A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10)

by Harriet Knowles

  “She said that she saw Miss Lydia say something to Wickham, and he pushed her in the river.” He ignored Richard’s exclamation.

  “But she clutched at him, so they both went in. Elizabeth saw him trying to push her sister’s head under the water, and that is why she threw the stone.”

  “Attempted murder!” Richard sat up straight. “He cannot be allowed to get away with that!”

  Darcy nodded. “And yet the complaint is not mine to make — yet.” He looked at Richard.

  “What do you think the sister might have said to Wickham that would make him stoop to attempt murder?”

  The two men stared at each other.

  “Do you know what she said?” Richard asked.

  Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth said she didn’t know when her father pressed her to answer. I think she might have a suspicion and not wish to face it.”

  His cousin looked very serious. “It changes everything, doesn’t it?”

  “I can think of nothing else, Richard!” Darcy tried not to shout. But he didn’t want it to be made explicit, didn’t want to have the words said out loud.

  “I won’t say it, then, Darcy.” Richard shook his head. “Let us think about what we will say, instead, at dinner tonight. The situation in Hertfordshire will not change overnight.” He reached out to shake Darcy’s hand. “If you wish, I will return with you whenever you say, and assist in whatever way I can.”

  “It depends what your father knows, I suppose,” Darcy was sombre. “But nothing must be said of Hertfordshire.”

  Chapter 35

  Elizabeth lay quietly on her bed that afternoon. She was tired, but lunch had refreshed her, and telling Papa what she had seen had eased her mind.

  She was sorry she’d been unwell, though. It seemed her illness had been a cause of much concern. However she was better now the fever had broken, and she would do her best to make amends to Mama and everyone else.

  She wondered what her father thought of Lydia’s behaviour. She’d been unable to express her worry about her sister’s possible condition, and the very thought made her shiver.

  At least Jane was married, and safe from ruin. Elizabeth’s lips tightened. If the worst happened, and the family was tainted, Mr. Bingley would undoubtedly give up Netherfield and take Jane away to keep her name untarnished.

  Elizabeth would be pleased for Jane’s sake if that happened, but desperately sorry to lose the closeness she had to her elder sister. She didn’t see how she’d be able to go and stay with them in those circumstances. She wouldn’t wish to risk Jane’s reputation.

  There was a hasty knock on the door and Lydia bounced in. “Lizzy! I’m glad you’re better!”

  Elizabeth winced at the noise, but forced a smile. “Come in, Lydia, although please keep your voice lower and then I will be able to listen without acquiring a headache.”

  “Sorry.” Lydia didn’t sound sorry at all, and dropped onto the side of the bed. “But I have to talk to you about what happened, I have to. And Mama says you have been down to talk to Papa already. Why did you do that, Lizzy? What did you say to him?”

  Elizabeth grimaced and covered her eyes with her hand. “What do you think I said, Lydia? What do you think I saw?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Lydia said petulantly. She picked at a loose thread in the counterpane. “I only slipped on the edge of the bank.” She looked up, an expression of defiance overlying an anxious look. “Why were you following me, anyway?”

  “Well, if you only slipped, then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” Elizabeth was tired of it already. “And if you are angry that I was following you, it means you wish I hadn’t been there, and nobody would have known about you falling in, and you’d have died.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t!” Lydia’s voice rose. “Dear Wickham was there. He’d have saved me!”

  Elizabeth rolled over. “You’re too loud, Lydia. You must go now, and you can believe what you like.”

  The door opened again and Mama came in. “What’s the noise all about?” Mama’s loud tones were almost too much, and Elizabeth covered her ears.

  “Mama, I have such a headache. Might I come downstairs later?” She wished Jane was here, although she supposed her sister was still occupied with Mr. Darcy’s relations. Perhaps she wouldn’t go downstairs after all.

  She sighed. Papa would miss her.

