by Massey, Beth
Elizabeth would have been furious to learn the master of Pemberley, through his interference, had allowed a connection to be known between her and the Darcys. Truth be told, she had been surprised that Jamie was so concerned with propriety instead of the necessity to maintain total secrecy. It had crossed her mind that Mr Darcy might have brought pressure on Dr Wilder; but had she known the extent of his meddling, she would have refused to accede to his demands. Her suspicions about the two men’s misplaced priorities had been at the core of her gaining their acceptance that she would travel in the guise of one Miss Andrews from Bedfordshire. She wondered whether Mr Darcy, her fellow literature aficionado, had enjoyed the humour in her choosing Richardson’s much-maligned heroine as her pseudonym. This morning in particular, she found it difficult to spare the energy to worry about propriety when her security was quickly becoming her most pressing concern. In preparation for the commencement of her journey, she placed one of the knives Mr Davies had procured for her in her reticule and practiced applying a blow where Jamie had prescribed. It was those two things, and not some paid companion, that reinforced her newly acquired, albeit fragile, sense of bravado.
As Elizabeth waited for Mrs Reynolds to bring breakfast, she reflected on the unexpected conversation with Mrs Darcy that had occurred the day before just as Lizzy finished nursing the baby. Taking the sated little girl from her, Anne had abruptly begged the baby’s mother for absolution.
“Miss Elizabeth, I wish you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I know now it was completely wrong of me to allow my cousin to be alone with you.”
“Mrs Darcy, I forgave you for helping Lord Wolfbridge the day we struck our bargain. But, I have not forgiven you—and I am not certain I ever will—for disregarding my modest proposal of six thousand pounds.” Lizzy had chuckled at her unconscious use of Mr Swift’s words.
Elizabeth had noticed Mrs Darcy looked puzzled at her laughter so she continued to explain, “You played Portia to my Shylock. I came that day for reparations.” She stroked the child’s cheek as she continued. “Instead you persuaded me to sell you this little one. Despite being denied the revenge I had hoped to extract, I could not disregard the money you offered. It was too much for someone in my circumstances to ignore.” Though her emotions on the subject remained raw these many months later, she delivered her next line with mirthful sarcasm. “You have condemned me to think of myself as Faust and to live my life believing I have sold my soul to the devil.”
Once again, Anne had looked confused and even a bit incensed by her reference to the devil. Elizabeth’s literary allusions were not being understood, and she reminded herself that Anne’s main worry was that she would be denied the comfort of forgiveness.
Elizabeth had decided to cease accusing Anne through innuendo and to tell her the plain truth. “Mrs Darcy, I forgave you your carelessness and decided you had not been given proper instruction with regards propriety between the sexes. I even felt pity for you because you had suffered greatly being under your mother’s thumb. However, when you turned the tables on me and thought the best solution for my dilemma was to buy my baby; I came to realize that despite your mother—or maybe because of your mother—you had been raised to feel entitled above others. My existence has never allowed me to enjoy confidence in my future. It is true, I am a gentleman’s daughter; but with the entail on my father’s estate, our financial situation has always been precarious.”
Elizabeth turned away from Mrs Darcy and the child snuggled in her arms. She moved to the window to take in the beauty of Pemberley and consider her daughter’s existence. “I am reconciled to my decision, because I think Mr Darcy honourable and believe he will make a wonderful life for the baby. But, it causes me anguish to know he believes me greedy and maybe even wanton; and I wish I could change his mind with regard my character. Telling anyone the details of what happened to me that day, especially telling any man, would be humiliating. My one request is that you inform your husband how I came to be trapped.” Elizabeth paused to let her request be considered, before she returned to Anne and the baby. “I leave it to you to decide when to tell him. Besides, his loyalty to you would make it difficult for him to believe me if I told him, and I do not feel it in the interest of this child to sow dissension between her parents.”
Anne had smiled with the knowledge she had been offered a chance to atone. “Miss Elizabeth, you are correct. I promise I will tell him.”
