Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Oh, good. What is your uncle’s Christian name?”

  “Edward. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. I was just curious.”

  The butler bowed so deeply as he opened the door that Elizabeth feared for his balance, but she was glad to get outside. The buzz of conversation and footfalls in the house was making her head ache.

  The bright sun made her blink, and she tugged down her bonnet brim to shade her eyes better. The street was busy with small huddles of men and women conversing, some with faces she vaguely recognized. A makeshift barricade of loose bricks and stones stood at each end of the block, leaving a narrow pathway where people and carts could enter and leave. A rifle-toting guard blocking one opening shifted aside to allow a laborer with a large parcel through.

  Elizabeth trailed Georgiana to the pavement where Kit was drilling a dozen footmen in new, slightly mismatched tabards. No one seemed to be paying attention to the two of them until Georgiana touched Kit’s arm.

  When Kit turned to see who it was, he started to smile. Then, apparently remembering himself, he signaled to his troops and gracefully shifted into a full court bow. In ragged unison, the troop of footmen fell to one knee. Like ripples in a pond, the people nearest them bowed and sank into curtsies, followed by those beyond them, until Georgiana was surrounded by a frozen tableau.

  Elizabeth wondered frantically if she should join the obeisance. What was the protocol for a person accompanying the queen from one room to the next? She had never given the matter the slightest thought. She would have to ask Lady Matlock.

  “As you were, I pray you,” Georgiana said clearly. “I am glad to see so many of you here. I wish to thank each of you who has provided assistance and support to Darcy House, and therefore to me, during this time of great change.”

  The tableau broke apart as people straightened, but all eyes remained on Georgiana. The girl had forgotten to use the royal ‘we,’ but from the elated expressions of those nearest them, her subjects might have been equally delighted if she had recited nursery rhymes.

  Georgiana spoke softly to Kit, and he ordered two footmen to stand directly behind her as he escorted her from one group of people to another. Elizabeth watched as she said a few words to each person. Whatever other fears Georgiana might have, she was by nature perfectly suited to this task. Elizabeth was happy to hold back and watch. Her morning hot chocolate had not settled well in her stomach. She had not felt ill in the morning for at least a fortnight and had hoped that indisposition was past, but apparently not.

  Still, when a pair of familiar faces appeared by the barricade, Elizabeth forgot her discomfort and hurried forward. Tears of happiness filled her eyes as she waited impatiently for the guard to admit Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

  As much as she loved her uncle, Elizabeth had missed the motherly care of her aunt. As she embraced Mrs. Gardiner, both of their cheeks were wet, and even Mr. Gardiner’s eyes were shiny.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” cried Mrs. Gardiner. “This is a day of wonders indeed! Is this where you have been all this time? How I have fretted over you!”

  “Here or aboard the Neptune. Has my uncle told you everything?”

  “Indeed I have,” said Mr. Gardiner heartily. “Mr. Darcy’s note this morning likely preserved my life. Your aunt was not pleased with me for keeping so many secrets!”

  Then Georgiana came up beside her, looking more like a young lady than the queen. Mr. Gardiner, recognizing her, made his bow, and Mrs. Gardiner followed suit a bit belatedly, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

  Georgiana said, “Mr. Gardiner, we thank you for coming so promptly.”

  “It is my very great honor, Your Majesty. May I have the further honor of presenting my wife?”

  “Mrs. Gardiner, it is a pleasure. Elizabeth has told me so much about you.” Turning to Kit, Georgiana added in a voice intended to carry, “When I was fleeing for my life, Mr. Gardiner risked his own to bring me to safety and to help me find Mr. Darcy again.”

  Kit’s look of confusion was understandable, since he already knew this quite well, but he dutifully replied, “Mr. Gardiner, all England owes you a debt of gratitude.”

  Georgiana’s eyes danced. “Major Darcy, your sword, if you please.”

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Kit blankly.

  She held out her hand. “Your sword.” It was definitely a command.

  Furrowing his forehead, Kit drew his sword and held the hilt out to her.

