A Peculiar Connection

by Jan Hahn

  “No, stay before me, I beg of you. Do not leave. I must know from where you have come.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, hoping the rain had ceased. I had the strongest urge to flee the cottage, for I doubted this man was in his right mind. “I…I—”

  “Lass, tell me!”

  He had evidently known Elizabeth Willoughby in the past, but I had to make him understand that he was mistaken. Did I dare tell him I was her daughter? Oh, why was Mr. Darcy not with me at that moment? I took a deep breath.

  “Father, pray listen carefully. I am not Elizabeth Willoughby, for you spoke the truth. She died long ago.”

  He leaned forward and tugged at my hand until I knelt before him. Reaching for the candle once again, he searched my face. “You have her face, her smile, her beautiful curls, but the eyes—no, the eyes are not hers. The eyes are those of my mother.”

  I swallowed. “I have been told that I am the natural daughter of your neighbour in Derbyshire, Elizabeth Willoughby.”

  “Natural dau— What are you saying? That is not possible. You are mistaken, for Elizabeth had no child. And yet…your every expression is hers. I cannot comprehend it! This could not have happened as you say.”

  Shame washed over me, and I felt the heat of a blush overtaking my cheeks. “It grieves me to bring you alarm, sir. I assumed that you knew of your brother’s connection with my mother and of her death in childbirth.”

  At my words, he sank back against the chair, his face turned deadly white. “What do you say such things? My brother? Which brother? I do not understand.”

  “Your oldest brother, Father: George Darcy.”

  “George? Insupportable! What would make you utter such a falsehood?”

  Now, my mouth gaped, and I felt the room begin to spin. “George…George Darcy is my natural father. Lady Catherine said— She gave me his note. Why should you doubt it, Father?”

  “Catherine? Catherine presumed to say that you are George’s daughter! I cannot take it in. Why? It defies all reason.”

  I sat back on my heels. “What are you saying, sir? Am I not George Darcy’s daughter?”

  “Of course not! Some monstrous trick has been played. You must be Eleanor’s daughter and…perhaps Henry’s. Did he return to Pemberley when little Eleanor grew up?” His voice quavered. “Tell me, child, when were you born? The date…the year…when?”

  “1791—the sixth of December.”

  He looked away as if he was counting. “The same year. Nine months later.” His face turned ashen, and his breathing grew shallow. “No, no, it cannot be. Oh, dear God, she must have been with child when I left Pemberley…with child when I was told she was dead!”

  I began to tremble. “Father, what are you saying? Forgive me, but I care not when you left Pemberley. Have mercy and tell me, who is my natural father? Could it be Henry Darcy?”

  He lifted his clouded, green eyes from the floor to meet mine, and I felt a chill of recognition.

  “No, not Henry… No, it can only be me. You must be my daughter, Elizabeth. And I am not your natural father. I am your father. I married Elizabeth Willoughby before you were conceived.”

  My stomach lurched violently, and I feared that I would be ill. Frantic that I would disgrace myself, I jumped to my feet and looked for an escape. Without another word, without explanation, reason, or regard for either manners or the priest, I bolted from the room and out into the rain.

  I cannot tell you what happened thereafter, for all reason left me. I must have run down the path along the river a great distance. Hours later, I came to myself sitting beneath a tree, staring out at the rippling stream, not knowing where I was or how I came to be there.

  Two phrases echoed round and round my head. I am not a bastard! I am not his sister!

  Chapter Fifteen

  When at last I regained my wits on the banks of the River Bandon, I realized that the rain had evidently ceased sometime earlier, for my clothes were but slightly damp. I shivered, aware that the sun sat low in the sky. Rising to my feet, I glanced at my surroundings, thankful to see that, although I had run far from the cottage in my disturbed state, I had not strayed from the river.

  I must return. Aunt Gardiner will worry, I thought, taking several steps toward the path, but then, the realization of what I had learned in the priest’s cottage flooded my mind once more, and I stopped. I stood absolutely still.

