by Maria Grace
“And now?”
“I miss Pemberley. At first it was all new with him. I thought he liked me. But he spends all his time in the theaters, and I find myself alone. I do not understand this world he is in. I do not think I like it.”
“Do you want to return home?”
“How can I? You are not saying it, but you are thinking it. I have been ruined. My brother will never see me again. If I do not marry him, no one will have me. What have I done? What have I done?” She fell to her knees, sobbing.
Elizabeth moved to the floor beside her and held her tightly until the paroxysm ran its course. “You will stay here with me until we can sort all of this out. It is not impossible. There may yet be a way.”
“You would help, even after what I have done? Why?”
“Because that is what it means to be a friend.”
Chapter 18
Darcy paced the length of his oak paneled study for at least the hundredth time. Richard slouched in the wingchair near the fireplace, watching him and muttering under his breath. The drawn curtains blocked the moonlight, leaving the room lit by only three candles on the mantle. Dark and gloomy, exactly how he felt.
Darcy snarled something under his breath.
“Stop acting as though you are the only one with a right to high dudgeon. I feel even more guilty than you—it was I who brought the Garlands to Pemberley in the first place. You cannot know how much I regret that decision and the way they have interfered with both of you.” Richard climbed out of his chair and headed toward the liquor cabinet.
“I would rather not be reminded of that right now.”
“She treated you wrongly from the beginning. It is a mercy that she decided to end it with the hopes of keeping it all quiet. I am certain we will be able to achieve that.” He poured two glasses and handed one to Darcy.
“I said, I do not wish to talk about it. What about that is so difficult for you to understand?”
“No, I must speak. It was my fault that you made an offer for her in the first place. Had I not tried to behave like some foolish match-making woman, you would have not succumbed to her machinations.”
“I was a fool to allow her to turn my head when the perfect woman—the perfect wife—has been under my nose, overlooked this entire time.”
“What are you talking about? No, forget I asked. I do not want to know.” Richard lifted an open hand and gulped his brandy.
“You already know.”
“You cannot afford to marry a woman without a fortune. Georgiana’s dowry must be replaced or what will you settle on your younger children?”
“It will not be necessary if she has already eloped. Besides, Pemberley has seen strong profits in the years since I have taken over. I will find a way.”
“How can you think of anyone but Georgiana at such a time? Besides, Miss Elizabeth chose to leave Pemberley of her own volition, and you have been asked not to interfere with her. You do not even know where she is.”
Darcy removed a scrap of paper from his pocket, with Bennet’s handwriting. “I may know.”
“She is not of our circle; no one would accept her.”
“That changes nothing.” Darcy sipped his glass and set it aside. “If nothing else, I must make her an apology. I … I compromised her.”
“What? When? How?”
Darcy related the night she had spent in the parlor with him. “It was entirely my fault. She came to aid me in my discomfort. I cannot fault her for that. I am certain that Mrs. Reynolds and my valet have squelched all talk of it. Never once did she try to use that against me, only insisting I avoid any further soothing syrups.”
“My God, Darcy! I cannot believe you never told me.”
“Would you have insisted that I make an offer to Miss Elizabeth rather than Miss Garland, considering it seems I importuned them both on the same evening? Or should Miss Garland have been preferred because she was the first to have been sullied by me, or because she was the richest?”
“I cannot sit by and allow you to do something stupid. Do not expect my assistance.”
“I am asking neither your permission nor your assistance. But if you cannot stand behind me, perhaps you should continue searching for Georgiana on your own.” Darcy pushed up from his chair and stalked out.
His boots rang out on the marble stairs—even now, his ankle still throbbed without them. Damn it all, just another reminder of his sorely disordered life. He slammed his chamber door behind him—what was one more impropriety at this point?
How could he possibly face her after neglecting her so? He fingered the scrap of paper in his pocket and sank down to sit on the bed.
Richard was wrong. He did not merely have feelings for her. He loved her.
Merciful heavens, he loved her.
That was why Pemberley never felt right in her absence. Why he had felt a hollow shell of himself without her nearby. He had taken it all for granted, always assuming she would be there another day.
Then she was not.
And she might never be again.
But at least he could ensure she knew of his repentance.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth fell into the soft bergère that matched the flowers on the curtains in Aunt’s cozy sitting room and pressed her temples. Gracious—how was it possible for any young woman, any person, to cry so much? Surely it had been nearly every waking hour for the last two days. Miss Darcy—Georgiana she insisted on being called now—had sniffled, sobbed, and wailed alternately from dawn until nearly midnight, pausing only to take enough sustenance to begin weeping again.
Thank heavens, dear Aunt Gardiner had taken over comforting Georgiana. They were outside now, in the garden taking a little fresh air with the children. If there was anything that might cheer Georgiana, or at least distract her, it was the Gardiner children.
Relief from Elizabeth’s headache, though—that would be harder to find. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. That helped a little. Just enough. Perhaps a quarter of an hour like this and—
“Miss Bennet?” Aunt Gardiner’s housekeeper asked.
Elizabeth blinked the fuzziness from her eyes as she struggled to focus on the stout, white-haired housekeeper standing in the doorway.
