A Peculiar Connection

by Jan Hahn

  “Oh!” I jumped up and began to dab at the cold, wet spots with my gloved hands.

  “John, a towel.” Mr. Darcy arrived at my side with the necessary cloth before I could even look up. “Now, see what you have done. Is there no hope for you, Elizabeth?”

  He shook his head in dismay and began to wipe my dress with the towel. He stopped in mid-stride when he reached my bosom, as though he just then realized what he was doing. “You…finish the task.”

  I took the towel and turned away, wiping furiously at the dampness. My face burned, escape my only desire. Within moments, I threw the towel upon the bench and took steps to return to the house.

  “Where do you go, Elizabeth?”

  I did not answer but continued to walk straight ahead. Before I could reach my destination, however, I felt his hand on my arm, and the pressure was strong enough to detain me. “Elizabeth?”

  “Inside to change, sir. Where else?” Irritation coloured my tone and knit my brows together.

  “You cannot be that wet. Your gown will dry soon enough here in the sun. Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Your riding lesson is not yet over.”

  “Oh no! I shall not climb on that horse again, and if you mean to frighten me with the suggestion that I ride your huge beast instead, I shall not hear of it. Nothing will induce me to change my mind.”

  He took my hand in his, placed his left hand at my back, and prodded me forward as he spoke in a voice low enough that only I could hear.

  “Come now. I shall not have any sister of mine afraid of a horse. There is nothing to it once you learn the technique. You must not show fear, for the horse can sense it. I shall not let you ride alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  With more questions and exclamations, I protested his actions, but my objections would not persuade him. Within moments, he lifted me upon the back of his great horse, swung himself into the saddle, and placed himself close behind me. He encircled me with his arms, picked up the reins, and urged the horse into a gentle walk. I wanted to cry aloud, but one has to breathe in order to do so, and some time passed before I realized I had forgotten to take in air. I opened my mouth with a great gasp.

  “There, now. It is not so fearsome, is it?”

  I realized Mr. Darcy had one arm wrapped snugly about my waist. “As long as you do not let go,” I whispered.

  “I shall not let you go, Elizabeth. You may depend upon it.”

  ][

  Conversation at the table that night was somewhat strained. Neither Mr. Darcy nor Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke to each other during the entire course of the meal. If not for Georgiana’s chatter, disquietude would have curdled the creamed soup. She appeared unaware of any distress between her brother and cousin and happily entertained us with news of the neighbourhood.

  Restoration was well underway at Bridesgate, and the Denisons moved in a week earlier. The neighbour’s housekeeper had told Mrs. Reynolds that the Whitbys were to hold a ball, and the Denisons were to be invited. At least four ladies and five gentlemen from Bridesgate would attend.

  The colonel, who sat across the table from me, raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Too many gentlemen.”

  “Have you received an invitation, Wills?” Georgiana asked.

  “It came in today’s post.”

  “Wonderful! Now, Elizabeth, we shall find someone for you.”

  “Georgiana—” I began, but the colonel interrupted.

  “For Miss Bennet? What is this? Are you in such a hurry to rid Pemberley of your new relation?”

  “Oh no! I do not want her ever to leave, but she must marry sometime. If she marries a neighbour, then she will settle nearby, and we shall have the easy pleasure of her company.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, if the purpose of this ball is to find the lady a husband, then I must not attend, for if I did, I would insist upon securing her hand for the first two dances.”

  I smiled at the colonel. “There is no such purpose to this ball, and I should be happy to accept your invitation.”

  Mr. Darcy stood up somewhat abruptly, signalling the end of our meal. He and the colonel retired to the library and evidently settled their disagreement, for upon their return, the colonel appeared more at ease. The only mention of the day’s earlier contention occurred when Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied me to the pianoforte, drew a chair close by so that he might turn the pages of my music, and offered his apologies for his part in frightening me during the morning instruction. I, naturally, accepted his offering, and nothing more was said about the incident.

