An Unwavering Trust

by L. L. Diamond

  “Mr. Darcy spoke to me the day we met, and in the carriage during the trip to London. He indicated his behaviour at my Uncle Philips’ was not typical, but I never dreamed he would be so aloof.”

  The dowager took Elizabeth’s hands. “I am going to be dreadfully forthright. I hope it does not offend.”

  “I would much prefer honesty than the alternative.” She spoke matter-of-factly, drawing back her shoulders.

  “Both of you jumped into this solution without having the time or courtship expected with any engagement. You have handled all of the new people and situations with aplomb.”

  With a heavy exhale, Elizabeth gave a rueful chuckle. “If you only knew how anxious I was at the beginning.”

  The dowager brushed a curl from Elizabeth’s face. “Since I have spent more time with you, I am aware of how uncomfortable you were that first day or two, but you made a concerted effort to do what was necessary. I am remarkably proud of you.”

  She nodded and embraced the older lady. “Thank you. I would not have been able to manage this week were it not for you.”

  The dowager drew back and gave a lop-sided grin. “Having known Fitzwilliam since he was born, I can say with certainty that he is having a colossal case of nerves.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Could that truly be his problem? The theory was plausible; she suffered the same doubts and fears, yet she had no choice. She had to trust him.

  “The boy proposed on a whim.”

  “We would never have expected him…”

  “Oh, I know dear, but once he blurted his proposal, he would never have rescinded the offer. There is so much that happens in that head of his, he gives no thought to how his behaviour affects you.”

  “He keeps staring at me, Grandmamma,” she whispered. “Every time I happen to glance his way, he is observing me… as if he looks to find fault. I keep expecting to find gravy on my lip or a third eye on my forehead.”

  His grandmother giggled and relaxed against the back of the seat. “I believe that is the one normal thing he has done since bringing you here.”

  “Pardon?”

  “He is just like his father. When George Darcy met my Anne, he could not remove his eyes from her, just as his son cannot remove his from you.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened and the dowager laughed some more. “Dear, he is attracted to you! That is a good thing.”

  “I do not know him! How can I…?”

  His grandmother reached up to cradle her chin. “Take a deep breath, Lizzy. Neither of you can afford the speculation that would come from not consummating your marriage. At the very least, the two of you should share a bedchamber.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth gaped. She could not be serious!

  “It is by far the best solution. The rumours that would arise amongst the staff would quell any suggestions of your marriage not being a real one.” The dowager stood, and deftly changed the subject. “We should return to the drawing room in the event someone decides to call. You can continue your work on your gown. It is coming along beautifully.”

  “Thank you, although, I am not certain what more I can add.”

  “I think it will be lovely with the one large spray of flowers on the bottom of the skirt. You can always continue to add to it, if you wish.”

  “I believe I will. I considered adding some small flowers around the neckline and at the base of the sleeves.”

  “A smaller bouquet to each side of the one you have almost completed would be nice as well.”

  Elizabeth allowed the dowager to lead her back to the drawing room while she resolved to give more thought to the lady’s advice regarding her betrothed, yet she would not have a free minute to do so until it was time to retire. If she was lucky, Mr. Darcy would begin conversing with her before then. That development would certainly make things easier!

  Darcy surveyed the room, finding his uncle seated in a far corner with a paper held loosely in his hands. He appeared to be staring at the words before him, oblivious to the goings on—until Darcy took the seat across from him and pulled the paper down.

  “Hello, uncle.”

  Henry Fitzwilliam startled and set down his paper. “You gave me a fright, boy.”

  “What was so interesting?”

  “I was not actually reading.” He folded the paper and turned his attention to his nephew. “I became lost in thought.”

  Concern crossed his features. “There is nothing amiss, is there?”

  “No, nothing out of the ordinary.” Uncle Henry glanced around him, and he followed suit, curious at his uncle’s worry of being overheard. When he appeared satisfied, he tilted forward with his forearms on the table. “I met someone interesting in here Saturday after you departed.”

  Furrowing his brows, Darcy situated himself to the side of the plush chair with his elbow on the armrest. “I can think of very few people of importance with whom you are not acquainted.”

  “I would not say this gentleman was of significance to anyone but you, me, and your betrothed.”

  His eyes widened and he leaned forward. “Exactly whom did you meet, uncle?”

  “Relax, son. I had no desire to return home and run the gauntlet of the entrance hall with the ladies coming to call, so I ventured into the card rooms. Astley and Grey were playing with a gentleman unknown to me, and I joined their game, only to discover the stranger was Sir William Lucas of Meryton in Hertfordshire.”

  The information took a moment to register, but when it did, Darcy ran a shaky hand across his mouth and swallowed hard. “Did you indicate that you knew Miss Bennet or her location?”

  “No, I daresay I am a tad brighter than you think.” His uncle’s tone was sarcastic, which conveyed his affront. “What kind of dullard do you take me for?”

  “I did not mean it in such a manner.”

  “Yes, you did, Darcy.” His uncle sat back from the table and glared. “You know I had doubts I felt compelled to dispel.”

