Lambton was no Bedlam. I was pleased to discover a pretty, neat place, a little larger than Meryton. Farmers rolled their carts towards the market square, and a group of girls giggled and laughed as they drove their geese through the lanes. I found much to look at as we walked around. My Aunt Gardiner grew up there, and I looked for some familiar sights she had told me of. It was some time before I noticed Amelia was rather preoccupied.
“Are you searching for someone?” I asked as I noticed her look down the street, a frown of concentration on her face. She jumped a little as though I had startled her.
“Hmm? Oh, not at all. It is just that it has been so long since I was here. I cannot keep from watching everything. So many memories are rushing back to me. Darcy and I used to buy gingerbread from that shop over there. He would always insist on treating me.” She clutched my arm and smiled at me. I barely suppressed rolling my eyes.
“Yes, that sounds like him. He is the most generous of men.”
“He is. I always knew his worth.” She stared off into the distance and smiled. “To think how different things might have been. Everyone was so sure we were to marry. But now you are his wife, and I am sure he could not have a more perfect one. I shall scold anyone most heartily if they dare suggest you are not the perfect woman for him, you may be sure of that!”
“Are you so sure they will suggest anything of the sort?”
“Oh, I am certain they would not dream of it, but you know how people can be. Everyone prides themselves on being a matchmaker, and they do not like to discover they have been wrong. I should not take it seriously if they said something that might be unkind. They will grow used to the idea that Darcy is married to you now and that I have married another.”
“We can but hope,” I said dryly.
“Shall we visit Ford’s? You are not a true resident of Derbyshire if you have not bought something from Ford’s. They will love you if they can say Mrs Darcy patronised them.”
She beamed at me and led me towards a pretty little store with bow windows. As we stepped into the gloom, I glanced back to see her staring down the street once again. There was a look of irritation on her face that faded at once to be replaced with a bright smile when I called her name. She followed me inside and introduced me to Mrs Ford, making much of the fact that she had been the one to persuade me to visit. She made it sound as though I had to be pulled kicking and screaming into the store but with such a twinkle in her eye that she could be mistaken as speaking in jest.
“I am looking for a pair of gloves, Mrs Ford,” I said, ignoring my sparkling friend. “I am very partial to yellow, so if you have something in that shade…”
As Mrs Ford pulled down boxes of gloves to show me, I was aware of Amelia standing near the window. She gazed down the street again and checked her pocket watch, then moved away, only to return to her former station yet again.
“You must tell me who you are searching for, Amelia,” I said. “I have never seen someone so keenly on their watch.”
Amelia’s smile appeared on her face as though it had never disappeared.
“No one at all. I like to look and see who is about, is that not right, Mrs Ford?”
Mrs Ford’s face was closed. I had the impression she was not fond of Amelia. Amelia had not waited for a response. She seemed agitated as though she wished me to hurry with my purchase so we could leave.
Out on the street, she took me by the arm, her eyes scanning every person who passed us by. A niggling suspicion tugged at me; did she have a lover? It would provide me with some relief if she did and save me from my fear that she had set her sights on Darcy. I glanced about looking for someone who might answer for a lover, but I saw no one but old farmers calling across to one another and some merchants. None of them was my idea of a man who might be the beloved of Amelia.
We passed a store that sold men’s gloves. I wished to purchase a pair for Darcy. Amelia made a scathing face as though she did not think much of me buying something for my husband, but she elected to remain outside, no doubt to scan the street desperately for her beloved. When I emerged outside, she had a letter in her hand and was reading it anxiously while chewing her lip. She looked up and down the street then down at the letter again.
“Have you received bad news?” I asked with some concern. Amelia jumped as startled as though I had grabbed her from behind. She smiled quickly and stuffed the letter into her reticule.
“Oh, it is nothing. Just a note my father had written to me about a sweet that was a particular favourite of his. I was wondering if I might find it in town, but I cannot find the particular passage where he mentions it.”
I had glimpsed the writing as she pushed it away. My heart lurched to think it might be Darcy’s. I scolded myself for the thought. Many men had similar handwriting. It might mean nothing at all.
“I shall return to Pemberley now,” I said. I had endured as much of her company as I could. “I wish to see Darcy and know what news the physician has given him.”
She threw me a gay smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Oh, come now. Fitzwilliam is a man, is he not? He has a house filled with servants. He will manage well without you.”
She really was very trying. “Still, I would like to return.” I smiled and could not resist adding, “After all, he might have a house full of servants, but he only has one wife.”
Amelia’s smile turned a little brittle, but she nodded.
The journey back to the gig was longer than it should have been. Amelia stopped every few minutes to exclaim over her boots which would just not fit properly, obliging her to stop and adjust them while I tried to hide my impatience with little success. Then she recalled the sweets her father liked and decided she absolutely had to return for it. Then she needed to attend to her horse. It was only when I suggested I take a cab back to Pemberley or indeed walk as five miles was nothing to me that she finally stopped her delays and we took off.
Her face was set as we travelled. She clicked to the horse and jerked the reins restlessly until I protested at her rough treatment of the animal. She at once beamed at me and blinked.
