“One can never be prepared for news of that nature.” Darcy was pleased his voice did not tremble too much. “Nor could you have concealed the truth for long.”
Elizabeth regarded Georgiana sadly. “I suppose not.” She gestured to the door of the townhouse. “Bring her inside. She must rest.”
As Darcy carried Georgiana through the door and into the drawing room, he realized dully that this house no longer belonged to Richard. It would now be the property of Richard’s younger brother, Thomas, whom Darcy knew only slightly.
Darcy laid Georgiana on a couch. His sister sighed and turned her head but did not seem truly awake. Elizabeth directed the servants to obtain water and blankets for Georgiana, appearing to be quite at home. Of course, she had spent a year preparing to become the mistress of this house.
Had Richard’s death occurred before or after the wedding? Darcy supposed it was of little import now, but a voice at the back of his mind would not let the matter rest.
As he watched her press handkerchiefs into Georgiana’s hand, Darcy realized that as much pain as he was experiencing, Elizabeth’s loss must have been even more wrenching. Darcy had lost a cousin, but she had lost the love of her life. And now she was lending comfort to Richard’s wayward relatives!
Elizabeth knelt by Georgiana and roused the other woman enough to drink some water. Georgiana would have stood, but Elizabeth encouraged her to lie down as she recovered from the shock.
“You seem to be managing very well,” Georgiana whispered hoarsely.
Elizabeth retreated to a chair near Georgiana’s couch. “I have had three weeks to accustom myself to the loss. At first, I confess I did not cope well at all.” She glanced down at her hands.
Darcy strode to the sideboard and poured himself a generous portion of brandy, not caring whose decanter it now was. Thus fortified, he seated himself and asked, “Will you tell us how this dreadful event came to pass?”
Elizabeth swallowed, still gazing at her hands twisted together in her lap. “Richard fell while he was riding—here in London. He was not even riding fast, but the horse shied and lost its footing. Richard fell onto a wrought iron fence and sustained an injury to his side. It was the day before we were to be wed.” Elizabeth’s voice was calm and level as she recited the events, but her hands twisted over and over, fingers tangled, while her eyes seemed to focus on nothing.
“At first, he seemed all right. The doctor said he detected no internal damage, and they stitched him up. But then—” She closed her eyes. “The wound became infected.” Darcy inhaled a harsh breath through his teeth. Georgiana might not understand what that meant, but he certainly did.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring at the floor. “They tried everything but could do nothing to help him.” Tears were now spilling freely down Elizabeth’s cheeks; she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Richard was so strong. Up until the very last, he was joking and telling everyone we would be better off without him.” Elizabeth gave a watery smile and met Darcy’s eyes for the first time.
He attempted to return her smile. “That sounds like Richard.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “He knew he was dying, but his only thoughts were about those he was leaving behind. He rewrote his will and spent hours telling Thomas about Hargrave Manor. He wrote you a letter, Mr. Darcy, a long one. I do not know what it contained, but I posted it to America.”
Darcy cursed the impulse that had brought him back to England both too soon and too late. “My uncle will forward our post.”
Elizabeth nodded. “He was so strong for so long and then—” A sob escaped her throat.
Darcy leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “You need not share every detail now.”
She met his gaze. “In the end, he did not feel much pain. The doctor gave him laudanum.”
He savored the warmth of her hand; it felt so right in his. Disgusted with himself, he pulled his hand away. The woman had just lost everything.
Georgiana was freely sobbing, having soaked the handkerchiefs Elizabeth had supplied. Darcy moved to sit beside her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her and murmuring words of comfort. His relationship with Elizabeth might be fraught, but at least he could provide help to his sister.
Elizabeth recovered her composure quickly. She rang for tea and served it, remembering how both guests preferred theirs prepared. Although her eyes were puffy and red, she concentrated her efforts on improving Georgiana’s spirits. Effortlessly, Elizabeth steered the conversation to happy memories and persuaded Georgiana to relate a story about Richard from her childhood. Darcy was full of admiration of Elizabeth’s skill at assuaging his sister’s grief.
Within an hour, Georgiana’s tears had ceased, but she was very sleepy.
“I should return her to Darcy House,” Darcy said, dreading the trip in a jolting carriage to a house ill-prepared for their arrival. The cook did not have sufficient food, and none of the maids had been summoned from Pemberley, so Georgiana would only have the assistance of the housekeeper.
“Would you like to remain here for the night?” Elizabeth asked softly, watching Georgiana drowse against the back of the couch. “We can send for some clothing for you and Georgiana.”
Darcy hesitated, uncertain how to respond. How did Elizabeth come to be acting as a hostess in a house that now bel
onged to Thomas Fitzwilliam? Was she no longer living with the Gardiners? Surely she was not authorized to issue invitations?
“Is—” Darcy cleared his throat. “Is Thomas here?”
Elizabeth knitted her brows in confusion. “No. He is at Hargrave.” Then her expression cleared. “Oh, I should explain. Richard wrote a will before he died. In it, he bequeathed this house and a sum of money to me.” She blinked rapidly to hold back tears. “He was so good to me. He said these were the terms written into our marriage contract. Of course, we were never married …” Her voice choked up, and she rubbed her hand over her mouth. “But he wanted me to have the house and some means of support.”
Richard had accomplished all this while he was in pain and sick with a fever. Elizabeth had been right to accept his offer of marriage. Here was proof yet again that his cousin was the far better man. “That was very good of him.” Elizabeth merely nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, holding in grief and pain. “But we should not impose on your privacy.”