  “Come down with me, Lydia. We can change the ribbons on that bonnet of yours.” Mama swept Lydia out of the room with her, and even through the closed door, Elizabeth could hear their voices as they went down the stairs.

  She rolled over and put the pillow over her head, pressing it into her ears.

  No sign of any regard from Mama, no acknowledgement of her relief that Elizabeth was better, and no thanks from Lydia that her life had been saved because Elizabeth was there. She wasn’t surprised at Lydia, although she was disappointed Mama didn’t seem concerned. She smiled slightly to herself. When Mama had time to think, she’d say she was glad Elizabeth was better. Perhaps she was discomposed that Elizabeth had insisted on seeing Papa instead of calling for her.

  She sighed. If she was right about Lydia’s condition, what would happen? Mr. Wickham was gone to Brighton, and, in any event, she doubted he could be prevailed upon to marry her sister. There was too little fortune for that. It was a relief too. Would Elizabeth be certain her sister was safe with a man who seemed willing to kill?

  But how else could their ruin be prevented? She rolled over and sat up, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table. It was hopeless. She was certain that Lydia was in trouble, just as she was certain that it could never be rectified. The family was lost, and all her hopes and dreams were as naught.

  She crossed to the window. The hills were bathed in afternoon light, and she longed to go there again, walk in the peace of the country.

  But it would be a while before she was well enough. The weakness in her legs was proof, if she needed it, that she’d indeed been ill for longer than she’d thought.

  Chapter 36

  Darcy was not looking forward to dinner. He dressed in a silent and gloomy Darcy House and sent for his coach. The only good thing was that he would be able to speak to Georgiana again.

  He sat back while Mr. Maunder helped him on with his boots, and straightened his cravat.

  “Thank you, that’ll do,” he snapped, and stood up, frowning, sweeping a glance round his chamber.

  His valet hurried round to pick up the discarded day clothes, and Darcy sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Maunder. You don’t deserve my ill-temper.”

  “No matter, Mr. Darcy.” The servant looked unsurprised, and Darcy turned away and checked his reflection in the glass.

  It would do; after all he was only dining at Matlock House — Elizabeth would not be there. He smiled slightly as he hurried down the stairs. If he was fortunate enough to dine again at Longbourn, and Elizabeth would be present, then he would take much more care over his appearance.

  Mr. Maunder proffered his hat and gloves, and Darcy ran lightly down the steps to his coach. He wondered what his uncle wanted from him today. It must be important to have brought both him and his aunt to Hertfordshire to ensure Darcy’s return.

  Darcy stared unseeingly into the dusk as the coach approached Matlock House, and pondered the last few months. He was certain his uncle could not know of his interest in Elizabeth, and was determined to keep it that way.

  Georgiana knew nothing, so she could not have let any information out, and Richard was utterly discreet. He would have to be careful, especially over the port, but perhaps he might have the chance of a few words with Richard again.

  He smiled slightly, hoping that his aunt had not given Lady Louise cause to hope for his attention.

  * * *

  He bowed politely as he entered the drawing room at Matlock House, reserving his smile for Georgiana. He bowed over her hand as she came up to him.

  “Georgiana. I’m so plea
sed to see you.”

  She curtsied politely, as she knew her aunt and uncle would not approve of any informality in their current mood. “It’s a wonderful surprise to see you, William. I am so happy for tonight.”

  He dipped his head closer to her. “Have you heard anything about why Uncle Henry has brought me back from Hertfordshire?”

  She shook her head. “I know he has been grumbling to Aunt Alice about you leaving town, but I don’t know why.”

  “All right. No doubt I will soon know.” Darcy looked up and saw Richard, who winked slightly. He felt a little better. Perhaps his uncle didn’t know about Elizabeth.

  However, he had to wait until the ladies had withdrawn after dinner, the port had been placed at the earl’s right hand, and the servants had left the room, closing the doors behind them, before he was to learn what the whole business was about.

