An Unwavering Trust

by L. L. Diamond

  “Is Elizabeth coming down for dinner?” she asked.

  He found the change in subject confusing, and furrowed his brow. “She claimed I was pacing whilst Hattie fixed her hair and ordered me to leave.”

  His grandmother shook with mirth. “I do like that young woman.”

  “Me, too.” His voice was soft but full of warmth.

  “I would say you more than like her,” she retorted. “You do not stare as much as was your wont, but now you are always touching her in some manner. Do be careful when you are out and about in town.”

  He had been caught. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You will be required to have a great deal of understanding over the next year. You may need to draw her out so she will speak to you of her feelings.”

  He frowned and rose to pour himself a glass of port. “I have, Grandmamma, but it is not so simple. She prefers to wait to see if the babe quickens before admitting she is with child.”

  The dowager reclined against her elbow, resting on the arm of the chair. “Her behaviour is, by and large, so mature; one forgets she is still so young. She has also had a great deal of change in the last few months, and she will need to make a numerous decisions before the babe arrives—the least of which will be what kind of mother she wishes to be.”

  He fixated on the liquid in his glass. “I had not thought of it in such a way.” Would Elizabeth ever accept being with child?

  “Do not fret, Fitzwilliam. She confided to me earlier that she does not know much about babies; I am inclined to believe she is afraid.”

  He was relieved her assumption was close to his own. “That was my belief at first, but over time, I became concerned it was more.”

  “Lady Bletchley’s daughter, Lady Tabitha Dawkins has just begun to receive callers since the birth of her son.”

  He glanced at his grandmother with alarm and she chuckled.

  “I know what kind of mother she will be; she and Sir James will desire to show off his heir. I also have no doubts that Elizabeth will be horrified by them.”

  “Yet, you plan to take her!” He was incredulous. “I was not left to the sole care of the nurse, and I never thought my children would be.”

  She leaned over and placed her hand over his. “Lizzy’s heart is too big. She is incapable of such disinterest in someone she loves, but it is imperative she learn this now rather than later.”

  His pain must have shown in his expression because she implored him with her eyes. “I would say trust me on this, but really, you should trust your wife. You know her better than I, yet I know she would never be like Lady Bletchley’s family.”

  “You are correct,” he agreed with a sigh. “I know you are, but she has been so temperamental.”

  “You would be, too. Just you wait until she nears her confinement, and she cannot see her feet, and those feet ache. Oh! And the backaches!” She pointed to her grandson with a stern mien. “Then we will speak of her unpredictable moods.”

  The door opened to reveal Hobbes, who gestured Elizabeth inside. She thanked him with a beatific smile, and approached Darcy’s outstretched arm.

  “There you are, my love. If you had been any later, I would have sent up a search party.”

  “Did you think Hattie would hide me beneath my hair?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “Fitzwilliam, you are being silly.” His grandmother shook her head, and he showed his immense pleasure when his wife took his arm, tucking herself to his side.

  “No, but I did wonder if she would ever finish. You will not be presented to the Queen after all.”

  “I would sponsor her if the Queen were to hold a drawing room at St. James,” commented the dowager.

  “Would it be a necessity if she holds presentations in the future?” Darcy had no interest in whatever St. James had to offer and did not want Elizabeth subjected to the claptrap if it was unnecessary.

  “Richard mentioned that Anne has named you master of Rosings after her death. The income from Sagemore and Rosings will make you a wealthy man.”

  “I wish she had left the estate to Richard,” he complained. “I detest seeing him sent to war again.”

  Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “But he does not want it. He recognises his hopes for the future and his capabilities. Do not begrudge him that. It is admirable.”

  His grandmother gestured her agreement. “She is correct. Richard was always a realist. He has passed over Rosings, and in the process, offers a younger son of yours an estate.”

  “It is odd to think of Rosings for a second son since it is larger than Sagemore.”

  “But it is not larger than Pemberley.” His grandmother wore an odd expression, but he was unsure of what it meant.

  “I was certain I would hear from my father by now, but there has been little reaction. I received a few letters when I expected his unannounced arrival at Sagemore.” Darcy shook his head. “He would never allow me to inherit Pemberley. I am certain of it.”

  “Your uncle and I discussed this last week when Richard mentioned Rosings, and we believe your father cannot disown you.”

  He stared at her.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, close your mouth, Fitzwilliam, before you catch a fly.”

  He clamped his jaw closed and sealed his lips into a line. He had not expected he would ever inherit Pemberley now. How would Elizabeth feel if one day they were expected to move there? She loved Sagemore, and he had no wish to uproot her from her home.

  “Why do you believe he cannot disown me?”

  “I remember when your father brought the marriage settlement to Gerald. They discussed Pemberley, and I am certain Gerald indicated to me that there was still an entailment. If you passed away and George had no remaining sons, a distant cousin would inherit, but he could never disown you for a distant relative. Society would go rabid with the information.”

  He was astounded. “Father never mentioned it. I always assumed whatever entailment had once been in existence had been broken.”

