An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

O ne glance at his battered cousin and Darcy knew he would not be keeping his appointment with the man at Sotheby’s.

“Send your man of business in your stead.” Richard reached for the decanter to pour himself another glass of brandy.

Darcy snatched the decanter away. “Is it not a bit early for this?”

“It depends on your perspective.” Richard lunged at the decanter… and missed. “If one has been up since the crack of day, it is late enough.”

Darcy glanced at Georgiana and controlled his tone for her sake. “You chose to go to St. Giles.”

“To keep you from going! We both remember how well that turned out last time.”

For the second time that morning, Darcy altered his plans to accommodate one of his “helpers.” Until this morning, Georgiana and Richard had deserved every commendation for their exertions in assisting him to find all fifty-three of Elizabeth’s paintings.

Now the pair seemed to be on a mission to slow the momentum they had worked so hard together to create. First, a messenger had brought Georgiana a letter, which she insisted on reading and replying to immediately, causing a delay for which Darcy had not factored.

And now, Richard. Darcy stared pointedly at his cousin and his newly acquired swollen eye. It was turning purple, and his nose was not as straight as it had been. “And you fared better?”

Richard grumbled and lunged at the brandy once again. This time, Darcy let him reach it. One more glass, and then Darcy would make him eat. Aunt Matlock would be sorely displeased to see her son in such a state when she had planned a dinner party for his benefit that same night. She would be doubly displeased if she saw he had been in his cups before the grand event.

Taking a sip, breathing in deeply through his nose and holding the spirits in his mouth, Richard took his time before he swallowed. “Only the best brandy can get that awful stench out of the nostrils.”

Georgiana rolled her eyes, her fingers gripping the arms of her chair. “Did the old woman have the painting or not?”

Richard scoffed, nodding at Georgiana and addressing Darcy. “Such impatience! She gets that from you, not me. ”

They knew nothing of Darcy’s impatience. He had not seen Elizabeth in one month.

Georgiana snapped a ready retort. “If I hear either of you mention St. Giles again, I shall lock you in your rooms and bribe your valet and batman to prevent you from escaping. Now, did she have it or not?” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared intensely at Richard.

He looked between Darcy and Georgiana, one eyebrow raised. “The spitting image.”

“I thank you for the compliment,” she shot back, adding smugly, “I shall not tell you the news from my source at Longbourn until you tell us everything.”

With a laugh, Richard finally answered her question. “No. She sold it just yesterday, and now I am the miserable owner of a bronze statue I neither like nor need.”

Darcy could have teased him about that, but he was too eager to hear Georgiana’s news from Longbourn to ask anything that would delay its telling.

“Where is the painting? Did she say who bought it?” Georgiana asked.

“A washer woman with soft hands. Now, I told you my news. What is yours?”

“Mary Bennet sent another letter.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes. “Another? I did not know you two were correspondents.”

Georgiana shrugged. “When it became clear to me that you intended to quit Netherfield immediately, I asked her to keep me informed. Her first report was not encouraging, but”—she beamed—“her latest letter was very promising.”

Darcy leaned forward, needing to learn more, to hear that his efforts had not been for naught.

“Get out of there, you… you… intruder!” the butler called.

A blur of furry gray jumped out of the butler’s grasp. In the next minute, a mustached muzzle bopped against Darcy’s hand. “Hello, Archie.”

“He opened the door, sir! I did not let him in!” insisted the butler.

On this point, Darcy could appease his ill-treated houseman. “He is known to do that. I suppose Bingley is nearby?”

“Here I am! My apologies. Archie has a horrible habit of breaking and entering.”

Clearly wishing to leave the room and go where he might regain his composure, the butler asked, “Is there anything you require, sir?”

“I have an appointment at Sotheby’s I shall not be able to attend. Be so kind as to send Lawrence in my stead. He knows my wishes.”

“Very well, sir,” the butler said in his usual dignified fashion. With a warning side glance at Archie, he departed.

Richard leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “What brings you to Darcy House, Bingley?”

