Page 74 of Honor Requires

He withdrew, and a moment later, Mr. Stone entered. He paused just within the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room with subdued attentiveness before settling upon Darcy and Lucien. There was nothing obsequious in his manner; neither was there any presumption. He bowed.

“Sir. Monsieur.”

“Mr. Stone,” Darcy said, gesturing toward a chair. “Pray be seated.”

Stone inclined his head in acknowledgment and took the offered seat, though there remained in his posture a readiness that suggested he would as soon stand if required. His eyes flicked briefly between the two men before returning to Darcy. He had, under pain of death, been sworn to secrecy about Darcy’s true identity. The man was nothing if not discreet and had maintained his word.

“You sent me to gather what might be learned,” he said. “I have done so.”

Lucien leaned forward, his earlier ease replaced by keen interest. “Then you have not come empty-handed.”

“No, sir,” Stone replied. “I have much to tell.”

Darcy did not sit. He remained standing near the mantel, one hand resting lightly upon it, his expression neutral, though his attention was wholly fixed. “Begin.”

Stone inclined his head. “You wished first for information regarding those gentlemen you named—Mr. Hargrave, Mr. Langford. You also wished me to learn what I could of your sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

Darcy’s gaze sharpened at the last name, though he gave no outward sign beyond a minor tightening of his jaw. “Proceed.”

Stone folded his hands loosely before him. “Miss Darcy, sir, is now a married woman.”

The words landed with restrained force.

Lucien glanced at Darcy, but Darcy did not move.

“To whom?” Darcy asked, his voice level.

Stone met his gaze directly. “Mr. George Wickham.”

For a moment, there was no sound in the room at all.

Lucien swore under his breath.

Darcy did not. He did not move. Only his hand upon the mantel tightened, the knuckles whitening almost imperceptibly before easing again.

“How?” he asked, after a pause that was perhaps longer than it ought to have been.

Stone did not hesitate. “The marriage took place some years past, sir—shortly before your…absence became known.”

Darcy’s expression did not change, but something in his eyes hardened, sharpened into something far colder.

“Explain,” he said.

“Yes, sir. From what I have been able to determine, Mr. Wickham had already established a connection with Miss Darcy prior to your disappearance. He continued that connection in your absence and persuaded her to elope.”

Lucien stared at him. “At fifteen?”

Stone nodded. “Just so, sir.”

Darcy’s gaze remained fixed upon the runner. “And this marriage—what consequence did it carry?”

Stone answered without hesitation. “Control.”

Darcy did not blink.

“Through the marriage, Mr. Wickham gained legal standing in matters concerning Miss Darcy’s fortune and interests, which were considerable given the…death…of her brother. It appears that, soon thereafter, certain agreements were executed—agreements that transferred the mining rights of Pemberley to Mr. Hargrave.”

Lucien sat back, his expression darkening. “So that is how it was done.”