A Sister's Curse

by Jayne Bamber

  “Yes, I know of it,” he said sadly.

  “They had quite a row – how could you abandon her at such a time?”

  “I did not expect them to become so overwrought,” he sighed, his voice numb. “I thought he meant to make amends – that was his claim. Eventually, I heard raised voices and came to see what it was all about. I was in the corridor, nearly on the point of entering the room, when I heard Elizabeth say – oh, Anne, I could not face her. I am a bloody coward, a useless old fool.”

  “You are not, Edward. You are a man just out of mourning, and your difficulties have been many.” Anne wished to console her old friend, yet Elizabeth must be her priority, and Edward had let their girl down. “I have always been so fond of you, Edward, and it once pleased me to know that Lizzy gave you comfort, but at what cost? She is beside herself weeping and you would just hide in here? Is this what her life has been these seven years?”

  Edward closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “She told William I was a disappointment to her – that the men in this family have let her down, that we have all been blind and useless. I daresay she is right. Through my own actions I have taught her to wallow in melancholy, and to expect the worst in others. Henry has shown her that the feelings of the adults matter more than the children, and though he may now have the only happy marriage in the family, he cannot expect that to solve Lizzy’s problems. He cannot orchestrate a parade of the most tedious bachelors of the ton, in order to present Richard in a favorable light, and I can only wonder that Richard would stand for such a thing. I know nothing of her quarrel with William, and yet I am sure she was quite right about us all. We have used her so very ill these many years, and now I suppose the time has come for our reckoning.”

  Anne felt a tear slide down her cheek. “I daresay we have all failed her, and each other. I know little of what has transpired, but... I am very worried.”

  “You are right to believe it is all my doing,” he said, looking ten years older as he stared ruefully at her.

  “I do not believe that, Edward. You did not set out to do harm.”

  “But harm was done.”

  “Yes,” she warily agreed. “Great harm, I believe. As you say, we are all complicit, you and Henry and even me. Lizzy does not even know William, nor he her. He came here today and mistook Elizabeth for Rose – these two weeks he has not even known his own sister, and Elizabeth is devastated. It is all because such distance has grown between us.”

  “They have been separated so long,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Yes, and we allowed it. We have both of us allowed our own feelings to keep us apart, hidden away in our grief, and Elizabeth has paid the price. She did not even know William last night, Edward, and after dancing with him she told Henry that she wished him added to her list of suitors. She is humiliated.”

  Edward raised his eyebrows with apparent alarm. “I did not know – Henry said nothing to me.”

  Anne shook her head, unsure of where to direct her mounting frustration. “I suppose that is the problem. There is no conversation, no understanding at all in this family. Lizzy still feels everything so deeply and we stand by, doing nothing about it. If you could have seen her, heard her....”

  “I ought to see it, I ought to be made to see what damage I have caused.”

  “Edward, please. I do not try to wound you. Can you not see, it is not about us – it has never been about us. Lizzy is hurting.” As Anne began to weep, Edward came over to her and perched beside her on the edge of his desk, offering her another of his handkerchiefs. “I shall grow quite a collection of these,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.

  “There was a time when our friendship made you smile.”

  “It may yet still. Oh, help me, Edward, I beg you would help me. I cannot do it alone – I do not even know what I am to do, but I would cut out my heart if it meant healing Elizabeth’s.”

  Edward reached out and took Anne’s hand. “We shall make it right, my old friend.” He gave her hand a lingering squeeze and then moved around to the side of his desk and took out a sheet of paper. He reached decisively for his pen and began to write. “I am sending word to Matlock House – as of this moment you and I are taking control of Elizabeth’s well-being, and her future – we are taking the active interest that I ought to have done years ago, and together we shall make it all well.” He looked up, smiling sadly. “I promise you, Anne, I shall make this right. For you, and for Lizzy, I shall begin to exert myself.”

  ***

  Elizabeth followed her sister indoors and they settled themselves in the music room, as Elizabeth could not bear the sight of the front parlor at present. She drew her shawl around herself and curled up on an armchair, her mind almost numb from the purgative cry she had indulged in.

  “You look a thousand miles away, Lizzy,” Jane said as she settled on a sofa nearby.

  “No, I am still here,” Elizabeth sighed.

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Elizabeth looked skeptically at her sister. She was still rebuilding her trust in Jane, who was Williams’s champion. “I think perhaps you will be angry with me.”

  “No, I... I shall not defend William if you do not wish to hear it. He was in such a state when we met with him – I have never seen him so angry, and I cannot imagine how dreadful it was for you to speak with him in such a state. I think he upset you a great deal.”

  Elizabeth considered. Jane had said she had no wish to be shielded from the truth; this would certainly test her resolve. “Oh Jane, it was so horrible. The worst part was, when he thought I was Rose, he was actually pleasant to me.”

  “I cannot believe he mistook you.”

  “It was mortifying. And then, as soon as he learned who I am, he became so churlish, casting the worst sort of aspersions at me and... and then I did the same to him, because I wanted him to feel just as hurt as myself.”

  Jane furrowed her brow, her eyes moist with tears, and her countenance all tender dismay and sympathy. “What did he say?”

