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Mrs. Annesley did not talk to Georgiana until they were safely in the carriage. Georgiana had been so worried about the scandal that might ensue from being caught in the Bow Street office, that she had forgotten what might happen if word got out that she had been missing for twenty- four hours. Mrs. Annesley had not, however. Georgiana sensed the older woman's fears, and as the new worries mingled with the ones that had been forming all night, she once again succumbed to tears. Mrs. Annesley, though relieved to find her charge safe, was still in shock from all that had happened, and all she could manage was a listless,
"There, there. It's all right. You're safe now."
"Yes. Safe." Georgiana sniffed, then wailed. "But what will people say? Surely someone has discovered my absence, and..." She stopped abruptly. She had been about to bewail the fact that Mr. Morgan had lied to her, but she wasn't sure how much Mrs. Annesley knew, and she didn't want to cause any more trouble than was absolutely necessary.
"There have been callers all day," said Mrs. Annesley. She added reassuringly, "We have been telling them you are indisposed. We should be able to smuggle you into the house without anybody noticing."
"I hope you don't blame me, Mrs. Annesley," said Georgiana in a small voice. "I couldn't bear it."
"Why should I blame you?" Mrs. Annesley softened. "Your cousin told me that his driver was unreliable. He blames himself entirely. Mr. Callahan, I mean; the driver has not yet returned."
"Poor Max. Is he at the house?"
"Yes, he was very upset. He wouldn't let anybody sleep last night. He wanted to come to the police, himself, to report you missing, but I wouldn't let him. But it seems my caution was for nothing." She pursed her lips.
"I'm sorry," Georgiana said softly. "But I didn't tell them my name! How did you know where to find me?"
"A young man came by the house and told me where you could be found. I was just about to write a letter to your brother."
Georgiana absorbed this news, then frowned, confused.
"A young man? Who would have known?"
"He said that his mother had found you last night, and you had spent the night at his family's house."
Georgiana opened her mouth to protest against this falsehood, when realization dawned.
"Oh. Yes. Of course."
"He did not give me a name. In fact, he had some facts confused; he said you had been arrested by mistake."
"Oh, no! Where could he have gotten that idea?" Georgiana colored, at once embarrassed and sorry. She was certain he would blame himself if he thought that.
"I don't know. Perhaps he only saw you going away."
"Perhaps."
"I left him with Sir Brian and Mr. Callahan; they will make sure he doesn't mean to use this against you."
"Oh, I'm sure he doesn't! He--they were all very kind to me." Georgiana tried not to show her panic. She could not help thinking that he could still be at her house when she arrived. She could not face him again. Forgetting that he had wished to avoid such an interrogation, she hoped he did not mean to keep up their acquaintance.
"I'm sure they were." Mrs. Annesley smiled and hugged Georgiana with one arm, completely satisfied with what she thought she knew of the matter.
Christopher Blakeney moved soundlessly along the side of his father's house. He had not been near the place in years. Now that chance had brought him here again, he was hit by a wave of nostalgia. He knew things could never be the same again, for him or his family. He wondered if they were the same physically. Was the armoire still scuffed where he had kicked it when he was a boy? If you moved the rug in the hall, would you see the spot where his sister had dropped a cherry pie in the middle of the night?
His mother's garden was still there, but that was not what he was looking for. Moving around the extravagant garden, he found it: a loose brick in the wall just under his own bedroom window. He almost laughed out loud as he turned the heavy brick around in his hands. This, at least, had not changed in four years. Then, with a dismissive sigh, he threw it behind him, into the shrubbery, and placed his foot into the space left in the wall. None of the other steps had been filled in. It was relatively simple to scale the rest of the wall to his window. The difficulty lay in opening it.
He was not afraid of discovery. He knew as well as anybody that his family was in Italy. The servants did not use this side of the house, and if any were here, he was certain he would not be recognized.
Finally the window swung open and he stepped inside. At first he thought he had the wrong room. There was very little to indicate that this had ever been a bedroom. He was half-inclined to feel angry and slighted, but decided to shrug it off. After all, if they could go to Italy, they might as well remodel his room. At least now he could be sure they were not pining for his return. But since what he had expected to find was most definitely not in this room, he was now obliged to take the risk of exploring other areas of the house.
His sister's room was next to his. He crept to the door and opened it slowly. Although he knew nobody was home, he cringed when the door creaked.
This room had not changed in the slightest. The bed was still draped in a silk canopy. A china doll still sat primly in a chair next to the window. Everything was still pink. Appearances were deceiving, however, especially where Miss Josephine Louise Blakeney was concerned.
After a brief survey of the room, he decided there was nothing to lose by looking at the chest of drawers, besides time. He was so secure in his belief that nobody else was in the house, that he forgot to be cautious, and he was taken completely by surprise when a person grabbed him from behind. Before he knew it, he was on the floor with his wrists pinned down on either side of him. Stunned, he blinked up into the sleepy eyes of his sister. Just as he had expected, she did not recognize him.
"Be still, and I won't hurt you," she said. "I'm going to get up, and I want your word that you won't try anything. Do I have it?" He nodded quickly, still too surprised to speak. "Good. I would have had to tie you up if you hadn't, and I don't have any rope." She slid off him and walked back to the bed.
"I'm sure you could have done well enough with your bed curtains," he said, sitting up and rubbing his head where it had hit the floor. She halted at his voice and turned back to peer at him. Apparently he had changed more than he thought, for she shook her head as though to clear it, and laughed lightly.
"Perhaps I could have. But tell me, why would you want to come into my room? You could have gone to the kitchen; they would have given you something to eat, and you wouldn't have had to steal. But now I'm going to have to send someone for the police. Are you quite all right?" She asked this after noticing he was still sitting with his head in his hands.
"I'm not sure," he said, close to laughing hysterically. "I'm just trying to remember the last time you knocked me down. I don't think you've ever been able to do it before. Accept my congratulations, m'dear. You've improved considerably."
Her mouth dropped open as she realized it really was him.
"Christopher!" she squeaked, then repeated herself with a touch of anger. "Christopher! Don't tell me you were about to allow me to let the police take my own brother! Wh-what are you doing here?"
"I needed some things."
"Out of my room? What could you possibly..."
"Never mind. I can't believe it took you this long to recognize me."
"Well, it is dark," she stammered, "and you are so thin and... oh!" Christopher suddenly had the combined horror and pleasure of seeing his decidedly unladylike sister faint.
When they approached the house, Mrs. Annesley alighted at the door with instructions for the driver to take Miss Darcy into the stables, where she could enter the house discreetly. After Georgiana was safely deposited, and Sir Brian had warned the footmen that anyone caught gossiping would be turned off with a bad character, Georgiana finally thought she could relax.
Max attacked her as soon as she entered the house, giving her a hug that she thought would kill her. The poor boy looked haggard, and Georgiana, not finding it in her heart to hold anything against him, quietly forgave him.
