Elizabeth placed a calming hand on Georgiana’s arm. The girl’s hatred for Napoleon was too close to the surface as it was. “What shall we do then? Would it be safer to seek lodgings elsewhere? We could go to Bath or Brighton, I suppose.”
“It would be much harder for me to arrange, and more difficult for me to communicate with you if I discover anything about your Mr. Darcy. I have a better idea. The widow of a man I did business with has a good heart and a large house, but she rarely goes out because she is confined to a chair, and she has no family who visits her. When her husband was dying, he asked me to check on her from time to time, so I usually call on her once a fortnight or so. She said she would be very happy to assist me by taking in two young women, distant connections of mine, who were recently orphaned in a tragic fire which destroyed all their belongings, thus explaining your limited luggage. The French would never know, and since you would be in mourning, you could avoid any callers she might have. Then, if it proves necessary in a month or two, we can take lodgings for the two of you when the French might be paying less attention to new tenant reports.”
Elizabeth considered this option. “But would she not mention us to my aunt?”
Mr. Gardiner shook his head. “They are not acquainted. I only met her through her husband, and she is not someone we would invite to our house. Your aunt likes the company of clever, educated people. Mrs. Landon is neither of those, just a simple, good-hearted lady.”
“It may be to our advantage that she is not clever,” said Elizabeth slowly. A recent bereavement would explain Georgiana’s fears and timidity. “It sounds like a good plan. What do you think, Georgiana? Can you play the role of a bereaved girl?”
“It would be much easier than pretending to be a half-wit,” declared Georgiana. “That is exhausting.”
“Excellent,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I can bring you there today, hence the mourning clothes. I purchased pre-made dresses in several sizes, so you can pick which fits best.”
“What will we do about the curricle and horses?” Elizabeth had grown remarkably attached to the carriage, the only constant in their travels.
“I will arrange for a livery stable to care for it,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Under a false name, I think, as it is hardly the sort of vehicle I could afford to keep. But your aunt has agreed to write to your mother to suggest that we visit Longbourn next month. I told her I was feeling in need of some country air. The wait is longer than I would like, but it would look odd if we tried to go sooner.”
A month until they could hear what had happened to Mr. Darcy. It was going to be a very long month.
***
Elizabeth and Georgiana had only been at Mrs. Landon’s house for a week before Mr. Gardiner came to call. After visiting with Mrs. Landon for a time, he asked to speak to Elizabeth privately with the suggestion that it was a matter concerning her supposed father’s will.
When they were finally alone, Elizabeth asked quietly, “Do you have news?”
“Not of your friend, but we received a rather surprising letter from your sister Jane yesterday. I had hoped to show it to you, but I could not find an excuse to bring it with me.”
“What does she say?” After missing Jane for so long, the idea of a letter from her nearly brought tears to Elizabeth's eyes.
Mr. Gardiner frowned. “This may come as something of a shock to you as it did to us. She told us she is engaged and will be married as soon as the banns are called.”
“What?” It made no sense. Jane was supposed to be grieving. Elizabeth recovered herself enough to say, “Engaged? To Mr. Bingley, I suppose. There is no one else. But how can she leave her hiding place safely?”
“Yes, it is Mr. Bingley. Jane mentioned there has been a change in command in the local garrison, but she gave no details. I assume that is why she could stop hiding. She has invited your aunt and me to her wedding, assuming we can obtain travel permits. The good news is that it will give me an earlier opportunity to discover the fate of your friend.”
In her shock, Elizabeth could hardly spare a thought for Mr. Darcy's fate. “Did she say anything about me?” Her voice shook on the last words.
Mr. Gardiner looked at her sharply. “No, but it was a very short letter. She said nothing about anyone else in the family, either.”
But the others had not vanished mysteriously as Elizabeth had. All those nights lying awake and fretting over what Jane must be suffering, wondering if she had been killed, and instead Jane had been planning her wedding! And without even waiting a decent interval out of grief or in hope of her sister’s return? Elizabeth sank her teeth into her trembling lower lip.
Her uncle, apparently noticing her distress, said, “I am sorry, Lizzy.”
“Oh, it is nothing,” she said. How could she admit that she had wanted Jane to grieve for her? “I am merely sad to miss her wedding. When I left, I knew I would miss events like this, but I had not thought it would happen so soon.”
Mr. Gardiner said slowly, “I admit I am puzzled, both by the events and the haste with which they are occurring. There must be more to the story than she is telling us. She might have said more had she known that you would be hearing the information from me.”
“No doubt,” said Elizabeth dully. She and Jane had always spoken of standing up at each other's weddings. Now she would not even be present.
“I will be able to tell you more after I see your family. Tell me, how is... Georgiana finding her stay? She said so little I cannot judge.”
“Well enough, though she is still frantic with worry over William – Mr. Darcy, that is. Since I cannot keep her from speaking about William, I told Mrs. Landon that he is our brother, so I have been referring to him that way. When I see him again, I may have trouble remembering to call him Mr. Darcy.”