  “Your grandfather Darcy started the entailment after his father sold off a good portion of the properties the estate owned to pay off debts. Your grandfather and father have done a great deal to find new properties to add to their holdings, to rebuild the legacy.”

  He was quiet for a while as his grandmother and wife watched his every move. Elizabeth caressed his arm with her thumb, but he moved her hand to his forearm where he could hold it.

  “I apologise. It is a great deal to absorb.”

  “We understand, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth’s voice soothed him and he kissed her hair, even though his grandmother was present.

  Dinner was a lively affair. Elizabeth and his grandmother were animated in their chatter while he observed and sometimes joined the conversation. Despite the dowager’s sarcasm, the two ladies were near to identical in temperament, and he was pleased they were such good friends.

  After the meal, they withdrew to the music room for an informal evening. Elizabeth played the pianoforte, even sang along with one of the tunes, before she took a seat next to him.

  The dowager had poured a snifter of brandy for the two of them, and they were seated comfortably while Elizabeth spoke of the gala they had attended in Bath. She had just begun to describe the terrible performance when they heard the faint sound of the knocker as it echoed through the entry hall.

  “Who could it be at this hour?” The dowager peered at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  They listened as Hobbes greeted the caller. Darcy’s heart dropped at the sound of the guest’s voice.

  “It is my father,” he whispered.

  “Now, how did he know we were discussing him?” his grandmother groused. “Were his ears ringing?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were wide as saucers, and he took her by the shoulders. “My love, you must wait for me in our chambers.”

  Her eyes met his, and courage lit their depths. “My place is with you.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty, but I do not know why he has
called, and I do not want you to be subjected to his anger. There is no reason for it.”

  “I agree with him, Lizzy. This is their first meeting since your marriage. Allow Fitzwilliam to handle his father, then later, he will tell all.”

  “I promise.”

  Fortune smiled upon him when she acquiesced and made for the door leading to the servant’s hall. Before she could depart, he rushed forward to take her in his arms. “Thank you. I could not concentrate if I was worried for you.”

  She caressed her lips against his cheek and slipped through the door where she startled a passing maid. Somehow, the maid’s presence soothed his anxiety. She would have help as she found her way to their rooms.

  He had just returned to his seat when Hobbes opened the door, prompting him and his grandmother to rise to their feet. “Mr. George Darcy insists he must see you, ma’am and sir.”

  “I assumed as much,” she replied. “You may show him in, Hobbes. We would like an expeditious completion to this call, if possible.”

  Hobbes stood to one side of the doorframe, which allowed the elder Darcy entry. The son stared at his father, who still appeared much the same except for the signs of fatigue etched upon his face.

  “I was unaware you were here, Fitzwilliam” were the first words from his mouth.

  “We have not corresponded of late, so I would be concerned about the trustworthiness of my grandmother’s servants if you did have knowledge of our arrival in town.” He made certain his voice was unemotional and even. He was his own man, and he did not answer to his father in any way.

  “I had come to ask your direction from your grandmother. I dispatched a courier to Sagemore in late May, but he was informed the family was not home.”

  “No correspondence from you awaited me upon my return.”

  “No, I wished it delivered straight to your hands, so he returned to Pemberley.”

  Darcy took a step forward. He had no wish to speak in riddles, but desired the confrontation to be concluded with haste. “Let us not beat about the bush, Father. Why have you sought me out? You were unmistakeable in your ultimatum when I was last at Pemberley.” His father’s eye twitched. He had hit his target.

  “I am pleased to know I was so clear. I had begun to think I had been ambiguous in some fashion since you did not conduct yourself in the manner I requested.”

  “You were told I would not bring about Anne’s death. By marrying her, I may as well put a pistol to her head.”

  George Darcy scoffed. “Do not be so dramatic, Fitzwilliam. Besides, as things appear now, she would never have made it long. You would have sacrificed no more than a month or two to have Rosings and been guilt free, since that was such a concern to you.”

  “He will have Rosings anyway, George,” interrupted the dowager. “Anne is not unhappy and neither should you be.”

  His eyes darted back and forth between his grandmother and his father. “What do you mean Anne would not have made it so long?”

  “I never meant for you to be told this evening,” she sighed. “You and Lizzy had just arrived. I wanted us to have a pleasant evening before we addressed those concerns, but since our plans have been disrupted—Anne took ill a fortnight ago. Her mother, instead of keeping her at Rosings and comfortable, brought her to London where she worsened. She foisted every physician and surgeon she could find on the poor girl until Henry removed Anne from Catherine’s care.”

  He was appalled. “First she removes her to Rosings, then she improves, and now she sickens, which prompts Lady Catherine to return to town? She tends to make matters worse, in my opinion.”

  The dowager rolled her eyes. “Yes, but Catherine was never known for her presence of mind.”

  “Are you certain matters are so grave?” His heart may have rebelled against the notion of marriage to his cousin, but it pained him that she might be near her end.

  “They almost bled her to death, dear. Catherine was not informing the incoming physicians of the treatments of the prior physicians. As a result, she is fragile.”

  He ran his hand across his forehead and combed his fingers through his hair. “Is there no other remedy?”

