by Jayne Bamber
Edward nodded. “Of course, of course. I only wondered what she told you – what explanation she gave for wishing to return to Brook Street.”
“I am curious myself,” Lady Eleanor said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Why, that she was not yet confident enough in her fragile new accord with William – that she did not yet feel like a true sister to him. I am disappointed, of course,” Anne said gently. “They have had but two months of writing letters, after so many years. Of course she needs more time, and I have always desired her comfort and happiness.”
Edward nodded. “I shall be direct, as you say, Lady Eleanor – I got the distinct impression there was something Lizzy was not telling me.”
“Oh, as to that,” Anne said, “there was something else. Lizzy asked Jane if she had any memory of a dark corridor, and a woman screaming. Edward, could she have possibly remembered?”
Edward sat back heavily. Whatever he had suspected, it was not this. “I shall never forget that night. I knew it was wrong of us to bring the girls into Fanny’s room. What did Jane say?”
“Nothing at all, but she began to breathe very heavily and tremble all over, and then she left the room. Lizzy was very angry with herself for mentioning it at all. I told her it was not impossible that she may have some trace of a recollection, though we had tried to avoid exposing them to such a shocking scene.”
Edward shook his head. “Another way I have failed them.”
“No, Edward,” Anne said, leaning over her mother and extending her hand toward him.
Lady Eleanor had been silently watching their exchange, and now she cleared her throat. “Well, as you have chosen to hold such a conversation in my sick room, I had inferred you might want my opinion on the matter. You would not be the first to seek such sage counsel, you know.”
“Has she spoken with you?”
“She came to me yesterday, before she spoke to Anne,” Lady Eleanor replied triumphantly.
“Well?”
“Well, our dear Lizzy chose to confide in the wisest member of this family, and you would have me betray her confidence?”
“Mamma!” Anne scowled and looked expectantly at her mother.
“It is William, is it not?” Edward smiled knowingly at Lady Eleanor.
“As my daughter says, Lizzy does not look upon William as a brother, and how could she? He was away at school when she was at Pemberley, and she has been in London these seven years. He is not brotherly with her, as he is with Jane and Mary.”
“But they were getting along so well,” Anne insisted. “Surely their letters brought them closer. Poor Lizzy, I am sure she was simply frightened by your injury in the middle of the night, and ran away just as she did when she was a girl.”
“She was frightened by something in the middle of the night – and I do not think it was what she was reading in the library.” Lady Eleanor raised an eyebrow at them, and made a great show of fidgeting with her blankets and pillows before she continued. “Of course, I understand she had some company in the library last night. I am sure it was a great comfort to her.”
Edward leaned forward, looking at Lady Eleanor with interest. “Oh?”
The dowager countess sniffed. “Nothing to alarm you, I am sure,” she said archly. “They are so much brother and sister, are they not?”
Anne let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “Are you saying…? But he is her brother,” she sighed, burying her face in her hands.
“Anne,” Edward breathed; he walked around Lady Eleanor’s bed to go to Anne’s side and stood next to her, stroking her hand. “This is my fault. I ought never to have allowed her to leave Pemberley. She has not been brought up with him, the way Jane and Mary have. Surely they would not....”
“No indeed,” Anne said. “Though I cannot believe anything untoward could happen between William and Lizzy, either.”
“If it did, I am sure she would be frightened out of her wits over it,” Lady Eleanor observed.
Edward sighed. “That, too, is likely my fault. If Lizzy has... feelings for William, of that nature, she has every reason to be wary. I have given her no good reason to look upon the prospect of love without apprehension.”
Anne peered up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I... I have done this. I have ruined that poor girl. When I asked her to confide in me yesterday, she told me that perhaps I ought not to have confided so much in her, since she has resided in London. It stung, but she was not wrong. No thirteen-year-old girl should be made so fully aware of what an unhappy marriage looks like. I was too caught up in my own suffering to see the damage I was doing, the difficulty I was setting her up for.”
