Secrets at Pemberley

by Penelope Swan

  I remain your affectionate aunt,

  M. Gardiner

  Elizabeth’s spirits were in great disarray upon reading the letter. Me in love with Wickham? Where on earth had Georgiana gained that idea? And was that why Darcy had been so cold and angry towards her on that last morning in Pemberley? Had he been labouring under the misapprehension that she was mourning the highwayman as a lost love? His behaviour, seen in the light of this new knowledge, seemed to display an understandable mixture of jealous fury and bitter disappointment. If he had been slowly regaining the hope of winning her hand with a second proposal, the revelation of her love for his worst enemy must have filled him with despair.

  She was unable to think of anything else for the rest of the day and evening, and lay awake for a long time that night, staring at the ceiling, her mind churning with thoughts and questions. The wedding could not arrive fast enough now, for Elizabeth was impatient to see Mrs Gardiner again and quiz her aunt further about the reported conversation.

  The morning of the wedding dawned and the excitement in the Bennet household reached fever pitch. Mrs Bennet had to resort to her hartshorn twice and even Mr Bennet seemed to be jolted out of his usual languid indifference. Jane remained the calmest of all and, as Elizabeth helped her dress, she could see that her sister was brimming with happiness.

  In her fine ivory muslin gown, trimmed with rich lace and decorated with whitework embroidery, Jane made a most beautiful bride, smiling serenely as she walked the short distance to church with her family. She was followed by her sisters, each sporting a new gown especially made for the occasion, though the younger ones were not quite able to match her calm grace and elegance.

  “Oh, have care, Kitty, for you are stepping on my gown!” Lydia twitched her skirts irritably.

  “I was not! ’Tis your own clumsy footing that has made you stumble!”

  Lydia scowled at her sister. “Well, at least I am not going to the wedding with a face full of freckles.”

  Kitty gasped in outrage. “I do not have freckles! I have been faithfully applying Gowland’s Lotion every day and they are barely noticeable now!”

  “Girls, girls… for heaven’s sake, have you no compassion for my poor nerves? If you keep on arguing, I shall go distracted.” Mrs Bennet waved her lace handkerchief at her youngest daughters, then turned to Elizabeth, who was walking beside her. “Oh Lizzy, do you think my cap is placed correctly? I had arranged it in the house, but I fear the wind may have rendered it askew.”

  “It looks fine, Mama,” said Elizabeth reassuringly.

  “Stop pushing, Kitty!” said Lydia, elbowing her sister out of the way. “I should be walking behind Jane as I am the youngest.”

  “How can that be? I should walk ahead of you, for I am a full year older!”

  “That does not signify! I am taller than you, and I should look far better at the front of the procession. Jane—do you not think I am right?”

  Jane turned around from the front, where she was walking on Mr Bennet’s arm, and said with a gentle smile, “I think Mary should walk at the front for I believe her natural grace and solemnity is most fitting to the occasion.”

  The third and quietest Bennet sister looked up in surprise, then flushed with pleasure as she took her place at the front of the group, right behind Jane. Elizabeth smiled to herself. It was most kind of Jane to think of Mary and give her a rare chance to shine. Kitty and Lydia subsided, suitably chastened, behind her and they proceeded the rest of the way to the church in relative peace and harmony.

  The congregation was large, for Mrs Bennet had wasted no opportunity in inviting every one of her acquaintance to this proud occasion and Mr Bingley had several friends and relatives of his own who were eager to meet his new bride. The pews were filled with everyone in their fashionable best, and all heads turned eagerly as the bridal procession entered the church.

  Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the tall figure at the front of the nave, standing beside the groom. Of course, as Bingley’s closest friend, Darcy would be best man and attend the wedding. She had known this, and yet, for some reason, she had managed to blot this from her consciousness, so that now she felt a shock as she saw Darcy. He appeared breathtakingly handsome in a navy jacket, with a silver brocade waistcoat and dove-grey pantaloons, his dark curls neatly arranged on his forehead.

  He turned his head and their eyes met. Elizabeth’s heart stopped for a moment, then began beating again, thumping hard in her chest. She dropped her eyes and kept them downcast as they proceeded up the aisle, until Jane reached the altar and was handed across by her father to her future husband. The Bennet family filed into the foremost pew on the opposite side to Bingley’s sisters and other family relatives, then the organ music ceased and the minister stood up to begin the ceremony.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony…”

  Elizabeth felt a lump come to her throat as she watched her sister marry the man she loved. She tried to keep her gaze from roving towards Darcy, who stood behind Bingley, but was unable to stop herself glancing quickly at him several times during the service. Did she imagine it or did he seem to move his head slightly each time, as if her gaze had caught him looking in her direction and he was quick to turn away?

  The brief ceremony was soon over and the guests cheered as the newlywed couple left the church together. The entire party made their way back to Longbourn where Mrs Bennet presided proudly over her wedding breakfast and Jane stood, glowing with happiness, surrounded by guests and family who admired her gown, praised her husband, and generally wished her well.

