An Unwavering Trust Read online

  She snorted. “As if she would ever allow that!”

  Chuckling at something so similar to his own opinion coming from her mouth, he grinned while she took her seat once more. “So I am to find a bride in a fortnight? That does not sound like it would bode well for my felicity.”

  “When you put it like that, Fitzwilliam, no… it does not. But what if happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance? If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar beforehand, it might not advance their felicity in the least. Perhaps it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."

  He regarded her sceptically and she shrugged with a smile. “Or perhaps Grandmamma will have an idea. You will just have to think hard during your return to London.” She reached forward and grasped his hands. “You secure your happiness, and Anne’s, and one day, perhaps Father will come around.”

  “I will consider what you have said, but I think you are mistaken when it comes to our father.”

  “You shall not take my hope away.” Tears welled in her eyes again, one dropping on to her rosy cheek.

  “I would never wish to, Georgie.” He reached over and pulled her into an embrace. “I have no idea what the next fortnight will bring, but no matter what father says, please remember that I love you, little sister.” Her shoulders shook and she released a small sob.

  “I love you, too.” She pulled back, her tear-covered cheeks breaking his heart. “I understand what will happen, but please do not marry Anne merely because you feel you have no other choice.”

  “Do you really think she would enjoy being jilted?”

  Georgiana shrugged. “She has no wish to ever marry, so she might appreciate the scandal. You know that Grandmamma, Uncle Henry, and Aunt Elinor would ensure society knew the two of you were never truly betrothed. I doubt she would suffer any more than she does living with Lady Catherine.”

  “Behave, Georgiana,” he scolded.

  “You act as though you do not agree.” Her tears had stopped, and she had perched her hands on her hips.

  “I may agree, but I do try not to say it.”

  She giggled and reached over to hug him once more. “You should go before father finds you are still here.” He drew back and placed a kiss on her forehead.

  “I will expect a letter from you at Grandmamma’s soon after my arrival.”

  He pulled away and left before he lost control of his emotions, hearing Georgiana’s faint “Goodbye, Fitzwilliam” before the door closed behind him.

  James had anticipated him, as always, ensuring the carriage and his horse waited just outside of the front door. Darcy quickly mounted and began riding while his valet and trunk followed behind.

  Riding had always helped to soothe his mind when he was upset, and this instance was no different. He rode ahead allowing Homer to have his head at times, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face; however, the idea of tiring his mount so early in the trip was not a sound one, so he eventually pulled up and set a slower pace.

  He had no wish to be estranged from his sister, but his father was not giving him an easy choice. He was fortunate to have been left an estate by his uncle, Nathaniel Darcy, right around the time he came of age. Nathaniel’s only son and heir had some dissolute habits, primarily drinking to excess and gambling, which led to his death a few years before the father’s. His uncle had felt his son’s lack of occupation had led to his downfall, so left his estate to Darcy, giving him an occupation while he waited for Pemberley.

  Sagemore was not as grand as Pemberley, but it still brought in six thousand pounds per annum, and besides, Darcy’s father had continued to provide an allowance, so he had not needed to delve into those funds. Instead, he had been saving and investing for the future. If that future was imminent, he had no idea, but he was thankful to have the resources if it was.

  That evening, he had dinner in his rooms while he continued to ruminate over his situation. He may have only been sixteen when his mother passed, but Darcy remembered his last conversation with her clearly.

  “Fitzwilliam, come sit here by me,” Anne Darcy said softly, gesturing to the edge of her bed.

  She was paler than he had ever seen her, but he still thought she was lovely. He took a seat where she indicated, and she grasped his hand, giving it a small squeeze as she often did. He returned the gesture carefully so as not to cause her pain while he brought his other hand to cover it. Her fingers were so chilled, and he wished to convey some of his warmth to her.

  “Your father has spoken with you?”

  He made a valiant effort to control his emotions, but it was for naught as he broke down before her.