“I hope I will be able to discover his fate when I go to Longbourn. But I am glad to see you have more hope that he is alive than you seemed to before.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I have doubts about my reasoning, but I have come to the conclusion that most likely he was arrested not because of Georgiana, but because of his efforts to protect me. If they thought he had committed treason, they would have arrested him for that and likely have taken all the servants in for questioning. Instead, they trumped up a murder charge – an excuse to get him into custody, if I am correct. My guess is that Captain Reynard wanted to punish him but needed an excuse because he knew Mr. Darcy was protected by more powerful Frenchmen. If that was the case, it would have been too risky to execute him. I may be wrong, but I pray I am not.”
“That is a hopeful way to look at it,” said her uncle. “But wait – is not this Mr. Bingley a good friend of his? Would he be planning his wedding if his friend had just been executed?”
Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “I would not think so. If Mr. Darcy were still in prison, he might go forward with the wedding, but I believe you are correct. That is a happy thought which may be of comfort to Georgiana. She is desperate to see him again.” For at least the hundredth time, she reminded herself it made no difference to her. Whatever she might wish for in the middle of the night when she relived his kiss, Darcy could never be more to her than a friend. Perhaps someday that thought might not hurt as much.
“I hope it may provide her some relief.”
Elizabeth still felt tears pricking at her eyes. To keep them from escaping, she said, “Of course, her brother may not be happy with me when he discovers I have distracted her from her worries by introducing her to forbidden fruit. He did not permit her to read novels, but she is devouring them now. Until now, her reading has been training for her future. Do you know what she said when I asked her what her favorite book was? Hume’s History of England, all six volumes! Although she did spare a good word for Abbé Barruel’s Memoirs Illustrating the History of Jacobinism since it has helped her to understand her enemies.”
With a knowing laugh, Mr. Gardiner said, “No wonder she is happy to discover novels!”
Chap
ter 8
Darcy reined in Hurricane at the top of the hill and feasted his eyes on the vista before him. Pemberley. Six years away and it still had the power to make his soul ache. God above, how he longed to gallop down the hill and enter those well-remembered rooms, to drink in the sight of the beloved items his mother had chosen for their home, to walk the portrait gallery and let the history of his family surround him...
No. He yanked the reins, turning Hurricane away. He should not even have come this close. If any of his staff or tenants saw him, they would expect him to stay, not to leave after one brief conversation. It would be his duty to stay, but right now his duty to England came first.
He set out for Lambton, a market town he had rarely visited in the past. If he gave a false name there, no one would be likely to detect it. Fortunately, the Royal Oak had both a room for the night and a private parlor available. The proprietor found a boy to carry his note to Mrs. Fitzwilliam at Pemberley, with only a slight snort on hearing the name rather than his aunt’s former title.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and worry. Wait and cover three sheets of paper with ridiculously far-fetched possibilities regarding where Georgiana and Elizabeth might be, assuming they had not been imprisoned, attacked, or worse.
It felt like days rather than a few hours before a carriage pulled up in front of the inn. Darcy waited inside the private parlor. No one had recognized him so far, but being seen with his aunt might raise suspicions.
She sailed into the private parlor and kissed his cheek. “This is a surprise.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Darcy tightened his folded hands. He was not looking forward to this.
His aunt said crisply, “I assumed this must be urgent, especially since you did not come to us at Pemberley.” She had always been a step ahead of him.
“I need help. I was arrested by the French – the reason is unimportant – and, following my instructions, Georgiana disappeared to parts unknown. Unknown even to me, and now I need to find her.”
“Georgiana? You mean...?”
“Yes, I mean her. I tracked her as far as I could, but now all I can do is hope she is spotted somewhere. If I set up too much of a search, it will draw notice. You told me once that Frederica has a network of people who collect information. That is what I need.”
His aunt regarded Darcy placidly, but he knew that expression usually denoted deep thought for her. Finally she said, “Yes. I believe it is time for you and Frederica to work together. You can find her in London at 26 Leadenhall Street, across from St. Andrew Undershaft.”
“I thank you.” It was frightening how close he felt to begging his aunt for reassurance that everything would turn out well.
***
Darcy hesitated on the doorstep of the house on Leadenhall Street. This was not going to be pleasant, but it was his best hope for finding Georgiana and Elizabeth. He was not looking forward to confessing everything to Frederica, especially after all these years, but there really was no other choice. Hiring more men to search for Georgiana increased the risk of someone reporting Darcy's odd requests to the French. No, he needed Frederica's network of trustworthy Loyalists more than he needed his pride.
His mouth twisted as he knocked on the door. While waiting for a response, he flicked open his card case and pulled out a calling card. The door opened, but Darcy could see little of the man standing in the shadows beyond it.
Darcy proffered the card. “For the lady of the house.” Those were the words his aunt had told him to say.
The shadowed man ignored the card. Instead he cocked his head to one side and drawled, “It may have been a long time, William, but I think we are beyond the calling card stage.”
Darcy knew that voice. He stepped forward, shading his eyes, and peered ahead. “Kit?” he asked incredulously.
“You do remember my existence! I am honored! But I assume from your surprise you did not expect to find me here and no doubt would not have come here had you known. You need not worry; I have no more desire to see you than you do to see me. Still, I assume you must have some reason for deigning to call in this lowly part of town.” Kit’s insolent tone was as familiar as the little smile on his face, and he had lost none of his ability to cut through Darcy's defenses.