  Uncle Henry scowled, pouring his drink and passing the decanter to Darcy, who poured a small amount and handed the port on to Richard. They both watched as the older man took a cigar, and lit it. Darcy tried to hide a grimace. His uncle knew he detested the smell, but he didn’t seem inclined to make an allowance today.

  Darcy tightened his jaw. He must be careful, his uncle was not usually so difficult, and he must be watchful not to lose his temper.

  He met Richard’s eyes as they each took a sip of the port and waited.

  Finally, his uncle placed the cigar down and sighed. “At last I can be frank with you, Darcy. I have had news from Matlock. Your Pemberley steward, oh, what’s his name …?” he snapped his fingers.

  “Mr. Reed, sir,” Darcy said quietly.

  “Reed. That’s it. Reed talked to my steward, and he wrote to me, because of course Kympton is on the Matlock estate.”

  Darcy felt a sense of disquiet. “Kympton, sir? What has happened there, and what has it to do with me?”

  “That damned young man, Wickham! That is what’s happened, Darcy!” The earl gulped at his drink. “It seems that Wickham called there at Christmas to see some distant relations. He has made no secret of his resentment to the clergyman of the parish, as he still believes the living to be rightly his.” He glared across the table at Darcy. “It seems he has taken his revenge by ruining the vicar’s daughter!”

  Darcy winced, the disgrace must be terribly felt. He thought quickly. Christmas — it was May now, there was little time. What was to be done?

  “Do you know where Wickham is, Darcy? He must be found, and made to marry her!” Uncle Henry was going as florid as Darcy had ever seen him, and he eyed him with some disquiet.

  “Please calm yourself, Uncle. I will do whatever I can, but I fear there is no easy answer.” He didn’t like to look at Richard. “Wickham is an ensign in the Wiltshire militia, and is billeted at Brighton for the summer.” He held up his hand as his uncle drew breath.

  “But there is something else I must tell you.” He leaned forward. “Wickham is a blackguard of the first order, sir. He has left a trail of ruined girls behind him, and he has at least one wife still living — I have arranged her hiding place and am paying for her as she raises her child — after he tried to rid himself of the encumbrance of a wife when he found an heiress he wished to court.” He knew his face was like stone. “And you know also what he did last summer at Ramsgate.”

  “Yes, well. We need not speak of that.” The earl scowled thunderously at his glass. “So you are telling me that he is not free to marry?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I am.” Darcy frowned, too. There was little more he could say. He glanced at Richard before continuing.

  “I am only relieved that my father did not live to see the sort of man he became, what he has done.” He sighed. “I have done my best, in memory of Father, to find out where he has been, and buy up his debts, paying those creditors who can least afford the loss. If you believe it for the best, I can call in those debts. It would keep him from ruining any more than he has already.”

  His uncle’s great bushy eyebrows rose. “Why have you not done so before now, Darcy?”

  Darcy shrugged. “I was not convinced that I would not merely be doing so because of the animosity between us. That would have been wrong.”

  “It is a commendable thought, Darcy,” Richard chimed in, “but I think if done for whatever reason, if it would save any other girl from ruin, it must be the right thing to do.”

  “I agree.” Uncle Henry reached for the decanter. “Will you start that process tomorrow?”

  Darcy nodded, his heart heavy. He had idolised Wickham once, long ago; had tried to learn from his easy manner, and cheerful countenance, how to win the friendship of many. Now, he would see the man into debtors prison. It was not a cheerful prospect.

  He looked up. “What about the vicar’s daughter, Uncle? Might we find a local man of good reputation, but little fortune, who could be induced to marry her, if it could be made worth his while?”

  He knew Richard was watching him, probably wondering if this was what Darcy was considering for the younger Bennet girl, too? He glanced at his cousin and smiled faintly.

  “Hmm.” Uncle Henry rubbed his face. “That is a good notion, Darcy. I think probably the only one that can be contrived in the time without too much scandal.” He sat back, looking rather more like his usual self. “I will have to speak to the Bishop, in case the family wishes to move to a new parish and make a fresh start once the girl is settled.”