  I did notice Mr. Darcy’s steady perusal while his cousin and I remained at the instrument. In truth, I felt his eyes upon me much of the night, but he said not a word. Instead, he consumed a more than generous amount of brandy. Each time he refilled his glass, he grew quieter, and his look darkened.

  It made me uneasy to see him drink heavily, and I could not dismiss the idea that something I had done displeased him.

  Chapter Six

  Sleep deserted me that night. I crawled between the sheets with an apprehensive mind, for thoughts of Mr. Darcy’s dark mood nagged at me. From Colonel Fitzwilliam’s expression and behaviour, the earlier disagreement between the two men had appeared resolved; so what demon prodded Mr. Darcy to drink such an unusual measure of brandy? I had not seen him in similar dark spirits since I happened upon him beside the stream at Longbourn.

  I wrestled with the dilemma for some time. At last, I closed my eyes and vowed to banish all thoughts from my mind. Immediately, I felt his arms around me as we rode his great horse. Back and forth, our bodies swayed in unison to the natural rhythm of the stallion’s gait. I grew warm at the memory and threw off the blanket from my shoulder.

  “Do not do this, Lizzy!” I said aloud.

  I would not allow myself to enter into the pleasure of that remembrance, for I knew it to be forbidden. Would I never be free of the former affection in which I held Mr. Darcy? Obviously, he had kept his resolution to think of me as his sibling. Could I not be strong enough to feel naught but a sister’s love for him? I hated my weakness! I gritted my teeth, hoping to drive away thoughts that insisted upon having their way.

  A good read will distract me, I thought.

  I rose from the bed and lit a candle. As I scanned several novels in my collection, I sighed, for I had read half of a new book but could not find it in the stack. Then, I recalled I had it last in the drawing room. The clock on the mantel chimed the quarter hour past one. Would Mr. Darcy and the colonel have retired by now? Surely. I slipped a shawl over my shoulders, gathered it close about myself, picked up the candle, and stepped out into the hall.

  Descending the stairs, I rounded the corner toward the drawing room when I saw lights issuing from within and heard the sound of men’s voices. I shrank back into the shadows and blew out my candle. Sufficient illumination remained in the hall sconces to show the way. I had tiptoed lightly, my slippers making little sound on the walnut floor. I turned to retrace my steps when I realized the argument between the men would drown out any muffled sounds I might make.

  “But you do not care for dancing, Darcy. Thus, I see no valid reason why I should not have secured Miss Bennet’s hand for the first two dances.”

  “She is pretty enough. Plenty of men will seek her favour. You need not claim her attentions for the entire first hour.”

  “But she knows no one in Derbyshire. I fail to see why my invitation rouses your temper.”

  “Do not concern yourself with my temper; it is within check. And you are mistaken. Several neighbours have called since her arrival, and we have returned the visits. Elizabeth is acquainted with enough local gentlemen to attract an adequate number of partners.”

  “Then why in heaven’s name are you in such a humour? I have not seen you drink this amount since we left Rosings last Easter. What is wrong with you, man?”

  I could not hear an answer and quickly scurried across the hall until I stood right
outside the door. I wished to hear Mr. Darcy’s words more than I feared detection.

  “The whole affair is troublesome,” he said, his voice sounding defeated. “Elizabeth’s connection with my family is obscure, to say the least. I would not draw undue attention upon her or raise questions that might cause talk.”

  “I do not understand your reasoning.”

  He sighed deeply. “I wonder just what my neighbours think of her. I cannot recall when the Whitbys moved here. Surely, there are others among my friends whose families lived here when it all happened.”

  “When what happened? Out with it, Darce. Of what do you speak?”

  “What?” Mr. Darcy sounded as though he had been awakened from a private reverie and somehow been caught revealing more than he should.