Darcy bit his tongue. He supposed he ought to be polite and at least hear Bingley out before he asked Georgiana about the good news in Miss Mary’s letter.

“Caro is packing for Scarborough. She says she would rather live with our aunt than remain another moment in London.” Bingley sank into the chair beside Richard and leaned his head against the back of the chair. “I do not know what to do with her. She is making me and everyone around us miserable. None of her friends will see her. Even Louisa has asked her not to call. I had decided that it would be in Caro’s best interest to stay in London and face the full consequences of her slanderous tongue, but I will admit that, after a month in her company, my forbearance is wearing thin.”

“Why would her aunt wish for her company in Scarborough?” asked Richard.

Bingley raised his finger. “That is what I said! Caro did not take too kindly to the point, but it is true, nonetheless.”

“Will you give in to her demands?” Georgiana asked.

“No. I will endure my sister’s wrath if it means that I might gain some of Jane’s respect.”

“It takes time to earn respect, and exponentially more so once it has been lost,” Darcy reminded him.

“A painful lesson, and one I am determined not to waste,” Bingley said firmly. Only then did he finally notice Richard. “What in heaven’s name happened to you?”

Before the conversation got completely distracted, Darcy asked Georgiana. “What news have you had from Longbourn?”

Another broad smile, a big breath, then…

“What is the meaning of this?!” demanded a female voice that made Richard blanch. Archie hid under Darcy’s chair.

“Mother! What are you doing here?” Richard rose from his seat in such haste he tripped.

Darcy steadied him.

Aunt Helen tsked and went about the room, greeting each of them with kisses on the cheek and increasing Richard’s suspense until she finally reached him. Catching him by the collar, she sniffed.

“I can explain,” Richard offered.

“Try,” she commanded, letting go of his collar and signaling for him to continue with a look that bore ill for her son.

Richard opened his mouth, but no words came out. Darcy, too, was at a loss. They could not reveal where Richard had gone, and Darcy did not wish to mention the paintings again lest his aunt draw certain conclusions before he was ready. Timing was of the utmost importance.

Georgiana rang for some tea. “Stay and have some cake with us, Aunt. It is all my fault, and I feel wretched for asking Richard to try to secure a Mario Rossi painting for me. They have become incredibly difficult to find.”

Darcy watched his aunt’s reaction intently without seeming to do so. He desperately needed her cooperation if the next part of his plan was to work.

Aunt sat and fanned her face. “The ladies in my circles speak of nothing else! Everyone wants a Rossi painting.”

Bingley nodded. “It has become a game to find the hidden initials.”

“I asked my maid if she might help me secure a Rossi I heard of at… at a market of sorts. You know, one where they sell antiques.”

Darcy’s ears rang. A washer woman with soft hands. His aunt’s maid? His aunt was an admirer of Mario Rossi! It was a struggle to contain his immense joy and keep the excitement out of his tone. “Was she successful?”

“She brought it to me this morning.” She smiled satisfactorily, like a cat with the last of the cream. “I have already found the E.B. hidden in a stack of hay and a passing cart.”

For the first time in weeks, Darcy relaxed. Georgiana had good news to share from Longbourn, and his aunt, unbeknownst to him, had secured the final Rossi painting and boasted about finding Elizabeth’s initials. His search was complete. It was time.

He was still basking in the glory of his success when Aunt Helen turned to him. “You will now tell me the rest of the story.”

The air seeped out of Darcy’s lungs. “The rest of the story?”

“Do not feign ignorance with me, Darcy. I know you appreciate a beautiful piece of art, but this borders on obsession.”

She had him there.

Georgiana winked at him, a charming gesture that increased his panic. “Do you remember my Rembrandt, Aunt?” she asked.

“Yes…” Aunt said slowly.

Georgiana plunged ahead. “A thief stole it while I was at Ramsgate, and only recently did Fitzwilliam find it at the estate of a country squire in Hertfordshire.”

“Interesting. This country squire does not happen to have any daughters, does he?” Aunt watched Darcy with one eyebrow raised.

“His second daughter is Elizabeth Bennet,” answered Darcy.