“Thank you. If you do, I will be happy to forgive you. Your confession will allow me to feel confident that his feelings toward me will not colour the way he acts toward his daughter.” She had reached out, once again, this time caressing the down covering the baby’s head. “My main concern is the wellbeing of this child. You allow me to return home believing your husband’s opinion of me will improve.”
Mrs Reynolds interrupted her deliberation of whether she could trust Mrs Darcy’s promise. Once her meal was eaten, she asked Mrs Reynolds to arrange a conference with Mr Darcy. The two women agreed that it would be best if he came to the nursery after his breakfast. Elizabeth believed she had enough time to nurse the baby one last time—just in case the wet nurse who was to arrive later today was late. On Mrs Wilder’s advice, she had arranged for the new gowns she had made in Lambton to lap across in front and button on the side to facilitate nursing… much like the style of frock she had worn on that fateful day. Lizzy banished that thought and turned her attention to the gurgling babe.
The Darcys had not decided what they were naming her. Elizabeth knew there was some dispute between the two of them, but decided it was better she not know what name they settled on. From the moment the newborn was first placed in her arms, she had settled on calling her ‘baby duck.’ Her hair was pale yellow fuzz, and it reminded Elizabeth of the down on newborn ducks.
When she finished nursing, she cradled the baby in her arms and began to sing to her. She quickly ran out of lullabies and decided to sing The Minstrel Boy. It had a soothing melody, and she would not understand the words… so why not? Elizabeth was completely engrossed in entertaining her tiny audience and did not see or hear Mr Darcy enter.
He was once again mesmerized by the sight he beheld. She was singing a hauntingly beautiful song of a fallen rebel to the baby. Her voice sounded as though she was fighting tears as she sang, “Land of Song, cried the warrior bard, Tho’ all the world betrays thee.” The baby looked at Elizabeth with rapt attention, leading Darcy to imagine she understood.
Elizabeth smiled through her tears as she sang the last two lines. “Thy songs were made for the pure and free… They shall never sound in slavery!” When she finished the song she brought the baby’s tiny fingers to her lips and said, “I will never forget you, and I will always love you, my beautiful baby duck.”
Mr Darcy watched for a few seconds before he cleared his throat to bring his presence to her attention. He felt uncomfortable that he had witnessed the scene and resolved to ignore the pathos of the tableau and instead to comment on the absurdity. “Miss Elizabeth, is it your aim to make the baby into a rebel?”
Elizabeth was unsettled that he had seen her kissing the baby’s fingers and professing undying love. She decided that the best course was to go along with his jocular remarks. “I had not thought about it, but you might be right. Jamie has this theory that my milk would help her be healthy, so maybe it is possible my song will make her want to fight against injustice. Did you notice that she looked as though she understood?”
“I did indeed, Miss Elizabeth. Should I be on the watch for her organizing the staff in revolt against me?”
“I would not fear that… I have heard from Mrs Reynolds and Dr Wilder that both your servants and your tenants love you. In the short term, however, I would worry about battles over eating her vegetables and going to bed. Those were my first skirmishes with my father.”
“What were his tactics in the war?”
Elizabeth smiled at the memory. “He taught me to grow vegetables. He flatte
red me and made me feel mature and responsible by giving me the job of tending the kitchen garden. I took pride in my produce and felt the need to market their deliciousness to my sisters. In addition, all the work in the garden made me tired, and I went to bed quite willingly.”
“Your father has impressed me twice. I think his idea for using the Perrault to teach you French to be ingenious, and now you tell me of his exemplary parenting skills with regards rebellious children. He sounds to be a bright and resourceful man.”
Elizabeth became introspective at his compliment of her father. “He was indeed, once.”
Mr Darcy smiled. He knew from their conversation the day the baby was born that more than anything, she wanted her stay to be over. He was relieved they had put the scene he had witnessed behind them. “Miss Elizabeth, Mrs Reynolds said you wanted to see me before you left.”