“How astute you are,” Lady Eleanor quipped. “She would have done much better living in the dower house with me all those years; what good it has done Phyllis! But now look at the state of things. Henry is pressuring her into the very thing Edward has made her fear the most, and Anne, my dearest child, you have expected her to treat William like a brother when in fact they are strangers, thrown together in a time of great upheaval. I wonder no one expected such a thing!”
Anne chewed her lip for a moment before looking to Edward. “Henry,” she muttered. “Oh yes, we must speak to Henry about it. I am sure he shall know just what is to be done. He spoke to Lizzy about William the night of the ball, you know.”
“I did not know that,” Edward replied with no little curiosity. “Well, I had better go and speak with him, and get it all sorted out.”
“Seriously?” Lady Eleanor threw her hands up in exasperation, and then winced at the pain in her shoulder.
“Oh, Mamma,” Anne cried. “You must not tire yourself. Here, have another dose of Doctor Purcell’s elixir, and rest yourself.” She poured a small amount of the liquid into a cup of tea, and offered it to the dowager countess, who was scowling fearsomely. “Here, Mamma, drink this now.”
“I thank you for your candor, my lady,” Edward said, and kissed Lady Eleanor’s hand. “I believe it shall all turn out well. We have been idle too long, but now we must act.”
***
Madeline Bingley made herself at home in her sister’s drawing room – after all, she was paying for the place. Money well spent, if it shall bring down everyone Fanny Bennet ever held dear. She smiled at her sister and sipped her tea. “We have had a stroke of luck, Evelyn. The little minx has left Darcy House – now is our time to strike.”
Evelyn crossed her arms and scowled, but George Wickham leaned forward with a look of great interest. “Well, my dear benefactress, only tell me how I can best please you, and you may depend upon it being done in a trice.”
Evelyn grimaced at George. “Must you always be so eager?”
“Come now, my love,” he said, patting Evelyn’s hand. “Your sister has been very kind to us. I see no reason not to return her generosity with acquiescence.”
Madeline watched with amusement as Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She would not like what Madeline was going to propose, but then, it had been many years since Evelyn had acted sensibly, in her own best interest. Evelyn cared for nothing but George, a trait Madeline supposed that the two lovers had in common.
What a relief that I have never lost my head over a man. Aloud, she said, “Your affection is truly touching, but the next phase will be a delicate one. I wonder – perhaps it is better to leave it. I fear Evelyn is not willing, and it is hardly worth doing with half a heart.” She slowly rose as if to leave, waiting for them to protest.
George smiled widely at her and laid his hand over hers. “Mrs. Bingley, do stay. Evelyn and I are keen to hear your plan; is it not so, my dear?”
Evelyn offered them a derisive smile. “You are determined to underestimate me, Maddy. Let us hear it, then.”
Madeline gave them a sweet smile. “Well, if you are quite sure.”
“We are at your disposal,” George said smoothly.
“Well, then. Now that Miss Bennet has so obligin
gly removed herself from the Darcys’ protection, it is time for you to introduce your nephew, Evelyn. It will need to look like a chance encounter, nothing too obvious. George, you must be charming, but do not appear too eager or you shall frighten her off. Appeal to her sentiment. She lost her aunt a year ago,” Madeline said, this last bit bringing a genuine smile to her lips. “Work with that – say you lost your wife, or the like.”
George nodded and struck a dramatic pose. “The grieving widower – I can do that.”
“Do not overdo it – moderation is the key. The more you say, the more you shall have to keep track of. Keep her talking, and see what you can discover.”
“What would she best like to hear? What are her passions, her pursuits?”
“The usual things – music, dancing, reading, walking in the park. For having such a high opinion of herself, she is no different than any other girl at such an age. I daresay she is rather spoiled, coming from such wealth, and you had better appear to have a great deal of it yourself, or she will think you a fortune hunter.”
George grinned and rubbed his hands together, as Evelyn sneered at his enthusiasm. “I shall play up the dead wife angle, get her chasing me.”
“Good, yes.”
Evelyn did not conceal her displeasure. “To what end?”