"Thank God you're safe! I'm so sorry. Next time, I promise to take you home immediately. Only I couldn't leave without saying hello to Edward. Besides, he would have teased me forever, because he didn't know you were my cousin until I told him. But I'm very glad you're safe. You can't imagine what I thought happened to you! You are perfectly well, are you not? That Mr. Marlow of yours said that you had not been harmed, but he looked so badly off himself, I couldn't tell whether to believe him. He just left, in fact. But you look well. I'm very glad."
"Mr. Marlow?" Georgiana echoed.
"That was the name he gave, was it not, Brian?" Sir Brian nodded. He had his own suspicions about this Marlow's feelings for his cousin, but he was not going to trust Max with them. Max chatted on, leading her towards the parlor. The Bennets were there, and Georgiana had to resist the urge to flee the room at once. Mary frowned upon her, but Kitty jumped up and embraced her.
"I was so worried about you! I thought you had been killed!"
"Well, I haven't."
"Were the people very terrible? Mr. Callahan said that the man who brought word of you seemed very well-mannered, if a bit shabby and disreputable. You stayed with his family?"
"Yes," said Georgiana faintly, then turned to Mrs. Annesley. "I think I should lie down. I'm very tired."
"Of course you are, dear," said Mrs. Bennet. "Oh, my poor nerves! I was certain we should be forced to view your remains this morning! Oh! Oh! Where are my smelling salts?"
"Mama, it is all right. Miss Darcy is home." Kitty rushed to help her mother down onto the sofa while Mary calmly stuck the smelling salts under her nose.
Georgiana left at once. Her head was aching in her confusion, and the Bennet ladies were not helping. After she had taken a nap, however, she could not think of an excuse to give, and was forced to keep company with them for a quarter of an hour. Her head quickly began to ache again. Her release from this torture came in the form of a footman with a letter. It was just a short note, really, and the handwriting was unfamiliar.
Meet me in the garden. - Your errant knight
Georgiana thanked the servant, and asked to be excused "to read her letter." They all smiled indulgently, and Georgiana guiltily hurried out of the room. It was bad enough that she must forever be so intolerant of her own guests, but now she was abandoning them in order to conduct a clandestine meeting with a married man. Surely, she had sunk very low.
He was sitting on a bench, waiting for her. He jumped up when she approached, and motioned for her to sit down.
"You look well," he said hopefully. She shrugged. "I was afraid something...or...well, I was afraid you would be taken ill. Or that you wouldn't see me."
"I really shouldn't. Nor should you have asked me," she said, looking up at him. He looked away, avoiding the anger in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I had to see you, to know you were safe."
"I am quite safe."
"No thanks to me," he said. "I know. I brought something for you, if you will accept it."
"You know I cannot accept...."
"No, no, I know that. But nobody has to know, do they? Just between us, you understand. Is that acceptable?" She hesitated, and he cajoled, "Please, Georgiana. It would make me feel better for abandoning you."
Startled by his familiarity, Georgiana tried to scold him.
"What if I do not want you to feel better?"
He laughed a little nervously. Georgiana was beginning to think he was acting quite odd.
"Well, I will give it to you, whether you like it or not. I braved a great dragon for it. Stand up."
Instinctively obeying, Georgiana did so.
"Turn around," he said, and again she obeyed and turned her back to him. A moment later, he was securing a small chain around her neck. His fingers brushed her shoulders ever so lightly, almost as if he was trying hard not to touch her. Georgiana closed her eyes, afraid of what he would do next. She desperately hoped he would not force her to remind him of Katie.
"There," he said quietly, dropping his hands to his sides, though she could still feel him behind her. "I knew it would be perfect on you. You see?"
Georgiana looked up and saw her own reflection in the window. Even in the dim light of the moon, she could see the chain was indeed perfect. One of her hands fingered it tenderly even as she said,
"I cannot accept it."
She saw his reflection flinch, and he hesitated a moment before saying,
"Please do. I want you to have it. Even if you do not wear it. And nobody has to know, save you and I."
"I can... However did you get it?"
Relief was evident on his face, and he laughed.
"Oh, so that's it! You think I stole it."
"No!" she protested, but he was still laughing. "Well, where did you get it? Did you win it?"
He stopped laughing. Scratching his ear absently he said,
"Well, it's a funny story, actually, but..." He looked up at her expectant face, and brightening, appeared to change the subject. "I saw my father today."
"Did you? Your father." Georgiana was bewildered.
"Yes. He..ah..that is, I had thought... Well, he... I was surprised, you know. It was a surprise." He was pacing the garden now, obviously unsure of what to do with his hands.
"Because you thought he was in Yorkshire," Georgiana stated, trying to help him. He looked at her and smiled ruefully.
"Partly that, but I had thought...he was dead, actually. I thought he was dead, but...but there he was, and..." He frowned. "Well, I'm sure he didn't mean to be ... rude, but ... it was still a surprise."
"Was he rude to you?"
"No! That is just it--I thought he would be. Actually, I thought he would toss me out of the house. I mean...he looked angry."
"But he didn't."
"No." He stopped pacing and stood still for a minute, staring at the ground. "I'm very confused, Georgiana," he said quietly. "I don't actually know what I'm doing. I know I like you. I like you a great deal."
"And I like you."
"Do you?" He turned around to look at her.
"A great deal more than I should," she said. He closed the gap with such speed that Georgiana was afraid he was going to kiss her again. He did, but only on the forehead.
"I'm glad," he said, taking her hand in his. "I was wondering if I was perhaps going mad. The last two days have been very confusing, haven't they? But you like me, don't you?" He grinned down at her, obviously elated. "And my father is alive, which means.... And he is not so angry with me as I thought he would be. So it is not hopeless."
"I am very happy for you," Georgiana said sincerely, gently reclaiming her hand and moving away from him. He frowned down at the space she had occupied before, then shook his head, smiling ruefully.
"My silly habit of thinking out loud. I must learn to be clearer. What I was trying to say, Georgiana..."
"Please stop calling me that."
"What I was saying, Miss Darcy," he began again, a little impatiently, "is that I would like to...to marry you."
"What a shame you cannot," Georgiana said, her voice suddenly frigid. He blinked at her, then dropped his gaze.
"Well...I admit, I do not appear to be so very great a catch, but that is another thing I was going to tell you..."
"Were you ever going to tell me that you are already married?" she asked almost hysterically.
He looked as though he had been struck. He stared, then forced a little half-smile and stammered, avoiding her eyes,
"M-married? Wh-what..."
"Are you astonished? When were you going to t-tell me, Mr. M-morgan? After you had m-made it known publicly that you and I were engaged? Or were you going t-to wait until after...after the honeymoon, perhaps? Or..."
"Be quiet."
"You...you deceived me! How could you lie to me that way? You spun me such a tale, that...How could I help myself? Was it all a trick?"
"No. Let me explain."
"Explain what? How you couldn't help yourself? How you fell in love with me at first sight? How.."
