The Elizabeth Papers

by Jenetta James

  “Clever.” Evie looked around the cold, empty cavern. “But where? There’s nowhere to hide anything in here.”

  With that, Charlie began to trace his way around the walls, running his hands around the edge of stone reliefs and framed oil paintings. At the altar, he crouched down and examined the underside and the compartments around the small organ at the back. There were only a few wooden pews, some of them pushed against the back wall. Those that remained on each side of the narrow nave were heavier and appeared to be bolted to the floor. Charlie bent down and began running his hand along the underside. In the final row on the “bride’s side,” he looked up at Evie.

  “There’s something here.”

  Feeling useless, she joined him on the floor and tried to focus on the underside of the pew.

  “It’s some sort of box.”

  Evie lay on her back and slid towards him, dust from the floor gathering on her shoulders.

  “It’s really big, Charlie. Are you sure it’s not just part of the pew?”

  “No. Look, it’s been screwed on, and there’s a weird clasp at this end.”

  He began to jostle with a dirty, metal handle that was fixed over one end of the box, trying to shake it loose and swearing under his breath. Anxiety welled up inside Evie, and she felt her palms becoming sweaty. She sat up and watched him in the harsh light. Suddenly and without preamble, the handle moved, there was a loud clatter, and a heap of leather-bound books landed on Charlie’s chest. He did not seem to be fazed by it.

  “Okay. Whatever it is, I think we’ve found it.”

  “I think you’ve found it.”

  He jumped to his feet and quickly turned a few pages.

  “This looks like it. Female handwriting. Right period. Yes, look. ‘Elizabeth Darcy, December 25, 1817,’” he read from the inside cover, and his finger gently stroked the empty space beneath her name.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He looked back at her with laughing eyes, the books piled up in his arms. “Well, I thought that, after going through all of this, you might like to read them?”

  He was, she knew, teasing her, and she smiled back. “Okay. Let’s take them to my room.”

  They nodded to each other, switched off the lights, closed the door on the dusty, old monument, and were gone.

  Chapter 21

  April 4, 1821, Holyhead, Wales

  We have been travelling through Wales for some time, and the road is so narrow and uneven that I can hardly credit it. Lydia has been in slumber for several hours, and I cannot begrudge it to her after the night we all passed at Pemberley before our departure. Fitzwilliam, I know, would never sleep in a carriage and certainly not with Lydia for company, but he is tired to the bone and stares, misty eyed, out of the windows at the damp, vivid beauty of the country beyond. The splendour of the countryside, I must confess, quite passes me by. I cannot turn my mind from my discussion with Lydia last night. Upon Hannah announcing that my sister, quite unaccountably, was installed in the drawing room at such a late hour of the night, I immediately went to her. When I flew into the room, she was sitting on the chaise staring like a statue at the piano. Her hands, which I have never previously seen still for two moments together, were clasped and motionless in her lap. She turned to me, smiled in a resigned manner, and said, “Hello, Lizzy” as if there were nothing unusual about her appearance.

  “Lydia, whatever is it? I thought you were with Jane at Bollington! How did you get here?”

  “I hired a carriage, Lizzy. I had to. When you know everything, you will understand.”

  “Hired a carriage? What on earth for, and how did you pay for it?”

  “Oh, I had the money to pay, Lizzy. I have been saving some of the funds you send me out of your pin money for some time, so I had enough. When you hear what I must tell you, you shall not be worrying about carriage bills.”

  She spoke the words with an odd intonation, and a sense of dread came over me. She looked different, but I could not say how. I moved towards her and sat down beside her on the chaise. She began to fiddle with her wedding ring and bit her bottom lip as she looked at me.

  “Lydia, what is it? Is everyone in Hertfordshire well?”

  “Oh, yes, they are well.”

  “It is not Mama?”

  “No, it is nothing to do with Mama. Although, if she knew what I must tell you, she would die of shame. As things are, I believe she is fine. Jane is fine. Everyone is fine—except me.”

  “Lydia, whatever is it?”

  She let out a quiet sob, and before I knew what she was about, she had taken my hand and placed it flat against the swell of her belly. I know all of my sisters’ figures. I know how they walk, how they sit, and how they look in their undergarments. Lydia and I are alike in body, but even if we were not, I would know the uncompromising hardness of a baby in the belly. It is unmistakable. I fought not to shrink back, not to take my hand away in horror. After a moment, I took her hand in mine and stood.

  “Come, let us go to my chambers.”

  Hannah was in the hall outside, and I asked her to bring some tea and toast to us. As she disappeared in the direction of the kitchens, Lydia asked in a whisper, “Can we trust Hannah?”

  “Yes,” I said without a moment of hesitation.

  When we were in the room with the door closed, I allowed myself to breathe.

  “Lydia, how can this be true?”

  “How, Lizzy? Well, I believe you know that as well as I.”

  “Do not be impudent. How can you be sure?”

