Secrets at Pemberley

by Penelope Swan

  By the end of the afternoon, the strain was beginning to wear on Elizabeth and she felt the beginnings of a headache take hold. When the ladies retired to dress for dinner, the discomfort of her headache combined with the prospect of a hostile evening ahead led her to ask her aunt to make her excuses to the rest of the party. Elizabeth requested that a light meal be sent to her room instead, and—once everyone was safely in the dining room—she retrieved a book from the library and retired to her room, looking forward to an evening away from Caroline Bingley’s attacks and Darcy’s cold anger.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Elizabeth was disturbed only a short while later, however, by a soft knock at the door. Realising that it must be the maid with the dinner tray, Elizabeth hastened to open the door and was surprised to see the tall figure standing on her threshold.

  “Mr Darcy…” she said, taking a step backwards.

  “I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Miss Bennet, but I came to enquire after your health. I understand that you are suffering from a headache.”

  His manner was stiff and formal, but there was no questioning the genuine concern in his eyes.

  “I… Yes… I am,” said Elizabeth.

  “Would you like me to summon the apothecary?”

  “Oh no, I am sure that an evening spent in the quiet of my room would be more than ample remedy.”

  He hesitated, then bowed and turned to leave. Suddenly, Elizabeth could bear the coldness between them no longer.

  “Mr Darcy…” she said quickly.

  He turned back towards her. “Yes?”

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath, then stepped out of her room, moving closer to him. “Pray… forgive me, but I must be allowed to speak. I will not let you rebuff me with cold anger and silence any longer. I beg you to believe me that I had no plans to meet Wickham this morning or any other time. I own that I had mistaken his character in the past and allowed him to take advantage of my better feelings—but those days are over.” She looked up at him hesitantly. “If… If there is to be any… friendship… between us, then there must be trust given freely.”

  She saw that Darcy had gone very still and knew that he was remembering her rejection of his proposal in Kent, during which she had cited his lack of trust in her as the main reason for her refusal. Though she had said those words partly in false protest, in order to accommodate Lady Catherine’s orders to reject Darcy, she had genuinely embraced those sentiments.

  At last, Darcy spoke and she saw that his eyes had softened slightly, as did his tone: “You are right, Miss Bennet. I acknowledge I may be too quick to judge and condemn where Wickham is concerned. I apologise for my prejudice in that respect.” He hesitated. “Perhaps if you are made aware of the background to the situation, you would better understand my hostility towards that man.”

  He glanced down the empty corridor, then lowered his voice. “This is not the time nor the place for such revelations, but I feel that I must give you a brief account, for fear that otherwise you may not fully appreciate the danger of the highwayman’s company.”

  Darcy paused, then continued: “Wickham is the son of my late father’s steward, who was a very respectable man and greatly admired by both me and my father. Unfortunately his son did not inherit his good character—we spent much time together as boys, being schooled together and often playing together—and Wickham’s vicious propensities and want of principle were very quickly evident to me. Nevertheless, his engaging manners recommended him to my father, with whom he always remained a firm favourite. Indeed, when my excellent father passed away, he left a particular recommendation in his will that Wickham should be given not only the legacy of one thousand pounds, but also a valuable family living on the estate—should he follow my father’s fondest wish of becoming a clergyman. However, Wickham resolved against taking orders and asked—and received—from me instead the compensatory equivalent of three thousand pounds.”

  “Three thousand pounds! But… with such support, how has he sunk to the plight of a highwayman?” said Elizabeth.

  Darcy shrugged. “I do not know the particulars, but I imagine that being free from all restraint, his life was one of idleness and dissipation, gambling and debauchery, which would have quickly consumed what fortune he had, without wise investment. At any rate, I was to hear from him again last summer, after several years of silence. He wrote to apprise me of his straitened circumstances and asked that he be presented with the living my father had originally intended for him.” Darcy sighed. “I refused—and Wickham’s anger and resentment were great. He swore to take vengeance, but I did not place much stock in his threats. That was my mistake, for unbeknownst to me, he had made the sly acquaintance of my sister during her stay in Ramsgate last summer. Georgiana remembered him fondly from her childhood and Wickham’s charm and manners are such that it was not long before my sister imagined herself in love with him—and consented to an elopement.”

  Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth with one hand.

  Darcy nodded grimly. “You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister’s good name and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I made sure to remove Wickham from her company immediately and transfer her to the safety of Pemberley.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes had widened with horror as she listened to Darcy’s account of his dealings with Wickham. From Georgiana’s reaction at tea the other afternoon, she had surmised that Darcy’s sister had had some contact with the highwayman, but she had not guessed to what extent. Her heart went out to the girl. No wonder she had become so distressed when Wickham’s name was mentioned! It must have been the most painful experience for her young heart, especially for one so timid and innocent as Georgiana.

  Elizabeth thought of her own sister, Lydia, who was of the same age and yet possessed far greater self-assurance and easier manners. Her high-spirited youngest sister would probably have taken the ordeal in her stride and seen it as nothing more than an exciting adventure and a great item of gossip to share among her friends.

