The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (18 page)

The Granges departed for Hertfordshire shortly before eight. “Return the coach to Pemberley,” Mr. Bennet instructed his middle daughter. “I have no knowledge of when I must send for your mother. Mrs. Bennet will likely remain a sennight or more with the Wickhams, but I may need the coach sooner.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“And you will check on Longbourn and send word if you find something inappropriate.”

“Mary knows what to do, Papa,” Elizabeth said softly from behind him. “Mama may not have seen to our education when it came to studying the masters, but she taught each of us about account books and menus and running a household. We learned first hand every facet of tending to Longbourn personally. Mary shall not fail you.”

“Of course she will not fail, Lizzy. Mary is as talented as all her sisters.” He squeezed Mary's hand in assurance. “I am blessed to have four daughters of good sense.” He assisted Mary into the coach. “Be safe. I will see you at Longbourn soon.”

As the coach pulled away, Elizabeth laced her arm through her father's. “With Mama not returning to Longbourn, Mary and Mr. Grange shall have the place to themselves. Maybe by spring, she and Kitty shall each be presenting you with additional grandchildren.”

“Mayhap, you, too, Lizzy.” He walked slowly toward Pemberley's entrance.

Elizabeth leaned heavily against his shoulder. “I cannot say for certain, but Mr. Darcy and I are looking at the possibility.”

“Is your husband aware of this grand event?” Mr. Bennet slid his arm around his favorite daughter's waist.

Elizabeth's features glowed with happiness. “If I had told Fitzwilliam, he would never have departed for Scotland, and the opportunity for securing Bennet's future and those of any other
children we may have depends on this venture. Besides, I am not absolutely certain.”

“And it is important to be certain of such specifics where Mr. Darcy is concerned,” Mr. Bennet said wryly.

“Oh, Papa, one does not need to spend more than a few minutes with my husband to know that your words are an understatement of gargantuan proportions.”

“The morning post, Mrs. Darcy.” The Pemberley butler presented a stack of letters on a silver salver.

Elizabeth accepted the items. “I assume you placed the estate mail on Mr. Darcy's desk for Mr. Marlowe's attention.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” The butler bowed from the room.

Elizabeth began sifting through the stack.

“Anything interesting?” Mrs. Joseph asked from her seat on Elizabeth's left.

Her friend's voice rooted Elizabeth to the present. All morning she had daydreamed of Darcy's return. “Several thank-yous for the picnic and dinner. A few invitations, which I shall ignore until Mr. Darcy's return. That is, unless you have a desire for an afternoon of visits.”

“Maybe in a week or so I shall tire of your company,” Mrs. Joseph teased, but for now, I find myself quite content to prevail upon your good graces.”

Heart quickening, Elizabeth scanned the last two missives. Her face twisted in deep regret.

“Is something muddled headed?” Mary Joseph asked.

“Not exactly,” Elizabeth murmured as she turned the posts over in her hand. “Two letters from Mr. Darcy's cousin. It is a shame that
Fitzwilliam departed before they arrived. My husband has longed for news of the Major General's return.”

Mary placed jam on her dry toast. “The cousin who married Mr. Darcy's sister?”

“The very same.” Elizabeth eyed the letter. “Do you suppose it inappropriate for me to read Mr. Darcy's mail? The second letter is for Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Before I forward it on to Scotland, should I not read what the Major General has conveyed to my husband? Perhaps there is important information that I should send on to Mr. Darcy. If so, it would be foolish to let the unread letter lie about and wait for Fitzwilliam's return.”

“You do not have to convince me, but if you require another excuse for your own conscience, I see no reason for a man to write to his wife in Derbyshire if she awaits him in Scotland. It is your responsibility to solve this mystery.”

ELIZABETH BROKE THE SEAL and quickly read Edward Fitzwilliam's message. “Oh, my,” she mumbled as her eyes scanned the words. “Poor Georgiana missed Kitty's wedding for nothing,” Elizabeth said aloud. “The Major General only arrived in England four days ago; yet, my sister anticipated his appearance some three weeks past. Georgiana must be distraught with worry.”

“What delayed Mr. Darcy's cousin?” Mary asked with concern.

Elizabeth's eyes never left the page. She scanned for details. “Major General Fitzwilliam remained in Belgium because his aide Captain Southland was injured.” She paused as she continued to search the words for more information. “Oh, no.” Tears misted her eyes.

“What brings you anguish, Elizabeth?”

With trembling lips, Elizabeth reported, “The captain stepped before the Major General to save Edward's life. As a result, Captain Southland lost part of his arm. That is the reason Mr. Darcy's cousin remained on the Continent. Concern for his friend. It is the second time Captain Southland has given Edward such a gift.”

Mary spoke from true interest. “Is this the same gentleman from Kent who married Lady Catherine De Bourgh's daughter?”

“The very same,” Elizabeth said as she returned her attention to the letter. “Evidently, as the Major General waits for his release from active duty, he has gone to see Mrs. Southland to prepare her for the shock of her husband's return. He planned to start his journey to Scotland today.”

“Then all shall be well,” Mary observed. “It may take the gentleman another week to reach Scotland, but Mrs. Fitzwilliam shall be thrilled with his appearance.”