  “Oh, my sweet boy,” she crooned, gathering him into her arms. “I do not want to go, but it seems God has other ideas.”

  Darcy pulled himself away, took out his handkerchief, and dried his eyes. “I apologise. I should not have wept as I did.”

  She smiled gently as she tucked an errant curl away from his face. “You sound like your father. He has the ability to love deeply, but do not closet away your emotions as he does. There is nothing weak about expressing your feelings.”

  Nodding, he enclosed her hand between both of his. “I promise to take care of Georgie,” he blurted. He did not want to speak of her condition, but he simply could not think of anything else to say. Her smile widened further, and she gripped his hand.

  “I know you will, and I am so proud of you. You are a wonderful brother, and have become such an honourable young man.” She tilted her head down and studied him. “You must not forget that your father will also be here for her. What I wish is for you to promise me that you will take care of yourself.”

  “I do not understand,” he said with a furrowed brow.

  “I love your father, but he is far from perfect. I believe he has grand ambitions when it comes to your future marriage.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Mother, I have no expectations of marrying anytime soon.”

  She chuckled and traced her fingers down his cheek. “I understand… but I want so much more for you than an arranged marriage. Your father forgets that he married me for love, and that my connections and dowry were not his main inducement to propose.”

  With a heavy sigh, she glanced towards the windows and the blue sky outside. “Then there is Catherine.” Her gaze returned to her son, steady and sure. “I do not want you to propose to Anne unless it is the deepest wish of your heart. Catherine has often indicated that she is desirous of a marriage between the two of you. ‘Uniting the great estates of Pemberley and Rosings’ was how she put it.” Anne Darcy shook her head. “I have never agreed or stated that was my wish, Fitzwilliam. I have only said that it would be lovely were you and Anne so inclined.”

  Her voice faltered, and he leaned forward. “If you are too fatigued, I can return another time.”

  “No… I am as well as I can be.” She squeezed his hand a bit, and he noticed that her expression had changed. “Please promise me. Your grandmother and your uncle will come to your aid should you have need of them.”

  Her eyes were imploring him, and he could not refuse her, not now. “I promise, Mother… I promise.”

  He remained that day until his mother fell back to sleep. She died that very night. His father had never been a very affectionate man, but what little tenderness George Darcy possessed died along with his beloved wife.

  Darcy retired to his room that evening, struggling to devise a reasonable solution in which he could honour his promise to his mother and not lose his sister. He tossed and turned the entirety of the night. When he rose the next morning, he was no closer to an answer than he was when he left Pemberley.

  As he resumed his journey towards London, he prayed for an epiphany before he was forced to break the vow he had made all those years ago.

  Chapter 2

  Darcy pulled back on his reins at the local inn. This particular establishment had nev
er been one of his stops in the past, but Homer was tired and required rest. He handed his horse over to one of the stable hands along with a coin, and glanced around the small town as he made his way to the door.

  The solitude of a private dining room appealed to him but the public rooms were not crowded so he decided to dine there. He took a seat and was looked after by the innkeeper and his wife; however, just as he was finishing his meal, two men took seats at the table behind him.

  He was situated back to back with the strangers, but the dining room was packed so tight with tables that he was able to hear every word they said, despite their lowered voices.

  “Do you have the money?” asked one voice, desperately.

  The second voice did not take long to respond. “Did you not listen the last time? I have given you everything I have.”

  “I must pay back more of the debt, or Grayson will have me hanged, drawn, and quartered.”

  “Then you should not have been in business with the man,” hissed the tablemate.

  “I had an excellent return off of the last ship that made it to port; Grayson was thrilled with his return. We had no way of anticipating that the navy would seize the next one.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes at the man’s stupidity. The capture of a ship smuggling goods from France was big news before he had left London. Could this be the ship they were speaking of?