  “That my anger at him would wound Mamma, and that he cares so much about you all and your happiness that he would put aside his justifiable prejudices against me and allow me into his home. It was beyond the pale, Jane. He refused to apologize for anything, despite his claim that he wished to make amends. – he only gave offense! Jane, he called me a petulant little brat.”

  Jane’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Oh no! Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry. What did you say to him?”

  “A great many cruel things. I said that I had no I wish to call him Brother, as he has been a terrible one to you, and that he and all the men in our family have disappointed me. I called him a selfish, boorish brute – again – and manipulative and unfeeling, and... I said that he caused George Wickham’s death.”

  “Oh.” Jane’s expression crumpled, and a few tears slid down her cheek. “Oh my, Lizzy. Even at my lowest, my most forlorn, I could never had said such things to William.” She was quiet a moment before meeting Elizabeth’s eye, and her voice was barely audible as she said, “I did think it, though.”

  “Do you blame me, Jane? I ought to have kept such thoughts to myself, as you have done….”

  Jane shook her head. “I have no answers for you, Lizzy. It is done, and your words cannot be unsaid. I am only so very shocked. You and he seemed to be getting on well when you danced together last night.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “I did not know it was him.”

  “Oh. Who did your think he was?”

  Elizabeth could not bear to tell her sister the whole truth, even after Jane’s small but shattering confession. Her own actions this morning had been shameful enough, losing her temper as she had – she need not add to her humiliation by making it known to all her family what she had felt the night before. She had actually been attracted to him, and had been open and honest with him. She had dared to hope she might have met a man who could change her mind about his entire sex, and all along it had been a man she d
espised. When she had heard him speak of the starling, her heart had broken just a little bit, as if until that moment she had never known herself.

  “I thought he was a stranger,” Elizabeth said – it was not untrue. “In fact, we had a pleasant conversation.”

  “And he did not know you either?”

  “No. Nor this morning when he saw my whole face. He does not know me at all Jane, and I do not think I hold him in enough esteem to wish it otherwise.”

  “I am so sorry to hear you say so.”

  “I know, Jane, but it is the truth. We got along so well as strangers, but as soon as he knew me for myself, his sense of superiority and judgement instantly returned. He proved my point, that he is prejudiced against me – he even admitted it!”

  Jane nodded sadly. “Oh, Lizzy, it must be true.”

  “It is, Jane.”

  “I do not understand him. This morning at breakfast he spoke of wanting my happiness, of wanting to make sure I did not feel caged....”

  “That was true? He really asked you that?”

  “Yes. I thought it so odd. But he does care about my happiness, and he seemed really resolved to ask you to stay at Darcy House. He said that you are confident and converse easily with others, and that I might learn this from you, as you learn sweetness from me.”

  Elizabeth grimaced. “He thinks I am confident... and rude?”

  “Oh, I am sure that is not what he meant.”

  “How can it be otherwise? I told you what he said about me!”

  Jane chewed her lip. “He was wrong to say such things. I can see why you struck him! Oh, Lizzy, I think that I am beginning to feel rather angry at him, and I have never been cross with William before.”

  Elizabeth suppressed a triumphant smile. “Thank you for understanding, Jane.”

  “I do wish to try, Lizzy. You have been through so much, and you and I and Mary and Mamma are trying so hard to be a real family again. But William – he came with the intention of making amends with you and has insulted you in every possible way. Richard has gone to speak with him, but I cannot imagine how he could defend the great disparity in his actions and his intentions! I am so disappointed in him!”

  Elizabeth now found herself obliged to comfort Jane, but it was rather sweet that Jane was such a gentle creature as to be so affected.

  “Lizzy, when you said you were disappointed with all the men of our family....”

  “I did not mean Papa!”

  “Oh, I know. You meant our uncles?”

  “Yes, and even… even Richard, too.”

  “Really? But you are so close!”

  “We are close. Richard has always been so kind to me. But I believe you can love someone very much, and still let them down.”

  “Like you and I,” Jane said, lacing her fingers through Elizabeth’s.

  “Not anymore,” Elizabeth replied, meeting her sister’s eye. “Last night was awful. Uncle Henry pressing those awful suitors at us – he filled half of my dance card as soon as I arrived, and when I turned to Uncle Edward for help, he did nothing about it. Just his usual shrug of resignation, as it has ever been. I know he is only just out of mourning, but he is so like a ghost. It broke my heart that he did not stand up for me, not last night when we arrived, not later in the night when I grew so distraught, and not this morning when William and I quarreled. Ought he not to have told William off for speaking to me in such a way?”

  “I am sure Uncle Henry would call him out, if William ever spoke to Charlotte in such a way!”

  Elizabeth felt a rush of vindication and smiled at her sister.

  “You said you grew distraught later in the evening – what happened?”

  Elizabeth looked away and shook her head. She could not tell Jane of the foolish disappointment she had felt at the handsome knight failing to appear for their second set, nor the wild confusion she felt at realizing the knight had been William. “I cannot imagine why Uncle Henry should wish to push me at such dreadful gentlemen,” Elizabeth huffed, trying to turn the subject. “Perhaps he means to make his son look like the best option for me.”

