by Massey, Beth
For the first time, Bethany smiled. “She is nice… so is Cousin Richard. They give me presents.” Once again she looked quizzically at him. “Are you Cousin Edmund?”
“Yes, we have met. I was at your baptism and your second Christmas.”
“Hmmm… I don’t member. Was that when I got my dog, Bottom? He is back at Pemberley. I wish he was here… he would be a good pirate.” For the first time, she gave him a rather lukewarm smile, but it seemed to be for the recollection of the dog and not him. Darcy was watching the exchange with something apprehension on his face. She looked down with a much broader smile at the little boy who was tugging on her hand. “This is my brother, Lewis. He does not talk good. We have to go.” She curtsied, and she and her brother ran off to continue their make-believe.
Edmund had become bored with the Season. He gave in to his mother’s demands and returned to Elderton. He had gone to Eleanor most nights; and after six months, she was again exhibiting signs of being with child. She seemed to conceive quite easily, but was unable to carry it through to birth. His mother told him with reproach that she thought sadness contributed to Eleanor’s miscarrying. He remembered his mother had lost several babies—she had the curious notion that delivering a female child would have raised her own spirits. Miss Elizabeth’s body had not rejected his bastard… maybe she had not remained distraught the way Darcy had described her. He preferred to remember her cowering in fear, but it might be possible her unhappiness had, indeed, quickly been replaced by pleasure as she seized the opportunity to demand money.
Lord Wolfbridge was anxious to be out and about. Once he knew Eleanor was definitely with child, he would remove himself and find some excitement. Wickham would make a fine companion to go in search of some sport among the lower classes. Maybe they should seek out Miss Elizabeth’s sisters.
While he waited, he was spending his time doing something quite radical for him… he was reading. A friend at White’s had recommended two books, he thought Lord Wolfbridge would enjoy. They were the Marquis de Sade’s Justine and Juliette. He was gaining a wealth of ideas to put into play when next he found a frightened little girl with whom to indulge.
22 THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Elizabeth Bennet leaned her head against the window of the Gardiner’s carriage. Davy and Marianne were dozing and her thoughts were free to think of home. It would be wonderful to be back in Hertfordshire, but she fretted over the difficulty of keeping everything that had happened in the past year a secret.
Elizabeth was arriving just before Christmas, and she knew her youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, would claim most of her attention by clamouring to know what presents were waiting to be unpacked in the trunks that had preceded her home. Before she left Derbyshire, Mrs Wilder had helped her choose bonnets for all her sisters and her mother from Mr Davies’ store. In addition, there was an assortment of ribbons, new kidskin gloves for each and some very fine Irish linen handkerchiefs. She had spent the last month of her confinement embroidering them—forget-me-nots for Jane, lilies for Mary, violets for Kitty, daffodils for Lydia and roses for her mother.
She thought about the two knives one in her reticule and the other in her box. She wished she could have brought a knife home for each of her sisters, but she knew not how she could have encouraged them to carry a weapon without disclosing her dishonour.
The Hintons, Jamie, Mrs Wilder, and even Mr Davies had contributed to a collection of presents and supplies for her trip home. Mr Davies had found a beautiful wooden travelling box and Mr Hinton had inlaid iron scrollwork into the top and fashioned a lock and key. The design for both the fastening and the scrollwork was a heart and Elizabeth had gotten tears in her eyes when she first observed their joint gift and its contents.
Bronwyn had contributed a supply of madeleines to eat during the trip. Bronwyn had also made her a sage tea to stop the flow of milk, and included strips of cloth she could use to wrap her breasts in the interim. Grif and Ang had included one of the bandalores with a note decorated with hearts telling her they would share the other one. Jamie had included sheet music for John Gay’s A Beggar’s Opera and a tin whistle; but the gift that caused her to become most emotional was a beautiful silver Celtic cross from Mrs Wilder to replace her amber one.