"Be quiet!" He took her by the shoulders and hissed, "Do you want to rouse the entire neighbourhood? Be. Quiet!" Georgiana blinked up at him, stunned. He was right: they must not draw attention to themselves.
"Y-you're a m-monster," she hiccuped pathetically. "A brutal, lying, h-horrible monster."
"I am not married."
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I am not!"
"Yes, you are! Everybody knows it! All except me." She sniffed again, and accepted his handkerchief.
"Who told you?"
She scoffed.
"A policeman, for one."
"Who, the one who took you away? Calloway?" The name was said with such scorn, that Georgiana suddenly wondered if Katie was the only reason for the enmity between the two men.
"And Lucy," she said.
He swore softly and began pacing again.
"How much do you know?"
"Why do you ask, so that you can know how much you can still safely hide?"
"Well, it's not possible you know it all. Your sources are neither of them completely informed. I was wondering which rumour I had to defend myself against this time, is all. But if you are already set against me, why should I bother?"
"You abominable... How can you act as though you are the injured party? Lucy told me everything."
"Lucy! How can she tell you what she does not know? To think, I counted her as my friend."
"Do not be angry with her for telling me. If she had not, I would not have been so kind to you tonight."
"Kind!" he muttered incredulously. "You let me go on and on like a fool, and all the time you..."
"If I had thought you and your wife were happy, I could never have forgiven you for leading me on in this manner."
"Leading you...? I wasn't leading you on," he said, his voice quavering. "Please, just listen to me. Katie is nothing to me. It would be nothing to get a divorce. Even if the marriage was legal in the first place..."
"Marriage is marriage, Mr. Morgan," said Georgiana hotly, deciding to ignore the fact that he could not afford a divorce. "It is a promise, a vow. Simply because she was unfaithful does not give you the right to be so, as well."
"I understand that, but..."
"Even if you hate each other with a passion, you should have been there to welcome your child into the world!"
"My child?"
"Yes, your wife gave birth last night, while you were tricking me into staying in your room. Not married, indeed!"
He glared at her with his fists clenched.
"It astonishes me, how you can think I can have children with a woman I despise. I do not consider myself married. And neither does Katie, until it suits her," he added bitterly.
"It makes no difference," she forced out. "It does not erase all your other....amours, which your friend spoke of last night, and you made no attempt to deny. You speak like someone who believes the way I do, but your actions speak for themselves."
"What do you know of my actions, Georgiana? All you have is gossip from a ... from Lucy. Why don't you listen to my side, then make your judgements?"
"I'm not interested in hearing justifications," she said tearfully. "I couldn't trust myself."
"What are you afraid of? Of me? Of course you are. After all, I saved your life, I gave you shelter, I fed you, and I entertained you, without asking a single thing in return. Well, I am sorry!"
Georgiana turned away, holding her head in her hands.
"I should have expected you would throw that in my face," she said bitterly, the tears flowing freely. "Of course I didn't--Cruelty always surprises me."
"I, cruel?" he said incredulously. "Do you think yourself innocent in this matter?" She scoffed and walked away from him a few steps. He followed impulsively, but stopped a few feet away from her. "Don't cry, Georgiana. I didn't mean... I could explain, if you would let me," he said in a suspiciously strangled voice.
"Nothing you could say would change the fact that you are married," she said. "Explanations are useless. Please...just go away. Leave me alone."
"I am not married," he reiterated quietly.
"You are either a liar or..." She turned to face him again. "How can you possibly believe that, truly? All of your friends, even the authorities, know it."
"They are not privy to the same facts that I am."
"The facts, Mr. Morgan," she said in a suddenly cold manner, "are that you purposely deceived me. You have a responsibility to your wife and children--even if they are not in actuality yours--and you were willing to simply forget about them as soon as you saw me. Why should I trust you? I couldn't! Not knowing the facts." She turned around now, able to look at him with her chin high, secure in the knowledge that at least she was right. He stared at her a few moments longer before dropping his eyes.
"Very well. I see. If you are determined, I suppose there is nothing else to be said." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and was about to walk out of the garden, when she halted him. He stopped and looked around, his expression once again hopeful, only to turn to disappointment again when she began to unfasten the necklace he had put around her neck with so much tenderness a few moments ago.
"You must take this back. It is not proper for me to keep it, and I... Well, it is likely worth very much. You can sell it, or...." She placed it in his hand and stepped back. He only nodded, his fingers tightening around the jewelry. "If you wait a few minutes, I can fetch your knife, too. It will be of more use to you than a necklace."
"Don't bother," he said. "Keep it."
"And....be careful, won't you? For your own sake, if not for mine."
"What makes you think I need to be careful?"
Georgiana smiled wanly.
"You always seem to be ready to fight."
"Ah, yes. But if you'll remember, everything I've done in the last twenty-four hours has been for you. I think I shall be safe now."
He noted her rapidly blinking eyes, and still furious, was glad he had hurt her. He stalked out of the garden, his fist closed around the necklace. The locket cut into his hand, drawing blood. He hissed and, dropping the offending jewelry, brought his trembling hand to his mouth. He forced himself to focus on being angry, the better not to break down right there on the pavement. Her words had cut deeper than any diamond could go into his hand. He knew she was right, but... Looking down in an effort to keep his emotions under check, he spotted the necklace, glittering in the lamplight. He had faced his father in an effort to please her. How could she have done this to him?
He picked up the necklace and threw it against the door of the Darcy house. The necklace still glittered brightly as he began the long walk home
Chapter 18
Posted On: Monday, 2 September 2002, at 8:21 p.m.
Georgiana walked miserably back into the house. She noted somewhat vaguely that she was trembling--probably nerves from the confrontation. Her entire body seemed to be reacting most horribly. What would happen if she met somebody while in this state? She must get control of herself.
She trudged up the stairs and to her room, feeling worse by the second. By the time she had staggered into her room, she was nearly overcome with despair. Anita took one look at her, and swooped to help her into bed.
"Whatever has come over you, miss?ö she asked. "You're as hot as..."
"I'll be all right in a few minutes, Anita," Georgiana said feebly. "I think I need to be alone."
Anita was already gone. A few minutes later, she came back, with Mrs. Annesley. Georgiana blinked up at them as they bent over her.
"I wouldn't be surprised if she's caught her death," said Anita tearfully.
"You are always so comforting, Anita," said Georgiana faintly. Anita smiled gratefully and Georgiana closed her eyes.
"By the way, Georgiana, did you by chance lose a necklace?"
Georgiana's eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up. She was astonished at the effort she had to make, and wondered fleetingly whether she had actually caught her death.
"A necklace?" she asked. Mrs. Annesley opened her left hand to reveal a simple gold chain with a tiny cross attached to it. Georgiana's eyes misted over. It was the necklace Mr. Morgan had given her.
"Why, thank you," she croaked, taking it between her fingers. "I... thought I had lost it. Where did you find it?"