  The sword point dipped as she adjusted to the unexpected weight of it. “Mr. Gardiner, if you would be so kind as to kneel,” she said crisply.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Surely she was not planning to... Just then her stomach churned again. Light-headed, she caught at her aunt’s elbow to keep her balance.

  Stunned, her uncle obeyed, bowing his head. The spell-bound crowd pressed closer.

  Georgiana used both hands to steady the sword as she tapped first one shoulder, then the other, and back again to the first. “For extraordinary services to the crown, you will henceforth be known as Sir Edward Gardiner. You may rise, Sir Edward.”

  A murmur of approbation rose around them.

  Her uncle’s voice was unsteady. “I thank Your Majesty. I do not deserve the honor, since I did no more than my duty, but I will always do my utmost to serve you.”

  Sweat broke out on Elizabeth’s brow as her queasiness plummeted to full-blown nausea. Somehow she kept a smile pinned to her face for her uncle’s sake.

  Georgiana was speaking again to Mrs. Gardiner – no, her aunt would be Lady Gardiner now. In an oddly detached manner, Elizabeth wondered how her mother would receive this astonishing news. She had complained bitterly for weeks after Sir William Lucas was knighted.

  Her mother. Lydia. What would happen to her youngest sister now that her so-called husband was most likely a prisoner?

  A sudden, powerful cramp made her clutch her mid-section. “Kit,” she said through clenched teeth. “Help me back to the house, I pray you.”

  His brows drew together as he offered her his arm. “What is the matter?”

  “Ill.” It was all she could force out. She managed to totter along for what seemed to be an enormous distance while stabbing pain clenched her stomach. If only the cramping would ease! Finally her feet decided of their own accord to stop moving.

  Kit peered down at her. “Can you walk?”

  When Elizabeth shook her head miserably, he picked her up and carried her inside.

  ***

  Darcy hurried up the steps into Darcy House, excited as a schoolboy to see Elizabeth again. His happiness was such that he was not even troubled by the various strangers who seemed to have encamped in his house.

  But where was his family? The sitting room was empty, and it was too early for dinner. At last he found his aunt in the study examining a sheaf of paper, her detested spectacles unable to hide the lines of fatigue in her face.

  “Oh, it is you.” His aunt did not even make an attempt to hide her spectacles, a sure sign of exhaustion. “Did you and General Desmarais reach any conclusions?”

  “A few, but I would like to see Elizabeth first. Where is she?” He had not meant to be so abrupt, but he could not stand another moment's delay before he held her in his arms.

  “In bed. She is ill.”

  Darcy recoiled. “Ill? What is the matter?”

  “What do you expect after she took a dunking in that cesspool we call the Thames? Truly, it was not a question of whether she would fall ill, but when.”

  Fear coiled inside him. “Has the doctor been called?”

  “Been and gone. He says she should be fine, but she will be in discomfort for the next day or two.” His aunt removed her spectacles and added pointedly, “He also says it should have no impact on her condition.”

  “Her condition? What does that mean?”

  “It means, if I am not mistaken, that Elizabeth is increasing,” said Lady Matlock dryly. “The doctor seemed to believe I was already aware of this
. I see it is a surprise to you as well.”

  A surprise? It was more like being having a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. Could it be true? “Pray excuse me. I wish to see my wife.”

  He bolted from the room and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached his room, Darcy strode directly to the bed where Elizabeth lay. An enameled basin sat beside her on the counterpane. Her pallor was a shocking change after her morning blushes.

  Her lips formed a weak smile. “William,” she said softly.

  He perched on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. “My poor love. I am so sorry.”

  “As am I,” she said with a mere shadow of her usual teasing. “The doctor says it is my own fault. I should not have gone swimming in the Thames. He was not amused when I asked if I should have drowned instead.”

  “I am very glad you chose to swim.”

  Her eyes grew unfocused. “John Lucas must have been smiling as he looked down from heaven. He taught me to swim one summer, along with his sister Charlotte. He saved my life.”

  For that, Darcy would even forgive the late John Lucas for retaining a spot in Elizabeth’s heart.

  He stroked a damp curl away from her forehead. Should he wait before asking her? No, he could not bear it. Hesitantly he said, “Is there... is it true that you are...”

