Page 39 of The Same Noble Line
“But why would he believe that of a Darcy child?” Darcy could not understand it. “It makes no sense.”
“Perhaps he did not know the babe was a Darcy?” Georgiana inquired.
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, swirling the port in his glass. “You prove yourself again the wisest one in the room, dearest. We have stupidly not considered that by the time the infant was given to Bennet, the midwife was likely long gone. Who knows what story she might have invented before she fled?”
The room fell silent again, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Darcy’s mind churned through possibilities, none of them satisfying. He thought of Elizabeth, her sharp wit and boundless determination, and of her family, so unfailingly united despite their differences. If the elder Mr. Bennet had taken such a drastic step, could it have been out of love?
“It is possible,” Darcy admitted slowly. “Though it seems implausible.”
“What in this entire scenario is plausible?” Fitzwilliam asked and rubbed the back of one hand over his eyes. “We left plausible long ago.”
Darcy nodded. “I believe we should send inquiries north.”
Georgiana sighed. “I feel terrible deceiving the Bennets like this. They are a wonderful family. I would very much like to be friends with them, especially Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.”
“I also hope that once this is resolved, Georgiana, you will be able to maintain these friendships.” Darcy reached over to squeeze his sister’s hand.
Fitzwilliam set his glass down with a decisive thud. “So, we dig deeper. Somewhere, Darcy, there will be a crack, a detail that explains it all.”
“And if we find nothing?” Georgiana asked softly.
Fitzwilliam glanced at her. “I would be pleased to end this all right now, Georgiana. There is no need to work against your own interests, to prove that Darcy is not the rightful heir of Pemberley. Everything could remain just as it is.”
Darcy shook his head slowly. “You must know I cannot do that.”
“I do,” Fitzwilliam replied stoically. “But I never give up hoping you will listen to reason. You are the only man I have ever met who would do all the work to deprive himself of his birthright.”
“That,” Georgiana said firmly, “is why he is the best man I know, and I told Miss Elizabeth so.”
Darcy felt his face grow unbearably warm. “What, precisely, did you say to Miss Elizabeth?”
His sister nodded. “That you always do what is right. She seemed thoughtful after.”
“Wait a moment,” Fitzwilliam said. “Heis the best man you know? What am I, then?”
Georgiana tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You, dear cousin? You are the most . . .entertainingman I know.”
Fitzwilliam pressed a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Entertaining? That is the best description you can devise?”
She shrugged, her smile widening. “It was either that or the most exasperating. I was attempting to be compassionate.”
Darcy, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten, let out a low laugh. “You walked directly into that one, Fitzwilliam.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “You both conspire against me while I attempt to help you. It is terribly unfair.”
Georgiana raised her chin, feigning a look of pure innocence. “Perhaps if you were less exasperating, you would find us more agreeable.”
Darcy shook his head, his rare smile lingering. “Hopeless, the pair of you.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Darcy rode to the edge of the frost-covered woods, the towering trees casting long-fingered shadows in the wintery afternoon light. He had gone riding, intending to gather his thoughts, but instead, he found himself lingering near the edge of the Bennet lands, drawn inexplicably to Miss Elizabeth's world.
He had resolved not to call upon the Bennets with Bingley this morning. To visit with Miss Elizabeth was a temptation he could scarcely resist, but he knew he could not speak freely, not of his suspicions about Mr. Bennet nor of the turmoil that gripped him daily. To be in her presence and not speak freely was becoming increasingly more difficult. Yet here he was, as though simply knowing that she was near might calm the storm within.
Suddenly, Miss Elizabeth herself appeared on the path ahead, walking briskly in his direction. She wore her dark blue cloak and carried herself with her usual unassuming grace. When her eyes met his, surprise flashed across her face, followed quickly by something he could not name.
“Mr. Darcy,” she greeted, inclining her head. “I see you are favouring our small corner of the countryside today.”