  “You have always been so polite to her. I assumed you had decided to accept her story as we explained it.”

  Henry Fitzwilliam chuckled, shook his head, and laughed. “I would not cause a rift between us over doubts. I had hoped that investigator of yours would have turned up more on her uncle by now, but the man must have an exceptional place to hide. Her neighbour’s appearance did give me the opportunity to confirm her story.”

  “And how did you accomplish your task without him discovering your acquaintance with her?” His gut churned and his morning coffee rose from his stomach to burn his throat. It was a mere two days before his wedding. Their plans could not unravel now!

  “I told him I happened to pass through Meryton and saw the wreckage. The man is loquacious, to say the least. Once I had him talking, the conversation was easy to maintain. A question here or a comment there, and he went on for two hours, until he mentioned how Miss Bennet and her remaining family disappeared the night of the last town assembly.”

  Darcy sank back into his seat. “He never questioned why you brought up the subject at all?”

  “Sir William seems a good man, yet not the most intelligent. Mr. Philips whisking his family away to Lyme on holiday has put him in mind to do something similar.”

  His eyebrows rose and his uncle chuckled. “Only, he does not wish to travel so far. He is considering Ramsgate or Brighton. Do you not see? He would not wish to make that distance, yet he believes Mr. Philips did.”

  “You mentioned that he told you they disappeared?”

  “Oh, that? He found it unusual they would depart that particular afternoon. Mrs. Philips had told his wife they would attend the assembly, so Sir William believes Mr. Philips owes someone money, and that he is hiding from the debt.”

  Giving a snort, Darcy’s heart began to stop its incessant pounding. His uncle had returned the fright when he had mentioned the interview. Thank goodness this Sir William proved to be somewhat of a simpleton!

  “So, now you believe Miss Bennet?”

  “Yes, whole-hearted
ly. Her entire story from prior to your overhearing the uncles in the pub is legitimate.” Uncle Henry reached forward and held out his hand to his nephew. “I congratulate you on your betrothal to her. I believe she will be the making of you.”

  He took his uncle’s hand and they shook. “I am unsure if I appreciate the sentiment. I am not a miserable failure.”

  His uncle guffawed, drawing a look from one or two curious men on the other side of the parlour. “No, you are not, but she will have an influence on you. Do you think I am the same person now as I was before I wed Elinor? I would say I am an improved version.”

  “But would she agree?” Darcy asked with a wide smile.

  “I doubt it.” His uncle sighed and shook his head. “She would probably say I still require a great deal of work.”

  Dinner that evening was a quiet one. Lord and Lady Matlock and their family attended a dinner party, and the dowager, Darcy, and Miss Bennet remained. As usual, Darcy kept catching himself as he stared at Miss Bennet, but this time he was puzzled. Some aspect of her was different.

  She was attired in the same grey and black mourning gown she had worn several days ago. Her abigail had been trying different ways of styling her hair, but tonight’s coiffure had been worn before, so that was not it. He racked his brain, but he could not put his finger on what was out of the ordinary! She was even seated in the same blasted chair!

  His grandmother carried the discussion during dinner. She described their day: the ladies who came to call and the gown delivery from Madame Lebrun. He had no interest in much of her conversation, but pretended to listen politely. Ladies’ pursuits and gossip were not the most interesting of topics, yet she was prattling on throughout the entirety of the meal. It was not to be borne!

  By the time they arrived in the withdrawing room, his grandmother had him quite vexed. Feigning a headache was an attractive option, but she could follow him to his room and continue her inane prattle until he fell asleep.

  Miss Bennet must have found the evening as dull, because she offered to entertain them on the pianoforte, prompting him to all but fly from his seat to offer to turn the pages.

  Yet, it would have appeared ridiculous to attempt to stare at Miss Bennet while seated beside her, so instead, he admired her slender, graceful fingers as they moved across the keys. She played, but did not sing. As he continued his occupation—if one could call it that—he found he would enjoy hearing her sing. Her voice was lovely, and he missed the sound accompanying her playing.

  He paused to consider the entire evening. That was what was different! Miss Bennet had been quiet—not just quiet, but silent for a great deal of the time. She provided a few brief answers to his grandmother, but had not contributed to the conversations during dinner or even the short time they were together before the meal.

  But why? Had he offended her in some way? Was she missing her family? His agitation grew as he speculated on the myriad of reasons she could be out of sorts. His grandmother’s eyes shifted from Miss Bennet to him, which brought on a shift in her countenance as well. She had been content to enjoy Miss Bennet’s playing, yet her jaw clenched when her eyes met his.

  Darcy returned his attention to the music and turned the page so Miss Bennet could finish the piece. He should speak to her, try to understand her silence, before he escorted her back to her chair, but the moment she finished the last note, she stood and faced his grandmother.

  “Grandmamma, unless you have need of me, I wish to retire.”

  “Of course, dear. I know this has been an exhausting week.”

  Miss Bennet nodded and stepped forward from the seat. He would need to act now if he wanted a private word, so he offered her his arm, intending to use the walk to her rooms to discover what was amiss.