“Darcy said you are not a horsewoman. Of course, I did not hurt him, Mrs Darcy. It wounds me to think you believe I would ever mistreat an animal. He is stronger than he looks, are you not, Fitz?”
“Interesting choice of name,” I said through gritted teeth.
“He is new. William named him. He is very taken with Darcy, and why should he not be? They are great friends already.”
“Yes, I think Darcy will make an excellent father when the time comes.”
Amelia stiffened. She glanced down at my abdomen.
“Oh? Do you think that will happen soon?”
“It is early days yet. We have only been married for a few weeks.”
Her eyes were soft with feigned concern. “And you are worried it will not happen for you. I understand. I conceived William at once so I can imagine it must be quite concerning to be a bride of more than a month and still see no signs of a child.”
I could not refrain laughing at that.
“You are too kind to concern yourself, but neither Darcy and I have any fears on that score.”
Her face hardened though she continued to smile. She called to the horse and seemed about to tug harshly on the reins again but appeared to collect herself at the last moment and merely pulled on them gently.
47
The physician was very pleased with Darcy’s recovery. I was never sure what he was looking for because Darcy appeared to me as healthy as he had ever been. His time in the water had no impact on his strength or virility.
But though we relished our new intimacy, Amelia was a shadow between us. She turned up at Pemberley most days and made a fine show of showering me with affection and referring to me as her dearest friend. I shrugged off her caresses for the most part, but I found it impossible to dissuade her from taking my arm when we walked about the house. The only bright spark to her visits was when she bro
ught William with her. Darcy was as interested in the boy as ever, and I often came upon him and Amelia discussing the boy’s future, Darcy’s tone grave. Amelia seemed to me to play the part of a confused, lonely widow alone in the world without a man to protect her but she made no outright overtures with Darcy. It left me powerless to confront her. If I did, it would have appeared as though I was complaining of nothing, and I did not wish to give her the satisfaction of allowing her to think I was a threat.
Darcy himself was unfailingly loving to me whether or not Amelia was there. We had never exchanged words of love apart from the night of his fever. I was sure he had no memory of it. Though I delighted in his touch, and he insisted he could not be without me, I was not sure whether he cared for me in that way or whether we were enjoying the novelty of a new marriage which might fade away as soon as he realised he did not love me as a husband should love his wife. But his kindness and his caresses made me fall deeper and deeper in love with him, and I was dismayed to find it made me a coward. I was afraid to speak to Amelia because if she confirmed Darcy loved her and her alone, I did not know how I would manage. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of losing the person I was closest to.
Despite my fears, our nights and mornings together were my greatest joy. Once we had consummated the marriage, we never slept in separate beds again.
“I do not know how I should cope if I had to go away on business and you could not come with me,” he confessed one morning as we lay in bed, his fingers caressing my hair. “I do not think I could sleep without you by my side.” We both glanced towards the window where dawn was lightening the sky to pale apricot. Darcy looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Or not sleep without you as the case is more likely to be.”
I smiled and nestled against his chest, relishing his hands in my hair.
“I suppose we should get some sleep. If only we did not need to get up early. Can we not just spend the day in bed?”
“I would like that more than anything. But I am afraid we have visitors coming to see us so I suppose we must be prepared to receive them.”
Darcy yawned and stretched though he kept me close by his side.
“Who are these visitors?” I asked as he drifted to sleep.
“Hmm? Oh… Amelia and William. Her parents too, I think…” His voice grew deep and growly as sleep claimed him. I lay awake for some time afterwards, staring at the canopy overhead and worrying. How would I ever feel secure about the future while this woman was in our lives?
As it turned out, a letter that arrived for me shortly after breakfast interrupted Amelia’s visit. I carried it to my morning room to open, smiling in anticipation when I recognised Jane’s handwriting. She had been in frequent correspondence since my wedding, but this was the first letter I had received from her since I came to Pemberley. Looking at the smudged handwriting, I was not at all surprised because she had written the address very ill indeed. I had wondered why I had not heard from her before now. As I opened the letter, I felt a sudden rush of longing for my dear sister. These previous weeks were the longest we had ever been apart. How good it would feel to sit with her and tell her everything that had happened between Darcy and I. I could confess my true feelings to another person and confide my fears about Amelia and what she meant to my husband. Jane would understand my concerns, and she would know just what to say to make me feel better.
I curled up in my favourite chair to read the letter, smiling as I read her accounts of my mother’s antics and how she lorded over being mistress of the new lodge Darcy had purchased for her and my sisters. It was larger than Longbourn, and my mother felt greatly that it added to her credibility. I laughed out loud as Jane relayed how Mr Collins had set his cap at my old friend, Charlotte Lucas. I was pleased she had given him a short shift in favour of a young captain in the militia. Charlotte deserved a chance at happiness. I only hoped her young man was worthy of her good sense and other excellent qualities.