  “Because I have not had my courses for five months. I have been poorly for weeks and weeks. My bosom is much increased as you can see, and as for my belly…well, you have touched it yourself.”

  “Have you spoken to anyone about this?”

  “Yes. When I was visiting with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner last month, I took a carriage to the west of Town and asked in the marketplace where I may find a midwife. I gave a false name, and they directed me to a dreadful, old woman who, for a fee, laid me down upon her floor and felt about me. I should not have wasted my money, Lizzy, for she said nothing that I did not already know. It is true. It is real, and I cannot stop it.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “No. No one. I have been wanting to tell Jane and have even rehearsed it a few times, but it is so hard to get her alone, Lizzy. Miss Bingley is always there, and even when she is not…well, Jane is so good, is she not? She is too good to hear such a truth as this. Somehow I simply could not say it to her.”

  The face of my elder sister appeared before me, and although I was boiling with rage at Lydia’s situation, I had some sympathy for her inability to confide in Jane. She is my closest sister, and even I do not know how I should face her were I in such a predicament as this.

  “Lydia, I have to ask you this. Who is…responsible”—the word seemed to stick in my throat as I spoke—“for your condition?”

  With that question, her curly head turned away, and she spoke through a cry.

  “Oh, Lizzy, must you?”

  “Yes, I must. Lydia, this man should be made to marry you. I am sure that Mr. Darcy will prevail upon him to do so, but you have to tell us who he is.”

  “Mr. Darcy shall not prevail upon him to marry me, Lizzy.”

  I knew it would be cruel to mention that it was he who had procured her first marriage, so I remained silent.

  “I am sure he shall, Lydia, and all may be well. But we have to move quickly for we have already lost no little time.”

  “No, you do not understand. Mr. Darcy shall not prevail upon the father of my child to marry me…because he is already married.”

  With that, she turned and looked me squarely in the face, the light from the candles bouncing on her plump ch
eeks and lighting sparks in her eyes. I felt a pain creeping into my temples and a sudden urge to sit.

  “Married?” The word came out as a croak. “Oh, Lydia.”

  There was an endless, agonising silence before I mustered the strength to speak again.

  “Where did this happen?”

  “In Margate when I was staying with Maria. I met him at a dance and then again at a card party. His wife is unwell.”

  “How unwell?”

  “Not as unwell as I should like I am afraid. But she is sickly and does not come out much in company. I saw him a great deal, Lizzy. There were several gatherings, and then there was a picnic, and then a ball on a local estate. I hardly thought that I should ever have such laughs again, but I did, although I wonder at the price of them now. We had a wonderful time and were so merry. I am sure that I do not need to go any further, Lizzy—you know the manner of these things.”

  I opened my mouth to deny this calumny, and then thought better of it.

  “How many times?”

  “Just once. Is that not unlucky?”

  There was a light tap upon the door, and Hannah entered the room with a tray of toast and sweet tea. When Hannah had retreated, I placed my hand on Lydia’s knee.

  “You must eat.”

  “I am not hungry.”

  “Well, try.”

  I felt my patience growing short and battled to remain calm. I thought of Fitzwilliam, no doubt sitting in the next room, and wanted to feel his breath on my face.

  “Are you going to tell Mr. Darcy?”

  “Of course.”

  She hung her head slightly and sighed. I knew it must be done, however disastrous the news. I recalled the dreadful things that I had said to him, the ill-considered fictions I had accused him of only an hour before, and my insides sank. The sight of my husband surrounded by my family came to me in a flash, and Mama’s silliest remarks and loudest shrieks roared through my memory like a fire. They were as nothing compared with this, and I prayed that the scandal and thoughtlessness of it would not break us. Would this outrage push him too far? There was nothing for it but to speak and find out. Fitzwilliam always knew what to do, so I slipped into the next room, and closing the door quietly behind me, I told him.

  Was he shocked? I believe he was. He blinked, pursed his lips, and straightened his back with a deep breath. However, just as I anticipated that he would rake his fingers through his hair and turn his back to the room in his accustomed manner, he took me by surprise. Noiselessly, he moved towards me, took me in his arms, and kissed my head. After some time in this unexpectedly calmed state, he began to ask questions. Who was the man, and where did he reside? What was known of his circumstances? Was it known how long Lydia had before the babe was expected? Was she well in body if not in mind? Did anyone else know? I answered him as best I could.

  “You say that she came here from Bollington in a hired carriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is it still here?”

  “No, she said that she paid in advance, and the carriage left directly she alighted. It is probably stopping for the night in Lambton.”

  “Hmm. Who at Bollington knew she was coming here?”

  “Nobody. She left a note for Jane to say that she had been invited to stay with the widow of one of Wickham’s fellow officers. Jane must have believed her, or we would have had an express already.”

  “I see. Forgive me, but I must ask. Is it—is it obvious? Are her circumstances plain to the casual observer?”

  “Not quite but they shall be soon. It was plain to me, but that was because I felt about her middle. A person who knows her well may see it—but a stranger? At this moment, I do not believe that she is large enough to be unambiguous.”