Now in the last leg of her journey home, her thoughts drifted to Mr and Mrs Darcy. She was pleased she had gotten a promise from Mrs Darcy to confess her role that day at Darcy House. If he at least knew she had been trapped, perhaps he would not think her merely mercenary. It was probably too much to hope he would recognize her right for revenge, but at least he might not ever stoop to judge his daughter by her actions.
The conversation she had with Anne made her believe she had truly wanted forgiveness, and she had given it freely once Anne had promised to confess. More than anything she hoped her baby would be happy, loved and well cared for.
Elizabeth recalled the other thing she had learned during that discussion with Mrs Darcy. Lord Wolfbridge had, indeed, married Eleanor Harding. The surge of guilt she had felt at the time came back full force. She realized her pursuit of revenge had been at the expense of this woman’s happiness. She and her uncle should have communicated how despicable the Viscount was. Anne had agreed to confess her sins; but how would Elizabeth ever atone for hers.
She needed to put thoughts of the Darcys behind her. Being cooped up for the last several days had given her too much time to remember him in particular… his dimples when she made him laugh, his perplexed look as she lay on the floor in her bare feet quoting Shakespeare and the stolen glances he thought she had not observed when they were alone reading.
Elizabeth smiled broadly at her next thought. Hopefully, she would never see or hear from Mr and Mrs Darcy again; but she eagerly anticipated hearing from the rest of her friends in Derbyshire. They had all promised to write. Mrs Wilder would include letters from Jamie so her parents would not question the propriety of corresponding with a man. Bronwyn and Mrs Reynolds had also agreed to write, although Mrs Reynolds would correspond through her uncle, so no association with Pemberley was perceived. Elizabeth had encouraged all to come to Hertfordshire to visit her. Jamie might be an excellent match for Jane. A chuckle escaped her as she realized how much like her mother she was. Lizzy smiled with the knowledge that in less than an hour she would be back in her sisters’ and parents’ loving arms again.
Her uncle had informed her upon her arrival in London that the Darcy’s twenty thousand pounds had been received, but the three thousand from Lord Wolfbridge had yet to arrive. Believing she had enough to take care of her mother and increase her sisters’ dowries when the time came, Lizzy asked Mr Gardiner not to pursue the remaining funds. Her desire was to put her ordeal behind her and focus on her family and the future.
Elizabeth’s arrival at Longbourn, was greeted by a plethora of hugs and kisses from her family. All were welcomed—except sadly those from her father. When he enfolded her in his arms and whispered what a delight it was to have his favourite chess opponent back, she unconsciously stiffened. Though she had prepared herself for tolerating his touch, and his words were so very endearing—she had forgotten he often smelled of tobacco and port. Elizabeth felt her father’s disappointment and knew she must make amends for her reaction. They had always been the early risers in the family, and she vowed to spend time with him tomorrow before anyone else was awake.
Elizabeth herself felt reticence in Jane’s greeting. Her hugs and kisses while freely given were lukewarm at best. The sisters’ closeness had developed over the years during nightly discussions filled with whispered confidences of hopes and dreams, shared hilarity and loving comfort. It was the denial of this time spent with Jane that had filled her with heart-broken longing since that fateful day in March. Now she was confronted with trying to resume their relationship without the honesty that had been the hallmark of their bond. Tonight she would attempt to recapture their closeness, but sadly she must do so without disclosing her secret.
Mary told her that Becky and Sir Walter Trent had gone to Bath to economize. Their Uncle Philips had suggested this solution in an attempt to raise funds for much-needed repairs at Netherfield. This would be the first Christmas the two families would not spend together. She was told that Sir Walter had let his estate to an Admiral Calderwood. All the changes a year had brought threatened to overwhelm Lizzy.
Mrs Bennet could not be contained. She added the information that the Admiral was not young, and had a wife but no children. With a shake of her head she said, “Yes, unfortunately there is no potential for husbands for any of you at Netherfield. I have heard Mrs Calderwood might have a brother who is a captain in the navy, but currently he is at sea.”