  “Richard?”

  “Uncle Henry suggested it just before you came to London. I was shocked – I had never imagined such a thing.”

  “Does Richard desire it?”

  “He says he has considered it and has asked me to do the same, but I cannot. The idea of making such a match is insupportable to me.”

  Jane gave Elizabeth a gentle smile. “You cannot love him?”

  “I do not think I can love anybody in that way,” Elizabeth groaned. And then she thought of the handsome knight again – the hope she had briefly felt, only to have it dashed as she looked up into William’s eyes that morning. “Perhaps I might have thought… but I cannot force it. I will not.”

  Jane leaned her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder, wrapping both of her hands around Elizabeth’s. “Oh, Lizzy,” she sighed. “It is a pity about Richard – that is, I am very sorry for you both…. I do know what you mean about not wishing to force what does not come naturally.”

  “Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth sighed. “Wretched as I am, at least we understand one another at last.”

  ***

  That evening, the Earl of Matlock answered the curious summons of his old friend and brother-in-law, bringing Lady Phyllis, Richard, and Charlotte to Upper Brook Street with him for dinner. It was no ordinary family meal – indeed, Lady Anne and Sir Edward were united in insisting that not one morsel of food would be served until they had all come to some sort of understanding within the family.

  Rose was relegated to a tray in her room, and Charlotte volunteered to keep her company upstairs, lest the child be tempted to intervene in what must be a serious family discussion.

  Elizabeth sat numbly through it all, her vehement emotions all spent. She felt only a mild pang in her heart when William did not arrive with her mother and sisters, and a distant, vague apprehension at Richard’s proximity when he came and sat near them.

  Though the earl and countess, Lady Anne, and Sir Edward spoke a great deal, there was little that any of them could say to Elizabeth that could bring her comfort at such a time, little for them to chastise themselves for that she has not already thought to herself, and little that they could promise which would undo the years of emotional anguish that had exploded out of her that morning.

  Lady Anne and Uncle Edward were firmer than they had ever been with the earl, and in the end the stalwart pair carried their point; Elizabeth would remove to Darcy House, and would be released from the earl’s matrimonial schemes, however well intended.

  Throughout the lengthy discussion, Elizabeth’s attention was all for her letter; William had been gone when their mother and Jane returned to Darcy House that morning, and he had left behind one note for Lady Anne, and one for Elizabeth. She ran her fingers idly over the paper, reading it over and over to herself as the rest of her family argued about how to behave as one.

  Dear Elizabeth, for dear to me I believe you must be,

  I write you this letter after some hours of reflection, some conversation with Mary – who was cross with you last evening, and is now doubly so with me – and several crumpled drafts lying at my feet.

  I must begin by apologizing for my behavior these past weeks – but no, I must go further back than that. You said I knew nothing of your reasons for leaving Pemberley, and the truth in that is that I knew nothing of you at all, or even Jane and Mary at the time. I was a young man more concerned with my studies and my friends at Cambridge, and that must be my paltry excuse. By the time I had my eyes opened to the fact that I needed to be a better brother, it was too late for me to bestow upon you the same consideration, or so I believed.

  As to your assertion that I hold you in contempt because of your defense of Lady Olivia – this I cannot deny, but I am resolved to rid myself of the notion that you were unable to love her without being tainted by her sins. It is strange, but when I thought you to be Rose, I rather admire
d your poise, wit, and grace, thinking you a far better woman than Lady Olivia.

  It has been jarring to realize that I had held you in such high esteem without realizing it. Even last night at the ball, I gave credit to all your assertions when we spoke during our dance. Not only did I instantly find myself at ease with your candor and manner of expressing yourself, I was moved by all that you told me – I felt a protective instinct over you, as a mere stranger, that I had not allowed myself to extend to you, Elizabeth.

  You may imagine my shock and dismay at discovering that you were the starling that had captivated me, had moved me with the bleak description of a such a hostile brother. That the man you believed would scorn you for merely enjoying yourself has caused me more pain than anything you said to me this morning.

  I am mortified at how I have deserved it. What did you say of me that is not true? What are you feeling that is not wholly justified by my actions, and my ignorance of your character and worth? My thoughts have all been for our mother and sisters, their pain at losing you, and the other losses we have suffered over the years. Until this morning I had never troubled myself to acknowledge that you have felt it all, just as we have, and perhaps most of all.

  I am bound for Pemberley this very hour, and I would say only that whether you ever choose to call Darcy House home again, I hope my absence in London might help to untwist some of the wires around your cage. God bless you.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  13

  Darcy House, London

  17 January, 1812

  Dear William,

  I have been at Darcy House a week today and I can go no longer without answering your letter. It is not your absence from London that has made this time more bearable for me, so much as the efforts of Jane, Mary, Mamma, and my uncles. I confess I was not optimistic when Uncle Edward called all the family together, but it seems that he and Mamma are very serious about behaving like a proper family. All is well at Darcy House, though I know that Mamma, Jane, and Mary wish you would come back to London.