Page 134 of The Difference of a Darcy
“You need not fear my censure,” he said quietly. “I am not my parents. I have seen enough on the battlefield to know thatcourage and honor belong not to birth alone. My cousin trusts you, and your loyalty goes far beyond that of a hired servant or companion. I would not normally discuss my plans with those of your station, but in this case, I believe I shall make an exception. Georgiana has been fighting this battle far too long, and I will gladly work beside those who stand with her.”
Then, with a glimmer of humor, he added, “Besides—it is your fault my brains are scrambled, so I expect your assistance in devising a strategy.”
Elizabeth flushed, while Darcy’s lips twitched in spite of himself.
Together the three descended to the lower floor. The house was still and dim, the hush before morning fully broke. In the drawing room, Mrs. Reynolds sat before the fire, her knitting in her lap and a look of apology upon her kind face.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said quickly, rising as they entered, “I must beg pardon for not being present when you arrived. I was up the entirety of the night keeping watch, and when I learned Mr. Wickham had not yet returned, I thought it safe enough to lie down for a few hours.”
“Quite understandable, Mrs. Reynolds,” he said gently. “You have no need to fear reprisal. You have been with Pemberley since long before my cousin was born, and I know you only have the estate’s best interests at heart. In fact, I am here to enlist you for our council of war—we could use your expertise and good sense.”
“Mine, sir?” she asked in astonishment.
“Indeed. My cousin may soon be a mother, but she is still little more than a child in many ways. A woman of experience and sound judgment will be invaluable.”
Mrs. Reynolds’s eyes filled with earnest purpose. “Then I am at your service, Colonel.”
The colonel inclined his head. “Excellent. Let us begin.”
He motioned for them to take their seats. Elizabeth sat on a comfortable settee, and Darcy eagerly took the place next to her. He knew that it was not entirely appropriate, even for amarriedcouple such as themselves, but he could not resist being near her. The hours spent in fear for her safety made him wish for nothing than to continually reassure himself of her well-being. He brushed his knee against hers, felt her warmth through the worn fabric of his breeches, and the tightness in his chest eased at last.
“I know we are all quite exhausted—myself and William here especially—but we do not know when Wickham will return,” the colonel began, his voice steady despite the bandage around his brow—though Darcy had no idea where it had even come from. “I should like to have a plan in place. Once that is finalized, we should all follow Mrs. Reynolds’s good example and rest as long as we can.”
“We should also eat,” Mrs. Reynolds said, “as none of us has broken our fast.”
“That,” he agreed, “is the most sensible suggestion I have heard all night.”
Arrangements were quickly made for a tray to be brought. As Mrs. Reynolds busied herself giving orders, Darcy leaned back and closed his eyes. He still held Elizabeth’s hand, their fingers loosely entwined between them. The faint scent of lavender clung to her hair, and he breathed it in as if it were the only thing anchoring him to this uncertain world. Her thumb brushed across his knuckles in a small, unconscious motion—so gentle it might have been imagined.
For the first time since that terrible evening began, his body surrendered to fatigue. His head tipped back against the cushions, and he dozed lightly until the sound of clinking china roused him again.
The tray was set before them—a modest breakfast of bread, cheese, and strong tea. The early light brightened the drawing room windows. After the first few grateful bites, Elizabeth spoke, her tone thoughtful.
“The law is against us, I fear. Legally, Mr. Wickham is the master of Pemberley, and Georgiana is his wife—pregnant with his child. She might flee, of course, but he could compel her return through the courts. Besides, she would not wish to abandon her family home.”
Mrs. Reynolds nodded, adding, “She is perhaps two months from her confinement, and travel would be not only uncomfortable, but it would also be dangerous.”
The colonel frowned. “Then we must think beyond the law. A man like Wickham makes enemies wherever he goes. It would not surprise me if one of them were to shorten his career—permanently.”
Elizabeth sighed, though a small, reluctant smile curved her lips. “My husband has been of the same mindset, though he tends to prefer a duel—or even a brawl.”
Darcy turned toward her, his eyes glinting with mischief that only she would recognize. “A man must meet his talents where they lie, Mrs. Smith,” he said softly. “Though I admit, I have been told my aim is rather good.”
His chest swelled when he saw her cheeks pinken, and she shook her head in silent reproach. The colonel’s laughter rang out, hearty and genuine for the first time that morning. “I think I like you, William,” he declared, clapping Darcy on the shoulder. “Any man who can jest after a night like ours is welcome in my company.”
Darcy only smiled, though his hand lingered at Elizabeth’s side beneath the folds of her gown. Instead of pulling hers away, she intertwined her fingers with his, and he silently sighed in contentment.
The colonel leaned forward, elbows braced upon his knees. “We must assume Wickham will return before nightfall. He will expect the household to be as he left it—obedient and silent. Our advantage lies in that expectation.”
“He will be very angry,” Elizabeth said. “His pride was quite wounded when William bested him and no one responded to his orders to summon the magistrate.”
“I am surprised he has not returned by now,” Darcy added. “I was certain last night that he would arrive long before I even reached Matlock.”
Elizabeth’s hand squeezed his at this reminder of the danger. “As was I,” she whispered.
“Perhaps we could use his anger and pride to our advantage,” Mrs. Reynolds suggested.
“It would certainly make him careless,” the colonel replied.
