by Massey, Beth
“Papa, I told you… I was just sad because of the widow Thomas’ death and…”
“Lizzy, I am not a fool. An elderly woman with whom you spent less than six months… You expect me to believe her death has caused you to be despondent all these years.” He leaned toward her and increased the menacing quality of his countenance. “No more lies! You live under my roof, and as your father, I could deprive you of all rights. You are going to tell me the truth, and you are going to tell me now.”
Mr Bennet watched as Lizzy’s determination to continue her deception crumbled in front of him, but he was not expecting her to put her head in her hands and sob. This defeated young woman was neither his joyful lost Lizzy nor the strong but unhappy one who had returned in her place. Mr Bennet sat down beside her on the sofa and enfolded her in his arms.
When her tears were finally spent, she pulled away from him, and after a few hiccupping starts, began speaking. “Papa I have wanted to tell you, but my confession is scandalous, and will ruin my sisters’ lives. No one will want to marry them with a sister such as me.”
Mr Bennet realized the words he was about to hear were the ones he had been dreading since his interview of Mr Darcy. He could think of nothing but to ease her pain. “Even though there has been much speculation in the neighbourhood rumour mill over the years; nothing has ever been confirmed about you being disgraced. Do you think I have no feelings for you or your sisters, and will rush out and spread your confession to all the gossips in Meryton?”
Elizabeth, who knew even her mother would not be so thoughtless, gave her father a slight smile and replied, “No.”
“Tell me what happened to you. Did Mr Darcy convince you to have an affair, and you became with child? Is he raising your daughter?”
Elizabeth looked startled. How did he know about Bethany? “No, Papa. I did not have an affair with Mr Darcy, but he is raising my daughter. His cousin, the Viscount Wolfbridge, violated me.” With a sigh she began to tell him the details of her dishonour. “Mrs Darcy allowed him to be alone with me when I was at Darcy House. Aunt Gardiner was not with us because Cousin Susan was sick. When Lord Wolfbridge came into the room where I was waiting for Mrs Darcy; I knew it was wrong. I tried to leave, Papa, please believe me—but he had locked the door—and he was so very large.”
Mr Bennet once again wrapped his daughter in his arms. She felt almost no revulsion, and the warmth of his embrace even brought on a sense of security reminiscent of simpler times. Inside that cocoon, she felt safe enough to tell him all, except for the most humiliating of Lord Wolfbridge’s words and actions. Those were the things she could never disclose to anyone about what had happened that day, and then there were others that only came to her in nightmares.
As the story unfolded, Mr Bennet could not believe the depravity of the Viscount, the careless cruelty of Mrs Darcy, and the amazing audacity of his daughter to demand six thousand pounds.
When she finished her melancholy tale, he let her go, and appeared thoughtful for a few minutes. Next, he gave her a look of confidence and determination. “We need to talk about controlling any potential damage. Now that I know what happened, I can work to keep anyone else from ever finding out the truth. No one has ever gossiped about a child. Do you think Mr Darcy will ever reveal the true situation?”
“No, Papa, I believe he loves her very much. He will protect her at any cost.”
Mr Bennet smiled. “Yes, I got that impression when he described her to me. She sounded so much like you, that it did not take much to jump to the conclusion I did.”
Elizabeth again gave her father a very slight smile. “He used Perrault to teach her French. He thought your method ingenious.”
Her father chuckled and said, “I hear she is a ferocious chess player.” Soon he turned serious again. “What about Lord Wolfbridge? Will he ever reveal the truth?”
“I do not know. For years, I have worried about just that possibility. If the Viscount had been going to discredit me, surely, he would have done it when I first demanded money. By saying something now, he would expose Mr Darcy as well as himself.” Elizabeth donned her own thoughtful expression as she explored the possibilities. “Their family seems to think it important to hide their indiscretions. They bought an heir, and even though Mr Darcy now has a son, I think the Earl of Elderton would find those facts humiliating, and would definitely not want the story circulating within the House of Lords. Mr Darcy does not know all the details of what happened to me, but he knows some. I am convinced he disapproves of his cousin’s behaviour, and would retaliate if he disclosed our conspiracy.”
