Secrets at Pemberley

by Penelope Swan

  Georgiana looked up, eyes wide with alarm.

  “Was the intruder Mr Wickham?” asked Elizabeth gently.

  Georgiana’s face lost all colour. She clasped her trembling hands in her lap and nodded.

  “What was he doing there?”

  “I… I do not know. I just looked up… and… and he was there. He startled me greatly.”

  “Was that why you screamed? Did he do something to you?”

  Georgiana shook her head vehemently. “No, he did not touch me, though he attempted to speak. He said… he said…” Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “He said that he loved me still…”

  Elizabeth felt pity for the girl wash over her. She hesitated, unsure how best to tell the truth without wounding the girl’s feelings. “Miss Darcy, you know that a man like Wickham… Well, sweet words come to his lips easily, but their meaning may not be genuine.”

  Georgiana stiffened and turned her face away. Elizabeth looked at her thoughtfully. Could Darcy’s sister have been the accomplice that they were suspecting in the household?

  She leaned forwards. “Miss Darcy, forgive me… But I must ask: did you assist Wickham in gaining entry to the house last night?”

  Georgiana turned back to face her. “No, I would never do such a thing! Even if Mr Wickham were to ask me. But I do not think him as evil as you say, for when he spoke to me, he made no suggestion of any unorthodox activity. Indeed he—” She broke off.

  Elizabeth looked at her sharply. “When he spoke to you? Have you had another occasion to speak to Mr Wickham?”

  Georgiana hesitated, then said in a small voice, “Yes… Yesterday afternoon, just after luncheon… I slipped out for some fresh air and came upon him as I was walking through the rockery. He… he told me that he had not been able to stop thinking of me since last summer—that he loved me passionately and my brother did grave ill by separating us.”

  Elizabeth shook her head impatiently. “Do not believe his lies, Miss Darcy! Wickham’s only passion is for your fortune. It pains me to speak so bluntly, but it is vital that you understand his true intentions.”

  Georgiana jerked away from her. “No… That cannot be!”

  Elizabeth reached out and grasped the girl’s hands. “Indeed, it is so. You must believe me! I too was once fooled by Wickham’s gallant charm and sweet words. He is a master at manipulating the better feelings of others.”

  Georgiana shook her head, her eyes wide with denial.

  “He is a scoundrel and a danger to you, Miss Darcy, and you must go to your brother at once and tell him the whole of this business.”

  “No!” Georgiana sprang up from the bench. “I cannot! And you must not! You must not tell my brother anything that I have confessed to you. I shall not be seeing Mr Wickham again and my brother need never know—”

  “But Miss Darcy—”

  “No! I had thought that you were my friend! I trusted you… I confessed my feelings in confidence… Would you betray me now?” Georgiana sobbed.

  Elizabeth bit her lip. The girl was so distraught: tears streaming down her cheeks, her face red and blotchy, her whole body trembling.

  She put out a placating hand. “Please, do not distress yourself so, Miss Darcy. You will make yourself ill—”

  “Promise me! Promise me you will not tell my brother!” said Georgiana wildly.

  “I… I promise,” said Elizabeth with a sigh. “But I beg you to speak to him yourself. I believe you will find him most understanding and your greatest protector. He only wishes the best for your welfare and happiness.”

  Georgiana did not reply, but she appeared to be calming down, her sobs subsiding as she sank back down on the garden bench. They sat in silence for a few moments until Georgiana’s breathing slowed and she had dried her tears.

  “We should return to the house now,” said Elizabeth. “Or they will be concerned about your absence.”

  Georgiana nodded and rose from the bench, then followed Elizabeth meekly back to the house. Darcy was waiting for them as they stepped into the foyer and his eyes went immediately to his sister’s face. He frowned and Elizabeth knew that he could see evidence of the recent tears.

  “Georgie?” he said, coming forwards to put a gentle hand on his sister’s arm.