  Her eyes shone up at him. “Did General Desmarais let it slip? I had hoped to tell you myself.”

  “No. The doctor said something about it. But Desmarais knows, too?”

  She started to nod and then put her hand to her head. “Yes. I asked him for help, and he was very kind to me. He was going to find a way for me to stay with our baby, but that does not matter now. In any case, I hope you do not mind.”

  “About the baby? Far from it. Nothing could make me happier.”

  She closed her eyes. “Good.”

  His heart went out to her. “My poor love. Is there anything I can bring you for your present relief?”

  “My aunt has been taking excellent care of me.” She made a weak gesture towards the window, her voice little more than a whisper now. “She had the misfortune to call precisely when I took ill.”

  Darcy looked up to discover Mr. Gardiner and his wife sitting by the window. At least he assumed it was Mrs. Gardiner. Their introduction at Bingley’s wedding had been so brief he could not recall her face. Mr. Gardiner was peering at a heavy tome while Mrs. Gardiner sorted through a stack of papers.

  Mrs. Gardiner said, “Mr. Darcy, it is a pleasure to see you again. Our arrival here was eventful to say the least, but I am happy to be of assistance to Elizabeth.”

  Darcy glanced at the piles of paper. “It appears that is not the only assistance you are giving. Was it Lady Matlock or Lady Frederica who conscripted you?”

  “Both, actually, with the assistance of Her Majesty,” said Mr. Gardiner dryly. “I had not realized how dangerous it was to make an appearance here.”

  Elizabeth turned her head to the side. “You should tell him what happened. I am too tired.”

  “And I still can hardly believe it!” said Mrs. Gardiner with a touch of amusement. “They called my husband in and quizzed him about his business, what countries he trades with and how he expected that to change now that we are Napoleon's enemy again.”

  Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “I could only think they suspected me of some malfeasance, but that made no sense when your sister – pardon me, the queen – had just honored me far beyond my merit. Then her ladyship asked if I was still willing to serve my country, and when I said I would be happy to do so, she told me I was the acting Minister of Trade.” He shook his head with the memory of it. “I told her I was unqualified, and she said I was more qualified than she was. That, and a proven history of loyalty to the queen, seemed to be all that was required.”

  Mrs. Gardiner pointed to the heavy book. “Hence the necessity of refreshing his memory about Napoleon's Continental System and the embargo.”

  “I must say, Mr. Darcy, that your aunt is an altogether extraordinary woman,” added Mr. Gardiner.

  “She is indeed,” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth plucked at his sleeve. “There is one thing you could do for me.” The lines of pain on her face broke his heart.

  “Anything. Anything at all.”

  “Write to my family. Tell them what has happened.” She closed her eyes again.

  “Of course. I will do it tonight.” He caressed her hand. If only he could take away her pain!

  “Thank you. Now... go.”

  Mrs. Gardiner hurried to the bedside and laid a cool cloth on Elizabeth's forehead. “Edward, you should leave, too. I will tell you both when she is well enough to see you again.”

  “But...” protested Darcy.

  Mrs. Gardiner waved him away. “You need not worry. These episodes are unpleasant, and I doubt Elizabeth wants witnesses. Quickly, now.”

  When they left the room, Mr. Gardiner shook his head bemusedly. “Do you ever have an odd feeling that this must be a dream and tomorrow you will wake up and discover it is gone?”

  “Frequently,” said Darcy quietly. But Elizabeth was here with him, and she was carrying his child.

  The sound of retching behind the door made him wince in sympathy.

  Chapter 22

  A beaming Sir William Lucas strode into the sitting room of Longbourn, waving a newspaper at the inhabitants. “Your Lizzy! Your Lizzy is a heroine!

  Mr. Bennet clutched both hands to his temples. “Softly, my friend! I indulged in too many toasts to the Queen’s health last night.”

  “Then you have not yet heard!” Sir William thrust the newspaper into Mr. Bennet's hand and pointed to the middle of one column. “There! Start there.”

  Mr. Bennet felt in his pocket for his spectacles. Finding none, he held the newspaper a few inches from his eyes. “Good God!”