  He smiled, the lined face becoming more as Darcy remembered. “Thank you. I knew you would have a fresh thought on what could be done. Now, you will begin the process of calling in the debts in the morning?”

  “I will.” Darcy thought rapidly. “Many of the papers are at Pemberley, but I still have more than enough here in London to start with.” He glanced at Richard. “My business in Hertfordshire will not wait, I think, but I remember you speaking to Colonel Forster at the Netherfield ball. Might you be able to go to Brighton on my behalf?”

  Richard nodded. “I think perhaps you should accompany me to Brighton.” He gave him a warning glance. “But I will see him arrested first — do you want him then brought to Newgate?”

  “No.” The earl leaned forward. “I have a better idea.” He looked at Darcy. “How much do his debts amount to?”

  Darcy was surprised. “About seven thousand pounds in total, I believe. Maybe a little more.”

  “Seven thousand!” Uncle’s eyebrows furrowed again. then he shrugged. “No matter, I will buy them from you. I will see him into prison, and you will then have nothing to do with it.”

  “Uncle, I will not ask you to take that …”

  “You are not asking me, Darcy. I am telling you what is to be done.”

  Chapter 37

  Elizabeth felt rather better the next morning, although she woke up remembering at once the note Jane had sent yesterday evening, telling her that the Earl and Countess of Matlock had returned to London with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  She lay in bed, watching the sun brighten the room, enjoying the sensation of her headache having been relieved. It was warmer, too, than it had been for a long time; perhaps spring was really about to arrive.

  She rolled over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Perhaps Jane would call this morning, as their guests had not stayed at Netherfield.

  Elizabeth reached for her robe and looked at the sun. Quite late in the morning. Would Sarah bring breakfast to her, or should she go down? Before she could decide to dress and go in search of something to eat, there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Elizabeth called, and Sarah entered with a breakfast tray.

  “Wonderful,” Elizabeth smiled at her. “I’m very hungry.”

  Sarah put the tray down carefully on the table. “I brought the tray up earlier, Miss Elizabeth, but you were sound asleep. So I made a fresh tray now.”

  “Oh, goodness! Was I really?” Elizabeth could hardly believe it. “I didn’t think I slept that heavily.”

  Sarah smiled slightly. �
��I’m very happy you’re so much better, Miss Elizabeth.”

  As Elizabeth ate, she thought back over the last few days, but mostly her mind kept straying back to the previous morning, and the look in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. Every time she recalled his expression, she had a breathless feeling within her, and she wasn’t quite sure how to control it.

  She was sure he would return to Hertfordshire as soon as his business was concluded. Quite why she was so certain she didn’t know, but it had definitely been there in the way he looked at her.

  And she wanted to see him again, she hadn’t thanked him for saving Lydia and Mr. Wickham, and for being concerned for her.

  But a few moments later, she was still sitting, staring out of the window. What was she thinking of? She couldn’t permit him to think there was any sort of future with her. She was certain of Lydia’s ruin, even though nothing had yet been said.

  Once it was known, perhaps even before then, he would leave Hertfordshire and not return. She could not blame him for that, no one would ever wish to ally themselves with a woman from a ruined family. Not only that, but he had a young sister to protect. Her eligibility would be affected by any alliance with a scandal-hit family.

  She wondered what his sister was like. She had only seen a glimpse of her at the Netherfield ball, but the girl had obviously been very distressed by something, and her brother and cousin had acted protectively. Did that mean Miss Darcy was extremely shy? Elizabeth had that impression, although she would not have been able to explain why she knew that.

  She frowned as she drank her tea. What had the girl been distressed by? And it had only been a few minutes later that Mr. Wickham had been summarily ejected from the ball. Had the two events been connected? Surely they must have been. Mr. Wickham had seemed unsurprised, almost resigned, to his dismissal.