“I am here to see Frederica.” Darcy hoped he did not sound as disconcerted as he felt. “You answer the door yourself now?”
Kit’s upper lip curled. “We are not so high and mighty as you are. Only trusted people answer our door.” He put an emphasis on the word ‘trusted,’ as if to make it clear that Darcy was not.
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “It is good to see you looking so well,” he said evenly. “Is Frederica here?”
“Yes.” Kit stepped back to allow Darcy to enter and called over his shoulder, “Freddie! You have a very special caller!” His tone was mocking. As they waited, Kit turned back to his brother with a bright smile that did not reach his eyes. “In the meantime, shall we get our usual conversation over with, the one where I ask to see Georgiana or at least to write to her, and you refuse without any good reason? There, I managed the entire conversation without you even having to say a word.”
Darcy's breath hissed out through his teeth. “It is more complicated than that.” He did not want to fight with Kit. His brother’s complaints were perfectly reasonable, but he did not know the truth about Georgiana.
Fortunately, Frederica emerged from a room towards the back of the house. “William!” She hurried forward and embraced him. “What a lovely surprise!” She stepped back to look at him, and her smile faded. “But how did you find this place? No one should have told you where I was.”
Darcy pulled the letter from his pocket and proffered it to her. “From your mother. And you need not worry; your secret is safe with me.”
Kit interrupted, “But is it safe from all your high and mighty French friends?”
Darcy ignored him. “Freddie, may I speak to you privately?”
Frederica looked up from the letter she had been perusing, her brows drawn together. Her gaze flicked to Kit and back to Darcy. She said slowly, “Mother says this is about business, and I cannot exclude Kit from business simply because of this nonsensical quarrel between you.”
“It is not nonsensical!” snapped Kit. “He sold out to the French, and he refuses even to let me write to my sister!”
“Fine,” said Darcy. “We will all talk. I am tired of being blamed for something I cannot control. But it must be in private.”
“Of course.” Frederica opened the door to a room on their left.
Kit walked past her. Darcy waited for Frederica to go ahead of him.
Frederica laughed. “We do not bother here with all the nonsense about ladies and gentlemen and who walks through a door first.” His cousin had grown more hard-edged in the years since he had last seen her.
He gave a slight smile. “That is your privilege, but I do still bother with it. Will you be so kind as to indulge me?”
“Very well.” She preceded him into what must have once been the drawing room. It still held all the appropriate furnishings, but several of the chairs were covered with stacks of closely written pages and a map was spread across the tea table.
Kit drawled, “If we are to be proper, I suppose we must offer you something to drink.” He held up a dusty bottle of wine and filled three glasses. “Not what you are accustomed to, but my allowance only goes so far.” He handed glasses to Darcy and Frederica, then lifted his own with a challenging look. “Her Highness. God save her.” He waited for Darcy's response with a smirk.
Through all the tension, it seemed somehow ridiculous to hear Kit, all unknowing, propose a toast to their little sister. Darcy lifted his own glass and said ironically, “God save her indeed, because I cannot always do it.”
Kit stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
This was not how Darcy had intended to begin, but he had not counted on seeing Kit and how savagely angry his b
rother would make him. “The reason you have not been allowed to see Georgiana, first by our uncle and later by me, is because you would have immediately recognized that she is an imposter. You have been serving England in your own way, and so have I. Yes, I sold out to the French, but it was because I had a different task: to keep one fair-haired nine-year-old girl safe, no matter what it cost me.”
Kit snorted in disgust. “You are making no sense. How could she be an imposter?”
But Frederica, always the cleverest of the family, had gone pale. “Oh, no. I see it now. You know the story, Kit. Georgiana was a favorite playmate of the princess. Our fathers employed her to gain access to the princess when they stole her away, then they took two fair-haired girls across the country in a farm cart. When they reached Milford Haven, one man and one girl boarded a ship to Canada. The other girl went to Matlock Park with my father where he told everyone she was Georgiana Darcy. Oh, God help us all!”
Darcy finished the story for her. “And three months later, the French took Matlock Park and your father suffered an apoplexy, so that little girl had to go to the only other person who knew her secret.” He kept his eyes pinned to Frederica because he was afraid of what he might see on Kit’s face.
Frederica tapped her cheek with her finger, a sure sign that she was scheming. “If she is here, that changes everything. With her to rally around —”
“Stop!” interrupted Darcy. “I did not come here either to tell you this story or to offer you her services. I came because she has been missing for a fortnight, and I need your help to find her.”
***
Frederica ran her finger along the map. “They started in Hertfordshire, and you traced them as far as Oxford before losing the trail. Presumably they would not have gone back towards Meryton, but any other direction is possible. We have people to the north in Coventry and Birmingham. Stoke-on-Trent, too, if they were headed toward Scotland. Gloucester and Worcester to the west. The hard part is the South, since they could have gone anywhere. Bristol, Basingstoke, Reading, and London, of course. You have no other guesses where they might have gone?”