“Mr. Gardiner says he needs you in his study right away, Miss. He apologizes for the inconvenience, but it cannot wait.”
Elizabeth jumped up so fast her head swam. “What is wrong?”
“I cannot say, Miss. He has a caller with him and says you must come directly.”
Great heavens, had Sir Alexander come? What for, to claim Georgiana? Why would Uncle have allowed him in the house? Perhaps he was only here to return Georgiana’s trunk. Pray it were only that.
Elizabeth scurried downstairs, and paused at Uncle’s study door. She squeezed her eyes shut, sucked in a deep breath, and knocked. Uncle opened the door and ushered her inside the tidy, if overcrowded, room. Books and journals filled the shelves that lined the two side walls. A fireplace, covered with a painted screen, took up most of the adjacent wall, with a clerk’s desk tucked into the corner. Uncle’s imposing desk resided between two windows opposite the fireplace and several smaller chairs, one occupied, took up the middle of the room.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth stumbled. Uncle caught her elbow and steadied her.
“I suppose that is indeed proof you are who you say you are, sir.” Uncle pointed Elizabeth to a chair and sat down behind his desk. “You see, Lizzy, this gentleman came to the door claiming to be your father’s patron, but with no letter of introduction. I could not be sure. He wishes to speak to you.”
Elizabeth stared at him, blinking half a dozen times before coherent words took shape. “Your sister?”
“Who told you?” Mr. Darcy leaned forward, clutching the edge of Uncle’s oak desk.
“You are looking for her?”
“Richard and I had given up hope—none of the intelligence we were given has been of any u
se. Do you know something, anything?” Weary lines crossed his forehead and lined his eyes, making his expression very difficult to understand.
“If you find her, what will you do? You wish to bring her home?” Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip and glanced at Uncle Gardiner, heart squeezed to aching in her chest.
“I would like nothing more than to remove her from Garland’s company. Georgiana made a very foolish choice, but I do not have enough family to cast off my nearest relation because she made a terrible decision. I doubt that her reputation can be salvaged. But I will do whatever I can to ensure she is happy and comfortable, whatever that may end up looking like.”
Thank heavens! “Pray come with me. I have something to show you.”
“Has she written to you—”
She raised her hand for silence. Uncle nodded and opened the door for them. She beckoned for him to follow her. With tightly pressed lips and clenched fists, the strain of silence left him shaking. They walked through the kitchen to the mews, their steps falling in an oddly syncopated rhythm.
She pushed the door open and paused in the doorway as their eyes adjusted to the bright sun. The children played battledore and shuttlecock with their nursery maid in one corner of the garden. In the other, Aunt Gardiner and Georgiana sat on a white iron bench, talking softly.
Darcy grabbed her hand. “You found her?” The hoarse words barely made it above a whisper. “How?”
“She has been with us two days now. Most of it spent sobbing and in dread of what she would say to you. It is complicated, and I will explain later, but it is just possible that her reputation might yet be salvaged.”
He pulled her a little closer. “I cannot believe it. Richard and I have been to three separate cities with no trace of her to be found.”
“An act of Providence, I suppose. Go to her, but be prepared, she will weep.”
He gazed at her, jaw agape.
She squeezed his hand and pointed toward Georgiana.
His steps were slow at first, then he ran.
Georgiana squealed and jumped to her feet. “Brother?”
The two embraced, Georgiana sobbing into his shoulder. Elizabeth’s eyes burned, and her vision blurred.
The breach was hardly healed, to be sure. But somehow Pemberley was whole again. She swallowed a sob. All would be well now—and she could, she would, move on just as Papa counseled her.
“Lizzy?” A soft hand touched her shoulder.
When had Aunt Gardiner approached?
“I have asked the nursery maid to take the children on a walk, a rather long walk. I think it would be good for you to go with them.”
No! She needed to stay and … and what? What more was there to do for them? “I will fetch my bonnet.” Elizabeth chanced a final glimpse of Georgiana with Mr. Darcy holding her hands, speaking too softly for anyone else to hear, a fitting final image for her to treasure of Pemberley and the Darcys.
Chapter 19
The Gardiner children clung to her hands and chattered excitedly, skipping behind the nursery maid. How easy it was for them to lose themselves in the thrill of something unexpected. If only all unexpected events sparked such joy.
Was it not enough that she had run into Georgiana and Sir Alexander? Did it have to be Mr. Darcy, too? How was she supposed to recover her fragile equanimity and make sense out of her new life in London when her old life chased her down like a highwayman in the night?
“Are you all right, Lizzy?” Little Thomas looked up at her, big brown eyes blinking in the sun.
“I will be fine, dear.” She squeezed his hand.
“You look sad. Do you want to run? Maybe we can run away from the sad.”
Run indeed? Ladies did not run—according to Mama’s strict lectures on what a lady did and did not do. But neither did ladies find themselves in such situations. Perhaps the most sensible thing was to run.
She grabbed Thomas’ hand, and they sprinted down the mews, past the nursery maid racing toward the outlet to the street. Unladylike, yes, but perhaps not all the rules she had been taught applied when one was making a new life.
