The Phantom of Pemberley (48 page)

Fear and panic followed the recognition, and she bolted to escape; but he reached her before she could signal the others. He caught her possessively around the waist, clamping his free hand over her mouth to squelch her scream. “Lovely Georgiana,” he whispered huskily into her hair as she squirmed against him to set herself free. “You are coming with me, my Dear.”

His words sent her into stupefied terror; she kicked and twisted and pushed with all her might, but James easily handled her alarm with brute force. “Play nicely, Georgiana,” he hissed roughly in her ear. “Do not make me do something we will both regret.”

James began to drag the girl toward the secret opening. Using his weight to press her against the wall, he quickly released her mouth long enough to flick the U-shaped lever locking the passageway.

Yet, before he could catch her mouth again, the room’s door flew open, and he knew he was in trouble.

USING GEORGIANA’S LITHE body as a shield, James spun around to face the intruder, his grip tightening around the girl’s waist and his right, gloved hand recapturing her mouth. He plastered her back to his chest, jerking her head to the side so he might see over her shoulder. A split second later, Georgiana’s visitor stepped around the screen and came into full view.

Lydia Wickham’s normally large, wide-set eyes grew even larger—shock and confusion playing across her face. “What-what are you doing here?” she stammered breathlessly.

Pulling Georgiana tighter to him to lessen her struggle, James gave Lydia the perfect
smile
. “I came to find you, Sweetest,” he said calmly.

“Find me?” She stood transfixed, trying to make sense of the scene playing out before her. “Why did you need to find me?”

“I missed you, of course, Darling. I always miss you when you are not around.”

A long heartbeat kept Lydia from responding, but finally she managed to ask the right questions. “What are you doing in Miss Darcy’s room? Surely, you did not expect to find me here?” Her hands fisted on her hips as she allowed the color board to slip to the floor.

James’s smile purposely grew larger. “You know how
they
are, Darling. Darcy’s men would not let me through the front door: I am not good enough for the great Fitzwilliam Darcy to entertain.”
He gestured with a nod of his head to the dark opening standing ajar. “But I know this house. I had my ways of finding you.”

“You…you came through there?” Lydia pointed to the gaping darkness.

“Of course, Darling. No one can keep us apart, especially not the Darcys.” He edged Georgiana backward one step. “Now, Sweetheart, we must leave. Come along.”

“What are you doing to Miss Darcy?” Some of Lydia’s limited wits had returned.

James took another step toward his necessary escape.“She found me before I found you. She started to scream for help, but I could not let her set up an alarm. Not until we were safely away.” His voice held a practiced smoothness although he still wrestled with Georgiana physically.

“Truly?” Lydia whispered. “You came for me?” Her hands opened like a flower seeking the sun, and she reached for him.

“You know in your heart that I speak the truth.” Lydia stared mutely at him, weighing his words. “We must leave, Sweetest,” he said with some urgency.

“What about my things?” She asked tentatively, turning instinctively toward her room to retrieve them.

“There is not time,” he insisted. “We must leave now. Take Miss Darcy’s cloak, and we will send for the rest.You are aware that Darcy must not find me here. He will have me arrested for trespassing.”

Lydia looked closely at the obviously frightened Georgiana. “What of her?”

“I will tie Miss Darcy to the chair.” He pushed Darcy’s sister toward a straight-backed chair. “We will leave her for her brother to find.”

Lydia’s stubbornness took hold. “But what of Lizzy? I cannot just leave without saying farewell. And we planned to attend an assembly next week. We were to have new dresses made, and I promised to help chaperone Miss Darcy. Could we not just stay
at Pemberley for a few days? I am sure I can convince Lizzy,” she whined.

James’s patience snapped. “You crazy chit! Darcy is never going to accept me in his house. He always hated me—the women preferred me to him—even with all his money and connections!” He spit out the words. “Now, do as I tell you and go through that door, or you will pay dearly for disobeying me!”