Lizzy tried to keep the pain she felt at her next admission from her face, but she was only partly successful. “I have never been able to persuade Mr Darcy that I am not mercenary. However, my biggest fear is that Lord Wolfbridge is a braggart, and may not have always been able to curb his tongue. I am currently very concerned about his friend, Mr Wickham, who has recently joined the militia.”
“Was that what you talked with the lieutenant about at your aunt and uncle’s?”
“No, I was only trying to determine what he knew. He mainly wanted to disclose how cruel his childhood friend had been to him. There were some things he said that were suspicious but nothing of substance. It is inconvenient that he and Mr Darcy are both here in Hertfordshire, and I wish he would not be attending the ball.”
“I will make some discreet inquiries and see what the man is about. Colonel Forster should be able to help with his history.” With a renewal of mirth he added, “I agree that Mr Wickham’s main mission seems to be discrediting Mr Darcy. All of Meryton has heard his story.” Mr Bennet observed apprehension on his daughter’s face. “Lizzy, I love you… I am your protector. We will conquer this.”
“But Papa, I did not remain chaste, and I was very silly. I was just like Mama. I could not wait to come home and tell all of Meryton, that I had met a viscount, and he thought me pretty and clever.”
“Lizzy, you were barely fifteen.” For the third time he took her in his arms, and this time she relished the security. “A man of enormous consequence charmed a child, and then brutally violated her. Lizzy you did not even agree to be alone with him.”
Lizzy put her head on her father’s chest. His knowing lightened her burden. They remained that way for a few moments. When she pulled away, her eyes found her father’s and she said, “I still want to waltz with Mr Darcy.”
“Why, child? I thought you were afraid of him.”
“I feared my secret would be revealed. Now that you know, I feel much better having confessed… and knowing you will help me protect my sisters.”
Mr Bennet scowled at his daughter. “Lizzy, it is my duty to protect your sisters. Why do you want to take such a risk with your reputation and waltz with him?”
“That day at Darcy House denied me the right to much I had come to expect in life. I cannot marry, Papa.” She whispered her next words. “I could never honour all of my vows, and I fear what would befall me if my husband were to find out why.” Suddenly her eyes became filled with fierce determination. “Dancing has always been out of the question. Oh, but just once, I want to go to a ball… and dance with a man. Lydia has taken an old dress of mine to the dressmaker and told her how to make it over. It is going to be quite lovely. Kitty is going to fix my hair. Papa, I would like to feel beautiful for a few moments.” Now, she squared her shoulders and raised her head in a defiant gesture. “And, is not it fitting that if I am to allow myself to attend this once—the dance should be revolutionary.”
Mr Bennet noticed that light shone from the gold flecks in her eyes. Her face was filled with a hint of that excitement he remembered from when she beat him at chess as a child.
Elizabeth took her father’s hands in solicitation. “Papa, I am brave enough to risk disapproval. Mr Darcy showed me how to waltz. You whirl around and it feels like I imagine flying might be.”
“What are Mr Darcy’s intentions toward you?”
�
�This is not about intentions. Both of us have an odd attraction for each other. I think he likes my appearance, particularly my hair, but I also know he thinks me greedy. He sometimes enjoys my wit, and I have even made him laugh on occasion.” She giggled at those memories. “You have met him, and know what an accomplishment that is. We enjoy verbal jousts, discussing books and politics. During my confinement, I had many discussions with him that reminded me of our conversations. I think he is very handsome when he smiles.” With a squeeze to her father’s hands she added, “Oh, and he smells delightful. He will not be making an offer of marriage, and if he did, I would not accept.”
Mr Bennet agreed to allow Lizzy her one waltz. She would continue to be gossiped about, as she had for years, regardless of this risqué dance.