  Elizabeth hovered beside Jane, sharing in her sister’s happiness, though she was very aware of a tall gentleman standing apart from the others in the far corner of the room. For a moment, it was as if time had spun backwards. Had they not been together thus, nearly a year ago? Darcy reserved and silent, aloof from the crowd… and her across the room, curious and uncertain, unwilling to admit her fascination with him.

  But much had happened since those first meetings. They were not the uneasy strangers they once were—indeed, she had thought that they could be the very opposite. That day in Matlock, walking with him in that romantic glade alongside the river, she had seen a future together filled with happiness and laughter.

  Was that dream over?

  She thought back to Mrs Gardiner’s letter and the misunderstanding it suggested. Her aunt had refuted the claim and cast doubt on its veracity. Why then did Darcy not walk over and ask her to explain herself? Did he not want to know the truth? Why did he remain silent?

  Because of his pride, she realised. He could not bear to come to her again, when he had been rejected so thoroughly once and then disappointed so cruelly a second time. Perhaps he was afraid to lay his feelings in front of her again.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and came to a decision. If he could not come to her, then she would go to him. It was not that she had any particular hope of a renewal of his suit—she told herself that she did not expect anything in that quarter—but she could not bear the thought of him thinking ill of her, of him harbouring the wrong belief about her.

  She must speak and set things right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Elizabeth made her way through the crowd until she was standing in front of Darcy. They were slightly concealed from the rest of the room by a lacquered draught screen placed in this corner, and the general hubbub of laughter and conversation served to give them some privacy.

  Darcy stiffened as she approached and something flared in his dark eyes. They looked at each other for a moment, then both began speaking at once:

  “Miss Bennet, I—”

  “Mr Darcy—”

  Elizabeth broke off and looked down in confusion.

  Darcy inclined his head. “Please… continue, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyes to his and spoke quickly
, her words falling over each other: “Mr Darcy, I am a selfish creature and for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer stay silent regarding your encounter with my aunt in London and the conversation that ensued. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to explain myself and prevent any further misunderstanding—”

  “Pray, Miss Bennet, do not distress yourself.” He looked uncomfortable. “There is no need for you to explain. Your affections and emotions are a private concern and I certainly lay no claim to them.”

  Elizabeth recoiled at these words. Had she been wrong about his feelings after all? She had thought that she had only come to set the record straight—she had thought that all hope had died in her breast—but now she realised that she had been deceiving herself. She had hoped that somehow he might care for her still. She had thought that explaining the misunderstanding would change his attitude and allow him to confess his feelings—but now it seemed that she was anxious to reassure him of something that mattered little to him. A wave of embarrassment swept over her.

  She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I beg your pardon… I was under the misapprehension that you did care to lay claim to them…”

  She began to turn away, her cheeks flushed with colour, but was stopped by his voice

  “I do care,” said Darcy awkwardly.

  She stopped and turned back to look at him, hope kindling in her eyes.

  There was a long moment, then Darcy said in a low voice, “If there is any truth in my sister’s claim that you were in love with Wickham, tell me so at once. The thought has tormented me day and night since we last met and yet I have not been able to stop myself hoping against hope that her information is false, that your affections might be engaged in another direction… as I had once thought.”

  “It is! It is false,” said Elizabeth passionately. “I have never been in love with Wickham and I regret that you were ever misinformed thus. There has only ever been one gentleman in my heart…” She paused, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “… and he is standing before me.”

  Darcy’s eyes blazed with emotion and he took a step towards her, then stopped as he remembered where they were. Elizabeth trembled as she looked up into his eyes.

  “You have no idea what my feelings are at this moment.” He reached out and caught her hand, raising it quickly to his lips—and she felt the kiss, warm and tender, on her fingers—before he released it. In a room full of people he could hardly do more, but she read the passionate promise in his eyes.

  Darcy glanced around them and said with a rueful smile, “This is hardly the proper setting for a proposal, but I will not let you leave me this time without knowing your answer.” He stepped even closer and clasped her hand tightly. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth… will you fulfil my dreams and do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  Elizabeth had to resist the urge to fling herself into his arms. “Yes,” she said, her eyes shining. “Yes, with all my heart.”

  Darcy squeezed her hand. “When you left Pemberley, I was desolate—I could not bear parting the way we did, but I could not bear too the thought of your attachment to Wickham.”

  “Why should you ever think that?” Elizabeth said in amazement. “I own, I was foolish to pity and believe him at the start of our acquaintance, but after the events of the Netherfield ball, I hope my disgust of him was apparent.”

  “It was Georgiana,” Darcy explained. “The morning after her escapade, I went to see her and she was distraught with grief. She blamed me for Wickham’s death and rejected my attempts to comfort her, citing you as the only person who could understand her plight, for she said you had loved Wickham too. She said that you had confessed your feelings to her during your conversation in the rose garden…”

  “I never—!” Elizabeth paused as realisation hit her. “Oh, I believe your sister misunderstood me grossly! In an attempt to prove that Wickham could not be trusted, I told her that I too was once fooled by his charm and sweet words. But I did not mean it in a romantic sense—what I spoke of was my belief in his innocent intentions for infiltrating the Netherfield ball and also in his assertions of being the victim of your abuse. I did not think that she would mistake my meaning.”

