"Elizabeth?" he said anxiously. "I know I should not have said it, but--"
On irresistible impulse, she rose to her tiptoes and returned the kiss he had given her before, floating in the intoxication of his scent. "There is my answer, sir."
His look of heartfelt delight made it worth every bit of the risk she had taken. To feel so much joy from bringing joy to another was an unexpected gift. If only they did not have to part! Her world would feel empty once he was no longer by her side.
"I thank you." Darcy raised both her hands to his lips, propelled equally by the wish to protect her and to touch her just once more, but even then he knew he was fooling himself. A lifetime of touches would not be enough. Nothing could express the intense joy that Darcy felt or his profound relief that finally, finally all would be well.
***
Elizabeth had the opportunity to see Darcy once more before he left for London, after he emerged from a private meeting with Mr. Browning. At first he gave her bare acknowledgment, and she wondered with a moment of sheer terror if he had rethought the scandal she would bring with her. But then, when Mr. Browning's back was turned and there were no customers in the store, Mr. Darcy met her eyes with a warm smile, his silence telling her that his only concern was for her reputation.
The memory of that smile carried her through his departure. She tried to distract herself with her work, but her recollection of the sensation of his lips upon her fingers made her mind wander. Instead, she watched with amusement as Mr. Browning bustled about the shop as he showed Charlie where the merchandise was kept, his good mood evidence of satisfaction with his dealings with Mr. Darcy. She wondered how much more of an investment he had agreed to.
She did not have a moment alone with Charlie until the following day, but she did not miss how often his sharp eyes turned to her. She did not know whether she was more annoyed that he would be reporting her doings or pleased that Mr. Darcy had such a concern for her, but she did not intend to have her privacy invaded. "So, Charlie, I understand you are Mr. Darcy's eyes," she said tartly.
He gave her a cheeky grin. "That's right, miss."
"And what do you intend to report to him?"
"That'll be between me and Mr. Darcy, miss."
"So you follow his orders?"
"Mr. Darcy, he's a generous gentleman. I do what he says."
"So that is how the land lies! You will have no such good fortune from me, since I cannot outbid Mr. Darcy, but we can still make an agreement, you and I. After all, you would not wish
me
to report to him that you have been a lazy, disobedient apprentice."
Charlie cocked his head with what looked like admiration. "No, miss."
"We understand one another, then?"
The boy stuck out a dirty hand for her to shake.
Chapter 11
"Cousin Henry!" Georgiana exclaimed, rising to her feet. "I had not expected the honour of your company today. Welcome to Darcy House." She was still not accustomed to acting the part of the hostess, even for family. She surreptitiously wiped her hands on her skirt as she glanced around the sitting room. It was perfectly tidy, as always. There would be no cause for criticism there. The only problem was by her side. She was not supposed to sit with an upstairs maid as though they were the closest of friends, and it must be obvious they had been doing exactly that. Her brother did not mind what she did in the privacy of her own rooms, but he would not be pleased that the viscount had seen her in Mary's company.
As if reading her thoughts, Mary quickly retired to the corner farthest from the window, taking a seat in the shadows. With a piece of mending in her hand, she looked every inch the servant. Perhaps Henry might not have noticed.
"Georgiana, as lovely as ever, I see." He pressed his warm, moist lips to her cheek.
"I am sorry to say my brother is not here. I believe you can find him at his club." Georgiana in fact had no idea where her brother might be, but sending Henry off seemed preferable to an uncomfortable half hour listening to his stories, the ones that always made her feel as if she were being mocked in some indirect manner. She had cause enough to feel foolish on her own; she did not require help from her cousin.
"Then I will be happy with your charming company." Henry sat and stretched his legs in front of him as if planning a protracted stay.
An inspiration came to Georgiana. "I have just finished learning a new sonata by Mozart. Would you like to hear it? I am very proud of it." She put on her best pleading-child air. He could not tell stories while she was playing.
He laughed indulgently. "If you wish, poppet. But will you not offer me tea?"
She flushed. "Mary, will you bring some refreshments?"
"Yes, miss." Mary's voice could barely be heard, and she disappeared hastily on her errand. Henry's head swiveled as he watched her leave the room.
Oh, why had she brought his attention to Mary again? She would have to brazen it through and hope he forgot about it by their next meeting. "Mary is my new companion. I like her very much."
Henry raised a lazy eyebrow. "She is full young to be a suitable companion. Far too pretty, for that matter."
A few months earlier she would have been terrified and unable to speak. "Are companions required to be ill-favoured, then? Mary is young, yes, but Mrs. Annesley is available for those times when I require chaperonage."