Being considered handsome by their acquaintances was the only characteristic Rebecca Trent shared with her father. However, she was handsome in a way that bore no resemblance to her father’s appearance. Sir Walter, for his part, loved his only living child, but in truth, he thought her looks only tolerable. She had taken after her mother in both temperament and countenance.
Lady Trent had been an excellent woman… sensible and good-natured. Her marriage to Sir Walter had been the result of a youthful infatuation. The former Mary Osborne was the daughter of a gentleman from Shropshire. Her dowry of twenty thousand pounds and her status of gentleman’s daughter could have made her desirable among men of the highest circles had she waited to be presented and attend the Season. Instead she met Sir Walter while visiting an aunt in Hertfordshire, and they were married six months later.
Once married, she was perhaps not the happiest being in the world, but she found enough in her duties, her friends, and especially her children, that she could claim at least some degree of domestic felicity.
Lady Trent was not at all indifferent to the idea of leaving her children at the ages of ten and thirteen. She wept for days when she knew what was to be her fate… not for herself but for her children. When she could weep no more, she drew Tom and Becky to her and spent her last days preparing them for what was to come. She encouraged them, particularly her son Tom, to help their father with the estate, and to seek counsel from her father, Squire Osborne. Her most difficult endeavour was to find a way to perpetuate her husband’s dignity, but at the same time make sure her children realized at least some of his failings. She had spent many years trying to ensure Sir Walter did not ruin the family financially.
Her deathbed advice to Becky was to marry a sensible man. She feared her daughter’s dowry might have to be diverted in favour of paying creditors, and would not be sufficient to give her a wide choice of partners. She encouraged her daughter to wait until she was at least twenty before she seriously began looking for a husband.
After Tom’s death, the lot of protecting her father from himself fell to Becky. As her mother had done before her, she humoured her father, and often concealed his failings from the general population. In private, she counselled him to retrench, and finally five years earlier, with the help of her grandfather, Becky had persuaded him to lease Netherfield and move to Bath. He could be the very height of a fashionable gentleman for considerably less money in Bath. Becky, at sixteen, took on the responsibility of working with Mr Richards to attempt to increase the revenues of the estate, and force her father to live off the rent received from the lessees. She relied on her dearest friend, Jane Bennet, to be her eyes and ears at Netherfield while she resided in Bath. She trusted Mr Richards, but she knew Jane loved Netherfield as much as she.
Becky was of medium height, with a lovely figure, natural grace, warm brown eyes, and hair the same colour. Her features were delicate, but what distinguished her from most other young women was her seriousness. Her earnest demeanour and lack of frivolity turned many young men away. Becky loved Jane and Elizabeth Bennet as sisters, and spent time with them whenever possible. Five years ago, when she and her father removed to Bath, she had been miserable their first Christmas away. Both she and Sir Walter were of the same mind on the issue of spending the holiday season in Hertfordshire with their dear friends every year since. This year she arrived early for the unlikely possibility of attending a ball being given at her childhood home.
All five Bennet daughters, Rebecca Trent and Mr Collins walked to Meryton two days before the ball. As they were crossing the main thoroughfare, Lydia saw a group of officers on the other side and called out to them. She quickly moved in their direction. Among the group was George Wickham, and his face became all smiles as he observed Miss Elizabeth crossing the road after her sister. Lizzy’s intention had been to persuade Lydia to behave a little more seemly, when she noticed Mr Wickham. She hid the dread she felt from him, and fixed him with a false smile. Cringing inwardly, she allowed him to take her gloved hand and kiss it in greeting.
Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley had arrived at Longbourn, only to be told by the housekeeper, Mrs Hill, that all the young Bennet ladies had gone to Meryton. They rode in that direction, and arrived in town just as Lydia and Miss Elizabeth crossed the road toward the group of officers. Mr Darcy watched in horror as he recognized the man kissing Miss Elizabeth’s hand. He said not a word to Bingley, but turned his horse abruptly and rode off toward Netherfield.