"I did not. Mr. Warner happened to open the door, and saw it lying on the step."
"She's gone pale, Mrs. Annesley," said Anita. "Should we call for the doctor?"
"I am quite all right," said Georgiana, with supreme effort. "It is only nerves, I'm sure. S-so much has h-happened, and I..."
"I'm sure you are right," said Mrs. Annesley soothingly. "Perfectly understandable, under the circumstances." She left, to inform their guests that Miss Darcy would be unable to join them for the rest of the night. Anita remained with Georgiana.
Georgiana wished she could be alone, but Anita was insistent that she would stay with her mistress, and Georgiana did not have the strength to demand that she leave. Anita was trying to be helpful, of course, but Georgiana only wanted to cry, and she could not do so with Anita in the room. As always happens when emotions are not given room to vent, they became overwhelming. Soon, Georgiana was feeling very sick indeed.
Within a few hours, she was found to have a slight fever. Mrs. Annesley deduced that it must have been the result of being exposed to the weather for so long the night before, but was not too worried that Georgiana would soon recover. By the middle of the night, however, the fever had progressed to such a stage that she could not conscientiously wait any longer before sending for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.
Lucy Marlow grinned at the policeman who had escorted her out of the station, winked, and left laughing. She was never detained long, and only minded the inconvenience for wages lost. As soon as she was out, her experienced eye began scanning the street for a prospective customer. She was startled when an arm pulled her into the alley and pinned her against the wall. She tried to scream, but a hand closed over her mouth and the man put a finger to his own lips, signaling her to be quiet, then released her. Now she was angry.
"Matt! Why'd you 'ave to scare me like that?"
"What did you tell Georgiana about Katie?"
"Who?"
"The girl who was here today. Did you tell her I was married?"
"I might've mentioned it."
He groaned and slumped to the ground with his head in his hands. Lucy looked on sympathetically.
"My life ruined by gossip," he moaned. "And she believed it, too. How could I have been so stupid? How could she..." Alarmed, Lucy pulled him back to a standing position.
"Matt!" she said, trying to calm him down. "It's all right. If she's that jealous of some'un in your past, she ain't worth the fuss."
"Don't touch me!" he pulled his arm away from her grasp. "If you didn't want her near me, you could have at least..." His voice trailed off and he gazed dully at the wall.
Lucy looked offended.
"You're drunk," she said. "If you wanna talk to me, wait 'til you're sober. She asked, and I told her, that's all."
"Really?" he asked skeptically. She nodded.
"I was tryin' to talk you up to 'er....."
"And of course you just had to mention that I was married," he said sarcastically. He came to stand within inches of her face. "You should be more careful repeating rumours, Lucy."
"You never deny anything," she stammered.
"No, I don't," he said softly, and turning around, began pacing the short space of ground in front of the wall. Lucy wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and waited for him to finish. Presently, he came to a stop just in front of her and said, "But that does not give you the right to repeat them to just anybody." He ran a hand through his hair despairingly and said, "What am I going to do now?"
"Well, I'll tell you one thing: I'm gonna take you to Joe's, and when I'm done workin', I'll take you 'ome with me."
He looked at her suspiciously.
"Why?"
"You need someone to look after you."
"I can handle myself."
"Now when you're drunk, you can't."
"I'm not drunk!"
She ignored his protestations all the way to Joe's, and when they arrived there, left him at the bar to wait for her while she worked. Unfortunately, she could not concentrate with him sitting there staring morosely at his cup, and after a couple hours, she gave up for the night and took him home. She smiled to herself, busily tidying her one room while he stared and fingered a few of her trinkets.
"This is your house?"
"Why are you surprised? You've been 'ere before."
She turned around and almost pounced on him when she saw he was rifling through her jewelry box. She reminded herself that he was hardly liable to think any of her things were worth stealing, even drunk as a skunk, and relaxed. She walked sedately to him, trying her best to behave like the ladies he was undoubtedly used to, and put a hand on his shoulder. She was surprised to see him near tears.
"What's the matter?"
"Your jewelry...it's all fake."
"So? You didn't expect me to own anything like your mother's diamonds, did you?" She was confused.
"How did you know about my mother's diamonds?"
"Lucky guess."
"You should have something nice, Lucy," he said. "It's not fair that you have nothing, and you're the nicest lady I've ever known."
"I'm not a lady, Matt," she said cautiously. If he was ever going to profess love for her, did it have to be when he was drunk?
"You're never cross with me. Everybody else hates me. My family, Katie, Georgiana, Will... everybody except you." He drew a deep breath and bit his lip in an effort to keep the tears back. Lucy's heart twisted in her chest. She could think of nothing to say, but she sat there all the same, and rubbed circles on his back while he rambled on about his terrible day until finally, he fell asleep with his head on her lap.
She stood gingerly, taking great care not to wake him. There was a knock on the door, and she went to answer it, carefully tucking a tiny pistol behind her skirt, just in case. She was extremely surprised to see George Wickham.
"Is Morgan here?" he demanded peremptorily.
"What if 'e is?"
"I'd like to talk to him," he said, pasting a charming smile on his face. Lucy looked past him to where two or three giants were leaning nonchalantly against the wall.
"Sorry. I don't know where 'e is." She slammed the door in his face.
Placing the pistol back on the table, she went to pull a blanket over Matt Morgan's sleeping form. Combing his hair out of his eyes, she brushed her lips across his temple then blew out the one remaining candle. He would be safe one more night.
Hours later, George Wickham looked into the mirror and moaned. That meddlesome boy had ruined his vision for at least another week. He would have to speak to Jim Gorfey in the morning. He had assured him that there was no way anybody could defend himself against five men, and that Wickham would therefore be safe. Well, Morgan might not be able to defend himself against so many, especially as drunk as he was, but he had certainly pounded Wickham as well as he could.
Wickham tried his charming smile on the mirror. He sucked in his breath and put a hand to his cracked and bleeding lips. Where was the justice? He was a fit man, and a former soldier. He should have been able to defend himself against such a puny child. But instead, those Gorfey idiots had had to rescue him, and he had slunk away to let them finish the job. He hung his head in momentary shame, then pulled himself together and sauntered outside. If anyone asked, he could make up a dashing story about his much-abused face. In fact, he already had one forming in his brain.
He took out the letter he had received yesterday and read it yet again while he held a wet cloth to his face. They were in need of more money for their scheme. Wickham had not thought of Georgiana in ages, but seeing her on the street yesterday had very handily refreshed his memory. He did not relish the thought of meeting her again--he trusted her brother's word too much for that. But if all else failed, he knew he could think of a way to get money out of her.
Lucy woke with a start. What was that noise? She lifted her head groggily from her pillow, and peered around in the darkness to the chair where she had left Morgan. It was empty. An alarm immediately sounded in her head, and she jumped out of bed. Without bothering to reinforce her clothing with something warmer, she ran outside.
