“Mrs. Hobart claims to have been intimate with the Thurnian royal family, the children in particular. A nursemaid, I presume.”
“So she has said,” Elizabeth agreed. “And her stories are rather entertaining.”
“I do not deny their entertainment,” Darcy said. “I question their likelihood. A woman so placed is valuable. She would know too much about the family to be easily spared. Yet she tells us she left court two years ago—left the royal children, left her position—to join her married daughters in London.”
Miss Bennet’s eyes sparked. “Is that so impossible? You may not object to being many miles from your relations, Mr. Darcy, but some people do prefer to be near theirs.”
He thought of Georgiana waiting for him, and his jaw tightened. “On the contrary,” he said quietly, “I am travelling to meet my sister at this very moment.”
“There, you see!” She seized on it at once. “People do leave important duties to be with those they love. You judge poor Mrs. Hobart too harshly.”
“If she was still in favour,” he began, thinking how absurd it felt to argue anything other than that the woman had never been thus employed at all, “the court would have clung to her. Were she too old to continue, they would have pensioned her off. But they would hardly allow Sir Reginald to entrust her, after a two years’ absence from service, with a task as delicate as reclaiming a lost princess.”
“I was never lost,” she said. “They knew precisely where to locate me.”
“They waited all this time only to force you onto the road in January? Why not wait two more months and have you travel as spring arrives?”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together. She looked away for a moment, then back at him. “You think they are lying.”
“I think,” he answered, “that the story is not logical. And when one part of a tale is troubling, I look closer at the rest.”
She nearly groaned with impatience. “You still believe that I am not who I sayIam. How can I believe you when you say that Mrs. Hobart is not who she sayssheis?”
Darcy felt his patience fray.Stubborn woman. “Very well,” he said. “Let us leave Mrs. Hobart aside. Let us consider Sir Reginald. The king of Thurnia has finally called his granddaughter home and sends his trusted envoy to fetch her. How does this envoy travel?”
She set her candle upon the newel post and crossed her arms. “How?”
“He travels,” Darcy said, pressing ahead, “without a single Thurnian servant. Without guards, without a courier, without even a secretary. He arrives in England alone, hires whatever post-boys and horses he can get,and makes his way to Hertfordshire. When he finds you, he proposes to travel ahead of you, leaving you to ride in a hired coach with no protection save a chaperon he recalls from two years prior who happens to be living in London. A chaperon, I will add, who subsequently announced your rank aloud in public in more than one inn.”
“That is a rather dark way of viewing the matter,” Miss Bennet protested. “Sir Reginald is known to my father Mr. Bennet, sir, having carried a message to him from the king some four years ago. If His Majesty wishes me to travel quietly, who am I to question that? Had it not been for the weather separating us, we would even now be in Edinburgh, boarding a ship bound for Thurnia.”
“Have you travelled a great deal, Miss Bennet?”
She glared at him. “No.”
“His plan displays not a careful consideration of your safety, but a reckless disregard for it. And as a gentleman, I must ask why. Why would a king send his granddaughter into the world under such a flimsy arrangement?”
She hesitated. “It does sound somewhat odd, though I must point out that you have not travelled with a valet or any footmen.”
“I am not a royal,” he said. “My valet was meant to follow, and I have my coachmen with me. No, I fear this may be worse than odd.”
“You must be careful, Mr. Darcy,” she teased, “or you will turn this whole business into a gothic novel.”
Why could she not take this seriously? His reply was sharp. “If it ends with you safe with your family, it may be as gothic as it likes.”
Any humour drained from her countenance. She arched an eyebrow. “Which family would that be, Mr. Darcy?”
“Your family in London. Or at your uncle’s estate.”
“Because you believe that is the only family I truly have.”
“I did not say that . . .” He might not havesaidit, but his expression must have shown it, for her frown grew ponderous.
Almost desperate now, he said, “Either Sir Reginald and Mrs. Hobart are precisely what they claim—or they are not. If they are, their conduct is inexplicable. If they are not, then we must ask what they gain by carrying you away.”
“Carrying me away?” she hissed. “They are escorting me toLondon. If I am not a princess as you assert, then I am merely Miss Bennet of Longbourn. Why would anyone go to such lengths to convince me that I am born of a royal lineage if I am not?”
He stared at her. Did she truly not see it? “It is only necessary that others may bepersuadedthat you are.” There were many methods by which they could make her profitable to them, most of which did not bear thinking about.