  “Your sister is fortunate to have such a protective older brother as yourself,” she said to Darcy.

  He sighed again. “Georgiana is but fifteen and naïve in the ways of the world. She could not believe that Wickham’s chief interest was her fortune of thirty-thousand pounds. His tender falsehoods were so persuasive that I fear she blames me for the separation and believes I treated him unfairly.” He stepped closer to her. “Miss Bennet… I have seen the great benefit that your friendship has brought my sister and I am very grateful for your attention to her welfare. I am aware of the way you covered up for her during tea the other afternoon… I must thank you again.”

  “There is no need,” said Elizabeth awkwardly. “I am very fond of your sister and would do everything in my power to ensure her health and happiness.”

  “Thank you.” Darcy seized her hand and held it tightly in his. “She is very vulnerable still. I hope that with time she may be able to put this episode behind her. Until then, I will have to maintain a steady vigil… and I hope you will inform me directly should you observe anything of concern in Georgiana’s behaviour. Her mood is still volatile and prone to melancholy.”

  “But of course,” said Elizabeth.

  “Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, some hint of the affair did escape and make its way to the gossipmongers in London. It was why I was obliged to remain in town and delay my return to Hertfordshire. My presence at various functions and a discreet word in the ear of the right people were necessary to scotch the rumours that were circulating and prevent a full-blown scandal involving my sister.” Darcy paused, then added quietly, “I hope you will believe me, Miss Bennet, when I say that nothing else would have prevented me from returning to your side sooner.”

  Elizabeth stared up at him, afraid to speak. She knew that her heart was in her eyes and she saw Darcy catch his breath, his own eyes darkening. They were alone in the upper corridor, and she was suddenly aware of how close he was. He lea
ned slowly towards her and Elizabeth felt her heartbeat quicken, her breath come faster. There were a thousand things she wanted to say—and yet it was as if words were no longer necessary. Everything that was to be said was there, in their eyes.

  Darcy came closer still, until his lips hovered inches from hers. “Miss Bennet… Elizabeth… You said to me when we parted in Hunsford that your answer to my proposal might have been very different had you not had an interview with my aunt.”

  “Y-yes…” whispered Elizabeth, unable to take her eyes from his.

  Darcy’s hold on her hand tightened. “You are too generous to trifle with me… Tell me now, if I—”

  A sound at the end of the corridor made them both jump and jerk away from each other. A maid was just stepping out of the servant staircase, carrying a tray. She stopped as she saw them and quickly dropped her eyes, bobbing a curtsy.

  “Oh! I do beg your pardon, sir… miss…”

  Darcy cleared his throat and said, “That is quite all right, Anna. I was merely enquiring after Miss Bennet’s health, as I had heard that she feels too unwell to join us downstairs.”

  “Yes, sir. I was just bringin’ her dinner, sir,” said the maid, approaching them with a tray bearing several dishes on white linen, accompanied by gleaming silver.

  “Then I will leave you to enjoy your meal in peace,” said Darcy with a formal bow.

  Elizabeth felt a stab of frustration at the maid’s untimely interruption. However, she had no choice but to curtsy in return and wish Darcy well for the evening. Then giving him a last lingering look, she followed the maid into her chamber for her lonely dinner.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Elizabeth turned over restlessly in bed, pushing the eiderdown away from her face and shifting her head on the pillow. She was drifting in that state halfway between sleep and awakening, where she knew not what was fact and what was dream. She heard the echo of Darcy’s deep voice: “You are too generous to trifle with me… Tell me now, if I—” and reached out towards him, only to have him disappear and Caroline Bingley stand before her instead, wearing a sneering smile on her face. Then Georgiana appeared, accompanied by her aunt and Tilly, each of them carrying a cup of tea which they poured onto the flames of a burning building. And all the while, in the background, were the rippling notes of a pianoforte—that same eerie music which had played the night before last—a soft haunting melody that danced across the scales, stumbling slightly over a trill and continuing through a glissando…

  Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness. The music was not just in her dream, she realised. She sat up in bed, straining her ears. Yes, she was not mistaken. It was there, faintly in the distance. She jumped out of bed, threw the door open, and hurried to the staircase. She had forgotten to grab a candle in her haste and her descent down the stairs was slowed by her fumbling in the dark, groping with her foot for each step so as to avoid plunging headlong into a fall.

  Then a blood-curdling scream rent the air.

  “Georgiana!” gasped Elizabeth, all thoughts of caution forgotten now as she flung herself down the remaining steps. She reached the ground floor and ran into the music room, where she could see a faint light flickering. A gust of wind blew into her face as she stepped into the room, whipping her hair back and wrapping her nightdress tightly around herself. She realised that the windows were open and a figure stood poised on the windowsill. Then the man jumped from the window and disappeared into the darkness outside. It was too dark to see him properly, but for a moment, as he jumped, Elizabeth thought she had caught a flash of scarlet in the moonlight.

  Wickham?

  Elizabeth turned to find Georgiana standing beside the piano, shaking and crying. She hurried over and wrapped the girl in a gentle embrace.

  “Shh… You are safe now, Miss Darcy,” she said, stroking the girl’s hair.