"Rightly so. I cannot imagine that young thing could provide any protection."
Something about his tone made her nervous. "Shall I play now?" She did not await his answer before taking her place at the pianoforte. She made a show of flipping through her music and chose one of the longer sonatas, determined not to play it quickly, and flexed her fingers over the keyboard. The first notes were difficult; it was a challenging piece, and she always played stiffly at first when someone was listening. By the second movement, though, she escaped into the world of Mozart's music, her troublesome cousin left far behind.
When she reached the end, her fingers remained on the keyboard, as though loath to surrender their connection. She had a duty as hostess, though, so she reluctantly withdrew from the instrument.
Mary had returned in the meantime. A heavy silver tray of fruits and pastries sat on the table, and Mary was pouring tea for Henry. The porcelain cup clinked on the saucer, to Georgiana's surprise. Odd, Mary was not usually clumsy.
"Mary, are you well? You look ill," Georgiana said with concern.
"I am quite well, miss." Mary sounded subdued and withdrew to her back corner once more. Georgiana wondered if she had a headache, which would explain why she was so uncharacteristically quiet.
Henry gave a self-satisfied nod. "I knew she looked familiar. I saw her in Kent. Your
companion
, indeed, Georgiana."
"She
is
my companion, and my friend."
He examined the tray and selected a rich French pastry. "Is that what your brother calls her? I will have to speak with him."
As usual, she did not understand what amused him so. She would have to warn her brother that she had said Mary was her companion. He would not object, she was sure. "I am certain he will value your opinion," she said, trying to sound demure. Henry did not like women who asserted their beliefs.
He took a bite of the pastry and then put it aside, ignoring the crumbs that fell on the Aubusson carpet. "He is at White's, you say? Perhaps I will seek him there. I have some business to discuss with him."
Not ideal, since her brother would know nothing of their conversation, but at least it meant Henry would leave. "He would like that. I am sure he will be sorry to have missed you here."
"In that case, I will bid you adieu. Perhaps your
companion
can show me out."
Georgiana looked at Mary, who put aside her sewing with apparent reluctance. She was sorry to trouble Mary when she was not well, but there was no polite way to refuse Henry's request.
"Yes, my lord," Mary murmured. Georgiana breathed a sigh of relief as Henry followed her out. That had not gone so badly. Perhaps she was learning the knack of hostessing.
***
Darcy nodded to Simms as he handed the butler his hat. Finally he was home and out of the late afternoon rain, with his task successfully accomplished. Soon it would be safe to visit Elizabeth again. Not soon enough, but soon.
The butler cleared his throat. "Miss Darcy wishes to speak with you, if it please you, sir."
"Thank you, Simms." Darcy stripped off his gloves. "Tell her I will see her at supper. There is a matter I must attend to first."
"As you wish, sir." The butler's tone was deferential enough, but held a question in it.
"What is it?" Darcy asked irritably.
"I believe Miss Darcy is in low spirits. Very low, indeed."
What could have happened? She had seemed well when he left that morning. "Very well, Simms. I will see her now."
He found Georgiana in her rooms, pacing with great agitation, her eyes tearstained. She threw herself into his arms.
"Good God, what is the matter?" he exclaimed.
"Oh, Fitzwilliam! Mary has disappeared, and it is all my fault!"
"Disappeared? How could she disappear?"
Georgiana buried her head in his shoulder, the way she used to do when she was a child. "She was supposed to show Cousin Henry out, but she never returned."
"She left with him?" He could not credit such a thing.
"Simms says Henry was alone when his carriage came round, but that his hand was injured. He sent one of the servants for a bandage, but did not say why. There was nothing wrong with his hand when he left me. Poor Mary!"
"You think it had something to do with Mary?"
She wiped her face with a lace handkerchief that looked half soaked already. "It must have. I could see she did not want to go with him, but I was so glad he was leaving that I did not say anything. And no one has seen her since."
Darcy silently damned his cousin. "Then we must wait. Surely she will return when it grows dark."
Georgiana wrung her handkerchief. "That is why I am so worried! She has nowhere to go. She knows no one in London!"
There were always places an attractive young girl could go, but Darcy was not about to tell his sister that. "If she does not return by morning, I will send out men to look for her, but there is little else we can do at present."
Georgiana dissolved into sobs. In face of the pain he could do nothing to relieve, Darcy retreated to his rooms.
