by Jane Grix
“No, do not take offense,” Georgiana said. “Your name is lovely. It is just that my brother once loved a woman named Elizabeth and I would spare him the pain of hearing it again, if I can.”
Elizabeth felt for a moment that she might swoon. Darcy had professed his love once, but he had also told his younger sister about her? She strove to hide her confusion and said lightly, “Elizabeth is a common name.”
“It is,” Georgiana agreed.
“Did your brother tell you much about the woman he loved?”
Georgiana said, “Only she refused him, which I find impossible to believe. My brother is such a wonderful man, the woman must have been a fool to reject him.”
Elizabeth flinched at the criticism but knew that it was accurate. She had been a fool to refuse Darcy. If she had married him, this beautiful house would now be her home and Georgiana would be her sister-in-law.
And Darcy would be her husband.
But she could not think of that. She said lightly, “Love can be a complicated dance, and not all of us know the steps.”
“True,” Georgiana said. “You are much wiser and more generous than I am. If I met the woman who broke my brother’s heart, I don’t think I could forgive her.”
Elizabeth wisely made no comment. But she could not help but think of Mr. Scott’s poem Marmion and its most famous lines:
Oh, what a tangled web we weave
When first we practise to deceive!
MRS. HOLT JOINED THEM for dinner and the evening every day after that. Darcy did not ask her to read to him during the day because he felt that she deserved some time for herself. In the evenings she played cards with his sister or played the pianoforte. Sometimes she read, but more importantly, they talked.
She did not talk about her past generally, but from bits of conversations, he learned that Mr. Holt had been in Trade and Mrs. Holt was his second wife. Mrs. Holt had lived in London most of her life and she was not a horsewoman. “You don’t ride?” Georgiana said, astonished.
Darcy wished that Georgiana did not act so surprised. Perhaps Mrs. Holt never had the opportunity to learn.
Mrs. Holt said, “No. My father encouraged it, but I always found horses to be too large and intractable. I much prefer walking to riding.”
“Have you walked around the entire Park?” Georgiana asked.
“I have taken the shorter route, but not the longer one.”
“You must take the long walk in the spring,” Georgiana said. “It is ten miles but worth the exertion. I walk it at least once every year.”
Mr. Tipton said, “And now, so do I,” which made them all laugh.
Darcy brushed aside the twinge of sadness that he had not taken the long walk around Pemberley for years. “Perhaps we should all go one day in the Spring.” If he had company, it would be less likely for him to wander off the path and get lost.
“I would enjoy that,” Mrs. Holt said.
ON CHRISTMAS, DARCY and the Tiptons attended church services, then ate a large dinner. The children opened presents from their parents and carols were sung. Darcy enjoyed his family, but he missed Mrs. Holt and he regretted the generous impulse that had given her time to visit her family. He counted the days until she would return.
As if perceiving his thoughts, Georgiana spoke to him that evening. She said, “In church today, several of your neighbours mentioned Mrs. Holt, asking me what I thought of her. If I approved of her.”
Darcy said irritably, “I don’t see why. Did they mention Mr. Spencer as well?” Mr. Spencer was his steward.
Georgiana added, “Mrs. Rowe told Mrs. Green that Mrs. Holt was too pretty to be a governess.”
“Considering Mr. Rowe’s proclivities, she is right,” Darcy said rudely.
Mr. Tipton choked, hiding a laugh.
Georgiana said, “I think you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“Mrs. Holt is one of my secretaries, nothing more.”
“I understand that, but do your neighbours?”
“What business it is of theirs what I do in my own home?”
“As Master of Pemberley, you set the moral tone for the neighbourhood.”
Darcy had noticed that the nation as a whole was becoming more circumspect. Some of the things that happened commonly in the days of his father seemed reprehensible now.
All over London societies were springing up to curb the consumption of alcohol, gaming, and prostitution.
Darcy said, “Are people gossiping about me and Mrs. Holt?”
“I am afraid so.”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “Then I must take care of the matter.”
Georgiana did not say anything more because they both knew what was required to salvage Mrs. Holt’s reputation. Darcy had a choice – he could either dismiss Mrs. Holt or marry her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Lizzy, is that you?”
Elizabeth was at the bootmaker’s shop where she waited as her shoes were being repaired. She turned and saw her sister. “Kitty!” she exclaimed and then was vigorously hugged.
“I can’t believe it is you!” Kitty said. “We were told you had died.”
Elizabeth said, “That is what I wished you to believe.”
Kitty nodded. “I don’t blame you. Those were terrible times and I also left as soon as I married.”
“Married?”
Kitty nodded happily. “I eloped to Gretna Green, but unlike Lydia, I actually did it.”
“Eloped with whom?”
Kitty giggled. “Captain Denny. Or Mr. Denny now. We have a shop where we sell snuff boxes.”
Snuff boxes? Elizabeth laughed, for it was nothing like she had expected. “Are you happy?”
“Very much so,” Kitty said and patted her slightly rounded stomach. “This will be our second child.”
“How wonderful,” Elizabeth said. “I am happy for you.”