Elizabeth's frown lines met. “Perhaps I should send Georgiana a note. Surely a letter from Derbyshire would reach the Fitzwilliam estate before the Major General does. Even if I prevent Mrs. Fitzwilliam only four and twenty hours of worry, it would be worth the postage.”

“I would imagine that Mr. Darcy's cousin has sent a like letter to his new bride in both Derbyshire and Scotland. That would explain why his post for Mr. Darcy's sister came with the one for your husband. But if your uneasiness compels you to write, I suspect Mrs. Fitzwilliam would welcome news of Mrs. Winkler's nuptials, along with your reassurance of the Major General's safe return.”

Elizabeth refolded the letter. “That is sound advice. I shall follow it immediately.”

“Mrs. Darcy.” Hannah had found Elizabeth and Mary playing with the children in the lower garden. Having completed her letter to her satisfaction, Elizabeth had joined her friend for some quiet time. “Mr. Nathan sent me to find you. Lord Lindale has arrived unexpectedly. He asked to speak to Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Nathan informed the gentleman of the master's absence. Therefore, Viscount Lindale has asked to meet with you. Mr. Nathan has placed His Lordship in the green drawing room.”

Elizabeth rose immediately. She stroked the wrinkles from her skirt. “Certainly. Would you assist Mrs. Joseph with the children?”

“With pleasure.” Hannah reached for the child Elizabeth held. “Come, Master Bennet.” Elizabeth's maid playfully swung the boy through the air. It touched her how much Mr. Darcy's staff
cared for their son. Silently, she congratulated herself for marrying so well.

Elizabeth touched the child's dark curls.
So like his father's
, she thought as she caressed Bennet's head. “No spoiling him, Hannah.”

“I shall leave that dubious task to you, Ma'am.” Hannah cuddled the boy in her arms. “Only a mother spoils her children. The rest of us simply dote on them for a short while.”

Elizabeth smiled lovingly at Bennet. “Oh, if that were only true.” She turned to Mary. “I shall return shortly.”

Moments later, she strode into the green room. “Lord Lindale.” She curtsied before extending both hands to Edward's older brother. Unlike the major general, Rowland Fitzwilliam resembled the Countess of Matlock in countenance and stature. At least three inches shorter than both his younger brother and Darcy, Viscount Lindale, the future Earl of Matlock, was yet a fine-looking gentleman. Sandy blond hair. Light brown eyes. An aristocratic nose above a square chin. And an ease of movement common to men of privilege. “I am sorry that Mr. Darcy is not at Pemberley to receive you.”

The gentleman took both her hands in welcome before bringing Elizabeth into his embrace. “I do not often make it this far west in Derbyshire, but that does not mean that either you or Darcy are ever far from my thoughts. Is young Bennet well?”

“The Pemberley heir thrives.” She motioned to the chair he had abandoned on her entrance. “And the Viscountess and your own child? Pray say that this visit has nothing to do with their health.”

“Amelia and Chase have recovered nicely from her confinement.”

Elizabeth gestured to the tea tray Mr. Nathan wheeled into the room, but the viscount shook off the offer. “The Earl and Countess have spoken of little else besides the Matlock heir of late. Securing the line was very important to your father.”

Lindale stiffened, and his countenance became more somber. “The Matlock line is the reason for my visit. In fact, I have traveled to Pemberley at the Earl's request. I had thought to speak to Darcy and through him to my brother's wife.”

“I am afraid I do not understand the seriousness of your tone.”

The viscount reached for her hand. “The Earl and the Countess have recently spent time with friends near Hull, but a missive forwarded by the Earl's secretary discovered them there, and they rushed to William's Wood. The news created a troubling episode for Father.”

“Please tell me the Earl did not suffer unduly,” she pleaded.

He said solemnly, “Neither Father nor Mother is likely to recover.”

Elizabeth tightened her grip on the man's hand. “What could bring such grief?”

Tears misted the viscount's eyes, and he looked away to cover his weakness. “The message brought us news from Westminster of Edward's demise at Waterloo. Thus, my journey to Pemberley to speak to Georgiana. Father is adamant that Edward's wife knows the family's comfort. If she wishes, Georgiana may come to William's Wood in her time of grief. I had hoped that Darcy would encourage his sister to share time with us.”

For a moment, Elizabeth's brain could not process his words. “But that is impossible,” she protested, at last.

“Yes, I understand,” he said with some difficulty. “We all thought Edward invincible. But as Mr. Darcy is from home, I seek your assistance in informing my cousin of this tragic event.”

Elizabeth shook off his words. “Edward is not dead,” she declared with assurance.

He patted the back of her hand. “None of us wishes to acknowledge this awful truth.”

Elizabeth was on her feet immediately. “No,” she insisted. “Mr. Darcy received a letter from his cousin only this morning. It was posted but four days prior. The Major General stays at Rosings Park with Lady Catherine and Mrs. Southland.”

The viscount followed her to his feet. “Do you have this letter?” he said in a rasp. Hope laced his words.

Elizabeth turned toward the door. “Follow me.” With the bewildered aristocrat trailing, she lifted her skirt and rushed through Pemberley's halls to Darcy's study. Retrieving the letter, she thrust it into the viscount's waiting hands. “Please read it. Edward was in Kent until this morning.”

With trembling fingers, the viscount unfolded the two closely written pages. He walked to a nearby window for a closer inspection. “Praise the Lord,” he gushed as his eyes scanned the paper.