  Darcy shook his head. “I cannot believe the unnecessary heartache we have both suffered… I know I must apologise for my lack of faith in you. My behaviour to you was unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”

  “Think no more of it,” said Elizabeth gently, laying her other hand on his. “We have both, I think, changed and learnt from our experiences, but these recollections will not do at all. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  Darcy smiled. Then they became aware that the room was strangely silent. They turned to see everyone staring at them. Elizabeth could see her mother’s eyes fixed on where her hands were clasped by Mr Darcy’s.

  “Lizzy…?” Jane said, her face breaking into a huge smile.

  Darcy stepped forwards, keeping Elizabeth’s hand in his and pulling her gently with him. He walked over to Mr Bennet and cleared his throat.

  “Sir… I know this is highly unorthodox, but it seems redundant to ask for a private audience with you now,” said Darcy, gesturing with a dry smile to the people staring at him and Elizabeth. “Your daughter has just made me the happiest of men by accepting my hand in marriage and I hope that you may give us your blessing.”

  Mr Bennet stared at Darcy, dumbfounded, whilst Mrs Bennet clutched her heart and began breathing fast—though it was Caroline Bingley who looked like she might need the smelling salts. Jane exchanged a delighted smile with Bingley and the three younger sisters whispered to each other excitedly.

  There was a long, pregnant pause, then Mr Bennet looked at Elizabeth. She gave him a radiant smile and a nod.

  Mr Bennet looked back at Darcy and chuckled ruefully. “Well, it seems that Lizzy has already made up her mind on the matter and I trust her judgement.” He reached out to shake Darcy’s hand. “I hope you shall live up to my daughter’s estimation of you, for I could not have parted with her to anyone less worthy.”

  “I shall endeavour to do my best, sir,” said Darcy.

  Mr Bennet raised his eyebrows at this humble reply from a man supposedly renowned for his pride and arrogance. Elizabeth could see that her father was already beginning to form a new impression of his future son-in-law and she hoped that as their acquaintance continued, he would grow to understand the kindness and nobility that Darcy hid behind the reserved mask.

  “Darcy—congratulations!” Bingley said, hurrying over to shake his friend’s hand heartily whilst Jane embraced Elizabeth.

  “I did not think that this day could make me any happier, but I was wrong,” Jane said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Mr Darcy! Who would have thought?” Mrs Bennet bustled over to Elizabeth, followed by her three youngest daughters. Then everyone was coming forwards to congratulate the couple and Elizabeth felt slightly embarrassed at having stolen the attention during Jane’s celebration.

  “Oh my dear, Lizzy! A house in town! Everything that is charming! Oh Lord!” Mrs Bennet turned to her future son-on-law. “Pray, Mr Darcy, tell me what dish you are particularly fond of, that I may procure it on the morrow.”

  Darcy looked slightly taken aback by Mrs Bennet’s reaction and gravely told her that he trusted her judgement and whatever her selection, it would satisfy him. Mrs Bennet giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at him almost flirtatiously. Elizabeth sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Then she found herself facing Mrs Gardiner.

  “Dear Lizzy, I am so happy for you,” Mrs Gardiner said, enfolding her in a hug. “Your uncle and I had suspected something, of course, whilst we were at Pemberley, but then things seemed to go awry and I was most surprised when you asked to leave. I am pleased now to see that matters have come to t
heir right conclusion.”

  “Oh aunt…” Elizabeth gave her a squeeze. “I have you to thank for that! Had you not encountered Darcy and his sister in town, then written to me to inform me of your conversation, we might never have resolved our misunderstanding.”

  “I am glad to be of service, though I think you exaggerate my part in the matter,” said Mrs Gardiner with a smile. “I feel confident that had I not met them, Mr Darcy would have resumed his pursuit in due course. He is a man who is not easily swayed.”

  Elizabeth looked across at her beloved. “Yes, perhaps you are right, aunt,” she said with a smile. “But I am glad that we shall not have to test your theory now.”

  At last, the excitement in the room settled into a more contented hum as the guests returned once more to their own conversations or began to help themselves from the buffet. Elizabeth felt Darcy take her hand and pull her quietly into the small antechamber adjoining the drawing room, where they were assured of some privacy.

  “I fear that your mother will assume control over the wedding itself,” he said with a wry smile. “But I should like to keep the choice of honeymoon in my domain.”

  “The honeymoon?” Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. The thought of the trip had not even crossed her mind.

  “Yes, I remember once—when we spoke in the Netherfield library—you lamented how unjust it was that only gentlemen were eligible to go on Grand Tours. You expressed a longing for the great examples of art and music readily available on the Continent. An extended trip to Europe after the wedding is quite the fashion these days and I propose that we consider this for our honeymoon… should you like that, dearest Elizabeth?”

  “You would do that for me?”