Lydia’s head dropped in immediate submission.“I did not mean to anger you,” she mumbled.“I just thought Mr. Darcy might agree to help us again. That is why I came to see Lizzy. If Mr. Darcy saw fit to help us, we could start over.”

 

Edward Fitzwilliam burst through the study door, followed closely by Viscount Stafford. “Darcy, look at this!” The colonel shoved a small portrait at Darcy.

The master of Pemberley fought the inclination to yank the offending item from his cousin’s hand. Despite his apparent outer calm, his body recoiled in disgust. “I am well aware of the picture, Edward. It spent many years suspended among several other miniatures over the mantelpiece in my father’s favorite drawing room. At Elizabeth’s insistence, I placed it in storage with other mementos in the room currently occupied by Mrs. Darcy’s sister. In fact, Elizabeth and I agreed recently that the lady might take it with her when she leaves Pemberley.” Darcy stood and walked away, unable to look at the image of his former friend without feeling contempt course through his veins.

Edward followed closely, shadowing Darcy’s steps. “That explains why we found it on the table next to Mrs. Wickham’s bed, but that is not what makes this miniature important.”

Darcy turned angrily on his cousin—the reminder of Mr.Wickham angering him even more during this difficult time. “What is it, Edward? Why is this bloody portrait suddenly so paramount in importance?” He grabbed the picture from Edward’s outstretched palm and threw it against the wall, watching with pleasure as the small frame splintered into a dozen pieces.

Edward caught Darcy by both shoulders, forcing his cousin to listen to him. Eye to eye, Edward held Darcy’s shoulders in a viselike grip.“Jatson—the footman,” he began, pronouncing the words slowly—ensuring that Darcy understood. “Mr. St. Denis swears the man in the portrait is the man with whom he fought outside the east wing chambers—the man who tried to kill him.”

 

Elizabeth stuck her head in Lydia’s room, but seeing no one about, she hurried along the hallway to Georgiana’s chamber. She had retrieved some lace and muslin swatches from her own sitting room before heading upstairs to join her sisters. Breezing into her new sister’s chambers in anticipation, Elizabeth came up short—her heart lurching in her chest. Coming through the bedroom door instead of the dressing room, she had no time to prepare herself for the terrible tableau performing there. Apprehension ricocheted down her spine. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” she demanded. Georgiana whimpered, but Elizabeth did not allow herself to look at Darcy’s sister. Instead, she made eye contact with the girl’s captor, daring him to make a false move. “You are not welcome in this house, sir. I suggest you take your leave before my husband finds out. Mr. Darcy will take a whip to you for touching his sister.”

James’s eyes sparked in sarcastic amusement. “Well, well, Mrs. Darcy. It has been a long time since we have seen each other. Actually, that is not exactly true.” He smiled greedily at her.“I have been watching you for nearly a week now. You and my old friend are quite bold in the privacy of your bedchamber. If I had known you to possess such wantonness, I might have paid you more attention.”

Lydia looked at him in confusion.“You have been here a week? Since the beginning of the storm? I thought you came today.”

James glared at her menacingly. “Did I not tell you before that you are not to speak unless I give you permission to do so?”

Elizabeth noted how her sister retreated with the man’s words, and then her eyes darted to the open passageway—the cold of the darkness filling the room with its damp chill, as well as its evil. A
full blush spread up her chest and neck with the realization that their intruder likely spoke the truth. He had watched Darcy and her in the act of love—had observed their intimacies. Despite that, Elizabeth swallowed her shame; she needed to free Georgiana and needed to set them all free of the man she now hated as much as her husband did. She had never regretted as much as she did at that moment the disgrace her family had brought to Darcy’s doorstep.