  “Smuggling is illegal; you knew it when you began the operation. Moreover, you should never have involved someone as cutthroat as Grayson. I cannot afford to continue covering your loss. Edith knows none of this, but she will if there is no money to purchase necessities.”

  “Then you will sign over Lizzy’s money.”

  “We go through this every time. I will not do that. We support her now, but you would deprive her of her dowry and any chance at a good match.”

  “You do realise I was serious when I said I would trade her to Grayson to cover my debt. He blames me for his loss and will not stop until he recoups his money.” The voice had once again taken on a desperate note. “I require her inheritance.”

  “You are despicable, Gardiner, trading your niece to pay off your debt.”

  Darcy was astounded. This poor girl’s situation was unthinkable.

  “I will never sign the paperwork required to release her inheritance to you, regardless of what you do.”

  “Philips! I swear by all…” the man whispered furiously.

  “You will not take her. I will see to that.”

  “How would you prevent it? We were both named guardians in Bennet’s will.”

  Someone released a heavy exhale. “That is because he had no idea what you have become. If he did, I can guarantee he would never have entrusted his favourite daughter to you.”

  “You act as though she will one day marry. No man around Meryton will want her, despite Sir William Lucas pronouncing her one of the ‘jewels of the county.’ Bennet ensured her spinsterhood when he educated her.”

  “There may be men who would appreciate her intelligence. I hoped she could join Sir William Lucas and his daughter Charlotte when they travel to London for the next Season. Perhaps, she might have some luck there.”

  Gardiner snickered. “Well, standing her by Charlotte Lucas could only help her. Lizzy would appear a stunning beauty beside that plain little thing. There is another spinster in the making.”

  Phillips was resolute. “You will not trade Lizzy for your debts. God only knows what that man would do to her.” There was quiet for a moment before Philips whispered in a resigned voice. “Do what you will with me, but I will do everything I can to protect Lizzy. She does not deserve to pay for your mistakes.”

  “I shall return tonight during the assembly. Lizzy is still in mourning; she will remain behind whilst you and my sister attend. You shall ensure your wife is not in the house when I arrive. I will not hesitate harming her or you, should either of you attempt to interfere.”

  “You are insane!” gasped Philips. “Lizzy will never cooperate.”

  “Then I will just have to make her cooperate.”

  A chair scraped across the floor, and Darcy assumed Gardiner was rising to leave. “I am warning you, dear brother. Do not stand in my way.”

  Footsteps receded towards the door and Philips groaned. “Good God!”

  The conversation he had just overheard left him stunned. The poor girl! Whatever situation he found himself in by his father’s hand, it could be nothing to hers. Philips had said she would not cooperate, which he could understand.

  A part of him wished to walk away and pretend he had never heard the whisperings at the next table, but he would never be able to live with himself. Perhaps she had other family, and he could help her find sanctuary there? In the meantime, how would he approach this man Philips? He was her uncle, was he not?

  Throwing some coins on the table, he rose. The chairs behind him were empty; Mr. Philips must have gone while he was contemplating a way to help. There was still time before his horse would be rested enough to continue, so he exited the front of the building.

  Several men loitered on the street, but only one stood out. He was walking with his head down, rubbing his forehead, and appeared as if he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Following behind, he caught up with him as he neared the front of the local solicitor’s offices. Offices that, according to a placard on the door, belonged to Mr. Philips.

  “Pardon me,” he called as Mr. Philips reached out to open the door.

  The man turned and regarded him warily. They had never met before, so Darcy assumed that was the reason for his expression. He approached, and removed his hat.

  “Good day, Mr. Philips,” he began with a quick bow. The man made no effort to correct him; his supposition had been accurate. “I hope you will forgive me for approaching you in this manner, but my name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. There are some matters I would care to discuss with you… if you have the time. I do understand this is very sudden, but the nature of the business is rather urgent.”

  Mr. Philips nodded. “Of course, sir. I would be happy to help in any way I can.” He opened the door, and gestured into the building. “Why do we not step inside?”