“ The E.B?” exclaimed Aunt.

He nodded.

She clasped her hands together. “Mario Rossi?”

“One and the same.”

“How delightful! Your aunt Catherine has been boasting that her man had a lead on the last known Rossi painting, and she will choke on her envy when she sees that I snatched it right out from under her nose.” She fanned her face. “It is good for her character to suffer disappointment now and again.” She turned to Bingley. “How is Miss Bingley reacting to all of this?”

Bingley grimaced. “Not well.”

“As I thought. The forgery was badly done, but to drag that poor young lady’s name through the mud as she attempted to do―a gentleman’s daughter when she is the daughter of a tradesman―is beyond the pale and not to be borne. You have done well keeping her here to face the consequences of her poor choices.”

Her encouragement seemed to ignite the resolve Bingley had been seeking. She pointed her fan at Richard. “I will deal with you later.” Pivoting to Darcy, she resumed fanning. “Now, you have spent a fortune clearing this young lady’s name. When will I see your names in the newspaper? Or do you plan to present her to the family before you marry?”

Darcy took a deep breath to compose himself. “We are not betrothed.”

Her fan snapped closed. “You mean you have done all this without knowing that she returns your affection?”

“I hope a great deal. However, to salvage her reputation, I had to depart in haste.”

“And a beautiful job you have done manipulating the peerage, but did you really leave without telling her what you intended to do? That all of this was for her benefit?”

Having no reply, Darcy held his tongue and shrugged his shoulders.

Aunt rustled over to his side. Taking his face in her hands, she said, “Lord love you, you starry-eyed dunderhead.”

Richard spoke up. “I have been helping him, Mother?—”

“Hush, Richard. ”

Bingley coughed and called Archie over to him.

“All is well, Aunt Helen,” offered Georgiana. “Elizabeth’s sister informed me that their neighbors have expressed regret at casting judgment so hastily. Their reputations are spared, and Mr. Bennet is taking an active interest in his family. He, too, is an artist.” She met Darcy’s gaze. “She wrote that you will wish to see Mr. Bennet’s first portrait.”

Everything Darcy had hoped for was coming to fruition. But there was one more matter he had to attend to, and he would seize the opportunity while he had his aunt’s attention and favor.

Molly entered the parlor bearing the tea tray. Archie recognized her and trotted to her side, sniffing in her pocket until she had deposited the tray on the table and extracted a treat from her apron.

“Thank you, Molly,” said Georgiana. “Stay a moment, please. You will want to hear this, I am sure.” The look she gave Darcy felt like a tap on the shoulder for him to carry on.

Once Aunt settled in her chair with her tea, Darcy said, “Since you are an admirer of Mario Rossi’s paintings, how would you like a portrait from the original artist?”

“A portrait?”

“You remember the sketch Georgiana showed you of my likeness?”

“How could I forget? Of course, I would love to have a Mario Rossi portrait!”

“Not a Mario Rossi, an original Elizabeth Bennet. If she agrees to paint at all, she will want to do it with her own name.”

Her hand fluttered over her heart. “Catherine will be beside herself! Miss Bennet is welcome to stay at Matlock House as long as she needs, and you may court her there while I introduce her to Society. Does she have a maid or a companion?”

Georgiana smiled at the maid. “Elizabeth will need a lady’s maid―someone she can trust and help put her at ease. Are you up to the task?”

Molly bobbed up and down on her feet, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, miss, it would be a dream come true!”

Aunt finished her tea and rose from the couch. “Come Richard, I have a letter to write, and I am not letting you out of my sight until my dinner party is under way.”

They departed, and Bingley followed with Archie. Not having more tasks, Darcy took a seat at the table across from Georgiana. “Do you want to go for a drive in the park with me?”

“Will the route you are planning take us by Gunther’s?” she grinned.

Gone was the melancholy girl with a broken heart and a lost painting. Darcy had not returned her Rembrandt as he had intended, but the past two months had brought them closer, and he was determined to continue giving her his time. “I will make certain of it.”