Supper was a somber meal. Georgiana seemed to be engaged in a constant struggle to hold back tears, and Darcy, cursing his inability to distract her with lighthearted conversation, glared at the maids in hopes that it would make them serve more quickly and give him an escape. The tense silence was finally broken when Simms appeared beside Darcy. "Yes?" Darcy said, more sharply than he had intended.
Simms glanced at Georgiana. "Mr. Darcy, Cook wishes to speak with you."
"Cook wishes to speak to me? What nonsense is this?"
Simms coughed. "Cook is in the kitchen, sir."
"Of course Cook is in the kitchen! Where else would she be?" He noticed the significant look Simms was giving him. Simms was not prone to false alarms. He threw his napkin on the table. "Very well, then."
He strode down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house. There, on a stool in front of the banked fire, sat Mary, wrapped in a blanket, her hair dripping. Cook was beside her, her arm around the girl's shoulder.
"There, there, Mary dear, 'twill be well; never fear."
He could barely hear Mary's response, since her voice was so broken by sobs. "I should have let him. Why did I not let him? Then I could have stayed here. It would just have been the once. Now there is only the streets, where I will have to let any man do it who will give me a shilling."
Darcy's lips tightened at the confirmation of his suspicions. Henry had gone too far this time. It might be his customary behaviour at home, but he had no business interfering with Darcy's staff. He cleared his throat. "Mary, my sister has been frantic with worry."
Her head whipped around to face him, her eyes wide. "I am so sorry, Mr. Darcy. So very, very sorry. I have been very wicked." A purple bruise covered her cheek.
Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Have you? I was under the impression, knowing my cousin, that the difficulty was that you were insufficiently wicked."
"Please do not send me away, sir. You may beat me, anything, but let me stay. I will do anything."
"I am not in the habit of beating my servants. Now tell me what happened."
Mary cast a terrified look at Cook, who nodded encouragingly. "I was showing his lordship to the door. He wanted... he wanted me to... he pulled up my skirts and put his hand over my mouth so I could not cry out, and--" She shrank away from him, silent sobs racking her body.
Darcy's stomach sank. "And what?"
"I bit him. I know I should not have, sir. I will never do it again, I promise, never!"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, he had to force back a smile. "Mary, listen carefully to me. If any man tries to force you while you are under my roof, you may bite him or hit him or kick him with my blessing. I expect you to do no less. Do I make myself clear?"
"But it was his lordship! And I hurt him!" She touched her bruised cheek gingerly. "He said you would beat me within an inch of my life and leave me on the streets."
"Apparently he does not know me as well as he thinks. Do you think I would wish my sister to be accompanied by a girl who would allow men to do such a thing?"
"Yes, sir. I mean no, sir." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Cook patted her shoulder. "There, now. Thank Mr. Darcy, then go find some dry clothes."
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Mary whispered and then bolted from the room, but not so quickly that Darcy could not see she was limping. Henry must have exacted his revenge.
Cook shook her head after the departing girl. "Poor child. 'Tis very good to her you were, Mr. Darcy, sir."
"Nonsense. Miss Darcy will be glad to hear she returned."
"'Twasn't so much that she came back, sir. One of my boys found her hiding in the mews. Soaking wet she was, and like to catch her death. I knew Mr. Simms was looking for her, so I brought her in."
"Well done." Again the mews. One of these days he would have to ascertain exactly who Charlie had brought to live there. "Please inform me if there are any further difficulties."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy." Cook bobbed a curtsey.
Darcy walked slowly back to the dining room, still furious, and considering all the things he might say to his cousin. He wondered if Henry would be surprised by his objections. After all, he had allowed Henry to believe he had done the same to Mary. Had he, by failing to confront his cousin and uncle at Rosings, laid the groundwork for this day's events? Was failing to object to his assumptions a form of tacit permission? The thought sickened him.
Georgiana barely looked up from her untouched plate when he entered. It reminded him that he needed to be strong for her.
"Good news," he said briskly. "Mary has returned safely."
His sister scrambled to her feet. "Where is she? I must go to her."
"You might wish to give her a few minutes first. She is soaked to the skin and should rest."
Georgiana looked momentarily confused. She glanced at her food, then at the door. "Did he hurt her?"
"Some bruises, nothing more." He did not need to add that she was fortunate it had not been worse.
"I will never forgive him. Never." Her vehemence was startling.
"I understand your sentiments completely, but Henry would not. The best thing we can do for Mary is to lead him to believe that she has disappeared utterly and that we know nothing of the matter. He is not above seeking revenge if he knows she is still here, and if I am not at home, there is nothing I can do to protect her. So our wisest course is to pretend nothing untoward has occurred."