“And you?” Kitty prompted.
“I’m a widow, but I am well. Content.”
“Any children?”
“No.”
“That is so sad,” Kitty said. “Do you live nearby?”
“No, I am only visiting with the Gardiners for Christmas.”
Kitty said, “I miss Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. I should call on them.”
“Mr. Gardiner has died.”
Kitty said, “I am sorry to hear that. He was always such a jolly gentleman. Perhaps I should have called sooner, but Mr. Denny wanted me to avoid our family.”
“That is understandable,” Elizabeth said.
Kitty added, “I don’t tell anyone about Mama and her card parties. Not that anyone cares. The house is called Wickham’s now.”
“Good heavens, why?”
“Because Mr. Wickham came back. He heard that Lydia was using his name and decided he wanted to share the profits.”
Elizabeth said, “Did they marry after all?”
“I don’t know,” Kitty said. “All I know is that they are running the gaming hell together.”
Poor stupid Lydia to take such a man back into her life. Elizabeth asked, “And Mama?”
“She is too ill to leave her room.”
“Truly ill or merely pretending?”
“Truly ill. I expect to hear any day now from Mary that she has passed away.”
“You keep in touch with Mary?”
“Yes. We write.”
Elizabeth felt a moment’s nostalgia. She didn’t want to be estranged from her family. She asked, “What is wrong with Mama?”
“She had an apoplexy a few weeks ago and cannot walk or talk well. It is a wonder that she still lives.”
Elizabeth said, “For all her talk of nerves and heart palpitations, I sometimes think Mama will outlive us all.”
Kitty said, “You may be right.” She then glanced at the shop door and said, “I must go. I only came inside because I saw you.” She touched Elizabeth’s arm. “But please do come and visit our shop.” She wrote her address on the back of a calling
card. “And you should see Mama, if only to say good bye.”
Elizabeth hugged her sister in farewell and considered her advice. Should she visit her mother, or was it best to keep that part of her life buried in the past?
It was strange to see Kitty again, all grown up and happily settled. She smiled to think of her as Mrs. Denny. And selling snuff boxes, of all things.
When she told Mrs. Gardiner about meeting Kitty and what she’d said about Mr. Wickham and Lydia, Mrs. Gardiner said, “I had heard of it.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I did not see the purpose of it.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I suppose you are right. Perhaps it is better to forget the past.”
But over the next few days, she often thought of her mother, ill and dying, and her conscience struck her. The Bible taught that she should honour her parents, even if they were silly and ignorant as her mother had been. She arranged to visit with her mother the day before she left for Pemberley.
A hired carriage took her to her mother’s house. Mrs. Hill answered the door. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth,” she cried. “We thought you were dead.”
Elizabeth said, “May I see my mother?”
“Yes, to be sure,” Mrs. Hill said and escorted her upstairs. “Madam,” she said. “Your daughter is here to see you.”
Mrs. Bennet shrieked and clutched her bedsheets when she saw her. “Are you an angel come to take me away?” Her speech was slurred, and one side of her face was slack.
Elizabeth hastened to reassure her. “No, Mama. I am your Lizzy.”
“But we thought –”
Elizabeth wished that she had never lied. She said, “Yes, I told Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to say I was dead.”
“I will never forgive my brother,” Mrs. Bennet said hotly. “That was too cruel. And how could you lie to your own mother?”
Elizabeth sat beside her bed. “I am sorry. After what happened that night, I did not feel safe. I wanted to get away.”
“You abandoned me,” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Your own mother. Sharper than a serpent’s tooth is a thankless child.” She struck her chest with her one good hand. “I did everything for you. Everything. And this is how you repay me?” Her voice grew increasingly shrill. “I did everything to help you girls find rich husbands.”
That was true. Her mother had been ruthless in her pursuit of wealthy young men to marry her daughters.
Elizabeth had hoped that the time they had spent apart would have softened old resentments, but now she wished that she had not come. “I am sorry, Mama,” she said carefully. “I wanted to tell you that I love you.”
“You wanted to gloat with your fine clothes and me doing so poorly.”
“No, I –”
“You always were an ungrateful child,” Mrs. Bennet said. “You should have married Mr. Collins and then we need never have left Longbourn. You’re the one who ruined this family.” She turned her face away petulantly. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Elizabeth stood for a moment, watching her mother, not knowing what to say. Her mother had always been selfish, but she had grown angry and bitter now. But for all her flaws, she was still her mother. “I am sorry I was such a disappointment,” Elizabeth said finally.
Mrs. Bennet said, “I never understood what your father saw in you. He thought you were clever, but you were not clever enough to find a husband.”
Elizabeth was glad that she wore gloves that hid her wedding ring. “Good-bye, Mama,” she said finally.
“Good riddance,” Mrs. Bennet said under her breath. Then added in louder tones, “No one knows what I suffer.”
Elizabeth walked down the stairs to the main sitting room.
“It is good to see you again, miss,” Mrs. Hill said politely.
“I should not have come,” Elizabeth said. “I am afraid I made my mother worse.”