  In an odd move, she peered down at his arm and back up to his face. “You wish to escort me to my rooms?”

  “If you do not object.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Do you plan to retire now, too?”

  Why did it matter? He almost grumbled out loud. “No, but…”

  “Then do not leave on my account. I can find my way to my rooms admirably. Thank you.”

  A slight snort came from his grandmother’s direction, and his face burned at having her witness his betrothed’s rejection. He was not just mortified either—he was angry. Elizabeth turned and took a step towards the door. In turn, Darcy followed and placed a hand on her elbow, halting her progress.

  He kept his voice low. “I thought we could speak.”

  “There would not be adequate time since it is not a long distance to my rooms—very little could be discussed much less solved. Also, I am also not equal to a conversation at the moment. Please forgive me.” With that, she pulled away and departed from the room.

  Darcy stared at the closed door before him. Disbelief, anger, and frustration warred for dominance within him—disbelief that she had rebuffed him in that fashion, anger for the insult he perceived from her words and dismissal, and frustration for not knowing how he could fix the issue. His hand reached out to tear open the door in front of him, when a knowing voice called him back and made him pause.

  “I would imagine you are enjoying her dismissal as much as she has enjoyed yours over the past week.”

  He turned to regard her incredulously. “Pardon me?”

  “I love you, Fitzwilliam, but you can be just as thick-headed as your father at times.”

  His jaw clenched and his hands tensed into tight fists on their own accord. “I am not my father.”

  She rose to face him and shook her head. “No, you are not, but you do remind me of him from time to time. Now is one of those instances.”

  In his anger, he looked away, but she moved so she remained within his line of vision.

  “Lizzy has done everything asked of her, has made every effort to become a part of our family—your family—yet you have not bothered to extend the same courtesy to her.”

  “I do not understand your meaning, Grandmamma. I met her Uncle Philips, and for reasons I should not have to enumerate, I have no wish to further my acquaintance with her Uncle Gardiner.”

  She exhaled heavily. “That was not what I meant.”

  “Then explain yourself, because I am in no humour to…”

  Her hand raised with her index finger pointed in his direction. “You watch your tone with me, young man. I will brook no disrespect from you. Do you understand?”

  He gave a curt nod, but started when her arm flew out to point in the direction of Miss Bennet’s chambers. “That child has virtually no family left. Once you marry, you will be her family. You will be her constant companion and the one person she must rely on.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “By the law, you will own her, and yet you are a stranger.”

  “I know her no more than she knows me!”

  “By your own choice!” Her finger whipped back around in his direction, and he fisted his hands tighter, resisting the urge to push her hand back down to her side.

  “Because of the circumstances! A betrothal to a marriage within a week does not give time for a proper courtship!”

  “No, it does not, but it does not mean that you should abandon the attempt. She has attended every dinner and been present in the withdrawing room every evening. You could have taken a seat beside her and spoken of anything. Goodness knows, I tried to introduce topics during dinner so you could ask Lizzy more about them, but you did no more than sit there and stare at the poor girl.”

  “Poor girl? Why do you say that?” he retorted. “Even if I am disinherited from Pemberley, she will still marry far and above what she would have before.”

  “Do you believe that arrogant nonsense you proclaim? You sound more like George Darcy than Fitzwilliam! I am ashamed of you.”

  “Why? I am not ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of her connections? –to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so
decidedly beneath my own?"

  “I meant nothing of her status or connections; I meant that she has no idea what to make of you! I also doubt your conceit and selfish disdain for her origins are the true obstacle. They are no more than an excuse to hide your true feelings.” His grandmother shook her head. “You must have been rather personable when you met, or I doubt she would have accepted your proposal. Your subsequent behaviour has left her to wonder to whom she is truly betrothed: the gentleman who rescued her from Meryton, or this silent haughty man who has replaced him.

  “Have you considered what it must be like for her? How she must feel?” She paused, and when he did not answer she rolled her eyes. “In less than two days, she will stand before God and commit herself to you. She will be subject to any whim you may have.”

  “I would never harm her!”

  “I never claimed you would, but you must try to see things from her point of view! You have made no effort whatsoever to further your acquaintance with her this past week! In all likelihood, she is wondering whether or not you will continue to ignore her once you are wed—whether you will only find time for her when you wish to relieve your needs or try for an heir, and as soon as you have accomplished your task, leave her to her own devices once more.”

  His blood boiled. “What kind of person does she believe me to be—do you believe me to be? I offered her rescue from a situation that would be more like what you describe. I would never demean anyone, much less my wife in such a way!”

  “But you have! You have dismissed her at every turn by your refusal to engage in the simplest of conversations! Is she to believe you will change for no other reason than the two of you becoming married? Because a ceremony occurs?”

  “This is absurd!” He spun around and strode towards the door.

  She grabbed his arm, halting his movement.

  In a low voice that bespoke of her ire, she said, “I sat with that young lady whilst she cried this afternoon. She is confused, wondering who you are, and scared. You need to cease thinking of yourself and put yourself in her position. You must speak with her in the morning.”