All of her daughters including Elizabeth groaned in unison, and Lydia said, “But Mama, I am only eleven and Kitty is only twelve.”
Elizabeth wished she could chime in with the information that she did not want to marry… ever.
Mrs Bennet ignored her daughters and continued to prattle on. “Now that Sir Walter is not in the neighbourhood, Longbourn becomes the most important estate. I am quite distressed because that means I should have precedence over our neighbours; but Lady Lucas insists that since she is the wife of a knight, she is the most important.”
At this all too familiar complaint, all of her daughters rolled their eyes. Elizabeth smiled and realized that at least her mother was the same as before.
Mr Gardiner had communicated the agreed upon story of the legacy from Mrs Thomas by letter to Elizabeth’s parents. Shortly after their arrival at Longbourn, he and Lizzy met with her parents to tell them more details about the inheritance. The two were well rehearsed in delivering the explanation that the Widow Thomas had instructed the money be sent to him, because his niece was so young and he was known to her and was a prosperous man of business. Mrs Bennet had initially been ecstatic during their conference. The hinted at twenty thousand pounds seemed to strike her as an enormous sum and she was quickly planning new wardrobes for her daughters.
Knowing he needed to curtail his sister’s enthusiasm, Edward Gardiner took her hand and spoke directly to her. “Fanny, the interest earned will be reinvested. It will not be available to dress your girls in the latest fashion. For years you have fretted over being forced out of your home. Lizzy is a caring daughter who heard your woe and has charged me with the task of growing these funds for your security.”
“Mama, I want to be able to buy a house and have enough money to care for you in the event of Papa’s demise.” She debated whether she should tell her that the plan was she would live with her mother rather than marrying. Her mother’s crestfallen look caused her to withhold that information for a later time. Instead, she kissed her mother’s cheek and added. “My hope is there will also be enough to increase my sisters’ dowries by several thousand pounds.” Lizzy was pleased to see acquiescence creep into her mother’s eyes.
After his wife was mollified, Mr Bennet spoke for the first time. “I am relieved that my wife and daughters no longer need to fear living in reduced circumstances upon my death.” Elizabeth searched her father’s face to determine where she stood with him. He was smiling but his eyes seemed to betray the discomfort he felt that his family’s security had been solved, not by him, but by his daughter.
Lizzy knew she had much to do to win his true acceptance when she spoke to him on the following morning. Making mention of the young man that would be hired to help him would be deferred until then.
That night, Elizabeth went to her sister’s room for a private talk. Jane was indeed distant, but as Elizabeth talked to her, she realized it was not because she was angry with her sister, but that her reticence was the armour she had donned to keep from being wounded again. Elizabeth knew all too well, how strong the impulse to withdraw when unhappy was, and her heart went out to her sister.
“Jane, I know I should have been here to help you make sense of your feelings for George Trent, but you need to fight against your disappointment. You are by far the most beautiful of all the young ladies in the county. In fact, when I went to the theatre in London, I saw none who were as lovely as you.” Lizzy shuddered at the thought of that night, but composed her face to hide her true feelings.
Elizabeth continued to try to bolster her sister’s confidence. “I do not want Mama to know the details just yet; but I think there will be enough money from my legacy to establish a five thousand pound dowry for you. I know it would still not have been enough to compete with Miss Green; but I refuse to allow my dearest, loveliest sister to fall into deep despair. You have always been the joy of me.” Elizabeth was startled by her use of that expression. That is what Mr Darcy’s mother had inscribed in his copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Hoping her sister would not question her momentary slip, she put the thought out of her mind and refocused on Jane. “I will not be satisfied until you are the most happily married woman in all of England. My job will be to teach your children to play musical instruments poorly but passionately. My excellence at training children to make and fly kites is renowned in London, and you will not believe the skill I have developed playing with a new toy called a bandalore.”