“My Dear Lizzy,
I had to leave off writing for a while because we have just been distressed with very upsetting news. Lydia told us last night that she was walking into Meryton to meet Harriet Forster. When she did not return, I was uneasy, but Mama insisted Lydia wished to spend the night with her new friend and to think nothing of it. But late this morning, Captain Forster called on us. He found a note Lydia had left his wife, informing her she had run away with none other than Mr Wickham. Can you believe it? We are all in an uproar. Lydia’s note suggests she thought she and Wickham would marry so she has that much to her credit, but Captain Forster told me he does not believe Wickham is a trustworthy man and he doubts very much that he will marry Lydia.
Mama was quite content with the situation and boasted of having another daughter married. She would not listen to me when I told her Wickham would not marry Lydia until Aunt Phillips came to the house and told her stories of young ladies Wickham has ruined. Now, she is in an uproar and takes to her bed.
I am sorry to tell you such dreadful news but is it possible you might come home for a few weeks until we resolve this terrible matter? I am sorry to ask it of you, and I will understand if you do not. But I miss my dearest Lizzy, and I would take great comfort in your presence at such a time.
I hope you are happy and have found marriage to be a blessing. You are in my thoughts every day, and I pray for your happiness,
All my love,
Jane.
I read the letter again and then a third time, but I still could not get my head around it. Foolish, foolish Lydia to worry her family at such a time. But what did Captain Forster mean by claiming Wickham was not a trustworthy man? I had always assumed he liked him well enough. Everyone liked Wickham. Surely there was some mistake?
But if Wickham was as honourable as I believed, why did he run away with Lydia instead of courting her and asking for her hand? Why the secrecy? A knot formed in my stomach. Where was Lydia now? I recalled the young girls in the streets of London. How many of them had been betrayed by a man they believed would marry them? If he abandoned Lydia, especially with a child, she could disappear into that life and be lost to us forever. Not to mention the impact the disgrace would have for the rest of my family. Bingley would surely never marry Jane with such a scandal hanging over her. And what would Darcy think if he knew his sister-in-law had conducted herself in such a manner?
No, why would Wickham run away with Lydia and risk his career unless he loved her? Lydia could bring him no other benefit that marriage. She was not some milkmaid he could tumble behind the cowshed, and no one would think the worse of him for it. Lydia was a gentlewoman, however little she behaved like one. Her brother-in-law was one of the most influential men in the kingdom. I could not allow myself to believe Wickham would abandon her. Perhaps he believed as her brother, that Darcy would do something for him. Like, repay him for the living he had deprived him of. It did not seem too unlikely.
The door opened, and Darcy and Amelia walked in. I jolted upright but not before I could hide my expression. Amelia made a big show of not disturbing me and trying to draw Darcy out again, but Darcy saw the shocked look on my face.
“What is it?” he demanded.
I gave a strained smile and held up the letter. “It seems my youngest sister is to marry. Lydia will be the wife of George Wickham.” I watched him carefully to see his response. Darcy had used Wickham shamefully, and though I had overlooked it in my love for him, it always gave me cause for concern. Perhaps now that Wickham would be his brother, I could persuade him to do something for him.
Darcy’s face was pale. He strode towards me and took the letter from my hand, reading it carefully. He gave me a shocked look then turned to Amelia.
To both our surprise, she was gone. I stared in bewilderment, but Darcy shook his head. He held the letter up.
“It says they have run away together, not married.”
“Yes, but they will marry. Wickham is not the sort of man to ruin a lady.”
Darcy was s
ilent as he reread the letter. His face was still white, but I realised now it was anger and not shock. He took a moment to master himself, then sat beside me. With a sigh, he took my hand in his. He turned it over so he could run his thumb over the palm in soothing circles.
“I am afraid, my love, that is exactly the sort of man he is.” His eyes flicked towards the door then back to me. “There is something I need to tell you…”
I stared at Darcy in shock as he told me how Wickham had followed Georgiana to a seaside resort only a few months before and almost persuaded her to elope with him.
“He would have succeeded too if I had not changed my plans to join them a day early. Georgiana could not support deceiving a brother she looked up to almost like a father. He hoped to keep her fortune for himself and avenge himself on me. He could not have chosen a better way to do it.”
I shook my head. “That does not seem fair. Why should Georgiana pay for your mistakes? She had no say in the living so he could not have blamed her when you decided not to give it to him, and…”
Darcy’s hand went still. “What are you talking about?” His voice was rough.
I hesitated. For the first time, I realised I should not have been so quick to believe Wickham.
“He told me your father wished to leave him a living when it became available. But when it did, you chose not to give it to him and left him with nothing. I assume that is why he would want revenge?”
Darcy stared at me in silence. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I knew he would spread some lies about me. It is all he does. But I did not know they would be as blatant as all that. Yes, my father wished for a living to be offered to Wickham — but what Wickham neglected to tell you was that he declined it. He had lived a disgraceful life since my father died, and he decided the church would not suit him. I agreed. He asked, and was granted, the sum of three thousand pounds in place of the living so he might study the law. Of course, he frittered it away. When he was penniless, he wrote to me asking for the living, suggesting I would dishonour my father’s wishes if I did not grant it. I said no. How he lived after that, I know not. I did not see him again until this summer when my poor sister almost paid the price.”
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