  Georgiana gave him a weak smile. “I… I am well, Fitzwilliam. I have been walking in the gardens with Miss Bennet, but I think I shall retire to my chambers now and rest a while.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and ran up the stairs.

  Darcy looked at Elizabeth. “What has disturbed Georgiana so?” he demanded.

  Elizabeth hesitated. She hated the position that she was being put in, but she felt that she could not go back on her word. “I… I believe Miss Darcy is distressed still by the events of last night,” she said lamely.

  Darcy looked at her sharply and Elizabeth squirmed under his perceptive gaze.

  “You are keeping something from me,” he said.

  Elizabeth licked her lips. “No, indeed, why should you think that?”

  “I can see it in your eyes.” Darcy took a step towards her, forcing her to tilt her head to look up at him. “It concerns my sister, does it not?”

  Miserably, Elizabeth shook her head, not knowing what to say. She saw Darcy’s face darken with anger and a muscle begin ticking along his jawline.

  “Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence—and I had not thought I would find such mean arts employed by you, Miss Bennet,” he said furiously. “After all the fine words you spoke about trust and your demands for faith on my part… now your own conduct is so lacking in candour. Is this how you repay my confidence?”

  “I—”

  “Mr Darcy…” Caroline Bingley sauntered into the foyer, then paused with exaggerated surprise. “Oh, I do beg your pardon—am I interrupting something?” A small smile curled at the corners of her mouth as she eyed Elizabeth’s flushed face and Darcy’s icy expression.

  For once the woman’s presence was a welcome interruption for Elizabeth. She could not bear the way Darcy was looking at her and was desperate to escape this situation, which compelled her to lie to him in order to maintain Georgiana’s confidence.

  “I beg you to excuse me,” she murmured, dropping a quick curtsy, then running up the stairs to her room. A mixture of helpless frustration and angry despair filled her. What could she have said to Darcy that would not have been breaking her word to his sister? And yet she mourned the loss of the warmth and affection between them. After what had happened outside her bedroom last night, she had thought…

  She sighed and sat down on her bed. It was several minutes before she could compose herself enough to think clearly.

  She had to find out if Wickham was responsible for these nightly disturbances with the pianoforte and why. Such knowledge would enable her to approach Darcy and introduce the subject of Wickham, without mentioning Georgiana’s involvement with him. This way she would not be breaking her word—but would still be alerting Darcy to the danger of the highwayman’s presence in his sister’s home, and thus hopefully to his understanding of the real situation in a roundabout way.

  Elizabeth sat up straighter as a new thought struck her. She jumped up and made her way back downstairs, slipping out of the side door unnoticed and heading towards the stables. She had an idea—one which might help determine if Wickham was the ghostly intruder after all…

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As Elizabeth rode into Lambton, she mulled over the conversation she had had with Darcy’s sister in the rose gardens. She believed Georgiana when the girl had denied being Wickham’s accomplice, but this still left the mystery of how he had gained entry to the house. And furthermore, what did he hope to gain by impersonating a ghostly performer? If he merely wished to attract Georgiana’s attention, there were simpler ways to achieve this. By playing music that roused the entire household, he risked not only discovery, but curtailed any chance of an illicit private encounter with Darcy’s sister. It made no
sense!

  Her head still whirling with questions, Elizabeth arrived in the village and sought out the old vicar. She remembered from the dinner table conversation two nights ago that the old gentleman had been Darcy’s tutor. If Wickham had shared as much of Darcy’s childhood as had been hinted at, then the old vicar might be able to give her crucial insights into the highwayman’s habits and character.

  She found the old man tending the garden at the front of his cottage and she paused to compliment his primroses, hoping that he would invite her into the garden for a tour. Her ruse was successful and she spent the next half hour admiring the old man’s horticultural achievements. At length, when they sat down together on a garden seat, she judged it safe to bring up the subject of Pemberley and mentioned that she was a guest at that great estate.

  “Ah, Pemberley…” the old vicar said in fond reminiscence. “Yes, I spent a great deal of time there, tutoring the present Mr Darcy before he went to Cambridge.”

