“It is my Uncle Kennice,” Cathleen added. “He is quite ill, and we have little hope for him, I fear.”
“Might I ask where in Cheshire your uncle resides, Miss Donnel?” Harwood’s false interest went undetected by her, but Stafford, Darcy, and Worth all listened with great interest.
Cathleen enjoyed speaking of her family, even though they discussed a heartfelt sadness. Her recent decision to abandon Adam Lawrence’s company and return to the bosom of her relations brought her contentment, and she gladly shared the requested information. “Between Warrington and Macclesfield, south of Manchester.”
“Outside Mobberley?” Worth asked. “The Kennices outside Mobberley—I know them.”
Stafford smiled. “I should have suspected you would have knowledge of my extended family, Worth. Is there a family in this part of the country of which you have no acquaintance?”
“My firm holds a reputation for honesty, especially in land dealings. Many seek us out.”
“I expected nothing less, Mr. Worth.” Stafford winked at the solicitor, letting him know he meant no offense.
Harwood recaptured the conversation. “And your Uncle Kennice, Miss Donnel, is of connections?”
“A baron, Lieutenant Harwood.” Cathleen blushed profusely. “But he is of Irish extraction—not as well situated as His Lordship or Mr. Darcy.”
Worth took up her defense. “Yet Kennice owns an excellent tract of land, quite profitable.”
“We will take your word regarding business,” Darcy summarized.
“Of course, Mr. Darcy. The details are dry. We men of law understand that others do not see property deeds and liens as dinner conversation.”
When the party retired to the music room, they found Georgiana and Anne already in preparation for the performance, so Darcy
dismissed the required introductions until later.
“Miss de Bourgh, please come join me,” Elizabeth bade as she approached the pianoforte, making sure to steer Anne away from the lieutenant.
Anne gave her a nod of gratitude. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy.” They took up residence on a small settee facing the instrument.
“Shall I turn the pages for you, Georgiana?” Darcy leaned over to whisper to his sister.
She replied softly, “Thank you, Fitzwilliam, for thinking of it. You know what a ninny I can be when I have an audience.”
“What I know,” he murmured as he arranged the music,“is that when you sit to the pianoforte, my Dear, you are brilliant. Do not forget that, Georgie. We are in awe of your talent.”
His sister shook her head, but his words of approval caused her shoulders to straighten and her chin to rise. For the evening, Georgiana had chosen a varied selection, including “Then Farewell, My Tridonotuse-Built Wherry” and Dibdin’s “The Soldier’s Adieu,” as well as the song cycle “Colin and Lucy.” Georgiana began tentatively, but soon lost herself in the music—the notes swelling and crescendoing in the well-designed room. Mesmerized by her immersion in the performance, Darcy watched Georgiana’s face. He had never seen her look more beautiful. Someday he would have to part with Georgiana—give her to another man, who would protect and keep her. Darcy would consider only a man who would cherish this part of his sister—the creative spirit, which needed nurturing in order for Georgiana to live fully.
“Bravo!” Mr. Worth cheered when Georgiana had completed the first number.
Miss Donnel agreed, saying, “Excellent, Miss Darcy!” Cathleen would sing next, and Georgiana would finish out the entertainment. As Cathleen prepared, the others spoke cordially or sipped on libations.
“Shall you speak to the lieutenant?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
Anne shrugged, looking resigned to the prospect. “Do I have a choice? Fitzwilliam believes I should at least listen to the man,
although I do not wish to acknowledge my part in bringing Lieutenant Harwood here. What a gormless, dull-witted action! How could I have fallen for his beautiful face and not noticed his lackluster soul?”
Elizabeth glanced to where her husband sat beside Georgiana. “Sometimes perfection hides behind a mask of ambiguity.”
“I wish I had met Mr. Worth long before the lieutenant. If so, I might not have been so easily fooled.” Anne’s eyes naturally drifted to where Worth sat, interacting with Georgiana.
Elizabeth followed Anne’s gaze. “Then you cannot imagine Lieutenant Harwood’s declaration to be an honest one?”
Anne lowered her voice, hoping for privacy. “I believe the lieutenant
honestly
desires my dowry, but as to his earnest affection, I am of a different persuasion.”