She had no fear of shameful gossip spreading farther through Darcy’s means; there were few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; but at the same time there was no one from whom knowledge of a sister’s frailty she more wanted to conceal. Had Wickham and Lydia’s interactions been conducted on the most honorable terms after their marriage, Darcy might have been able to forgive the couple. But this! Quite understandably, Darcy would not forgive Wickham his invasion of Darcy’s home. Even more certainly, Darcy would not forgive Wickham for an attempt to kidnap his sister. And Darcy’s anger would not stop there. He would be furious with Lydia, young and silly Lydia. And he would be livid with her, Elizabeth. Thanks to his marriage to Elizabeth, he had an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned. From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink at the outset. Now, there was a new and much more terrible transgression. She could not in rational expectation think that her marriage would survive such a blow.

“I will ask you again, sir, to kindly take your leave of Pemberley.” She nodded toward the open passageway, never removing her eyes from his.

“Not without Lydia,” he retorted. “She is the reason I came in the first place.”

Elizabeth reached out to capture her sister’s hand. “Lydia stays with me.” She raised her chin in defiance.

The man weighed her words—a battle of wills played before them. Finally, he spoke—a soft growl of warning. “Which sister do
you choose, Mrs. Darcy? The one of your own blood or the one of your husband’s?” He tightened his hold on Georgiana. “I mean to take one of them to hold off Darcy’s vengeance. I would think the lovely Miss Darcy might serve me better.” He purposely nuzzled the side of Georgiana’s head to emphasize his meaning.

“I will go,” Lydia asserted as she stepped forward. “After all, he came for me. That is what you said; was it not?” She broke Elizabeth’s hold and moved with dignity toward the opening, picking up Georgiana’s cloak from where it laid across a chair and wrapping it about her shoulders. With a deep sigh, she stepped through the opening. “Come. Let Miss Darcy go,” she called from the darkness.

James’s smile returned, capturing the memory of his warm lips kissing the back of Elizabeth’s hand. Now, Darcy’s wife felt discomposed by his skillful ploy.“I believe I might take both sisters, after all. Darcy is likely to come after me with only Lydia for my company, but he will think twice if Miss Darcy is my traveling companion.”

He began to drag a squirming Georgiana with him. “No!” Elizabeth reached out to him. “Take me instead. Leave Georgiana; she is not to your tastes.” She began to think of ways to save Darcy’s sister. She must save Georgiana from this man! “Would you not like to know me better? You said so only moments ago. You have no need of an innocent; you need a woman of experience.” Drawing on her intuition, she blurted out, “Besides, I can offer you something Georgiana cannot. Mr. Darcy will protect me because I carry his heir. He will want nothing to happen to me.”

James Withey’s expression hardened, his eyes vibrant with anticipation. “You would go with me—willingly? You would leave this behind?” He gestured with his head to the elegant furnishings.

Elizabeth abruptly straightened before shooting him a fierce look.“I suspect when my husband realizes I have brought danger to his household, Mr. Darcy will gladly spurn my connections.” Her eyes took note of the military uniform he wore—of the boots—the same as Lieutenant Harwood and Edward. The deaths—the boot prints—came back as a nightmarish phantom.The man Georgiana
had seen was Harwood—but the man she had observed in the open field that first day stood before her. Elizabeth suddenly felt the chill of the darkened hole. Sternly suppressing her apprehension, she lifted her skirt and declared,“Leave Miss Darcy here; I will go without a fight.”

James skeptically studied the emotions dancing across her face. Then he said suddenly, “The former Bennet sisters will do.” He released Georgiana’s mouth and gestured to the opening. “After you, Mrs. Darcy.”

Georgiana whispered huskily, “No, Elizabeth.”

“I will be fine, Georgiana.” She caressed the girl’s cheek with the back of her palm before stepping though the narrow opening.

James deliberately crushed the memory of Darcy’s betrayal-—of the damnable need to be something he was not. “I am afraid I must stop you from sounding the alarm so soon, my Dear.” He spun the girl away from him before striking her across the back of the head with the gun he carried in his waistband. Georgiana swayed in place for a few long seconds, but then she crumbled in an unconscious heap to the floor.