“Yes, Mr Darcy, I have two requests before I return home.” She saw him stiffen, but refused to be intimidated. “The first is to ask whether you would help find a young man who could work as a steward in training with my father. We cannot afford someone who already knows all, but someone you think could learn quickly and would be able to help improve our returns.” She saw him relax with her disclosure. Obviously, he did not resent this appeal, but she worried he would balk at her next demand. “My sister and I are able to keep the accounts and write the necessary correspondence. It is help with decisions about what we produce that is needed. Our estate could use someone who is creative, and forward looking… with a certain ‘je ne sais quoi.’ My father, as you said a minute ago, can be bright and resourceful, but with his failing eyesight he has lost much of his confidence.”
Elizabeth became nostalgic thinking of her father. She realized in just a few short days, she would be home. She was unconsciously smiling at that thought as she continued. “We can pay the young man a modest salary, but we will also be able to provide our home for his residence. He will be treated as one of our family, and my mother is known for her table. I see the opportunity as an apprenticeship of sorts; but one filled with the possibility to put his ideas into practice. If you know of a good candidate with those qualities, please send the information to my uncle.”
Elizabeth paused and struggled with how to make her next request. Mr Darcy was looking at her with expectation. Finally she determined to have her say, regardless of the consequences. “Mr Darcy, my second appeal is about your daughter. I want you to promise me that you will never leave her alone with Lord Wolfbridge.”
Darcy looked startled at her statement. In an effort not to meet her cold green eyes, he began looking at his hands as he contemplated how to answer such a condition. It irritated him that, once again, she was making demands. This child was his responsibility, and he definitely knew better than she how to rear her.
His mind wandered to his cousin. He had shown little interest in the birth of the child. Neither men had spoken to each other when he had attended Edmund’s wedding to Eleanor Harding in late August. His appearance had been prompted merely by a need to appear unified as a family. In Lady Elderton’s Christmas letter, he had learned that Lady Wolfbridge had lost the child she was carrying. He detected annoyance in his aunt’s tone as she related that Edmund was in London and seemed to be in no hurry to come to Elderton to comfort his wife. The irony for Fitzwilliam was that poor Eleanor had lost her baby the same day Miss Elizabeth had given birth.
Elizabeth gave him a few moments, but he seemed to be gathering wool. Finally in exasperation, she spoke again. “Mr Darcy, please look at me. I need to see your eyes when you answer. I am not putting any condition on you except this. I must know you will comply and protect her.”
Darcy was pulled out of his thoughts about the loss of Lord Wolfbridge’s child to a renewal of his annoyance with her request. Was not the money he was paying her a condition? He could not keep his eyes from reflecting his disapproval. As he met her gaze, he wondered whether her concern was that the child would be devastated if she learned of her illegitimacy from Edmund, or was there something even more sinister she was implying? Still, she was not saying the Viscount could not be present with the child; she merely stated that someone else should always be with them. He was unsure why she felt so strongly; but it was a simple demand. “Miss Elizabeth, you have my assurance, I will never let Lord Wolfbridge alone with my daughter.”
Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and arranged her face in a brave attempt at acceptance. “Thank you, Mr Darcy. I will sleep better with the knowledge that you have agreed.”
Mrs Reynolds came into the room with Dr Wilder. Elizabeth had one last thing to tell Mr Darcy. “I have left an package on a table in the nursery. It contains the amber cross my parents gave to me on my fifth birthday. Please put it away, and perhaps you might give it to her someday. I’m not certain Mrs Darcy will approve… she finds my necklace macabre and perhaps not fine enough for those at your station.” Elizabeth could not help a small smile as she recalled both her discussion with Anne about the cross and her promise to confess. Suddenly, the realization she was about to leave this prison and be done with this man and his tiresome disapproval caused her to broaden her smile. Almost as an afterthought, she said, “It is not a requirement, but it pleases me to think she might wear it someday.”
