sun and squinted after Eliza’s quickly diminishing figure. “That poor girl’s never going to make it all the way back to the gates on foot,” she said sympathetically. “Artie darling, see that she gets a ride, will you? And find out how I’m to get my dress back,” she reminded him.
Artemis obediently started to rise but Harv jumped up from the table and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Stay right where you are, Artie, old pal,” he ordered. “I will personally handle this. Distraught young ladies happen to be a specialty of mine.”
Artemis shrugged and resumed his seat. Jenny looked slightly alarmed.
Faith’s angelic smile broadened. “Now don’t you fret, Jenny darling,” she exclaimed, patting Jenny’s arm. “Never let it be said that I do not give credit where credit is due. My baby brother does indeed happen to be expert in these matters. There is no doubt in my mind that he will have that old Yankee girl out of your dress in no time.”
Jenny rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Faith, honey,” she said, “Artie and I have an ironclad rule never to take a drink before sundown. But we’re going to break it just this once, for you.”
She looked over at Artemis who was already getting up and heading for the beverage cart. “Make mine a martini, darling,” she ordered. “A double!”
Eliza trudged wearily along the endless drive, attempting to reconstruct the details of her strange visit to Pemberley Farms. But she could make no sense of any of it. Why, she wondered, did Darcy want her letters when he seemed to have little interest in the one he already had? And what was it he had said about the unopened one? That it was
Of course, she glumly reflected, she should have known from the outset that Darcy was too good to be true. Dashing men as rich, handsome and charming as she had at first thought the tall Virginian to be existed only in the pages of romance novels, not in reality.
Calming down, mostly from the exhaustion of the walk, Eliza took a deep breath. She chuckled to herself; he actually was rich, handsome and charming. But there was something else, more, a gentleness, a melancholy; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it made him extremely compelling, the insanity aside.
She stopped and leaned against a tree, sighing and smiling to herself, reflecting on the way his eyes seemed to caress her at every glance. Returning to the reality of the afternoon, she pushed herself away from the silent strength of the tree and continued the trek to her car. Saying out loud as she continued down the dirt drive, “I haven’t gotten this much exercise since…forever.”
Still muttering to herself, Eliza heard the brisk clip-clop of hooves on the road behind her. Stepping quickly to the edge of the drive, lest she be trampled twice in the same day, she turned to see Darcy’s handsome friend grinning down at her from an open carriage.
The carriage drew smoothly to a stop beside her and the man stood and bowed gallantly. “Pardon me, ma’am,” said its occupant, “may I offer you a lift down to the gatehouse?”
“I don’t know,” she said warily. “Are you insane, too?”
“Sadly, yes,” Harv Harrington replied with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “but fortunately the homicidal streak in my family skips every third generation, so I believe you’re relatively safe.”
For the first time in hours, and despite her aching feet, Eliza found herself laughing. “In that case, I’ll take a chance,” she said, accepting his outstretched hand and climbing wearily into the carriage. She sank back gratefully into the soft leather cushions, wriggled out of her shoes and sighed. “This is heavenly.”
“Fitz never did properly introduce us,” he said as the carriage began to roll again. “I am Harv Harrington of Staunton, Virginia. And you are…?”
“Eliza Knight of New York, New York,” she replied.
“Well, Eliza Knight of New York, I must confess that I was longing for you to stay for the ball,” he said. “The local belles that Fitz invites are always so…provincial.”
“I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, Harv,” she replied with a grin, “but I forgot to bring my dancing slippers.” Eliza wrinkled her brow. “Besides,” she added, “your friend Fitz is a bit…eccentric for my tastes.”
Harv nodded his reluctant agreement. “Yeah, well, I’ll admit that poor old Fitz has been just a tad strange ever since that odd business over in England a few years ago.”
Eliza looked at him quizzically. “Odd business?”
Harv nodded. “Surely you remember. It was in
“And had he?” Eliza asked, suddenly very interested in Harv’s story. “Been kidnapped, I mean?”
Harv slowly shook his head. “Evidently not,” he said. “In fact, nobody’s exactly sure what happened. But Fitz finally showed up days later, wearing some kind of old-fashioned costume.”
The jaunty young man looked around furtively and lowered his voice. “Of course,” he continued, “that part never got into the media. In fact, the entire affair got hushed up very quickly, as such things are apt to among very rich folk.”
“What did Fitz
“Now that’s the strangest part of the whole story,” Harv replied, sounding genuinely puzzled. “You see, Fitz never would talk about it. Not even to his closest friends. Course,” he added, exaggerating his soft Virginia accent, “all us Southern gentlemen are trained from birth not to question the peculiarities of our wealthier friends.”
He paused and shook his blond head thoughtfully. “It was soon afterward that Fitz started haunting antique book and document auctions, buying up whole collections of old letters and journals from the early nineteenth century…almost as if there was something he needed desperately to find.”
Shortly after Eliza’s abrupt departure from the house Darcy went outside intending to send a carriage to find and take his visitor back to her car. Having been gleefully informed by Faith that Harv was already attending to Eliza, he instead poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down with the others, ostensibly to discuss arrangements for the next day.
“What a shame that your little damsel couldn’t stay for the ball, Fitz.” Unable to leave well enough alone, Faith pressed her Cupid’s lips together and made a small, sympathetic sound. “She made such a
Darcy stared past her to a distant point where the drive disappeared beneath a canopy of trees, lost in private reflection. Far from having the intended effect, Faith’s comment served only to heighten the painful realization that he had handled his encounter with Eliza Knight exceedingly badly.
“Well,” Faith continued in her gay chatter, completely unaware of the smile that lit his face, “I guess that will leave you and me together again, just like old times—”
“Excuse me a moment, Faith.”
Never glancing at her, Darcy suddenly got to his feet and walked away. Confused, Faith looked over her shoulder to see him striding toward the front of the house to meet the returning carriage.
“What is
“Oh, oh!” Jenny exclaimed in a stage whisper intended only for Artemis.
Her laconic husband followed Jenny’s startled gaze to the carriage, which was just rolling to a stop. Artemis moaned theatrically and sank lower into his chair. “Oh hell!” he said. “Somebody better call 9-1-1.”
“We’re out in the country, dear,” Jenny reminded him. “I’m afraid there is no one we can call,” she said, taking a large gulp of her drink.
Eliza and Harv were laughing at something he had just said as the carriage came to a stop before the steps of the mansion. Harv spotted Darcy walking toward them and waved. “I brought her back, bag and baggage, Fitz. She’s agreed to stay the weekend,” he proudly reported.
Mildly astonished by Harv’s announcement, Darcy smiled up at them and shook his head. “Harv,” he said, “it is obvious that I have grossly underestimated the raw power of your Southern charm.”
He stepped up to the carriage and extended his hand to Eliza. “I am very glad you changed your mind,” he said.
