Page 60 of A Most Beloved Sister
“Hence my need for my uncle. Lord Matlock is, quite fortunately, also the Archbishop’s godson. If anyone could get us in and explain the situation, it would be him. There is no guarantee, however, as His Grace does tend to be quite fastidious and thorough in his research as to who merits a license. My hope is that the letter from Mr. Bennet, as well as the testimony of Dr. Carson, will be sufficient evidence, along with my own statement, of course.”
The conversation was halted when Georgiana let out a wide yawn, then whimpered when the movement pulled the scars at her mouth. Mrs. Annesley clucked and fussed over her charge, and Darcy urged the two of them to retire, with the promise that he would spend time with his sister the following afternoon.
A quarter of an hour later, Darcy sank gratefully into the scalding water of the hot bath in his dressing room. Jenkins had passed on the news of Darcy’s arrival to the housekeeper—who was also the his wife—and the good woman had, in turn, ordered a hot bath for her master to be prepared whilst he was conversing with his sister.
The long ride from Hertfordshire had taxed his muscles more than he cared to admit. If his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of His Majesty’s 10thRegiment of Light Dragoons, could witness the scene, there would be no end to the teasing.
“A few hours in the saddle have you sore, eh, Fitzie? What a tortured life you lead, you poor sod! You wouldn’t last the first day of training in the militia, let alone the Regulars.”
Darcy gave a light snort—his cousin had made a fair point. While Darcy took pleasure in staying fit by exercising regularly with fencing matches and daily horseback rides, it was nothing compared to the drills and conditioning the members of the army and navy conducted on a daily basis. He could hold his own against any other gentleman in London, but that was a far cry from winning a bout with one of His Majesty’s trained soldiers.
Idly, he wondered whether Elizabeth Bennet would prefer someone more like himself or his cousin, then shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He groaned loudly as the steaming water swept over his bare skin, instantly causing the blood in his veins to rush to the aching muscles.
“Did you call, sir?”
The footman who had been assigned to act as valet was a welcome distraction from the path his thoughts would have taken him. “No… that is, just… just leave out my dressing gown and nightshirt; then you may retire for the night. I will ring the bell if anything further is needed, but I doubt it.”
There was a brief silence; then the servant said, “Very well, sir. Thank you, sir.”
There were several minutes of rustling, during which Darcy forced his thoughts back to the present and his interactions with his sister that evening. He mentally reviewed the list of everything that would need to be accomplished the following morning to help Bingley secure the special license.
It was only when the footman had departed, closing the door behind him with a soft click, that Darcy allowed his thoughts to wander once more. This time, however, he was not as agreeably engaged as he had been before in thinking of Miss Elizabethand her fine eyes. Instead, he found himself wondering how she might react to his sister and her unique appearance.
With no small amount of trepidation, he realized that he would first need to explain how his sister’s scars came to be before any such introduction could be made. It was a story very few people knew in full but himself. Mrs. Reynolds and Richard were the only other two. Mrs. Annesley, Lord and Lady Matlock, and a few servants were aware of some of the circumstances, but not all of them.
He tried to imagine Elizabeth’s expressions if he were to relate the entirety of the tale. As he did so, the memories washed over him, just as clear as if they had occurred the day prior.
∞∞∞
“Master Fitzwilliam!”
Mrs. Reynolds’s surprised cry echoed throughout the vast cavern that was Pemberley’s front hall. Her face was stark white, and the terror she felt was evident in the wide eyes that engulfed her face. If the moment hadn’t been so serious, Darcy might have smiled at the normally stoic housekeeper displaying more emotion than he’d ever seen.
“You cannot bring the young miss here!” she cried, wringing her hands. “Your father has strictly forbidden it! You risk her safety by—”
“My father is dead,” Darcy cut off the housekeeper’s words before she could say any more. “He was stricken down by a heart attack in London four days ago.”
The woman’s eyes closed in relief, and her shoulders sagged. “May God rest his soul,” she murmured.
Darcy bit back the retort he yearned to make. Instead, he looked down at his eleven-year-old sister, who was coweringbehind his back, her mouth and nose wrapped with a scarf so that only her eyes were showing. “Georgiana, dearest,” he said in a soft voice, “this is Mrs. Reynolds. She was our mother’s lady’s maid, and now she is the housekeeper here at Pemberley. She will help take care of anything you may need.”
The girl nodded but made no noise.
“Is she to live here, then, sir?” Mrs. Reynolds’s voice was filled with hope.
“Yes,” Darcy said firmly. “That is why I sent my guest ahead of me. I trust Doctor Carson arrived yesterday and has been attended to?”
“Yes, sir. He has been placed in the guest wing, in the blue chambers.”
“Excellent. And the nursery has been cleaned out as I requested?”
“Yes, sir. I must admit, sir… I had thought it for a different reason.”
Darcy looked at her, startled, then chuckled. “No, Mrs. Reynolds, I have not married, nor am I setting up my nursery. It is for Georgiana. She is not used to being around many people, having been at the dower house with just Nanny all this time.”
“Is Nanny not coming with her?”
Darcy’s face hardened. “No, she is not.” His tone left no room for further questions.
