Love Never Fails

by Jennifer Joy

  "Colonel Fitzwilliam," smiled Lady Rutledge as she held her hand out toward him.

  He bowed elegantly, swooping over her hand in a gallant fashion.

  "Oh, Colonel, if I were thirty years younger, you would be in great danger from me," she said with a wink at Darcy.

  Darcy shook his head at her coquetries.

  "Of course, I know I should be cross with you," she continued with a pout. "It was your message to Charles that brought him back to London when I was only just beginning to divert myself."

  Richard tilted his head in line with his lopsided grin. "It will please you to know that the young officer you attempted to run down— an officer in my unit, I might add— suffered no further injury due to your… accident in the park. He would thank you personally for the new pair of boots you so kindly offered to replace the ones the wheel of your carriage ruined, but, as you can imagine, he is a bit hesitant." A smile spread over his entire face and Darcy chuckled inwardly.

  Lady Rutledge jutted her chin up in the air and said haughtily, "That will teach the young man not to walk too near the driving paths with a young lady."

  "And perhaps that will teach you to drive with your spectacles?" Richard suggested.

  He may as well have suggested that she ride a horse astride in men's wear. "Absolutely not! I am not in need of spectacles, and I refuse to wear them," she lashed out.

  "Every stylish lady of a mature age in society wears them," Richard said in an attempt to persuade her.

  Darcy cringed. He did not claim any superior knowledge of the feminine sex, but he did know that any mention of age was a topic never to be touched. Not even with a long pole.

  "Mature age? Just how old do you believe me to be, Colonel?"

  Willing Richard to keep his mouth shut, Darcy clamped his lips closed in hopes that Richard would do the same. This was dangerous ground.

  "Certainly not old enough to have a niece of marriageable age. I apologize, Lady Rutledge."

  It was a clever maneuver to mention Miss Bingley. Lady Rutledge gave the impression of sternness and haughtiness, but she deeply cared for her friends and family. Miss Bingley had yet to care for anyone other than herself, but her aunt had not given up on her. Darcy's theory was that Lady Rutledge saw too much of herself in Miss Bingley to do so easily.

  Richard continued when he saw Lady Rutledge's chin return to its proper place. "I do hope that Bingley was not too hard on you."

  "That remains to be seen. I now have a niece who is obliged to stay with me. The following days will determine how much a punishment that is."

  So she was serious about Miss Elizabeth posing as her niece to preserve her vanity. Good.

  “Punishment? For whom— your niece or yourself?” asked Richard with a rakish grin.

  "You have objections to your niece?" asked Darcy.

  "Not as yet." She patted the arm she held with her free hand. "Time will tell. She is very thin and her demeanor is melancholy. I think she must have suffered greatly recently, and it is my aim to help her forget her sadness, or else she will not last long with me."

  "Her father passed away nearly six months ago. She ought to still be in mourning, but circumstances have determined otherwise."

  “As if a time limit could be placed on sadness…” A shadow crossed Lady Rutledge's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had passed. "That explains it. She must have been close to him." She continued walking, placing herself between the two young men so that she might be seen walking in style.

  "Thank you for seeing me home, Darcy. And, Colonel, do try to keep your men in order. I should hate for their carelessness to cause them another unnecessary accident."

  Elizabeth could not shake the stunned sensation all afternoon. She had said nothing of what she had done to Jane, knowing that she would not approve and would try to persuade her to stay amongst family. Now the decision was made, and it was too late to turn back. Would she never learn?

  Uncle and Aunt supported her. But she knew they would. That was how they were. It was not what they had hoped for her, but neither could they expect a perfect man who was everything Elizabeth desired to fall from the sky and propose to her.

  As her possessions were packed into a trunk and everything readied for her departure on the morrow, Elizabeth went to the nursery for Jane.

  She opened the door to a tender sight. Jane knelt by Emma's bedside, softly humming and stroking the girl's flaxen hair. Elizabeth paused in the doorway, afraid she might wake Emma if she crossed the floorboards. Jane lifted a finger up to her lips, kissed Emma on the forehead, and slowly rose. She walked softly over to Elizabeth, as only one who knows where the creaks are from many times crossing the floor could do.