  “Well that is a temporary advantage.”

  He began to pace the room, his long limbs casting moving shadows on the carpet.

  “And what about her journey here? Did she stay at an inn?”

  “Yes. She stayed one night at an inn near Grantham, the White Horse. I do not believe we have ever stopped there.”

  “I have, Elizabeth, before we were married. She could have done worse. It is a reasonably respectable place, and there are many people coming and going—probably too many to notice a young woman who does not wish to be seen. What about here? Who at Pemberley knows she is here?”

  “You and I and Hannah. And James. He let her in. I imagine he was just about to retire.”

  There was a moment of aching silence, and I felt his hand stroke the small of my back with such care I could have wept.

  “Would you like me to pour you a whiskey, Fitzwilliam?”

  “No, thank you, Elizabeth. I believe that I shall need a clear head for what is before us, and so shall you.”

  I swallowed hard. “What is in your mind, sir?”

  “Well, it seems to me that there is not much time. The babe shall be in the world in a matter of months. The thing is in progress, and he or she shall wait for no man. If Lydia could pass for a maiden today, she shall not be able to do so next week or the week after. It is good fortune that she wears a wedding ring, although of course anyone of your family’s acquaintance knows that she is long widowed. Time is extremely short I am afraid.”

  “Yes.” I agreed, but I confess, I knew not where he was leading me.

  “We have only one thing on our side, and that is that nobody knows she is here except Hannah, whom we can trust completely. And James. He is a good young man, and if I speak to him personally, I am confident he will be silent.”

  “But others will realise she is here in the morning. I cannot keep it from the staff for she must sleep somewhere, and she must eat and wash. And Lydia is Lydia; wherever she is, she is known.”

  “I know. That is why I propose that we escort her somewhere else.”

  My heart sank. Was it in his mind that my sister be put away somewhere—that she and her shame be hidden in some far-off, half-maintained place where nobody shall know her or her connection to us?

  “Do you mean somewhere on the estate?”

  “No, Elizabeth. I do not believe there is anywhere she could be accommodated comfortably and properly without causing talk. The people here are very loyal, but if your sister, approaching two years a widow, appears heavy with child with no warning and no husband, it is inevitable that she, and we, shall be the subject of gossip. People are people, and they will make connections that are there to be made. I cannot completely protect her against that. She and the child would be at a great disadvantage.”

  “Well, what do you propose then? This man is married already, Fitzwilliam, and he cannot have two wives.”

  “No, he cannot. In any case, even if it were possible, it may not be best. He has a wife already, and yet he has done this. When I paid Wickham to marry her, I took him for a scoundrel, but I credited him with having some affection for her, albeit not enough to have treated her properly. But this is a different matter. We could not in conscience force her into matrimony with a man who could do such a thing.”

  “Well, what do you suggest? Do you know of some respectable man who would take her in her current condition?”

  “I am afraid I do not. If I did, I would be beating a path to his door.”

  The clock ticked on the mantle, and tension climbed the walls like mist. Fitzwilliam’s voice broke through the fog.

  “Lydia needs to depart from here as soon as possible, preferably before the household awakes. We cannot send her alone, so I propose, Elizabeth, that you and I go with her.”

  “But where?”

  “Do you recall that I mentioned a problem at Rosschapel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the dispute with the tenant has been going on for some time. I have not bored you with it. You have had much to conce
rn yourself with, and as you know, I do not like to have my time with you sullied with talk of business. That is why I did not tell you about Avery. But the fact is that it has been a thorn in my side for some time, and my steward in Ireland has been requesting that I visit the estate for months. He has written to me this very week to say that he has finally, and at no little expense, evicted the tenant but that the property has been left in a distressed condition by their occupation. The fact is that whatever damage has been done can be repaired before our arrival.”

  “Our arrival?”

  “Yes. It is in my mind that we take Lydia to Rosschapel for her to have her child. Nobody there knows her or anything about her. The house is in a secluded part of the country outside Dublin. We can take Hannah. I will write to my Irish steward directly and request that he ready the place. Once we arrive, we can obtain such assistance as Lydia may require. She can have her babe in secrecy and comfort.”

  “And what then? I am by no means persuaded that Lydia could cope living alone in another land, particularly with a child.”

  “Neither am I, and I do not suggest it. No. Lydia and the child shall return to Pemberley with us after a suitable period—I would suggest as soon as they are fit to make the journey.”

  “But then—”

  “We cannot send Lydia away from here again. It was remiss of us to let her leave before. The fact that she is…difficult…is not an excuse. She should be here for her own protection. She can live well and safely and be sheltered from the excesses of her own character. You can have the comfort of knowing that she is coming to no harm. As for the child, well, we cannot expose the poor creature. If it is known that it is illegitimate then its life will be blighted by it.”

  He stopped and looked at me in a searching manner. Words galloped through my overcrowded mind quicker than I could give them voice. He continued, untroubled by confusion.