  “And was he a good student?” asked Elizabeth with a smile.

  “Yes indeed, a most conscientious one. A complete contrast to George Wickham—the late steward’s son—who was a most disruptive influence in the classroom.”

  Elizabeth was delighted that the old vicar had introduced the subject of Wickham without her prompting. “I understand that George Wickham has turned out very wild,” she said casually. “I wonder if you should have seen hints of his later depravity in his early youth?”

  “Oh yes,” said the old vicar, nodding vigorously. “I have spent many years tutoring the offspring of several noble families in this area and I have often observed that they who were good-natured as children are good-natured when they grow up. Mr Darcy was certainly always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world—and he has grown into a gentleman of similarly noble character. Sadly, the converse is true too and those who show wicked proclivities in their youth tend to grow into those vices, as we have seen with Mr Wickham.”

  “That is sad, indeed,” agreed Elizabeth. “Did Mr Darcy excel in music as well?”

  The old vicar chuckled. “Nay, that arena was left to his sister, whom I did not have the pleasure of teaching. She had a governess of her own.”

  Elizabeth leaned forwards. “And Mr Wickham? Did he perchance learn an instrument too?”

  The vicar gave a bark of laughter. “Wickham? Learn an instrument? That boy could barely sit still long enough to learn his name! No, it was a feat simply getting him into the classroom. He was far more interested in hunting and fishing—and spending time with the stable hands and other young cads, no doubt learning the vices of gambling and adultery.” He shook his head.

  Elizabeth sat back, chagrined. She had been hoping to hear that Wickham had a hidden talent for music and great skill in playing. If he had never learned an instrument, how could he have produced that beautiful, intricate tune on the pianoforte? Did this mean that he could not be the ghostly performer after all?

  Elizabeth thanked the old vicar for his time and took her leave. She returned to Pemberley to find that the gentlemen had gone out hunting and the ladies—all save for Georgiana—were congregated in the rear parlour, engaged in a combination of talking, writing letters, and working on embroidery.

  “Ah, Miss Eliza… back from another of your little jaunts?” said Caroline Bingley, arching a supercilious eyebrow. “I do declare, I know not of any other young lady who shows such a flagrant disregard for propriety, spending so much time traipsing about the countryside on her own. You are quite… er… eccentric.”

  Elizabeth knew that she ought not to let the other woman’s taunting rile her, but the last few days in Caroline Bingley’s company had sorely tested her patience and she found herself retorting, “I hardly think it any concern of yours how I wish to spend my time.”

  “My, my… you are defensive,” observed Miss Bingley with a smirk. “One wonders what activities you might have been engaged in, to harbour such sensitivity to natural curiosity regarding your movements?”

  All eyes in the room turned on Elizabeth and she silently castigated Caroline Bingley for placing her in this awkward position. She could not confess the true nature of her visit to Lambton, for she had no wish to bring up the subject of Wickham and possibly expose Georgiana to Miss Bingley’s malicious speculations.

  “I… I wished to visit the apothecary in Lambton for items of a personal nature,” she said at last.

  “Oh? Well… if I might offer a friendly word of advice, Miss Eliza…” Miss Bingley gave a condescending smile. “I hope you purchased some lotion to brighten your complexion for I must say that I hardly recognised you upon our meeting again. You have become most unfashionably tanned.” She waved her hand airily. “You may not be aware of this—accustomed as you are to country standards—but a true lady may not consider herself genuinely refined unless she takes the utmost care of her complexion, ensuring that it stays white and unblemished in all circumstances.”

  Elizabeth gritted her teeth. “And you may not be aware of this—accustomed as you are to such spurious preoccupations,” she said sweetly, “but a true lady may have a great deal more on her mind than the clarity of her complexion. Intelligence, wit, and understanding are far more crucial in the making of a refined woman, to my mind.”