  “He… he… said he had come back to see me…” Georgiana sobbed. “He said he loved me…”

  Elizabeth stiffened as she heard the girl’s words. She glanced at the pianoforte. As before, the lid was lifted and the stool was pulled back, and moonlight from the windows illuminated the ivory keys. Was Wickham the sinister intruder who had been playing the instrument the last few nights? If so, why? What did he have to gain from impersonating a ghostly performer?

  A moment later, Darcy strode into the room, accompanied by the other guests. He immediately took his sister into his arms, comforting her as she cried against him. Over Georgiana’s head, his eyes sought Elizabeth’s and he raised questioning eyebrows.

  “It appears that Miss Darcy disturbed an intruder,” Elizabeth said. “He escaped via the windows.”

  “Who was it? Did you see?” Darcy asked sharply.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth, then saw Georgiana flash her a look of such urgent entreaty that her words stilled on her lips. “Er…”

  The girl pushed away from Darcy’s chest and wiped her eyes. Her brother looked down at her solicitously and said, “Georgie? Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head.

  “What did he look like? Did you recognise him?”

  Georgiana flashed Elizabeth another desperate look, then turned back to her brother and said, “I… I do not know… I was so frightened…”

  “There is no need to be frightened now,” said Darcy soothingly. “But it would be extremely helpful if you could provide any clue as to the intruder’s identity. What was he wearing, for instance?”

  “I… I do not know! I did not see!” said Georgiana wildly.

  She was obviously so distressed that Darcy did not press her further, but allowed Miss Annesley to take her from him and escort her back upstairs. Elizabeth watched the girl thoughtfully as she was led away. Why had Georgiana lied to Darcy? There was no doubt that the girl had seen the intruder clearly—she had been staring at him as he climbed out of the window, and her first words to Elizabeth indicated that she knew him. Therefore, why had she lied to her brother?

  The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning was uneasy. No one had slept well after the disturbances in the night and many were now wondering if the rumours about the pianoforte might be true. This was not helped by Darcy’s announcement that he had checked with the servants and it appeared that no door had been jimmied, no window broken into. It was a mystery how the intruder had gained entry to the house. The windows in the music room opened only from the inside; therefore in order to have exited by that route, the intruder must have entered the music room by other means.

  “Perhaps he had an accomplice? Could one of the servants have let him in?” suggested Mr Gardiner.

  Darcy shook his head. “I trust my servants implicitly. Many of them have served my family for generations. They would no more allow an intruder into this house than into their own homes.”

  “And yet he must have had an accomplice. How else could he have gained entry without breaking in?” said Caroline Bingley.

  “Unless he is of unearthly origin,” one of Darcy’s other guests said uneasily.

  “Yes, perhaps the servants’ gossip about the instrument being haunted has some merit after all…” said Mrs Hurst with a shudder.

  “Perhaps there is a secret entry into the house that is well concealed and unknown to the servants,” Elizabeth spoke up.

  She saw Darcy’s eyes meet hers across the table and knew that he was sharing her thoughts. Such knowledge of hidden entries and passageways required someone who had intimate knowledge of the house… someone who might have spent his childhood here…

  Elizabeth knew not what Georgiana had said to her brother after they had returned upstairs the night before, but she suspected that the girl had maintained her silence on the identity of the intruder, for Darcy had made no mention of Wickham this morning.

  If it was indeed Wickham…

  Elizabeth reminded herself that she had as yet no proof. She had only caught a glimpse of the man as he had escaped through the windows and she could not be sure that what she had seen was
indeed a scarlet coat. Georgiana’s words to her last night were suggestive—but they were hardly incontrovertible evidence of the highwayman’s presence… although he would certainly fit with the theory of an intruder who had familiar knowledge of the house’s layout and architecture.

  Nonetheless, remembering Darcy’s hostile sensitivity towards Wickham, Elizabeth decided it would be unwise to mention the latter’s name until she had clear proof of his presence. The first thing she needed to do was speak to Georgiana again. Darcy’s sister was once again absent from breakfast, but Elizabeth ascertained from Miss Annesley that the girl was well enough to receive visitors in her own apartments. Thus, after breakfast, Elizabeth took the opportunity to wait on her. She found Georgiana looking pale and tired, curled up in a small huddle on her French sofa.

  Elizabeth sank down next to her and looked at the girl worriedly. “I hope you have recovered from your fright, Miss Darcy. Have you had any sleep?”

  “A little,” Georgiana admitted.

  “Perhaps some fresh air would help to improve your spirits. Would you like to take a turn about the gardens with me?”

  Georgiana hesitated, then nodded. They made their way downstairs and out of a side door, so as not to meet the other guests, and took the path which led to the rose gardens. For a while, they wandered around the rose beds, admiring the beautiful blooms. Finally, when they sat down on a garden bench, Elizabeth decided that she could wait no longer to broach the subject.

  “Miss Darcy… I hope you will forgive my impertinence but it is a matter of great importance. Last night, when your brother asked you about the intruder, you claimed to have no knowledge of his identity or appearance. And yet—from your reactions when I arrived—it was evident that you did indeed know him.”