The early morning air was thick with fog, but Lucy's ears were sharp. A few feet away, two large men held a boy prisoner between them. He was already sagging in their arms. Dismayed, Lucy wondered how she could have slept through this. Enraged, she threw herself at one of the men who was holding Morgan captive.
She was not a large woman, but she knew how to use her body to best advantage. The bully staggered sideways into his companion, and the fist that had been aimed at Morgan's jaw swung at empty air. Lucy started to his prostrate form, thankful that he seemed to be still conscious enough to try to get up.
"Keep out of this, Lucy," grumbled a deep voice. Lucy whirled to see two more bullies advancing on her.
"A fine fight," she said scornfully. "Five men against one boy!"
"Used to be six men," said Morgan thickly. "Though I use the term loosely." His reward for this remark was to be kicked down again.
A flash of silver, and Lucy darted to the side, barely evading the blade. With a sinking feeling, she realized they meant to murder him. Well, they would not put a knife into that dear boy while she was around to prevent it!
With a little scream, she sprang forward and grabbed the man's wrist. The knife fell to the ground, and disappeared in the fog. Lucy felt a quick feeling of satisfaction just before she was seized by two huge hands.
Sir Percy looked up and down the street once more, irritated by the ease with which his son had outmaneuvered him. Surely he had not been so obvious that Christopher had known he was being followed. But he had no idea where he had gone after he entered that hideous tavern, and that had been more than two hours ago. Percy had already checked the alleys around the tavern, and found nothing but a few rats. He wondered if Christopher had unwittingly eluded him by falling in with one of the rowdy groups he had seen leaving. He rather doubted it; even from the distance he was obliged to take, he could tell Christopher was in no mood for rejoicing. The boy had seemed about to fall over from weariness, and had twice stopped to sit on the ground with his head resting on his knees. Percy had wanted so much to take him back then and there, but first he had to be certain he was not imposing terrible risks on the rest of the family.
He looked up from his inspection of a suspicious-looking window, when he heard terrible sounds of violence coming from an alley a few houses down the street. He broke into a run, dreading what he would find.
It was darker in the alley; Percy had to squint to see what was going on. Four or five men were milling about. None of them could have been mistaken for Christopher, even in the dark. Percy had no wish to interfere with a fair fight, or a personal squabble, but he could not squash the feeling that it was vital for him to interfere. He tightened his grip on his walking stick, still wondering whether to do anything, when one of the men suddenly kicked savagely at a limp sack on the ground. The limp sack choked and curled defensively inwards.
Percy needed no more invitation. His eyes were now accustomed to the almost total lack of light, and he wondered why he had not noticed the boy on the ground at first. But now was not the time for introspection, and he first disposed of the bullies in a businesslike fashion, before tending to their victim.
The boy was nearly unconscious, but he was making feeble attempts to get up. Percy dropped his cane and stooped to help him. The boy went lax in his arms the moment he got a firm hold on him. The bullies had done a very thorough job. A few more minutes, and he would have been dead. But now Percy had to deal with this situation, before he could get back to the business of finding his son.
Instead of pulling him to his feet, as was his original intention, he laid him down on the ground, and gently rolled him over, to get a better look at the damage that had been done. His stomach lurched at the sight of a face covered in bruises, some old and some new. Blood was streaming from the nose and mouth, his hair was matted with the stuff. But worst of all, was that this was his son. This was Christopher. What had the silly boy gotten himself into now, that this must happen to him?
He was in the process of tearing off his coat, when a shrill voice cried out,
"What are you doin' to 'im?" He whirled around in time to see a young woman lurch to her feet and stumble over to kneel beside Christopher. She was pretty wobbly herself--must have hit her head on the brick wall--but she obviously knew his son. "Poor boy," she sobbed, lending her one shabby petticoat to Percy's effort. "I told ye to stay with me tonight."
Another man came running into the alley, only to stop short when he saw what was going on.
"Lucy!" he exclaimed. "What 'appened?"
"I don't know," she sniffed. "I woke up an' heard them out 'ere, but when I came out to try an' stop 'em, they threw me 'gainst the wall."
"Is this your residence, ma'am?" asked Percy, dispensing with introductions for now. "Could we take him in there, do you think?"
"Best to take 'im 'ome," said the other man. "Katie wouldn't like it if 'e was rooming with you, Lucy."
"I don't think `rooming' is the word," said Percy.
"C-can 'e be moved, my lord?" said Lucy, looking doubtfully at Christopher.
"I think it can be attempted. In any case, it is certain he will die if he stays out here." Percy forced himself to speak in clipped, businesslike tones. It would not do for them to know about his relationship to Christopher, if there really was something unlawful going on. But he could not resist caressing his forehead, even if under the guise of feeling for a fever.
Chapter 19
Posted On: Tuesday, 25 February 2003, at 11:38 a.m.
Darcy jolted awake as the carriage was pulled up short. Despite his grogginess, he was able to catch Elizabeth before she and Alex fell to the floor, and when he was certain they were unharmed, he scrambled out of the vehicle to see what had happened. Tom Coachman was standing on the box, waving his whip at the driver of another vehicle, which had been driving parallel to their route, and, since there was technically no intersection here, had perforce met with resistance in the form of a large tree. One of the other fellow's horses appeared to be dead, but the coachman was alive and well, and shouting back at Tom Coachman with outrageous, if not entirely grammatical, eloquence.
"What happened?" Darcy bellowed, interrupting their argument.
"Came out of nowhere, sir! Not my fault, sir! This idiot is drunk, sir!"
"I bean't drunk, an' if you think I do, the more fool you! Do you know who I work for?"
"I don't care if you're the butler for King George! You are drunk, idiot! And you could have killed my master!" Brought up short by his own reasoning, he looked guiltily down at Darcy, who was frowning portentously. "Is Mrs. Darcy all right, sir? And the babe?"
"They are, but...."
"Then you are lucky, sir!" Tom Coachman rounded on the other fellow again.
The door to the second carriage swung open and a voice said, drunkenly,
"I'm not drunk. Help me out, blast you. Confound it! They're miles away now! What the devil is...."
"Montgomery?" Darcy gasped, helping the man out of the crushed carriage. "I should have known it would be you."
"Oh, hello, Darce. I say, did you have to get in the way? I was winning, y'know. I had two hundred pounds on that race." He swore furiously and kicked the wheel of his carriage. Bemused, Darcy realized that Elizabeth had come out to see if there was anything to be done. He also realized that Montgomery was leering rather grossly at Elizabeth, and deciding to forestall any trouble in that quarter, hurriedly introduced them.
"This is my wife, Elizabeth Darcy. Elizabeth, this is Lord Montgomery, son of the Duke of Carrington."
Montgomery's face had fallen at the introduction, and he mumbled a very polite "Your servant, ma'am." Elizabeth, her eyes twinkling, curtsied and said she was "very pleased" to meet Lord Montgomery. His smile dawned again, and he said,
"Well, we are cousins, after all, ma'am. You may call me Michael."