  “Thank you,” he said. Was he really going to such extremes for a stranger?

  He followed Mr. Phillips to his study, which was located to the back of the small building. The solicitor offered him a seat before walking around to take his own.

  “I apologise if I have forgotten, but have I made your acquaintance prior to today, Mr. Darcy?”

  “No,” he answered. “To tell the truth, I took a chance.”

  With a puzzled look upon his face, Philips leaned forward in his seat. “Then do you require my services?”

  He shook his head, stood, and paced a few laps before he returned to face Mr. Philips. “I am unsure of how to approach this, so perhaps I should just be out with it.” Philips nodded, his eyebrows still furrowed. “I was seated behind you and a man you called Gardiner in the Bird in Hand.”

  Mr. Phillips face blanched as he began to splutter. “Y… y… you were listening?”

  “The infraction was not intentional; the sound carried between the tables quite easily. I had even contemplated rising and leaving, but then Gardiner mentioned his plan for your niece.”

  “Now, look here,” Mr. Philips interrupted, his voiced raised to almost a shout. “I want nothing to do with that plan!”

  “Please do not make yourself uneasy, sir. I know you do not approve and wish to prevent him from his scheme.” Philips was angry and would be defensive, yet he still had to try. “I would like to help you, if you will allow it,” he blurted when Philips opened his mouth to speak.

  The man stood and leaned against his desk. “For what reason? Why would you want to help someone so wholly unconnected to you?”

  He was startled when Philips raised an arm and pointed forcefully at his chest.

  “What could you possibly hope to gain?”

  He had t
o remain calm, but it had become difficult to remain unaffected in the face of Mr. Philips’ suspicion and anger. “I would gain nothing.” He made his way to his chair and dropped into it. “I can sympathise with her being in a position where there seems to be no other choice.”

  Philips appraised him carefully. “How could you help?” Straightening, he crossed his arms over his chest. The position was a conditional reprieve—he would be fine as long as he was honestly attempting to help.

  “I am passing through town today, headed to London, and thought I could transport your niece to family this Gardiner is perhaps unaware of. You could send a maid or a friend with her to ensure her safety,” he added quickly, before Philips could protest.

  “If only it were that simple,” Philips replied with a defeated air. “Elizabeth is the last surviving member of her immediate family.

  “Seven months ago, an axle broke on their carriage as they were returning to Longbourn from church. The horses spooked and bolted, taking the fork in the road much too quickly. You see, it curves rather steeply on the other side. We think when the horses took that bend too fast, the carriage fell on its side and slid over the edge of the road where there is a very sharp drop to the river below.” He took a deep breath and exhaled long and slow.

  “When we found her, she was between the bodies of her family, and gravely injured. To be honest, those of us who discovered the wreckage were amazed she was alive. I believe the protection her family afforded was the only way she survived.”

  Mr. Philips shook his head as if he was trying to rid himself of the image of the accident, and Darcy could not help but wince at the terror the young woman must have faced. “Her sister, Lydia, was thrown free of the equipage but succumbed to fever and infection within a fortnight. Another sister, Mary, did not even make it that long.

  “So you see, her immediate family is gone. She has an aunt, my wife, and an uncle, who is the Gardiner you heard in the inn.”

  “Perhaps your family, then,” suggested Darcy. “Certainly they would not wish to see her harmed?”

  “I am a younger son, Mr. Darcy. My elder brother and I were never close. As children, we were always in some fight or another. When we both went to school, he never cared to be in my company, and even ensured he and I had no friends in common. I am fortunate my father lived long enough to see me finish my education.” Philips returned wearily to his seat and ran a hand along the back of his neck. “My brother ensured I was never hired in a London firm, so I found a place here with Horace Gardiner. I fell in love with his daughter and, from there, my life seemed to fall into place. But, as you now see, that is the extent of our family.”