  “You said you wondered how many of your neighbours lived here ‘when it all happened.’ I do not understand to what you refer. Is Miss Bennet’s birth the result of some sort of scandal?”

  “Of course not, Fitzwilliam!”

  Silence followed. I could hear my heart beating, and I began to tremble, holding my breath. I heard someone begin to pace back and forth within the room.

  “It is just that her parents were killed in an unfortunate accident right after her birth, and she was left an orphan. To have been taken in by a family other than her own kindred may give rise to gossip, and I will not have talk about her!” His voice grew insistent. “Do you hear me? I will not tolerate it!”

  I released my breath, reassured that Mr. Darcy had covered his blunder.

  “Calm yourself,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I cannot help but hear you. I still fail to see cause for concern. According to Lady Catherine, your family lost touch with Miss Bennet’s parents long ago, before the time of her birth. As you said, the connection between them was remote. It is most likely that no one even knew to bring her to your father’s house. I think you have swallowed far too much tonight, and drink is duping your brain.”

  “Did your father know about Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam? What did he say when Lady Catherine descended upon Eden Park?”

  “He did not know. He was surprised. We all were, naturally. Of course, you know the earl never totally approved of your father or his family, but he is devoted to you, Darce.”

  “Because of my mother.”

  “Yes, he loved his sister, but also because he genuinely loves you. He and Lady Catherine both do. Surely, you acknowledge that fact. With your father it was—well, you know—his Irish connections and the Papist church he allowed to be erected in the wood here at Pemberley.”

  “My grandfather authorized that building, Fitzwilliam, not my father.”

  “And my father knows why—because your grandmother never truly renounced her religion. Neither her husband nor her son forbade the church.”

  “How could they? They loved my grandmother, and that was her faith. I would not have denied her the right, either.”

  “My father says you allow the congregation to continue to meet on your property. Is that true?”

  “It is. Only a handful of parishioners exist, and I see no reason to forbid it.”

  The conversation ceased at that point amid the sounds of tinkling crystal. The gentlemen, or at least one of them, refilled his glass. I heard the fire crackle and spit as though one man stirred the logs. And then, the colonel spoke in such a low tone that I could not distinguish the words. There was no mistaking Mr. Darcy’s return, however. He was angry, and he lashed out, telling the colonel how much he drank was none of his business. I felt ashamed for Mr. Darcy and determined to return to my chamber. I had no business eavesdropping, especially when he was in such a state. I took but a step when I halted, struck by what I heard.

  “Just what are your intentions toward Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy slurred the words.

  “My intentions?”

  “Every time I look up, you either sit beside her, walk beside her, or remain by her side in some manner. You practically declare yourself if you are to claim her attentions for two dances.”

  The colonel’s only response was a chuckle.

  “I asked you a question, Fitzwilliam. What are your intentions?”

  “You are drunk, Cousin. Come, let us retire for the night.”

  “No! I do not want to go to bed. I want an answer. I demand you answer my question.”

  “Very well, but I doubt you will remember this conversation in the morning. I find Elizabeth Bennet a handsome woman. She is lively and entertaining; but for the fact I am a younger son, I would pursue her in earnest. I am not in love with her, but I believe she possesses sufficient charms to tempt me into the state. You possess the means to help my quest.”

  “Help you? Why should I?”

  “She must marry someone. Why not keep her in the family? Darcy, if you would convince her to accept a sizeable dowry, the impediment to our marriage would no longer exist.”

  My heart sank to the floor. I did not wait one moment more to return to my room. I could not climb the staircase quickly enough. Upon reaching the landing, I fled to my chamber and closed the door behind me.

  Marry the colonel? I had thought of it only in passing when visiting Kent last spring. Upon meeting him, I acknowledged his pleasant conversation and agreeable manners, but he soon dashed any contemplation of a possible match by informing me of his position, of his need to secure a financially advantageous alliance. I had never entertained the thought again. And now, at the mere suggestion, gooseflesh crawled up my arms.