"Distant cousins, only," said Darcy. "And not even Georgiana calls you Michael, Montgomery."
"Well, no, she couldn't, could she? Michael Montgomery ain't my name. Just a title. You should know that, Darcy!"
"I think we should do something about your carriage," said Darcy wearily. He began giving instructions to the coachmen, and clamping one hand around Montgomery's arm, began to steer him towards his own carriage. A woeful glance at Elizabeth, who still looked amused for some reason, told her that he was not happy that they were now saddled with another passenger.
"And speaking of Georgiana, what the devil is she doing wandering all over London, without a chaperone, and on the arm of an unspeakable...."
"What?" Darcy halted. Montgomery blinked at him.
"Well, isn't that why you're back in England?"
"I think you should explain what you just said," said Darcy, low-voiced.
"Is Georgiana all right?" asked Elizabeth, appearing at his elbow. Montgomery looked from one to the other.
"Dash it all, I thought you knew!" he howled.
When the Darcys arrived at home with Lord Montgomery in tow, they found the house in something of a quiet uproar. It seemed that the entire Fitzwilliam/Darcy clan-with the exception of Colonel Fitzwilliam-had gathered in support of the youngest Darcy. A Darcy who was suspiciously absent from this meeting.
"If she is well, then why does she not come down to see us?" Lady Catherine demanded of Mrs. Annesley, who stood rigidly in the center of the group.
"What is going on?" Darcy interrupted. They all jumped at the sound of his voice, and Lord Cavendar and Sir Brian both began talking at once of how they had come with every intention of helping, but Georgiana was not cooperating.
"She won't even come down for dinner!" said Sir Brian, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
"What is this?" asked Darcy. "She is eating, I trust?"
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Annesley began.
"But she takes her meals in her room," Max piped in. "None of us have seen her since she fainted, except Julia, Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Annesley."
"She won't even see me!" exclaimed Lady Catherine. "Instead, she invites that trollop..."
"Aunt..." said Lord Cavendar in menacing tones. Lady Catherine huffed at him, but stopped her attack on Julia.
"She fainted?" Darcy asked, turning his alarmed gaze to Montgomery, who raised his hands in self-defense.
"All I know's what I told you already," he hiccupped, then collapsed onto the sofa. Everybody resumed their talking. Darcy was forced to shout to make himself heard.
"Enough! I am going to speak to her, myself."
"She won't see you, Darce," warned Lord Cavendar.
"Yes, she will, David," said Lady Cavendar from the top of the stairs, her voice lilting softly with the barely-discernible traces of her Scottish accent. Montgomery woke for a second and blinked up at her before dropping off again. She smiled at Darcy.
"She heard you were here, and she is asking for you."
He needed no more invitation. Once again, he had been absent while something untoward had happened, but he could still comfort her. He was surprised to find her in her room, not weeping heartbrokenly, but quite calmly aiming a needle at her sampler. She looked up when he entered and smiled, just as if nothing had happened.
"I am so glad you are home!" she said, accepting his kiss on her cheek. "Are Elizabeth and Alex well?"
"Perfectly. What about you? Are you well?"
"As you see. But I wanted to talk to you."
"And I you. Tell me, Georgie..."
"About my come-out ball," she interrupted. He frowned. She was behaving so odd. Georgiana never interrupted! But she went on. "I think it should take place as soon as possible."
"Georgiana, I need to know..."
"Well, I do not mean right away, of course," she went on brightly. "We will need a few months to prepare, but I think, by April, or May at the latest, I shall be quite..."
"You have never been in a rush to come out before," Darcy pointed out. Georgiana sighed.
"No, but... Fitzwilliam, I do not think I am a very sensible girl."
"Of course you are, but what has that to do with..."
"I need to marry myself off, before I do something really foolish and..."
"What are you talking about? Is this to do with Wickham?" He stared at her in horror at the possibility that had just occurred to him. She looked pained, but she managed to keep her emotions in check. With a deep breath, she said,
"No. Not precisely...."
"Not precisely?" he echoed. "In what way, then, is he involved?"
She bit her lip. She had not meant to disclose anything to him, but she should have known she would not be able to keep anything from him.
"I have a pattern, you see," she said quietly, beginning to pick nervously at imaginary lint on her gown. "Of...of falling in love with terribly ineligible men, and I thought...in order to prevent something truly dreadful happening...."
"Wait a minute, Georgiana," Darcy interrupted. "Are you saying that you fell in love with this man who was escorting you about London?"
"Yes. Well, no. I mean, I thought I did, but then I realized..."
"What happened?" His voice was stern now, and Georgiana looked up at him bleakly. He would kill Mr. Morgan if he knew the truth, she was sure of it. She looked down and tried to remember what she could of what Max had been told that night. Her stories must agree.
"I had gotten lost," she said, determined to have as much truth as possible. "Some men found me, and they... Oh, they were awful! But then he...."
"Who?"
"He... Oh, Mr. M-Marlow came just in time, and he stopped them. He took me away..."
"Where?" Darcy demanded.
"First to eat," she stammered. "Then to his house."
"You stayed in his house...alone?" Darcy was looking lethal now. Georgiana had to restrain a yelp when she saw his face.
"No!" she cried hurriedly, remembering what Mr. Morgan had told Max. "With his family. He has a large family."
"Ah, then he is married," said Darcy, relieved.
"Ye-es," said Georgiana, looking down again. "Very ineligible," she murmured. "He was charming, kind, considerate. He talked to me, and listened to what I said, and I..."
"You fell in love with him," Darcy said. "Did he give you any encouragement?"
Georgiana blushed, but knew her answer must be no, so she shook her head.
"So you see, Fitzwilliam, I have to...I must get married! It is the only way to prevent this from happening again! First Wickham, and now..."
"Hush, dear," said Darcy, trying not to smile. "Wickham was a scoundrel who deceived you. You were not in the least to blame. As for this....again, who could blame you? A charming man saved your life. As long as nothing truly inappropriate happened... If you want to have your ball, that is one thing, but I do not think you need be so rash as to think you are desperate to get married."
"I am determined," said Georgiana.
"Well, do you have anyone in mind?" he asked. She shook her head. "Then concentrate on your ball. Never mind about finding a husband. All right?"
Georgiana nodded.
Darcy returned to the parlour, where the rest of the family was still gathered. He took a cursory glance of the group, then said,
"Who was here the night it happened?"
"I was," said Mrs. Annesley. "As well as Sir Brian and Mr. Callahan."
Darcy looked at each of them. Max looked terribly guilty. So did Brian, but he wasn't about to swallow his tongue the way Max was. Darcy smiled.
"Max, could I speak to you?"
Max threw a pleading glance at his brother as he followed Darcy out of the room. As soon as they were in the study, he blurted out,
"I'm terribly sorry, Darce. I never should have hired him to begin with. But how was I to know he was a drunkard? Before you ask, yes, Brian did warn me of it. But I..."