Jane laughed at her sister’s lively encouragement. Still, there was something amiss. “Why do I see a hint of sorrow in your eyes, Lizzy?”
“I am disheartened by failing to see Becky before she left for Bath—and then there is Charlotte’s marriage and departure in a se’nnnight. All in all, my head is spinning with such major changes.” Believing she had deflected Jane’s query. Elizabeth returned to her most pressing need. “Please dear sister, forgive me for not being here to comfort you.” With that, she folded Jane into her arms and began to rub her back.
Later that night, Elizabeth awakened to Jane in bed beside her—reciprocating the soothing ministrations she had been given a few hours earlier. She told her sister of having heard her thrashing about and begging someone to stop. “Lizzy, I distinctly heard you say you had four sisters. Who were you speaking with?”
Elizabeth was silent for a few seconds as she tried to think of a plausible explanation. “The Widow Thomas was uncommonly fond of gothic novels. I believe I must have been dreaming about one I read to her where some sisters were shut away in a dungeon in a crumbling castle by an evil count.” Her sister looked dubious but did not pursue the topic. Elizabeth relaxed quickly under Jane’s loving touch.
Elizabeth awoke at dawn and went for a short walk before knocking on the door to her father’s study.
“Enter”
“Papa, I wanted to talk to you alone about what has happened to me.”
“Good, Elizabeth. I can tell you are changed, and I want to make sure all is well with you.”
Elizabeth realized she had used a poor choice of phrase; and that he had noticed her flagging spirits as had Jane the night before. That was not what she wanted to talk to him about, and he was not her passive sister. It was imperative she think of some humorous way to deflect his probing. She said, “I think I am as I always was. I admit I am a little bit older, and I have acquired some amazing wisdom that I am in keen anticipation of exhibiting for you.” His eyes seemed to be accepting her explanation, so she decided to open her chosen topic. “The most dramatic changes are, I am richer, and I look more like a woman than a little girl. You might be interested in knowing, I have not played chess the entire time I have been gone. Challenge me immediately before I get my game back and you might have a chance.”
Her father laughed at his daughter. “I noticed you had grown. Now tell me just how wealthy are you?”
“Not very, but I am rich enough to provide for Mama a
fter you are gone. You may end your worrying about that, and concentrate on Longbourn.” Elizabeth hoped he could not see the anxiety she felt. “To that end, I asked Uncle to search for a young man with some knowledge of estate management. He will be a steward-in-training and live here with us. Under your direction, he will carry out necessary improvements.” Emboldened by what appeared to be acceptance of her proposal, she forged ahead. “Mary and I will continue to keep the books and read and write your correspondence. Papa, you have been without proper help for too long.” When he did not immediately accede to her proposal but instead sat staring at her in his quizzical way, she put on her teasing face and quipped, “All the best estates in Derbyshire have stewards—so why should we not have the same?”
Lizzy was quite certain Mr Bennet knew she had used her gift for humour to deflect possible inquiries. The ruse appeared to work, though. She wondered whether he would settle on continuing their discussion by way of witty banter or would he assert his right of parental accusations. He gave her a moment of discomfort when he said, “Elizabeth even with my diminished sight, I see evidence of sadness in your eyes. It was never there before, and I hope you will tell me what has caused it.” When she hesitated, he seemed to quickly choose not to press and said with some mischief. “Perhaps, I now have two daughters who have suffered a devastating disappointment in love.”
Lizzy decided his humour laced with insensitivity for the plight of his oldest daughter gave her the opening to make her most crucial request. “Papa, you are mistaken. I have decided I do not want to marry. The legacy I received will allow me to live modestly, and take care of Mama. Please intervene with her on my behalf. Persuade your wife that my decision is for the best.” Elizabeth noticed a quickly suppressed look of dread cross her father’s countenance. She hurriedly added, “I believe I can abide house parties with our neighbours, but I would like to be excused from attending assemblies and balls. I really desire no wider company than the four and twenty families of our neighbourhood.”