The second day after Georgiana’s departure was one of Aunt Gardiner’s at-home days. Odd how that staying at home required every bit as much preparation as going out to make calls. With Jane, and sometimes even with Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, getting dressed up and feeling pretty could be pleasant, even fun. It never felt lonely as it did with Aunt Gardiner’s lady’s maid.
Silly, foolish thoughts.
Elizabeth swallowed back a sigh as the maid pinned up her hair. Once her hair was finished, she still had to decide what to wear, something her sisters would have helped her with at home. But grown-up ladies did not have a bevy of sisters to call upon for such trivial matters, and it was time for her to be grown-up.
Was it wrong to dread company on an at-home day? Why not invite a herd of pigs to run amok through the parlor? It would be just as appealing and would probably remain so until she recovered from the last caller she had received.
The maid stepped back and waited, assumedly for Elizabeth’s approval. The styling still felt foreign, but appropriate for polite company. “I will wear the green ensemble today.”
The dress was the color of the leaves in the garden below. Fresh and crisp—and fashionable, according to Aunt Gardiner.
She twirled in the mirror. The lawn skirt hung just right, and the embroidered ribbons she and Aunt Gardiner had added to the sleeves reminded her of the late Mrs. Darcy’s cutting garden—a quiet little way to bring a bit of her old life here into the new.
Somehow that helped.
She joined Aunt Gardiner at the round morning room table that filled most of the space. The walls were papered with sprigs of pink and yellow spring flowers, and the white curtains floated like clouds upon the breeze through open windows. Lingering scents of coffee and baked goods hung on the air. It was difficult to be glum in this space. One of Uncle’s shirts lay spread out on the table, positioned to catch the light as Aunt mended it.
“Would you care to help me, dear?” Aunt looked over the rim of her glasses. “Your uncle is so hard on his shirts. Always catching them on this or that at the warehouse. I want to make sure I find all the spots that need stitching before I start.”
“Papa does the same thing, though he has no such good excuse. I have become quite good at spotting tiny tears.” Elizabeth pulled a chair close and sat beside Aunt Gardiner, carefully avoiding casting a shadow on the white linen shirt. “Would you pass me some pins to mark—”
“Madam?” The stout housekeeper stood in the doorway, white curls peeking around her mobcap, a tray in her hand with a calling card in the center. “A Mr. Cluett has come to call. Shall I tell him you are in?”
Aunt Gardiner glanced at Elizabeth.
Butterflies danced in her chest and muddled her thoughts. He had come to see her? No young man had ever done that. What did one do on such an occasion? Words would have been a useful answer, but a nod proved all she could muster.
“We will receive him in the parlor.” Aunt stood, and the housekeeper trundled off. “He is a very nice young man. I am glad he has come to call.”
“Do young gentleman often call on you?”
“Hardly. The compliment is all for you, I am sure. Remember there is no pressure, I am no matchmaker. Just relax and enjoy your company.”
Mr. Cluett greeted them with a bow as they entered the downstairs parlor. Aunt Gardiner had specifically designed the room to receive guests and stimulate conversation. Trinkets from their travels throughout England and to the continent filled a curiosity cabinet and decorated shelves near the windows. More than the books in the cases near the fireplace, that bric-a-brac revealed the Gardiners’ open and curious characters. Done up in various shades of blue, the room was reminiscent of Pemberley’s blue parlor, comfortable and homey, if not eminently fashionable.
“I am very glad to see you looking so healthy, Miss Elizabeth.” He seated himself across from Elizabeth
and Aunt Gardiner on the settee. Though not in his stylish evening attire, his open and friendly air added a great deal to his run-of-the-mill appearance. “And Miss Davis?”
“She is very well, thank you. It was very good of her to accompany me home.” The less said on the matter, the better.
“I confess my surprise at discovering you were already acquainted. Were you previously acquainted with Mr. Lester as well?” His artless expression matched his tone.
Good. Otherwise, they would have to end this interview immediately.
“I met him in passing, at an event much like the party the other night.” She forced a smile. He could not possibly know how much she regretted her acquaintance with Sir Alexander.
“I hope you will not be disappointed, but I am sorry to say we will not be able to enjoy his company any more this Season.”
“Is that so?” Hopefully, Aunt Gardiner’s relief was not as evident to him as it was to Elizabeth.
“Yes, as I understand, he took a notion to go to Bath. A mutual friend mentioned a theater company in search of a new work. He said something about having made changes to his new play and that he wanted to see it performed with those changes.”
“It must be very pleasant to be so free to move about when and where one wants,” Aunt Gardiner said.
“Indeed so. There are advantages to being a gentleman who does not have the entanglements of a professional life.” Mr. Cluett’s eyes held a question.
One she should probably answer. “My father rarely takes time away from the parish. Though he could, I secretly think he is afraid he might miss something important if he were to be away.”
Was it her imagination, or did he seem to breathe a sigh of relief?
“Have you any further plans to attend the theater?” he asked.
No, not the theater, perhaps not ever again.
“I think, perhaps, our next outing will be a concert or to see the opera dancers. Too much of any one amusement can reduce one’s enjoyment of it. Do you not think so, Elizabeth?”