36 DANCING WITH THE GREEN EYED MONSTER
Mr Darcy had slept little since he had seen Wickham kissing Miss Elizabeth’s hand in front of almost the entire town of Meryton. Both their faces, wreathed with smiles for each other, came to him when he closed his eyes. He would demand she explain her behaviour at the ball.
He awoke the morning of the ball filled with anxiety, but within a few hours his emotions were inching toward anger. Usually it was only Charles and he at breakfast, but this day the entire household was assembled when he arrived.
Miss Bingley was full of local gossip about Miss Eliza and George Wickham. She inquired, and received confirmation that he was indeed the same George Wickham who was the son of Pemberley’s former steward. The information gave the sisters a hearty laugh. Their speculation reached hilarious heights as they tittered over one Bennet sister marrying Pemberley’s housekeeper’s nephew and another who might perhaps marry the son of the late Mr Darcy’s steward.
Miss Bingley chose not to tell Mr Darcy of the rumours of his denial of a living to Mr Wickham. That information was nothing to her. Her goal was to become mistress of Pemberley, not to marry a man with scruples. She hoped her information would go a long way toward her goal of persuading her brother to abandon this estate and his angel in what she was sure was the most unfashionable corner of England.
Mr Darcy sat in stony silence as they chattered on about the vulgarity of the Bennets. He shared some of their views, but in no way found the revelations to be humorous.
Despite his misgivings, he dressed with care for their waltz. Bingley, who fancied himself a fashion trend-setter, not precisely a pink, but still much more aware of what those forward thinkers in the ton were wearing than his best friend—had decided to dress in something he felt would be more in keeping with the decision to host a waltz. Not for him the old-fashioned uniform that Almack’s mandated—black tailcoat, old-fashioned black satin knee-breeches and white stockings. That venerable establishment did not allow waltzes so why should he dress in such an antiquated manner. In keeping with his friend’s decision, Darcy had made a trip to London to have a new double-breasted tailcoat made in dark green wool—as close as possible to black. Bingley had heartily approved his more daring waistcoat. It was a paler green that looked positively jaunty peeping over the collar of his jacket.
He arrived early for the ball, and was determined to minimize the novelty of their dance for onlookers by uncharacteristically joining each set during the evening. He solicited Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, all of Miss Elizabeth’s sisters and Mrs Forster for dances. He was introduced to Miss Rebecca Trent, and requested of her the set before supper. She had impressed him when they were introduced as a very serious and knowledgeable young woman with re
gards the running of Netherfield. He was certain they could find much to discuss as partners for the meal.
Lydia was perturbed she was not dancing with an officer during her turn with Mr Darcy. She wished he had not asked her, but most of all she wished that politeness allowed her to refuse. She had always been a bit intimidated by the severe man, and thought he seemed in a particularly foul mood tonight. She initiated no conversation until Mr Darcy insisted they must have some. The only thing she could think to comment upon was her admiration of his new jacket and waistcoat. She told him it would complement Lizzy’s gown beautifully. The idea seemed to give her dour partner some fleeting pleasure. As soon as the set ended, she quickly curtsied, and practically ran in the direction of a group of officers.
Becky considered it most unlucky that she and Mr Darcy were seated next to Mrs Bennet at supper. She had wanted to have a quiet conversation with him to learn more of Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet’s sister and friends, Lady Lucas and Mrs Long, were within easy conversation distance of her. For the first quarter hour, the conversation was mostly on the fineness of the food and the beauty of the decorations. The next topic of conversation was about the participants’ clothing; which gown was adorned with especially exquisite lace and how the colour of certain gowns enhanced certain young ladies’ complexions. Once again, they were in awe of Miss Bingley’s gown, which they were certain was the latest the finest London modistes had to offer. Mrs Bennet in an attempt to bring Mr Darcy into their conversation complimented him on the colour of his jacket and waistcoat. He accepted her compliment with grace, but wished the conversation would move on to something other than fashion. It did.
Mrs Bennet turned to her former neighbour and said, “Well Rebecca, it appears Jane may still become mistress of Netherfield. I have known since she was four it was her destiny.”