"For God's sake, what are you talking of?"
"Of my driver," Max stammered.
"Oh, that. Well, never mind about that, Max. I need to ask what you know of a Mr. Marlow."
"Oh." Max sighed in relief. "Well, not very much, to tell you the truth. I'd never seen him before, and I haven't seen him since. He burst into the house just as Brian and I were about to start our search again..."
"He burst into the house?" Darcy asked. "Without even knocking?"
"No, he knocked. Pounded, actually. I think he might have been close to hysterics, but..."
"Why?"
"He said Georgiana had been arrested."
"What?!"
"Well, it wasn't true. He was quite wrong. Actually, a policeman had found her when Mr. Marlow left to acquire a carriage, and he took her to the police station for safekeeping."
Darcy had to sit down. Several questions were thudding around in his brain.
"Why did he not leave her with his family?" he asked, massaging his temples. Max shrugged.
"I don't know. But Mrs. Annesley went to find Georgiana, while Brian and I questioned Mr. Marlow." He glanced at Darcy again and amended. "Well, Brian questioned. I watched."
"Then they were alone together for quite awhile," Darcy muttered. "A married man and my sister."
"No, is he married?" Max breathed. "He must have started early, then. He didn't look much older than me."
Darcy eyed his seventeen-year-old cousin.
"What did he look like?" he asked curiously.
"Very young. No older than twenty, surely. Black hair. Startling, really, especially with those blue eyes. Rather wild appearance, really. But after we had calmed him down, he behaved like a gentleman. He even corrected my English once! And he had a faint accent."
"What sort of accent? London?"
"No, far from it. French."
"Handsome?" Darcy asked.
"Lord, I couldn't tell. Why do you ask?"
Darcy made no answer. Knowing Georgiana, this was exactly the type of person she would fall in love with. But from what Max had said, he wondered if it had been completely unrequited. He found himself curious to see this Mr. Marlow for himself. Something was afoot here. An uneasy feeling that told him something was not quite right.
It did not take him long after that to recall the detective Richard had hired in the Wickham case. He frowned as he recalled the late lack of news in that area, and he again had an uneasy feeling that Wickham was involved in this somehow. Still, a detective might be useful, so he set out to find this Mr. Morgan who had worked his way into Richard's reluctant esteem.
As Percy turned the corner to climb the steps to the room above the bakery, he nearly bumped into a short, burly man with long, grey hair. Percy recognized him at once as Will Morgan, and suddenly wished he had waited an hour before coming. He did not relish his meetings with this man, despite the information he received from him about Christopher's latest escapades. Will had apparently known him very well, and was not in the least discreet in talking about him to a man he had barely just met. Frankly, Sir Percy found it difficult to believe anything the man said.
Will looked up at him suspiciously.
"You still 'ere? Thought you'd 'ave given up by now."
"I am notoriously persistent, Mr. Morgan," Percy said with a slight bow.
Will snorted and led the way into the apartment. As usual, the fact that the locks were on the outside, fairly locking the inhabitants in, rather than any intruders out, rankled with Percy. What was even more disturbing was the discovery of a young woman and three very small children in the room with Christopher. The woman he had seen yesterday, and it was not a memory he relished. She had walked straight to Christopher and begun whispering to him. Before that, Christopher had shown very few signs of life, barely making a sound or opening his eyes. But almost as soon as she began talking, his thin hands had clenched the flimsy blanket covering him, and his entire body had tensed. Percy had been about to advise the woman that the boy must not be excited, when she had suddenly perched on the side of the bed and kissed him.
Christopher's reaction had been less than amorous. He had fairly screamed with rage, and with a strength nobody-least of all the girl-had supposed his battered body had, he shoved her away. The girl had fallen and hit her head on the edge of the bed, but she leapt up again and started for him, fingers poised to scratch. Percy had held her back while Will shouted something about delirium and being a danger to others. At first inclined to think he meant the girl, Percy had been stunned when Will Morgan had instead bound Christopher hand and foot to the bed. The boy had fainted again when Will wrenched his arms above his head, but he had still been tossing fretfully, and Percy had decided this step was reasonable enough, so long as the ropes were not too tight. But he was dismayed now to find that Christopher was still the helpless prisoner of Will Morgan.
"Is 'e awake yet?" Will asked of the girl, who gave a negative answer and then introduced herself "proper-like" as "Matt's" wife. Percy was once again stunned. There had been no mention of this in the two weeks since he had interrupted the brawl. What had the boy done?
Will walked over to the table and poured some water into a glass.
"You know," he said to Percy as he walked to the bed to stare down at Christopher, "there really ain't no need for you to wait for this thing to wake up. I could find your son for ye, proper."
"Somehow, I think he could do a better job," said Percy. Will looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then upended the glass over Christopher's head. Angry now, Percy grabbed the man's wrist and forced him into the chair. "Firmness I can understand," he said lowly. "But if there's anything I can't abide, it's cruelty." Will gaped at him.
Percy stalked over to where Christopher was choking, his fingers tight-clasped over the ropes. He pulled out a knife and cut the ropes, then handed him a towel to dry his face. Christopher tried to sit up but, lacking the strength, was forced to let Percy help him. Their eyes locked for an instant. Percy smiled faintly, trying to convey the message that it would be all right now. Christopher frowned slightly, as though trying to place a name with the face before him. Shaken, Percy stood to face Will again.
"Well, there's your detective, my lord," Will said scornfully. "Much good may 'e do you. You'd be better off with me."
So saying, he left the room. The girl and the children remained. Seeing them, Christopher smiled bitterly.
"So I shan't die after all, Katie. Bad luck. Maybe next time."
"You know I don't want you to die, Matt," said Katie in a whining voice.
"Really? I could have sworn you did. Where are William and Josie?"
"They're at my mother's, where you can't hurt 'em," she said blithely. "'Sides, you wouldn't want 'em to see you like this."
"You could have at least left them with Sam," he grumbled. "At least he would feed them."
"Me mother does the best she can!" said Katie, firing up and forgetting her careful speech.
"Oh yes, for her own children, but she doesn't give three straws for your bastards, and you know it!" Katie made a gobbling noise, and Percy had no doubt that she would have attacked her "husband," if he had not been in the room. Christopher's eyes shifted to Percy again, then back to Katie. There was still no sign of recognition, and Percy was beginning to be dismayed. The boy seemed lucid, but he also seemed to have an impaired memory.
Katie recovered herself and smiled sweetly.
"Speaking of feeding the children, Matt, this gen'leman has a job for you."
"It is of the utmost importance to me," Percy said smoothly. "But also very private."
"Oh, I won't say nothin'," said Katie sweetly. She picked up her baby and took him to the bed. "Georgie," she said, "this is your papa."
Christopher glanced at him again, and this time Percy could read a plea in his eyes. Katie was beaming at him, the epitome of the proud new parent. Percy obediently came closer to have a look at his grandchild.
