely correct, Sir,” Elizabeth observed. “I doubt if Lydia would relish the idea of wearing black for a year. Although I must admit the idea of enjoying my sister's company on a regular basis does have its merits. I can hardly extend an invitation to Pemberley to the man who tried to kill my husband,” she said tartly.

Wickham chuckled ironically. He resumed his seat and worked his feet into the water-saturated boots. “I understand your objection, Mrs. Darcy.” He stood again. “I do not suppose there is any chance you rode astride?”

“Astride, Lieutenant Wickham?” Elizabeth said coyly. “Actually, I traveled by gig. I have forsaken equestrian pleasures for the time being.” She glanced over her shoulder at Georgiana. “I have not told Fitzwilliam. I wanted to find you first. I am enceinte again. Bennet will have to share his father's attention with a younger sibling.”

Georgiana's face lit with delight. “Oh, Lizzy, that is wonderful. We shall raise our children together.”

Elizabeth was instantly in Georgiana's arms. “Edward will be beside himself with happiness. The Countess will ask the bishop to celebrate your child's christening.”

On the other side of the room, Wickham cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to be the damp sponge in this family reunion, but I require a horse or a carriage.”

Elizabeth said with a great deal of enthusiasm, “That may be a problem, Lieutenant Wickham. I sent Mr. Jacks with the gig to find Mr. Darcy. Until my husband and his cousin arrive, we shall have to make the best of our situation. Of course, I suppose you could set off across the moor on foot, but as it shall be dark soon. I would not recommend it.”

Edward's patience with the situation had worn thin. “Could we not settle this madness? My wife remains on the moor, and I mean to find her,” he said harshly.

“I have instructed Weir to release each of those held below. He has moved them into the smaller bedchambers and has arranged food and clothing,” Darcy said. “Those who fought in Lady Wotherspoon's behalf are locked away in the cells they once protected.”

“A taste of the horrors they inflicted on others,” Edward said ironically.

Darcy smiled wryly. “A fit ending.” He gestured to where Wotherspoon spoke softly to Lady Margaret. “We cannot hide what has happened here. Too many people possess a knowledge of Lady Wotherspoon's evil to mask the events.”

Edward said softly. “What do we do with Wotherspoon and the woman? Lady Margaret has, obviously, suffered enough—first with Samuel Vincent's death and then as Normanna's prisoner. She is enceinte. Has no husband. Has been embroiled in one scandal after another. I am not certain the lady can withstand another. Not in her condition.”

“Lord Wotherspoon appears to hold Lady Margaret in affection,” Darcy observed.

“Are you suggesting that we permit Wotherspoon to escape?” Edward said suspiciously.

Darcy leaned closer to maintain privacy. “Wotherspoon would be termed completely inept in his handling of his mother's lunacy, but he attempted to protect those taken against their wills, as well as salvaging his family's legacy. I cannot fault his heart—just his methods.”

Edward said with disgust, “
Inept
is too kind of a word for the gentleman's efforts.”

Darcy spoke with sympathy for what his cousin had witnessed during the war. “I disagree. Wotherspoon treated the prisoners with kindness.”

“Kindness?” Edward hissed. “I was in one of those cells. Filth. Darkness. Starvation. Chained to the wall!”

Darcy countered, “Under Lady Wotherspoon, it was as you have said, but His Lordship made changes. He permitted the prisoners to reclaim their lives. He did it in small increments to allow those kept below time to resume their dignities. Then he bestowed a settlement on each in order that he might rebuild his life. You know better than I the horrors those held as prisoners suffer. You have seen it first hand. But you have also seen how those men continue to suffer when they return to society. I do not know whether Wotherspoon's method could prove kinder, but the man considered how those who had experienced the worst of Lady Wotherspoon's evil would resume their daily lives. His actions were not malicious.”

“If it is as you say,” Edward conceded half-heartedly, “then what do you advise?”

“We
suggest
that Wotherspoon and Lady Margaret retreat to the Continent. The man has evidently proposed previously,” Darcy reasoned.

“I concede to your insights,” Edward said grudgingly. “I will oversee what happens below stairs. You should speak to the couple.”