“Then why allow the man the freedom of voicing his hopes?”
“Because the lieutenant knows intimately of my ruin.” Tears misted Anne’s eyes, and she swallowed hard, trying to disguise her emotions. “Mr. Darcy and Mr.Worth believe my ill-advised actions will cost my mother a pretty sum—my dowry in exchange for a vow of silence. Her Ladyship may never forgive me. I could strike the man dead for his perfidy!” Her heartfelt words signaled the first of her tears.
Elizabeth slipped a handkerchief into Anne’s fisted grasp on the cushion’s edge. “Trust Fitzwilliam, Miss de Bourgh. He has sworn to protect you, and he is a man of his word.You are safe under my husband’s care.”
“I am indebted to my cousin’s interest,” Anne whispered softly.
Harwood noted Anne’s distress, which signaled that his mild threats had made inroads into her resolve. Another day or two of pressure would break her composure, and the lady would be more forthcoming.
However, even if his plan failed, he would transfer his affection to Miss Donnel. She was not as wealthy as the de Bourghs, but she could develop into a viable option. Her cousin was a viscount—the
future Earl of Greenwall—and her uncle was an Irish baron. Even Worth had commented on the lady’s family possessing an excellent income. Plus, he suspected that Miss Donnel might be more willing to share her favors than Anne had been. She dressed more provocatively—in the finest silks and the most fashionable trends.
She will do nicely,
Harwood assured himself.
On his left, the lieutenant became aware of Evelyn Williams, who was sitting beside Mr.Worth. The woman maintained a steady, intent stare. With a very slight shake of his head, he warned her to look away. As he returned his attention to Anne, he quickly noted her preparation to leave. Before he lost his opportunity, Harwood left his seat and approached the settee. “Miss de Bourgh,” he said, bowing low.“might I entice you to stroll about the room with me?”
“I am rather fatigued this evening, Lieutenant; I shall withdraw. The day brought me much on which to dwell.” Anne stood, curtsied, and slipped from the room.
Harwood watched her go, knowing the lady’s distress played into his hands. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. He turned away to applaud Miss Darcy’s final performance of the evening.
“Hopefully, you play cards, Harwood,” Stafford said as he stepped up beside him and gestured toward the door. “Darcy assures me he has set up tables in the green drawing room.”
“I am not sure I can afford your game,Your Lordship.” He did not wish to lose more money—not until he had the de Bourgh wealth safely in his pocket.
The viscount laughed good-naturedly. “I do not particularly care if we play for matchsticks, Harwood. I just cannot sit to another hand of whist. I need a man’s game. So what say you? Care to join me?”
“In that case, I do not mind sharpening my skills.” Harwood nodded for the viscount to lead the way.
“Lieutenant,” Darcy called to forestall their retreat, “before you retire to the tables, might I introduce you to my sister, Miss Darcy?” He kept Georgiana on his arm as he brought her forward.
“It would be my honor to have the acquaintance.” Although his voice lacked the cultured intonation of the upper class, Harwood’s stance gave nothing to humility. He bowed over Georgiana’s hand.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Georgiana curtsied. “I understand from my brother that you are a close associate of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“We have served together for the past several months.”
“With my brother’s permission, I would welcome hearing of the colonel. It has been some time since we have seen him. Possibly you might spare me and my sister, Elizabeth, a few minutes tomorrow.”
“Naturally.” Harwood gave a low laugh—an intimate, husky sound, which sent a shiver of warning through Georgiana. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on Darcy’s arm, and unsurprisingly, he covered her hand with his free one.
“We will excuse you this evening, Harwood,” Darcy said. “You should not keep the viscount waiting.
Patience
is not in Stafford’s vocabulary.” After the lieutenant had bowed and left the room, Darcy looked into Georgiana’s azure blue eyes. “What is it, Sweetling?” he coaxed.
Georgiana bit her bottom lip—a sign of her anxiety. “I wish I could say, Fitzwilliam.” She glanced about the room, assuring herself that they stood alone. “Although I have never met the lieutenant before this evening, he is somehow familiar, and it is not a comfortable familiarity.”
