Darcy studied her face as she spoke, searching for any hint of deception. He found only earnest conviction and a vulnerability she tried to hide. Whatever the truth, the young woman in front of him genuinely believed she was their cousin.
“It does explain why Miss Bennet is here pursuing her claim,” Darcy said.
Georgiana’s gasp caused her to cough. “Does this mean Miss Elizabeth owns Pemberley? I’ve often heard Father explain fee tail female. Like cousin Anne gets Rosings Park, but usually, estates only pass to the male heir. Brother, will we be removed from Pemberley?”
The naked vulnerability in Georgiana’s voice cut through every other consideration. His sister—innocent, trusting Georgiana—would be the one to suffer if Elizabeth’s claims were validated. The estate was his responsibility to protect for Georgiana’s future security.
“Do not fret,” he assured his sister, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Whatever the legal complexities, we will ensure your security. And Miss Bennet would need to prove her identity beyond any reasonable doubt.”
“We cannot trust the Wickhams’ testimony alone,” Georgiana said. “Miss Bennet, can you show us the locket?”
“No, I believe my father kept it,” Elizabeth admitted, her posture slumping slightly. “But as your brother suggests, even physicalevidence might not be conclusive.” She hesitated, then added softly, “There are questions about the way my parents died that night, and whether the murderers saw the baby or assumed she died in the fire they set to cover up the killings.”
“Killings? Murders?” Georgiana’s hand flew to her throat. “Brother, I thought the fire was an accident.”
“That’s what Father always maintained,” Darcy said. “I was only a boy. I only saw the charred remains of the cottage afterward.”
“Then there’s no proof of murder,” Bingley observed. “Mrs. Wickham could be making baseless accusations.”
“Which becomes serious if she spreads such claims throughout the neighborhood,” Darcy agreed. “She alleged that Father was involved in orchestrating their deaths. That he murdered his own brother to secure his inheritance.”
The color drained from Georgiana’s face. “That’s monstrous. Father would never—he couldn’t?—”
“Of course he couldn’t,” Darcy reassured her, though his own certainty had been shaken. “Mrs. Wickham is desperate and willing to make any accusation that might serve her purposes. But the allegations must be addressed, particularly given their implications for Elizabeth’s safety.”
“My safety?” Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Bingley answered before Darcy could. “If you are indeed the rightful heir to Pemberley, Miss Bennet, then your life may be in danger from whoever was responsible for your parents’ deaths. They believed you had died as an infant. Learning that you survived and are prepared to claim your inheritance might drive them to drastic measures.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened as the implications settled over him. Regardless of his personal feelings toward Elizabeth, he could not in good conscience expose any young woman to such danger. The thought of her being vulnerable to whoever had committed murder twenty years ago was deeply disturbing.
“You mean someone might try to hurt Elizabeth?” Georgiana whispered.
“We cannot know what anyone might do,” Darcy said carefully. “Which is why, whatever her true identity, Miss Bennet will remain here at Pemberley under our protection until the matter can be resolved.”
The words surprised him even as he spoke them. Every rational consideration argued against housing this disruptive woman who carried the potential to overturn his family’s legacy. Yet the alternative—sending her away to face unknown dangers—was unacceptable to his sense of honor. And perhaps, if he were honest with himself, the thought of her departure troubled him for reasons that had nothing to do with duty.
“I’m not sure how we can resolve the question of my identity,” Elizabeth admitted, her expressive eyes large as she realized the conundrum she found herself in. “Without reliable witnesses that I survived the fire, I have only the testimony of Mrs. Martha Wickham that she saved me and carried me to Longbourn, where Mr. Bennet found me, and Mrs. Wickham won’t provide testimony about that night unless I…”
“She wishes Miss Bennet to marry her son, George,” Caroline supplied when Elizabeth faltered. “Quite a convenient arrangement, should Miss Eliza’s claim to Pemberley prove valid.”
Georgiana went very still, her eyes widening with unmistakable fear. “George Wickham?”
Darcy cursed himself for allowing this conversation to proceed in her presence. Of all the complications in this impossible situation, Georgiana’s history with Wickham was perhaps the most painful.
“Yes,” he said quietly, for her ears alone. “But you need not concern yourself with him. I will ensure he never troubles you again.”
Georgiana nodded, though the fear did not entirely leave her eyes. She turned to Elizabeth with new intensity. “You mustn’t marry him. Wickham is wicked and evil. He is a crass fortune hunter. Miss Elizabeth,you should not worry about anyone trying to harm you. You’re our guest and possibly our cousin. My brother will respect and protect you, especially from fortune hunters and predators like the Wickhams.”
“Thank you, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly, her eyes flickering in his direction. “Though I must say, your brother has already made his position on my situation quite clear.”
Darcy met Elizabeth’s gaze directly, recognizing the uncertainty beneath her composed exterior. He had all but accused her of plotting with the Wickhams when she might have simply been deceived.
“Which is?” Georgiana looked between them with growing confusion. “Fitzwilliam, surely you don’t believe Miss Bennet is deliberately deceiving us?”
“I have my reasons for caution,” Darcy explained, choosing his words carefully. “But I cannot condone manipulation or coercion from any quarter. Mrs. Wickham’s tactics are unconscionable, regardless of their ultimate purpose.”
Elizabeth studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You surprise me, sir.”