"He is beautiful," he lied, then added, "If I may have a few moments alone with your husband, ma'am, I would be most grateful." Katie smiled up at him, inclined her head most graciously, and left the room, taking the baby with her.
Percy took a deep breath then turned back to Christopher. He surveyed him critically then sighed and said,
"Sink me. You look more a chimney sweep than a detective."
Still not looking at him, Christopher asked,
"Have you come to give my appearance a rake-down, Father? I know I must look terrible, but I really don't have the patience right now."
"Neither do I. That could take hours," Percy retorted. "I'm glad to see you know me after all. And that you are strong enough to talk rationally."
Christopher looked up at him, his eyes bleak.
"I thought you didn't want them to know about our relationship," he said quietly. "Understandable, I suppose."
"Yes. I really don't want those opportunists swarming Blakeney Hall. I don't think your mother would like it, either. Are you really married to that doxy?"
If Christopher was puzzled by his father's brisk tones, he did not show it. He shrugged.
"It would appear so."
"Appearances can be deceiving. Are you married to her?"
Christopher only shrugged again.
"What difference does it make?"
"At least tell me if the children are yours."
"No!"
"What do you mean, `No!'? Does that mean they are not, or that you will not tell me?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Percy's eyes flashed in anger, but he recovered himself and said a calm,
"I should like to take you home, but if you have responsibilities here...." His voice trailed off. Christopher was tense, but silent. Percy drew a bow at random. "Who is Georgiana?"
Christopher started most gratifyingly.
"Wh-what do you mean?" he asked, studiously nonchalant.
"The other night, you were delirious, and you said that name several times. I was wondering who it was. We all wondered, actually."
"That's why Katie named him Georgie," Christopher muttered. "And I thought for once she had named him for his father." He lay back with an arm over his eyes.
"Then the children are not yours...?" Percy smiled sadly. "I see. Well, then I see no reason why you should continue in this way, if you do not wish it. Unless you feel you have an obligation to her or her children, either an annulment or a divorce..."
"That won't be necessary," Christopher said coldly. "I don't need my father to help me out of every mess I get myself into."
"No, only the particularly messy ones," said Percy coolly. "Very well, then..."
"Why are you here, Father?"
"I came to see a detective about finding my son, and what do I find? My son. Sink me, it was very lucky."
"You're lying." Christopher struggled to sit up again. "Will said you were the one to find me that night. You followed me, didn't you? Or had me followed?"
"Of course I did. Do you think I would have just let you go, without knowing where or why?"
"Then why didn't you follow me four years ago?"
"Well, you know your mother. She is adamantly against people travelling with bullets in their backs."
Christopher winced and looked down at his hands.
"What I meant to say was, why didn't you send somebody else to find me?"
"I did. But you made yourself devilish hard to find. Your uncle Andrew scoured the country near Blakeney Hall. Armand searched the docks. Tony searched London. But you were gone."
"I was here the whole time. You could have found me, if you tried hard enough."
"Very likely."
"Why didn't you try?"
Percy sighed. Christopher shook his head and looked away.
"Never mind. You were angry, that's all. But why now?"
"Why did you choose to climb through your own window? I didn't choose the timing, Chris. You did."
"I thought you were in Italy."
"Well, you can be thankful that I was not." Percy stood and began to pull on his gloves. "I must go now. If your jailer asks what we talked about, tell him you are not at liberty to discuss it."
"He is not my jailer," said Christopher, flushing. "I come and go as I please." As if to emphasize his point, he began making an effort to stand.
"There is no need to see me out," said Percy, restraining the urge to help him. It would do the boy good to recognize his own weakness. "I think I can find the way. No, don't do that, you foolish..." He jumped forward as Christopher slumped to the ground.
"I'm fine," Christopher mumbled, waving him away with one hand and leaning heavily on him with the other.
"No, you are not. You are still recovering from that beating you took, and aside from your apparent-though yet to be proven--return to sense, do not appear to be making any headway. Which reminds me: why were those men so intent on killing you, do you suppose?"
"I...don't remember." He sat heavily on the bed and put one shaky hand to his head, avoiding his father's eyes. "I think I was...just a little...bosky."
"Morgan suspects you were caught in a compromising situation with a rich young girl."
"I know," he said miserably, one hand clutching the sheets convulsively. A suspicion began to form in Percy's mind. He had been wondering why Christopher did not seem to be getting any better, though the fever had been gone after three days. His suspicion was strengthened when Will burst into the room again. Christopher was shrinking from him, though he tried to hide it. Percy frowned, eyeing first one and then the other.
"Katie says you threw 'er out," said Will gruffly.
"Come, come, Mr. Morgan," said Percy briskly, gathering his cane and hat. "You must see he is in no condition to do such a thing. Now, if you have a moment to spare, I would like a word with you in private." So saying, he clapped the other man on the shoulder and propelled him out of the room. Once outside, Will huffed at him.
"Who do you think you are, you dandified..."
"Who I am is none of your concern at the moment, and if I were you, I would not wish to make it my concern. But I will tell you this, Mr. Morgan. I will come back in one week. If that boy is not significantly better by that time, I will have no choice but to hold you personally responsible. Do you understand me?"
"Are you sayin' I would harm me own daughter's `usband?" Will gasped, the picture of outraged innocence.
"I'm glad to see your understanding is not impaired." Percy grinned and turned to walk away, only to come face to face with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He blinked his surprise, then smiled and said smoothly, "Darcy, what a surprise to see you here! May one inquire as to your business?"
"You may," said Darcy, looking about in confusion. "I was told this is where I might find the office of..." He broke off in some embarrassment. Sir Percy smiled sympathetically.
"Do not hesitate to speak it, dear boy. I myself have come to find a detective."
"You?" Darcy was astonished.
"Yes, well," said Percy, inspecting his cuffs, "I realized it was about time some effort was made to find my son."
"But you told me he was dead," said Darcy.
"So I thought, but some ... rather astonishing evidence has come to light, and..." Percy shrugged elegantly. "What else is there to do?"
"Well, I wish you luck, Sir Percy," said Darcy sincerely. "Did you, er, find the detective you sought?"
"Oh, yes," said Percy, smiling faintly. He frowned suddenly, but only ever so slightly. "Oh, but my dear chap. It is most unlucky, but...he could not see me. He is ill."
"But..." said Will Morgan, recovering himself. Percy fixed him with a glare and repeated himself.
"Much too ill to be disturbed. But if you will walk with me, Darcy, you may tell me about your trouble. Whatever could cause you to search out a detective?"
Darcy hesitated, but for some reason he trusted this man. They began walking together, and he started with,
"It's about my sister."
"Oh, yes. Forgive, but I have forgotten her name."
Darcy smiled tolerantly. "Georgiana."
Percy stopped and stared at him, wondering if it could possibly be more than coincidence.
"What a lovely name," he murmured, then smiled most affably. "Do go on. What seems to be the trouble?"