  His grandmother indicated all hope was lost with a shake of her head. “I am afraid not. We have no choice but to wait and see what God determines.”

  “But she intends to leave Rosings to you?” asked his father.

  He bristled and his posture became rigid. “That is Anne’s decision, one she can still change. I will not rejoice if I benefit from her death.”

  His father gave a huff. “I never insinuated your conclusion. You were lucky she still named you as her heir; however, we must handle matters now before they become more complicated.” His father had a calculating gleam in his eyes, and the son recognised it all too well.

  “Handle matters?”

  “I have found a man who can forge a marriage certificate for this woman you wed.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, raising his voice a notch.

  His grandmother replied. “He proposes to have your marriage voided by somehow producing a husband for Lizzy.” The dowager’s face was reddened. She was livid! “Your father seems to forget I was the daughter of a country squire once upon a time, filled the role of a countess with aplomb, and bore a daughter who became his beloved wife. He now scorns your mother’s lineage with his ill-judged application.”

  “You accuse me of a judgement I have not made!” exploded the elder Darcy.

  The Dowager Countess of Matlock stood tall. “You may not have made the statement outright, but you implied it. You scorn Lizzy and you have never taken the opportunity to know her!”

  The elder Darcy took a step towards the dowager and lifted a satchel from his side. “I travelled to Meryton in an attempt to discover more about her. The estate was entailed to a cousin—who is an imbecile, by the way—after her father’s death. Her uncle is the local solicitor! Whilst everyone in the area seems to have no less praise for her, she is not of our sphere!”

  George Darcy proffered a document, which Darcy took. It was certificate of some kind, claiming his Elizabeth had married someone by the name of Christopher Hoskins.

  It was utter rubbish; the date was one week after the horrific accident that claimed the lives of her family. The document also alleged the marriage had occurred in Wiltshire. Elizabeth would have been in no state to wed anyone at that time much less travel.

  The notion of his father purchasing a forged marriage certificate astounded him. The most important question was: had he already presented it to anyone in the church? Had his father attempted to void his marriage?

  “What have you done?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “What needed to be done.”

  His father was too at ease for his taste, and his heart began to pound, as terror filled his breast at the possibilities laid before him. He brandished the forged document before him. “Have you shown this to anyone?”

  “What if I have? That woman cannot remain your wife!”

  He rubbed his hand across his mouth and attempted to control the shaking of his hands before his father noticed. His grandmother appeared beside him and peered at the papers in his grasp.

  “My God, George, what have you done?”

  Chapter 17

  The documents fluttered down as Darcy lunged forward and pinned his father against the wall behind him, sending a painting crashing to the floor.

  “Fitzwilliam!” his grandmother cried over the din.

  “Did you use this rubbish? Have you shown it to anyone?” he yelled. His hands bunched the fabric at the base of his father’s throat as he pressed him against the solid plaster with force. “Have you attempted to destroy my wife?” Naught mattered but his own fury. His voice was rough and sure to carry throughout the house.

  The elder Darcy tugged at his son’s wrists in a futile effort to free himself. “I have done nothing wrong! I swear to you, I have done nothing as of yet.” He gulped hard, his horrified expr
ession proof he had not anticipated his son’s outburst. “I wanted to see if you would return with me. I wanted you to accompany me to the bishop.”

  His hands relaxed against his father’s clothing, but he kept him pressed against the wall. “I will never, ever void my marriage. I would never banish Elizabeth to Scotland. I shall never abandon her or give her up.” He had stopped yelling, but he spoke through clenched teeth and in an ominous voice. Cool air rushed through his flared nostrils and a solid ache filled his chest as his heart pounded as though it would burst through his sternum.

  “If you persist with any plot that dishonours either my vows or hers, I will never set foot in Pemberley again, and, as soon as I am its master, I will break the entail and sell it to my friend Bingley.”

  His father’s eyes bulged. “You would not dare!”

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  A frantic voice emerged from beside him and broke through the haze of his anger. He glanced to his side where Elizabeth stood. She placed one hand on his arm and the other reached between him and his father to press her palm to his cheek. He released his father, took her in his arms, and grasped her to him.

  “I love you,” she whispered against his ear.

  He drew back and scanned her eyes. How would she react to his utter loss of control? Would she be frightened, upset? His hands cupped her cheeks as he studied her expression; to his relief, no horror or revulsion was present, only concern.

  Oblivious to his father and grandmother, he kissed her soundly, in need of reassurance she was still his, regardless of his father’s machinations. She did not object to such a public display and even wore an amused smirk when he pulled away. His grandmother handed him the forged documents, and he peered down on them in disgust one last time before they met their fate in the fire.

  “What are you doing?” His father made a futile grasp for the papers as his hand released them, but was too late. “Those cost a great deal of money!”

  “Then you spent a great deal of money on ash,” retorted the dowager. “I can think of no better place for them.”

  Emboldened by the truth of his wife’s affection, he faced his father. “You claim to have travelled to Meryton, yet it is obvious you did not bother to learn much more than who Elizabeth’s family was. The dates and location make it impossible to be a legitimate article, and I could present the entire town of Meryton to prove it a forgery.