  Closing the door behind her, Jane clasped Elizabeth's hands. "How was your tea?"

  "It would have been better had you been able to accompany us. Mr. Bingley was present, and it struck me that your character would be very pleasing to him…." She bit her tongue, realizing how similar to Mother and Uncle she sounded— as if marriage was all that mattered.

  "I know what you are thinking, Lizzy. You cannot hide it from me, so wipe that look from your face. You are every bit as stubborn as Mother is." Her face flushed and Elizabeth sought to calm her— especially before revealing her news.

  "My sweet sister who speaks ill of no one calling me stubborn? Come, Jane. You cannot offend me when I am all too aware of my own faults. I am in a forgiving nature and shall even overlook your comparison of me with Mother, although I suppose that, at an extremely basic level, you are probably correct."

  "Mother and Lydia called while you were away," said Jane.

  Eager to hear about them, Elizabeth asked, "Are they well? Have they settled in?"

  "Yes. They are happily settled and called to invite us for a simple dinner to celebrate."

  "How lovely! Mother drives me to distraction sometimes, but I have missed her and Lydia. Does Uncle know we are to go there this evening?"

  Jane shook her head. "No, Lizzy, we are not to go this evening, but rather tomorrow."

  Elizabeth's stomach sank. Looking around for somewhere to sit in the hallway and finding nothing, she led Jane to her room.

  Jane looked about her. "Lizzy, what is this? Where are your things?" She stared vacantly at the trunk in the middle of the floor.

  "I have accepted employment with Mr. Bingley's aunt, Lady Lavinia Rutledge. She is in need of a companion, and I am to go to her tomorrow morning." There. She said it.

  Jane said nothing, but felt behind her for a chair to fall into. Elizabeth sat next to her, searching her face. The roses left Jane's cheeks, leaving them a pasty white.

  "You are leaving me?" she whispered. She may as well have reached into Elizabeth's chest and twisted her heart. Nothing she could have said could possibly hurt more.

  Exhaling sharply, Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. "What have I done? Oh, Jane, I cannot go back on my word! I was so determined to occupy my time, and I let my emotions get the better of me. What am I to do?"

  She felt Jane's hand on her shoulder, trying to console her when she ought to be the one consoling.

  Sniffing her tears back, she lifted her head and clenched her hands together in her lap. "I am sorry."

  Her face devoid of the judgment Elizabeth felt she deserved, Jane squeezed her shoulder and asked, "Why did you wish to leave?"

  Twisting her fingers, Elizabeth said, "You fit in so perfectly here. You have found your place and have made yourself useful to the children. Aunt and Uncle feel as if they have gained another daughter."

  "They feel the same way toward you."

  "I know it, but I do not feel deserving of it. I have wandered about the house miserable since we arrived. I feel that I do not belong here, nor can Mother receive me in her cramped apartment with Lydia. I feel that I do not have a place, and I…" her throat tightened so much, the words dried up.

  "You always have a place with your family. Lizzy, we are your family!"

  E
lizabeth nodded, still unable to speak. Dear Jane would always find a way to make herself loved wherever she went. That was her character. Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt alone in a room crowded with relatives. She was dreadfully unhappy. It was time to take her fate in her own hands and, come what may, be the master of her own future. Jane would never understand her reasons, but she craved her acceptance.

  "I know it," she said in a tremor. She must make the best of her new situation. "And I know that you only wish me the best. I cannot understand it myself, Jane, but I feel a tremendous need to be busy, and I am too idle here. I need to do something."

  Jane squeezed Elizabeth's hands between her own. After some moments in silence, she said, "I will give your regards to Mother tomorrow. And Lizzy…" she paused. "Lizzy, I hope that you find whatever it is that you seek."