  Caroline Bingley flushed angrily and flounced to the other side of the room. Elizabeth picked up a book and found a seat next to her aunt, though she was still too angry to concentrate and found herself reading the same words on the page for a long time before she could calm her temper enough to comprehend their meaning. They passed an uncomfortable afternoon, with the hostility between Elizabeth and Miss Bingley remaining thick in the air. It was a relief when the gentlemen returned from their hunting and everyone retired upstairs to dress for dinner.

  “Lizzy…” Mrs Gardiner chided gently as she accompanied Elizabeth to her room. “You must not let Miss Bingley tease you. You know that is her intent and it does no good when you rise to her bait.”

  “I am sorry, aunt,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I know it was foolish of me and I should have borne her remarks with more equanimity.”

  Mrs Gardiner shook her head. “You must remember, she is an unhappy woman. Her remarks stem only from jealousy and frustration. She sees Mr Darcy’s affection for you and yet can do nothing to curtail it nor point it in her own direction.”

  Elizabeth coloured at her aunt’s reference to Darcy. “I beg your pardon…?”

  Mrs Gardiner smiled. “I am not blind, Lizzy. It is easy to see that the gentleman harbours strong emotions towards you. Why, his eyes rarely leave you when you are in the room. And though he does not speak much, I fancy that what he does say is heavy with meaning.”

  Elizabeth coloured even more, though she was gratified by her aunt’s perceptive appraisal. Then she remembered the altercation that morning and despair weighed down on her again. How could she and Darcy have any hope of finding happiness when so many secrets lay between them?

  Mrs Gardiner tilted her head, looking at Elizabeth curiously. “And you, Lizzy? What are your feelings towards that gentleman? You know I do not like to pry, but… your comments before we arrived in Derbyshire had not led me to believe any particular interest on your side. However, since we have been spending more time with Mr Darcy, I own, I have noticed a partiality on your part for the gentleman’s company.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “My feelings… Oh, aunt, I do not know my own feelings! I had thought that I hated him—indeed, when he first came to Hertfordshire, I thought him to be the most disagreeable of men. But since then… I have had several opportunities to become better acquainted with him and I believe him to be a very different sort of man now. One who invites respect and admiration.”

  “And love?” said her aunt, with a little smile.

  Elizabeth blushed even deeper. She could not reply, but the expression on her face must have been answer enough because Mrs Gardiner patted her hand and said:

  “I
believe you should follow your heart, Lizzy. It will not lead you wrong.”

  Elizabeth nodded and was relieved when her aunt did not press her further, but returned to her own room to change.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elizabeth was pleased to see Georgiana join them for dinner and that she was once again placed near Darcy’s sister at the table. The girl said little, however, and seemed to have no appetite, toying with the food on her plate and leaving most of it untouched. Elizabeth saw Darcy cast worried glances in his sister’s direction but he made no comment, no doubt unwilling to draw attention to his sister’s state.

  Towards Elizabeth, he maintained a certain coldness of manner and she knew that he was still angered by their conversation that morning, and his suspicion of her dishonesty. She grieved the loss of trust between them once more and wondered despairingly if she had made the right choice. Should she have broken her word to Georgiana and confessed the whole of their conversation in the garden to Darcy? Was it right to betray the sister in order to gain favour with the brother?

  She longed to restore Darcy’s trust and affection in her, but she knew not how to achieve it without betraying her own principles. Wickham’s words in the churchyard came back to her: You disappoint me, Miss Bennet… I had not thought you a weak-minded female… No, she did not want to be one of those women who showed a spineless submission to the altar of love.

  As if sensing her agonies, Caroline Bingley seemed determined to highlight her failings. She brought up the subject of Elizabeth’s unexpected visit to Lambton again, and commented at great length on the latter’s habit of solitary excursions. It was clear that the woman was still smarting from their hostile exchange that afternoon and wished to seek vengeance by presenting Elizabeth in as unfavourable a light she could. And her interruption of their argument that morning had made her aware of Darcy’s doubts over Elizabeth’s trustworthiness—thus she hastened to exploit this.