19 ATONEMENT
Anne Darcy stared absent-mindedly out the nursery window. She could see Fitzwilliam and Georgiana talking as they walked the path that led to the stream. Her sister-in-law’s hands uncharacteristically thrashed about with gestures of annoyance. Georgie had greatly resented being kept from Pemberley at the time of the birth. With but two days until Christmas, her ill temper made the prospect of a pleasant holiday dubious. To make matters worse, Lady Catherine was due later today. Her mother was pleased Anne had finally produced an heir, but her message announcing her upcoming visit had been mostly filled with acrimony that she had only been told of the long hoped for event after the child was born. Anne wished the others in her family could set aside their petty concerns and just be happy for her.
Anne and Fitzwilliam had feared Lady Catherine would arrive unannounced if she knew of the impending birth. They had felt it prudent to wait until the day before Miss Elizabeth’s departure to send an express to inform her of their joyful news. Her daughter dreaded her stay as her mood was certain to reach an even greater level of resentment when she learned they had waited more than a week to communicate the existence of her granddaughter and that they planned to name her Elizabeth Anne.
Anne stamped her foot in irritation. This year, Christmas and the welcoming of a new year should have been her time to be the most important. Now word had come from Elderton that none from that estate would be spending time at Pemberley this season. Lady Wolfbridge had lost her baby, and the Countess felt the family should stay with her to keep her from falling too deep into despair. Her aunt’s major concern seemed to be Edmund’s absence. Even Richard had arranged a few days leave to spend Christmas with his sister-in-law in her time of need.
What sounded like laughter pulled her away from the window. Anne turned to find the baby gesturing toward the painting of Little Red Riding Hood making her way to grandmother’s house. She picked up her gurgling little girl and was rewarded with a grin. At least this little one and Fitzwilliam appreciated what she had accomplished. Mrs Darcy was now a proud mother—married to a man who was very pleased with the changes she had wrought in their life. The best part was he often smiled and was moved to kiss Anne’s cheek when they were in the presence of their precious baby duck.
Anne sat and rocked the baby as she reflected on her last days with Miss Elizabeth. She had not been as gleeful as Anne had expected. At every turn, she had seemed to deflect a discussion of what she would do with the money. Nothing much was ever said beyond her standard reply—“she would increase her sisters’ dowries and take care of her mother in the event of her father’s demise.” Fitzwilliam had told of her request for his help in hiring a young man to act as steward-
in-training for her father. He planned to recommend Mrs Reynolds’ nephew, John, who had been working with his father at Bryn Mawr for the last several years
She found it difficult to understand Miss Elizabeth’s regard for her family. They were much lower in society than the Fitzwilliams, the De Bourghs or the Darcys, but still she had seemed to pine so for them. Even with the twenty thousand pounds Anne had given her for the baby, the five sisters’ dowries would hardly be enough to encourage attachments with men of any substance. Miss Elizabeth—in a desire for the baby to have a connection to her family—had left a necklace to be passed on to her. It was that gruesome amber cross with an ant trapped inside. She had not insisted Fitzwilliam comply but simply said it would please her to know the little girl might wear it one day. Anne was reminded how silly and sentimental Miss Elizabeth was. She tried to remember whether she had been that nonsensical when she was sixteen. This child would be given all the advantages she and Mr Darcy could afford. A flawed amber cross would not do for their daughter when she could have emeralds and rubies.
Her baby duck was no longer cooing. Instead, she was staring at her intently—much as Miss Elizabeth had when Anne promised to confess her treachery to Fitzwilliam. Absolution from the young woman who had given birth to this child was what she had wanted that day. It had seemed proper to start her new life as the best wife and mother with a clear conscience. Much to her relief, she had been granted atonement for the simple price of telling her husband the details of what had happened that day. Miss Elizabeth had believed the truth would free him from any fears he might have that the baby would become wanton like he believed her mother to be. Anne’s precious little one’s expression seemed to be soliciting a similar promise to tell her father the particulars. She placed a kiss on the baby’s forehead and silently agreed to do as requested—but now was not the right time. It would spoil Fitzwilliam’s Christmas and the pleasure he was feeling with being a father. Besides, he had taken on the obligation to appease both Georgiana’s resentment and her mother’s.