  Chapter 14

  Elizabeth arrived at Lady Rutledge’s house at the hour agreed upon. Surprisingly, it was only around the corner from the Bingley's residence. Its proximity somehow made Elizabeth feel better. She would see Mr. Darcy often. Also, Mr. Bingley was a jolly gentleman, and Elizabeth had every intention of introducing him to Jane at the first opportunity.

  Lady Rutledge was already up and dressed when Elizabeth was shown to the room she would occupy. Soft carpet hushed her steps. This must be what it feels like to walk on clouds, Elizabeth thought as she walked across the powder blue carpet to the large canopy bed. Satin covers and a plethora of assorted shades and hues of blue pillows dripping with yellow tassels made Elizabeth gasp at the beauty and calmness of her new room. It was the size of Longbourn’s hallway and drawing room combined.

  A writing desk facing a window with a view out to the garden waited for her with several sheets of thick paper and a new quill pen waiting to be dipped into the fresh pot of ink next to it. She would not be able to go to Mother's for dinner, but she would send her a note describing everything surrounding her. Mother would be impressed, and it would soften her disappointment as much as it would appease Elizabeth's guilt at missing Mother’s dinner— or so she hoped.

  Her single trunk looked small in the room and Elizabeth realized that much of her allowance would need to be used for a wardrobe worthy of a so-called niece of Lady Rutledge.

  A tap at the doorway sounded. Lady Rutledge stood there, tall and regal in a soft lavender gown and bold, purple jewels. The contrast against her silver hair was quite stunning, and she was well aware of it. She held her head high and at an angle.

  "You are right on time," she said, entering the room. "Do you find your new room to your liking?"

  Elizabeth hesitated before answering, not wishing to sound too eager, when in truth, this was the finest room she had ever set foot in. "It is beautiful."

  "I am happy you approve. Now, I do hope that you are rested and ready to begin your duties. I intend to treat you as if you were my real niece to give credence to my story. I refuse to give others reason to speak against me as if I were unable to care for my own needs or go out for entertainment without someone to constantly watch over me." She rolled her eyes and huffed. The unladylike gesture caught Elizabeth off-guard, and she had to hold back her laughter. Lady Rutledge— nay, Aunt Lavinia— was full of surprises.

  "You may laugh, Eliza. In fact, I encourage you to do more of that particular activity. It suits you much more than this morose mask of misery you wear." She took Elizabeth's face between her two hands and examined her features carefully. "Hmm. You are handsome, and there is something in your eyes which suggests a sharpness about you. I think we will get along well, but I will warn you about my real niece, Caroline. She is as sweet as honey when she wants something, but if she suspects that you might get in the way of what she has her eyes set on, she is capable of causing you a good deal of trouble."

  She referred to Mr. Darcy— a gentleman who would not be persuaded to do anything he did not want to do, no matter what Miss Bingley may plan. Elizabeth was unconcerned. "I have no intention of getting in her way. I am aware of my position now and realize the consequences."

  Lady Rutledge arched an eyebrow. "Ah, but you must be so much more than a companion. You are my niece now. Like it or not, as far as anyone else is concerned, we are family, and I depend on you to hold up your end of this farce. The consequences to you of not doing so are far worse than suffering the talk of the ton." Elizabeth heard the menace in her tone and resolved not to put her to the test.

  "I do not care much for what others say. Only if I fall in my own esteem would I have reason to suffer shame."

  Pinching Elizabeth's chin between her fingers, Lady Rutledge smiled, "That was what I wanted to hear. You shall succeed if you remember nothing else."

  Elizabeth did not understand in what she was supposed to succeed. By every account, she was a failure. She had failed her family. She had lost their home. Her mother and sisters were scattered when they ought to have been together. Her father's books were long lost to her; the familiar curve of his writing forever gone to her. She had lowered herself to the position of a companion— even though the lady refused to acknowledge her as such.

  Dropping her hand, Lady Rutledge said, "I should like to go for a drive in the open carriage in a short while. It is a fine day outside. Have you breakfasted?"

  "Yes, ma'am." At the look she got, she corrected herself. "Yes, Aunt."