  Sir William chuckled. “Keep reading, keep reading.”

  Mrs. Bennet touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes. Fretfully she said, “I am sure I am as happy as anyone else about Queen Charlotte, but oh, my nerves! With the French gone, Longbourn will be entailed away again, and I will be left to live in the hedgerows after Mr. Bennet's death. And what shall become of poor Lydia now that her husband was taken away?”

  “Good God!” Mr. Bennet looked up at Sir William. “Can this possibly be true?”

  “You have read it yourself!”

  Mrs. Bennet moaned, “What is it? My nerves, oh, my nerves!”

  Mr. Bennet gave her the newspaper. “Read it for yourself. I cannot credit it.”

  With an air of being much put upon, Mrs. Bennet took it. Her lips moved as she read. “Oh, that girl! Always finding a way to be in the middle of trouble! Why could she not stay here as her sisters did? The shame of her name appearing in a newspaper! My poor nerves!” But she continued to read it.

  Sir William looked shocked. “My dear lady, your daughter is a heroine! You should be proud of her.”

  “Oh! Oh!” cried Mrs. Bennet, fanning herself. “Look at this! She is married to Mr. Darcy! That clever girl! Just think of it! Mrs. Darcy – how well it sounds. And such pin money she shall have! Oh, I must tell my sister Phillips at once!” She hurried from the room.

  Mr. Bennet retrieved the newspaper she had dropped. “Well,” he said dryly, “I hope Lizzy’s success in capturing Mr. Darcy will help my dear wife to forgive her for her impudence in rescuing Princess Charlotte.”

  Kitty jumped to her feet. “Lizzy rescued Princess Charlotte? Then this is all her fault!”

  Mr. Bennet winked at Sir William. “No more handsome officers with charming accents, you see.”

  “Do not fret, Miss Kitty,” said Sir William. “Having a sister who is the particular friend of the queen may bring you better suitors than common French soldiers. And just think, our Lizzy is with the queen herself!”

  ***

  Darcy kissed Elizabeth's forehead. “You have a special visitor, my love. May I bring her in?”

  “As
long as she will not be shocked to find me in bed.” Elizabeth sounded more like her usual lively self now. “Who is it?”

  As he held the door open, her sister Jane peeked into the room.

  “Jane!” Elizabeth pushed back the counterpane and stood up, holding out her arms. Her head spun, and she clutched the bedpost.

  Moving quickly, Darcy caught her other elbow and eased her back to sit on the bed. “You can greet your sister from there,” he said sternly.

  “Spoilsport,” she teased, but then her arms were around her sister. “Jane, dearest Jane! Thank you, thank you for calling. I have missed you so much!”

  “Oh, Lizzy.” A tear ran down Jane's cheek. “But what is the matter? You are ill?”

  “Recovering from the aftereffects of my dunking in the Thames. Today is the first time I do not feel ill, only weak as a baby. And speaking of babies, am I to be an aunt soon?” She glanced significantly at Jane's swollen abdomen.

  A pink flush rose in Jane's cheeks. “Yes, but that is old news.”

  “Not to me! Is Mr. Bingley here?”

  A shadow crossed Jane's expression. “He is waiting for me beyond the barricade. He thought it was better that way.”

  “Better? How?” Elizabeth sent a questioning glance at Darcy.

  A line appeared between his brows. “Perhaps I should speak to him and invite him in.”

  “Would you?” Jane's words sounded like a plea.

  “Of course.” Darcy bowed and left.

  “Is something the matter?” asked Elizabeth.

  Jane glanced back over her shoulder. “They quarreled, but I do not know what it was about. My dear Bingley has taken it very hard. But you – you must tell me everything that has happened. I simply could not believe it when Bingley showed me the newspaper! I had tried so often to imagine what could have been so urgent as to make you leave without a word, but in my wildest imaginings, I never came close to this.”

  “I do not think anything less would have sufficed. I will never forget the moment when Mr. Darcy told me the truth.”

  “To think that she visited me so often in the stables! Had I known who she was, I could never have kept my countenance. How do you do it? What do you say to her?”