  I am not a bastard! I am not Mr. Darcy’s sister!

  The loveliest feeling I could imagine swept over me, and I began to smile. I smiled and smiled and smiled. I am not his sister! The words swirled around me like snowflakes, and I stared in wonder. Instead of feeling chilled, a delicious warmth filled my heart.

  I looked about for my bonnet but then realized I must have lost it somewhere along the way. I examined the place where I had sat, making sure I had not left my reticule behind. No, it hung from my wrist. I turned back to the path and raised my head, determined to return, but I did not take a step. Instead, I caught my breath.

  Mr. Darcy stood before me, his hat in his hand. “Elizabeth!”

  “Sir,” I whispered, for my voice had somehow vanished.

  He did not move toward me nor I toward him. We simply gazed at each other as though we might never drink our fill.

  He swallowed. “I am not—we are not—brother and sister.”

  “I know.”

  And then, he dropped his hat. Before I had time to blink, he crossed the distance between us, clasped my face between his hands, and covered my mouth with his! Hungrily, he kissed me, greedily prodding my lips until they parted. I felt a heat well up from deep within that I had never known before.

  Just as suddenly, he released me and stepped back. I watched his chest heave as he struggled for breath. I underwent my own struggle, attempting to grasp what had just passed between us. He lowered his chin and raised his eyes to stare at me from under his dark brows, as though he dared me to lash out at him in rebuke.

  “What I did was improper.” He took a breath. “Was it not?”

  I nodded, frowning a bit. Is that all he can think of—impropriety?

  He closed his eyes, a tortured look about his countenance. “I suppose you expect me to beg your forgiveness.”

  Do I dare speak honestly? I swallowed. “No.”

  His eyes flew open, incredulity therein. “No?”

  “No.” I took a step toward him, hoping he could see the light in my eyes.

  “Elizabeth, may I dare to hope?”

  “You may.” I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.

  He turned his face away to the river, and then with a great sigh, he turned again as though he would gaze at the trees. Instead, he lowered his head to the ground below. Finally, he allowed himself to meet my eyes as though he could not believe the words I had spoken. He shook his head.

  “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were in April a year ago, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have only multiplied, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

  I closed my eyes and looked away, struggling not to weep, but he misunderstood my actions.

  “I would not have you under obligation to me because of what just transpired between us,” he said quickly. “There are no witnesses, and I swear that no one shall ever know of my transgression.”

  I turned back to meet his gaze. “I do feel under obligation.”

  “You do? But why?”

  “Be…because I wanted it to happen.”

  The nerve in his forehead twitched. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Inclining his head, he repeated, “You…wanted it to happen?”

  I could not help but smile. “I did.”

  “Dearest Elizabeth, I have loved you for so long, and I hope—I pray—that you will be mine, for I simply cannot go on without you.”

  I took another step toward him. “William, I will.”

  Delight overspread his face. He gathered me into h
is arms and gently touched his mouth to mine. Soft, undemanding, caressing, his kiss awakened my desire even more. My arms reached up to encircle his neck, and I could not keep from entangling my fingers in his curls. My body yielded to his with a need so fervent that it overwhelmed me. The fires we had banked for so long would not be denied.

  His lips moved across my forehead and my cheek as he pulled my head onto his shoulder. “Oh, my lovely, loveliest Elizabeth…I cannot breathe without you.”

  ][

  Fortunately, or unfortunately—however one chooses to look at it—our good sense eventually returned before we gave in to our passion there by the river. The sun had almost disappeared over the wood behind us by the time we returned to the bridge and, consequently, to the house where our companions awaited.

  While passing Father Darcy’s cottage, I asked whether we should make certain he was well. William ran up the slight hill while I waited below. He spoke briefly to a priest at the door but did not go in. It took but a few moments before he returned to my side.