“Miss Bennet’s, I should hope. I daresay, sister, you are hardly George’s only conquest. How long shall it take you to gain her trust, lure her into an elopement, and ruin her?”
He laughed. “Is she comely?”
“Does it matter?”
“Pretty girls require a little more finesse than the plain ones. Is that not right, Evelyn?”
George reached for her, but Evelyn swatted him away, pushing her elbow into his as she said, “The girl trusts me. Two weeks, three at the most.”
Madeline grinned with satisfaction. Three weeks at the most, and Elizabeth Bennet would be finished. With her out of the way, Edward would soon be toppled – he was already eating out of the palm of Madeline’s hand. It was hardly an effort for her. All her pretty words of regret were true – she did wish she had chosen Edward over her late husband, though he need not know why. James Bingley’s fortune has certainly been enough to tempt her, but Edward had been given a knighthood and made friends in very high places – what a different life she might have had, had Fanny Bennet not spoiled it all for her.
“So,” Evelyn said, interrupting Madeline’s reverie. “How are we going to split her dowry? Fifty-fifty, or three equal shares?”
It was all Madeline could do not to laugh. Miss Bennet’s family might indulge her a great deal, but there was no way the little chit would see a penny of her dowry if she wed so far beneath them. More likely it would be split between her two sisters – a fine thing for Mary, Charles, and by extension, Madeline herself. Of course, George had better remain ignorant of that, else he would lose his motivation.
“I am feeling generous,” she drawled, “but not quite out of my senses. We shall divide her thirty thousand pounds right down the middle, and if you go back on the bargain, I shall have you turned out of this house in an instant.”
“We are family,” George said smoothly. “We should never think of betraying your trust.”
“What is to become of the girl, after?”
Madeline looked askance at her sister. “Whatever usually becomes of such women, I imagine. You need not... keep her. I leave it to you to decide.”
George furrowed his brow. “And how do I know Darcy will not come after me?”
“You know him better than I, and have evaded him these two years or more. I am sure you shall manage. Of course, you must be wishing to avoid the sister, though I can assure you she is no longer pining over your untimely demise.”
Wickham tried to appear aloof, but his eyes gave him away. “I would prefer to give them all a wide berth, for if I am recognized, it is all for naught.”
“She has not seen you since she was a girl,” Evelyn chided him. “You look nothing like your younger self. You have grown tan, and changed your hair – she will not know you, so long as we can get her alone.”
“The Darcys are at home on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday to receive callers – visiting Miss Bennet at her uncle’s home would be safest on those days. Inviting her here would be safer still. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you, and try not to slip up. You have three weeks to bring her down, or I shall expose you to the mercy of the Darcys. The earl’s younger son is courting Jane Darcy – I am sure he would love you to… remain deceased.”
Wickham laughed, but Madeline knew she had struck a chord, and she rose to take her leave with a triumphant heart.
***
After spending her first day at home entirely in her room, Elizabeth was determined to raise her own spirits and put aside the tumultuous thoughts that had taken hold in her heart and mind, if only for a little while. Rose was hoping for a visit from Mr. Collins, who had apparently been a very frequent visitor at Brook Street since Elizabeth had gone to Darcy House, and a fast friend to her uncle.
For her part, Elizabeth wished for a visit from her sisters. They had been gentle and understanding with her, Mary most of all, when she had bid them farewell before departing the previous day, but still Elizabeth feared there may grow another rift between them, and all because of her foolishness. She felt as if she were thirteen all over again, embroiling herself in problems too complicated to understand, and running away.
Determined not to dwell on such things while it was so fine outside, Elizabeth declared she would walk out, and thought that a visit with Mrs. Younge might do her some good. As she approached Mrs. Younge’s modestly genteel house in Portman square, Elizabeth thought she saw the old widow’s face appear in the window, and waved to her, but a moment later she was gone. By the time Elizabeth had reached the front steps of the house, Mrs. Younge herself was just exiting it – on the arms of a very handsome man.