Mrs. Hill said, “If she didn’t rail against you, she would rail against someone else.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“He does not think she will live long.”
“She’s lived too long as it is,” a smooth male voice said and Elizabeth was startled to see Mr. Wickham enter the room. He was still a handsome man, but years of dissipation showed in the lines and shadows of his face. Instead of a smart soldier’s uniform, he now wore the latest style of jacket and trousers. His hair was longer and he wore thick sideburns.
He took her appearance in stride. “Dearest sister, what a wonderful surprise,” he said with a smirk and made a move to hug her.
Elizabeth shrank back.
He laughed at her alarm. “Do not worry. All is well again. Your sister Lydia has agreed to take me back.”
“And how long will you stay this time?” Elizabeth asked rudely.
He shrugged. “As long as this house is profitable, I suppose. You would not believe how many young men are eager to part with their fortunes over a faro table.”
She was startled by his honesty, but he had no reason to pretend with her. He knew from her actions that she did not trust him.
He smiled and said, “Have you come to stay? Lydia won’t be pleased, but I suppose we can find some use for you.”
The last thing she wanted was to be ‘of use’ in this house. Elizabeth lifted her chin. “No, thank you. I am not staying.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elizabeth breathed out a sigh of relief as the carriage approached Pemberley. This fine estate was her home now for as long as Mr. Darcy wished it. She was happy to take her portmanteau to her small bedroom and to unpack her clothes.
She had not been there long when a footman appeared in her doorway and informed her that Mr. Darcy wished to see her in the library.
Elizabeth brushed her wrinkled skirts and straightened the lace cap on her head. She tucked a few stray curls behind her ears. “Yes, I will be there as soon as I can. Thank you.”
As Elizabeth walked through the quiet house she smiled, grateful to be there. When she arrived at the library, Mr. Darcy asked her to sit down.
She sat in an arm chair across from him and waited for her instructions.
He said, “How was your journey?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Do you need refreshment after your travel?”
“No, sir.”
He nodded. “It is good to have you back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After this, there was a long silence and Elizabeth wondered what he was thinking. Mr. Darcy looked the same as she remembered – a handsome gentleman wearing dark glasses, but he seemed agitated. His jaw tightened as if he were clenching his teeth. Finally, he said, “I have a few personal questions to ask you, and I hope you will forgive my impertinence.”
Elizabeth had a moment’s fear. Had he learned of her true name and her past? She nodded, then remembering that he could not see her reaction she said quietly, “Yes, sir.”
He grimaced. “Forgive me. It is the height of arrogance to ask for forgiveness before giving the offense, is it not?”
She smiled. “Do you wish to give offense?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then your words have merely warned me in advance.”
“And you are free to forgive or not as you choose.”
All this talk of forgiveness was alarming. She said, “Thank you.”
Again, there was a long silence, but Darcy finally said, “You have been in my employ for several months and I hope that your obligations are not onerous.”
“No, sir.”
“And you enjoy Pemberley?”
“Yes, sir. Who could not?”
He smiled briefly. “I have struggled for several days not knowing how to address you, but I believe that in such matters, honesty is best so I will speak openly.”
Elizabeth flinched, feeling guilty for her lies.
He said, “There are rumours that our relationship is not what it should be and I believe that if you remain in my employ, your reputation will be ruined.”
Elizabeth relaxed. Was that all? She said, “I care little for my reputation.”
He said, “But I care for mine.”
Of course, Mr. Darcy was a proud man and he would not want to be ridiculed. “Are you dismissing me?”
“No, I am asking you to marry me.”
Elizabeth gasped. She remembered his words eight years before.
You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
He continued. “Let me explain myself. I am no longer a young man, and with my disability, I do not expect a traditional marriage. Instead, I propose a marriage of friendship and companionship. From our many conversations, I believe that we would be ideally suited.”
Elizabeth was shocked by his words and it pained her that he thought so poorly of his own prospects. She said, “I appreciate the honour of your proposal, but surely there is someone better suited than I to be your wife.”
“Are you referring to your age or your station?”
“Yes, in part.”
He said, “I have considered all that. Some of my friends and family may think poorly of my choice, but I care little for that. I am a quiet, lonely man, Mrs. Holt, and my pleasures are few. I plan to live the rest of my days at Pemberley and I am asking you to join me.”
Elizabeth said, “If there are rumours about us, will a marriage not be the confirmation of them?”
He said, “As Mrs. Darcy, your reputation and honour will be restored.”
Elizabeth’s heart raced. She wanted to consider the matter logically and not respond foolishly. This was her fourth proposal and most likely her last.
He said gently, “Have I offended you?”
“No, but I did not think I would marry again.”
He said, “Do you think marrying again would be disloyal to your husband?”
“No. Mr. Holt was a kind man. He would want me to be taken care of.”
He said, “I will take care of you.”
Still she hesitated. Elizabeth knew that she should not marry Mr. Darcy without telling him who she was, but her lies had grown so large, she did not know how to tell him without ruining her chance to marry him.