  “The priest was Father Rafferty. He had come shortly before I concluded my earlier visit. I asked him to tell Uncle Peter that I had found you and that you are well. The priest said he insisted that my uncle retire, but he has not yet fallen asleep, so Father Rafferty will inform him. I fear Father Darcy was quite overcome with the day’s revelations. He expects us on the morrow, though, for he has much to say, and I have questions to be answered.”

  “As do I.”

  We had talked without ceasing during the walk back to the village. William told me that he and Georgiana had returned to the house from Castelaine mid-afternoon to find Mrs. Gardiner alarmed at my lengthy absence. She feared that I had been caught in the heavy downpour.

  Immediately, William had gone to search the village, eventually learning at the pub that someone had seen me walking in the direction of the river. He followed the path, discovered the priest’s cottage, and inquired therein, whereupon he found his uncle and heard the shocking news. They had spent no little time attempting to grasp what had happened before Father Rafferty arrived and saw that his friend and advisor was ailing. Leaving the younger priest to see to his uncle, William had resumed his search for me.

  I was amazed that I had run so far, obviously in a stupor.

  “If I had not found you, Elizabeth,” he said right before we reached the house, “I could not have rallied.”

  “You must not say such things.”

  “Perhaps not, but it is true. I have never feared any man, but my need for you—” He broke off and took my hands in his. “Oh, my darling girl, the strength of my need for you is so great that it frightens me! Promise that you will never leave me.”

  “I will not leave,” I whispered just before the servant opened the door for us.

  Inside, we struggled to conceal our emotions, but my aunt’s curious expression upon greeting us showed that we failed. While walking, we had decided to refrain from informing Georgiana of what we had learned until after we had spoken to Father Darcy again. After all, the story was not just mine but his as well, and we knew that it would affect not only his standing in the church and the parish but also his very life. I feared for his fragile health and prayed that the shock would not cause him serious harm.

  Before our meal, I enjoyed a warm bath and washed my hair. I chose my brightest gown, and the maid nodded in approval when she finished my hair.

  “You look particularly well tonight, Miss Bennet.”

  I smiled. In truth, I could not yet keep from smiling. All the joy I thought I had lost and all the love I had repressed for almost a year now coursed through me without restraint. I simply could not constrain my elation. My aunt walked into the room just as the maid carried the wet towels out the door.

  As simply as possible, I told her of what had happened at Peter Darcy’s cottage and how I had responded, how Mr. Darcy found me, and that we had professed our love for each other. She, in turn, was not only relieved but also exceedingly pleased that I was to be happy at last with the man I loved. The moment we had returned, she had guessed, of course, that something momentous had occurred to provoke the felicity that neither Mr. Darcy nor I could mask.

  Throughout the meal, I felt William’s eyes upon me like a gentle caress, and I am certain that my love for him shone forth each time I looked up and met his gaze. Georgiana had not failed to notice the change in her brother’s spirits, but fortunately, she did not recognize the connection between us as the cause.

  “I think that walk in the rain did you good, Wills.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, your temper has lightened. I declare that I have not seen you this pleased in months.”

  “I believe you are right, my sweet sister. I must walk in the rain more often.”

  She smiled innocently, and I clutched my napkin to my face to hide my amusement.

  Following dinner, Georgiana played on the small pianoforte Lord Killaine had installed before we arrived. Although she deemed it inferior to the one her brother had given her at Pemberley, she was able to coax one lilting tune after another from its keys.

  Suddenly, Mr. Darcy rose. “I am in serious need of dancing a reel!”

  “A reel!” Georgiana cried, clapping her hands. “Oh yes, I know the perfect Irish air.”

  “Come, everyone,” he demanded. “We must all join in.”

  Shock evident upon their faces, Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Gardiner laid their needlework aside. Mr. Darcy called the servants and assisted them in quickly shoving the settee, chairs, tables, and chaise back against the walls.