  A cup of tea and half a scone had been all she could manage with her nervous stomach. And even that had been at Aunt Gardiner's insistence.

  "Good. We will leave as soon as the carriage is ready. Is that your best dress?" she asked, looking with distaste at Elizabeth's gray gown.

  Elizabeth pulled the fabric from her legs and looked down. She had not thought it a bad choice.

  "A niece of mine would never allow herself to be seen in such an unflattering gown. We will see to that today, so that you are more properly attired before I present you to my friends." Spinning to leave and leaving a trail of perfume behind her as she went to leave, Lady Rutledge said over her shoulder, "I will leave you to settle for a few minutes. Then I think we will aim our carriage in the direction of Bond Street."

  Elizabeth did not want to be left alone in this beautiful, but strange, house. Calling after Lady Rutledge before she disappeared from view, she asked, "Do you have a library?"

  Her request met with a smile and Elizabeth took heart.

  "Come," said Lady Rutledge, waving her fingers for Elizabeth to join her. "I am not surprised you asked. Tell me, which books do you prefer?"

  Elizabeth started with the safer and more accepted works of Shakespeare and the popular poetry and novels she could recite off the tip of her tongue. As she felt Lady Rutledge's interest grow, she moved on to the lesser spoken of political satire her father had enjoyed, Greek philosophy, and a few scientific works on horticulture.

  The last earned a surprised arch of the brow. "I understand from your diverse interests that someone very special had a tremendous influence in your reading? It is not often that a young lady, especially one so young as yourself, holds much interest in plants and politics."

  Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. She would not apologize for her taste in the written word. It had been her best means of education whilst at Longbourn, and Father had encouraged it. Elizabeth would have loved an opportunity to study with the masters and have more of the accomplishments a young lady would normally have. She knew that others would look down on her lack of fluidity at the pianoforte, her untrained voice when she attempted to sing, her stilted pencil marks at a sketch… but she would not allow them to intimidate her. Nobody could take away what she had learned over the years from the many books she had read— books which opened her mind and taught her to see things in a different light.

  "My father read extensively, and he encouraged me to do the same," she said with pride.

  “He was a wise man,” Lady Rutledge said in approval.

  They arrived at a closed door, and Lady Rutledge opened it. A large window in the center of the room illumin
ated the floor to ceiling shelves lined with volumes, some shining in their newness, and some absorbing the light with their worn bindings— like old friends.

  She gasped as she stepped into the room and felt the comfort that only a well-stocked library could bring. Walking to the nearest shelf, she lifted her fingers and let them run across the spines, resting against the polished mahogany.

  "Those are the foreign books. My husband acquired quite a large collection during his extensive travels." She stood next to Elizabeth, pointing to each section and indicating what could be found. It would take several visits to remember where things belonged.

  "You may select a book to read to me this evening. My eyes sometimes fail me, and I have neglected my reading of late. I am in humor for a novel. Something with some romance in it." With that, Lady Rutledge stepped back as Elizabeth entered deeper to explore.

  There were couches and cushioned chairs situated throughout the library, but the seat in front of the window beckoned to Elizabeth. She went to the area dedicated to novels and pulled one off the shelf to read later. The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. It was a novel she had read before and would enjoy reading again.

  "You feel at home in the library," Lady Rutledge observed, watching Elizabeth's every move. Elizabeth knew she ought to feel self-conscious, but she did not. Nothing bad could happen in a library.

  "It is my favorite room in any home."

  "I see that I shall lose you to the first gentleman with a well-stocked library."

  Elizabeth held her breath. She did not know what limits would be placed on her as a companion.

  A knock at the door brought her back to the present. A visitor was announced. It was a name Elizabeth had not heard before. Mrs. Enid Wharton.

  Lady Rutledge's spine stiffened. "Oh, how I wish it were Darcy calling instead of Mrs. Wharton. She is the most tiresome creature. She has her sights set on Colonel Fitzwilliam for her daughter. As if that was not fault enough, it was her son whom I ran down at Hyde Park,” she said with a scowl.