  ][

  I kept to my chamber most of the next day, pleading a headache. Georgiana checked on me and satisfied herself that my complaint was minor. She agreed to make my excuses to her brother and cousin, and thus, I avoided facing them. I feared that knowledge of the conversation I had overheard the night before might reflect in my expression, and I needed time to conceal my apprehension.

  By late afternoon, however, I tired of my surroundings and stole quietly from my room. I climbed the staircase to the great gallery wherein the paintings of the Darcys and their ancestors hung. Once again, my grandmother’s portrait drew my attention. I searched her face, wishing she could speak to me, that she could enlighten me on the mystery of my birth. Hers was the only personage with whom I felt a kinship. Why, I do not know.

  At length, I walked on down the hall and stopped to gaze upon the portrait of Siobhan Darcy’s three young sons. Their faces shone with innocence, and I wondered whether my grandmother had lived long enough to know of her oldest son’s transgression. I made note to ask Mr. Darcy in what year she died to see whether it occurred before the year of my birth.

  I walked back to the portrait of my father. I still could not find myself hidden within his features. Above his painting and to the left hung a portrait of a man in a naval uniform. I glanced from the man’s face to that of one of the three young boys. Yes, I could see it was Henry Darcy, the youngest son. At even a young age, he had a mischievous gleam in his eye, as though he longed for adventure. It caused my heart to warm, and I smiled in return. There was something about him…

  Someone cleared her throat. I startled somewhat, for I had been preoccupied and failed to notice Mrs. Reynolds’s arrival.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I did not mean to surprise you.”

  “No, no, I just did not see you, Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “I trust you are feeling better. Will you join the family at dinner?”

  “No, please have a tray brought to my room. I confess I only left my chamber because of boredom and not because my headache has lifted.”

  “Very well, Miss Bennet.” She turned to leave, but I stopped her with a question.

  “Did you not tell me you have been at Pemberley since Mr. Darcy was a boy?”

  “Yes, Miss Bennet, since he was four years old.”

  “Did you know either of his uncles, Messrs. Peter or Henry Darcy?”

  “I did, ma’am. Admiral Henry had not yet joined the Navy.”

  “I see his portrait.”
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  “It is very fine, is it not, ma’am?”

  I nodded. “And which of these men is Mr. Peter Darcy? I confess I do not recognize him as an adult.”

  She cleared her throat before answering. “That gentleman’s portrait was never painted as I recall, ma’am, because of the disgrace.”

  “Disgrace?”

  She lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together.

  “You do not wish to tell me, I take it.”

  “Begging your pardon, Miss Bennet, it is not my place to do so.”

  “Well, goodness, what could he have done to cause his memory to be banished from the family portraits? Even Mr. Wickham’s likeness remains in the cabinet below stairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that is because Mr. Wickham was a favourite of Mr. George Darcy.”

  “But his own brother’s likeness does not exist? Come now, Mrs. Reynolds, did he turn into a brigand?”

  “Oh no, Miss Bennet, ’twas nothing like that.” She stepped closer and spoke in a whisper. “You must not let anyone know I told you this: Mr. Peter Darcy immigrated to Ireland.”

  “To Ireland? Surely, that cannot be so shameful. Why, his own mother was born there.”

  “True, but ’twas the manner in which he left. Mr. Peter Darcy just disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  She nodded, her mouth drawn into a tight little line. “He up and vanished without a word to anyone. The family did not know his whereabouts for a long time. It caused Mr. George Darcy and my lady much anguish. Years later, they finally learned his destination, but he has never set foot on Pemberley since that time. ’Tis unfortunate that he ran away before his likeness could be taken.”

  I turned back to the portrait of the young brothers. How sad to lose one’s place in a family, to simply give it up as though it did not matter. What had that done to his mother? I determined to ask Mr. Darcy the particulars. I would not discuss the family further with the housekeeper, but I found it all quite curious.