Darcy whispered close to her ear, “Listen to your intuition, Georgiana. Do not ignore such warnings.They will serve you well.”
“Do you suspect Lieutenant Harwood of duplicity?”
Darcy grumbled,“You are not to be alone with the man until—unless—I am sure of his honesty.”
His request stunned Georgiana, but she nodded her agreement. He had given her no such warning about Mr. Worth or Viscount Stafford. “Whatever you say, Fitzwilliam.”
“Might I have a word with you, Lieutenant?” Nigel Worth waited in the main corridor.
Harwood fought the urge to roll his eyes.“Of course, Mr.Worth. How might I be of service?”
Worth directed the lieutenant through an open doorway to one of the many drawing rooms. Only a roaring fire provided the light, but Worth needed no light to say what he needed to say. “I will come straight to the point, Lieutenant. Leave Miss de Bourgh alone.”
Harwood’s eyebrow rose in curiosity.“And what would a country lawyer do if I chose to ignore his advice, Mr. Worth?”
Worth continued doggedly. “The lady has returned from her business trip wiser, thanks to your manipulations. Leave her to her life.”
Harwood glowered. “Is that the way it is,Worth? Do you affect the lady for your own? Are you really even the de Bourghs’ man of business?”
Worth wanted to call the man out, but instead he stayed with the story he had concocted as Anne’s defense. “How much will it cost to be rid of you, Harwood?” he snarled.
“More than you have, Worth.” Harwood strolled toward the door. “I will deal with you tomorrow, sir.”
“You bastard!”
A few innocent-sounding inquiries told Harwood the layout of the rooms on the third level. Keeping to the shadows and timing his movements carefully, he entered the unlocked room in the early hours of the new day. Closing the door with a
snick,
he turned silently to the candlelight. “I see you were expecting me,” he smirked.
“Should I not have been?”The candle on its stand rose to light the way.
He pushed away from the door and strolled toward the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” He fingered the remains of a half-eaten biscuit, resting on a plate on the table’s edge.“I certainly did not expect to find you at Pemberley.”
“The snowstorm brought Derby to a standstill; I had no other choice but to take sanctuary under Mr. Darcy’s roof.”
Harwood worked his way about the room, touching the decorative items, which gave the chamber its atmosphere. “I was distressed to discover you among Darcy’s guests, but now that I dwell on it, it may prove to be for the best. I can use your expertise to my advantage.”
“
Our
advantage.”
He smiled condescendingly. “
Our
advantage.” Harwood seated himself in a nearby chair, relaxing into the cushions.“What can you share regarding the de Bourghs?”
“I care nothing for the family. The mother’s pretentiousness is irritating, but expected. It is the woman—the one you have made your prey—of whom I speak. As mercurial as Hamlet and as false in her dealings as Shylock himself, the lady ebbs and flows. How can you even assume you have the situation in hand? Has she or has she not refused you?”
“Miss de Bourgh will refuse.We knew that coming into the affair. Obviously, I have no intention of marrying the woman.”
A bark of laughter interrupted his summation. “I would say marriage is out of the question under the circumstances.”
“Yet, the de Bourghs know nothing of which you speak.” He rose and crossed to the door. “Stay close. I may need you to cover for me.”
As he eased the door open to slip into the darkened hall, a warning followed him. “This is the last time, Robert. I will not tolerate another manipulation.We will stop our wanderings.”
Harwood did not look back—only paused long enough to acknowledge the words with a slight nod.
He closed the door silently behind him and sought secrecy behind a cluster of potted palms at the head of the staircase. Holding his breath, Harwood waited for the lone footman to pass before he made his return to his chambers. He seriously considered taking the short trek to Miss Donnel’s room and ascertaining whether the lady might entertain him, but he knew it presumptuous to appear uninvited in her chamber.
Soon,
he told himself
as he reentered his room.
She is ripe for the plucking. Despite the warning, I am not finished here.
The morning brought the hopes of a complete thaw. A steady stream of water dripped from the trees and every overhang as the temperatures rose, and the snow began to melt. From his study’s window, Darcy watched the main drive, expecting Lucas’s return sometime that day. He prayed the servant had found his cousin at Matlock. Darcy needed a voice of reason in the madness surrounding his household.