  “Now, let us participate. Yes, all of you. Ladies, come now. Mrs. Gardiner, you may partner with Mrs. Annesley, and Elizabeth…you shall dance with me.”

  Mr. Darcy graced me with a most tender look. It took all my strength not to run into his arms.

  The older ladies protested at first, but the gentleman would not be dissuaded. He signalled Georgiana to begin and then held out his hands, indicating that all four of us should join hands in a circle. Upon commencement of the first notes, much hilarity ensued as we skipped and bounced our way around the room. Mr. Darcy called out encouragement with each change in pattern. Never had I seen him behave with such disinterested abandon. We laughed until, after three dances, Mrs. Gardiner begged to be seated, complaining that the merriment had caused a stitch in her side.

  To quench our thirst, we sipped sherry. We continued to laugh and talk for some time. Conversation sparkled, for Mr. Darcy treated us to one amusing anecdote after another. Where had this man been hiding all my life? Discarding the burden from his heart had freed him in more ways than I ever imagined. I knew he possessed a reserved nature, and I doubted that night’s excess of spirits signalled a permanent alteration in his character. Nevertheless, such knowledge did not prohibit me from thoroughly enjoying the pleasure he allowed himself to exhibit that particular evening.

  At length, the ladies began to yawn, and they and Georgiana soon bade their good nights. I lingered a bit, hoping to snatch a moment alone with William.

  “Are you coming, Lizzy?” my aunt asked, walking toward the door.

  “In a moment, Aunt.”

  She cocked her head. “Be sure to look in on me before you retire, my dear.”

  “I shall.”

  “And do not be long.”

  I nodded, knowing she would not sleep until I had done as she wished. Once the door closed behind her, however, William caught my hand and pulled me to him.

  “She knows, does she not?”

  “She does, and she is more than pleased for us. I could not keep from telling her.”

  “I am happy that you did. I long to step outside the door and shout to the entire world, ‘Elizabeth Bennet loves me!’”

  I laughed and leaned my head back to gaze up at him.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” he said softly.

  “I think so, but I should dearly love to hear you tell me all the same.”

  “I wou
ld rather show you,” he whispered, gathering me close.

  I lifted my face to his and felt myself surrender as his lips covered mine. Softly, he caressed my lips, nibbling and teasing until they parted. He then captured my mouth, provoking delicious waves of desire to flood over me. Unknowingly, I spread my hands over his chest, stroking repeatedly until I reached his face. His arms had encircled my waist, and he pulled me nearer and nearer.

  “I cannot hold you close enough,” he whispered in my hair.

  “You shall. Never fear, William, you shall.”

  He smiled, softly tracing his thumb along my chin. “Such a long time to wait.” He groaned. “How shall I survive until we return to Longbourn? Think of that sea voyage that awaits us!”

  “I have every confidence in you. Once you set your mind to something, your will is unrelenting.” My tone was gently mocking.

  “Except when it comes to you. My love, you will always be my weakness.”

  “I cannot picture you with any weakness.”

  “Now that you are privy to my confession, you must be merciful.”

  I smiled. “Then, for mercy’s sake, I shall leave you now.”

  “And in what manner can your leaving me be considered mercy?” he cried, reaching for me as I stepped out of his arms. “Your absence certainly will not relieve my suffering.”

  “Still, it is prudent, for if I do not, I fear that my aunt will soon walk through the door to fetch me.”

  He sighed. “If you must.” As I took another step from him, he pulled me back. “One more kiss before parting.”

  Reclaiming my lips, he proceeded to take my breath away once again, and it was with the greatest difficulty that, at length, I managed to loosen myself from his embrace. As I began to climb the stairs, he watched me ascend, but when I reached halfway, he covered the distance between us in two long strides. Holding my face in his hands, he kissed me quickly, released me, and then kissed me again.

  I have never taken longer to reach my chamber than I did on that glorious night.

  ][