Page 15 of To Love And To Cherish
My dear nephew,
It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform you of your father’s passing. He died in London today, the result of a sudden seizure of the heart while meeting with Mr. Kendal. I am grateful to say he did not appear to suffer. According to the solicitor, your father collapsed and passed within five minutes. Though the physician was summoned at once, there was nothing to be done.
Your sister was not present, and this we may count as a small mercy. Georgianna will travel with us to Pemberley tomorrow afternoon. I notified Lady Catherine and Anne by express, and they have already begun their journey to Derbyshire.
I am making arrangements to transport the body to Pemberley this afternoon and shall await your arrival for the interment.
I urge your immediate return.
With deepest sympathy,
Uncle Henry
Darcy perused the letter twice more, trying to absorb its meaning, then once again, as if repetition might force his mind to grasp the weight of the loss.
“You look like a man who’s had his breath knocked out,” Richard said quietly, stepping into their room.
Darcy didn’t speak.
Richard’s gaze dropped to the letter. He reached for it, and Darcy handed it over, still unable to speak.
Richard read in silence, then looked up. “I’m sorry, Will.”
Darcy sank into a chair, elbows on his knees. “He was in London, with Georgiana. They were en route to Rosings for Easter. He collapsed in his study.”
Richard was already nodding. “We must return at once.”
Darcy closed his eyes. “He died, and I was drinking Burgundy in France, preparing to attend yet another ball.”
“You were serving your country.”
“I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known. None of us could. Your father was still a young man; no one could have foreseen his death.”
They received approval to return within the day. Richard would take a month's leave, then report to the War Office to assist with espionage operations based in London. Darcy would sell out.
“We made a damn fine pair,” Richard said as they secured passage on a merchant cutter bound for Dover. “Best intelligence team in all of France, and that’s why there’s a post waiting for me at the War Office. We had it figured out.”
“In civilian dress,” Darcy murmured, a ghost of a smile flickering. “You, the rakish heir. Me, the discreet diplomat. Who would have guessed?”
“They bought every bit of it. The compliments I received on my waistcoats alone…”
Darcy shook his head. “And your insatiable gambling.”
“Calculated losses, all of them. I won most of the time. Keeps a man interesting, and gained us entry to places we would never have accessed otherwise.”
The crossing was rough, and the sky hung low and grey, the sea heavy and dark, as though mourning alongside Darcy. Salt stung his eyes and throat. Wind whipped his coat, but he remained at the railing, silent.
Richard joined him. “Come, let’s head down to the cabin and get out of this howling wind.”
Once seated and sipping from their flasks, he said, “Your father was proud of you, you know. He understood how important the work was to our country.”
“But I wasn’t there with him.”
“You were where you were needed.”
“He died without me. I abandoned my family.”