“Miss Bennet, good day to you, my dear.” Mrs. Younge sang out as she made her way down the stairs where Elizabeth waited for her. “You must have had the same idea as we have, to be out and about in the sunshine. The almanac is predicting a freeze next week, you know, but Thomas and I think there is nothing at all in it. Better to be out of doors and active! Well now, at last I have the good fortune of presenting my favorite nephew, Mr. Thomas Smythe. Tom, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the new young friend I was telling you about.”
Mr. Smythe smiled at Elizabeth, a fine sight indeed. He was tanned, tall and lean, dressed impeccably; he wore his hair long and his sideburns large and well-manicured, in the new fashion. He was, in short, incredibly handsome, and evidently a gentleman of some standing. He gave a gallant bow. “How do you do, Miss Bennet? I have heard nothing but praise of you and your sisters this last week, and I have been hoping for some opportunity to thank you for your attention to my aunt. I am all she has, and I am often fearing it is not enough. But who could complain with a friend like you for company?”
Elizabeth made her curtsey and continued to drink in the sight of Mr. Smythe before recollecting herself enough to speak. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I apologize if I – that is, I had thought you looked familiar, but I am sure I am mistaken.”
Mr. Smythe laughed affably. “Have no fear, Miss Bennet; it happens rather a lot. I am told I have one of those faces that always resembles someone or other. But though we have only just met, I hope you will do us both the honor of walking with us? We are for Hyde Park this morning. Do you fancy a turn about the Serpentine?”
“I should love to,” Elizabeth said with a smile, and took his proffered arm.
As they began their walk, Mrs. Younge addressed Elizabeth. “I wonder if everybody thinks they know dear Tom because he looks like something straight from a fashion plate, does he not?”
Mr. Smythe laughed. “Aunt! I am quite self-conscious, I am sure. You must not misrepresent me to such a lovely young lady! I am trying to present myself credibly, you know, now that
I am back in London.”
“Back in London?” Inexplicably embarrassed, Elizabeth latched on to something that they might speak of, beyond the very fine appearance of the gentlemen beside her.
“I have been away, at my estate in Cornwall. To own the truth, I have only just come out of mourning, Miss Bennet. Indeed, I wonder now if it was not a mistake to bring my aunt with me when I purchased some new clothes, for it has never been my experience to be looking so very dapper. My late wife was a gentlewoman, but she had much simpler taste.”
“Oh – I am so sorry. I cannot imagine how awful it must be to lose a wife. My aunt passed away last year, and my uncle was mad with grief.”
“Had they been wed long?”
“Sixteen years,” Elizabeth replied.
“Your uncle has my condolences,” Mr. Smythe replied with a tender look. “And yet, I could almost envy him. I had but sixteen weeks with my dear Susan.”
“How tragic! She must have been so young!”
“She was, and very beautiful besides. I did not know her well – it was an arranged match, but I think we might have done well together, had we only the time to grow acquainted. Your uncle is a fortunate man to have had so many years with your aunt.”
“As much as you have sung Sir Edward’s praises,” Mrs. Younge said, “she must have been a very lucky woman.”
“She was one of a kind,” Elizabeth mused. “I learned a great deal from her.” She felt strangely unsettled, and was relieved when Mr. Smythe turned the subject.
“Enough of such sad talk, I say. It is a beautiful day, and I have gone far too long without such very fine company. Let us speak of other things. I should like to know you better, Miss Bennet. If you are fond of music and dancing, books and poetry, and long walks on sunny days, I daresay we shall get on famously!”
And so they did. They walked together for more than an hour in Hyde Park, and though Mrs. Younge was rather more reticent than had been her custom with Elizabeth, Mr. Smythe’s pleasant conversation more than made up for it. By the end of their time together, she felt that they had been acquainted for ages, for they had discovered they possessed a great deal in common. They admired the same writers and composers, were both fond of walking in the park, and studying human character; indeed, they were both quite interested in the other, and Mrs. Younge appeared to be so fond of each of them as to approve heartily. They walked her back to Brook Street after their time in the park, and to Elizabeth’s delight, Mr. Smythe asked if he might call again.
