“And do not think about leaving me behind. I have already told you. If you do not abide by my wishes, I will inform Colonel Forester how you conspired to marry a gentlewoman solely for her inheritance and somehow she believes you are dead. A war hero!” She snorted at the looks exchanged between Wickham and Mrs. Younge. “Remember, one word from me, and they shall know just where to find you.”
Wickham glared across the coach at Lydia Bennet who was tapping her feet and humming to herself. That girl pretends to be daft, but she is a sharp one! And now I am riding directly into the lion’s den, where Darcy will surely have me arrested, if not hanged for some crime he will conjure!
He leaned over as Mrs. Younge whispered to him, “What are we to do about Margaret? If she is there, our jig is up for certain! I would much rather not come in contact with Mr. Darcy again.”
Wickham grimaced.
“But what are we to do, George? If this chit had not forced you to bring her here, we would soon be off to London! Now, we are about to come face to face with one of the only people you cannot charm!”
One of the only people… “True, I may not be able to charm Darcy, but I believe we might fair well in the end. My wife has always had a deep affection for me, has she not?”
July 19, 1812
“They are here! Fitzwilliam, they are here! Mr. Turner’s carriage was seen coming out of the woods.” Georgiana came running into the room, noticed the other inhabitants, and slowed her pace. “Good afternoon, Lady Markham, Lady Cecilia. Forgive me, I thought you were both resting.”
“We were, child, but decided to come down and enjoy your brother’s fine company.” Lady Markham looked across the room and out the window at the carriage exiting the woods at the far edge of the clearing. “What enthusiasm you have for your newest guests. I hope you were that joyful when our carriage arrived?” She raised an eyebrow before turning to her daughter. “Cecilia, I do not believe you have ever been so excited about anything in your life, have you?”
“How can you say such things? You saw my reaction upon seeing the grounds of Pemberley for the first time.” Cecilia Markham turned towards Darcy and looked at him through her thick eyelashes.
If that was going to win me over, surely, I would already have been married with my sixth in the cradle! He hid a smirk before saying, “Well, yes. If you ladies will excuse us, Georgiana and I must welcome our guests.”
Darcy stood and extended his arm to his sister and walked into the hallway.
“I told you, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, trying not to giggle. “She is desperately in love with you!”
“Do not be ridiculous, Poppet. She is in love with Pemberley, as many women before her have been. However, I am more discerning than that. Do not fear for my estate this week. Your brother is safe.”
“But you might ask Briggs to double-lock your door while the Markham’s reside under our roof.”
“Georgiana!”
She made an unladylike sound that reminded him of one of the younger Bennet sisters and he shook his head. “I am only hoping to protect your interests.” As they stepped onto the portico, he puzzled at her excitement and expectation on her face.
I can protect myself from Cecilia Markham, dear girl. It is my heart that will need protecting within the next five minutes.
Within the allotted time, the carriage had come to a halt. Phillip Turner exited first, turning to hand down his sister, Mrs. Gardiner, and then Mrs. Margaret Anderson. They had decided she would be introduced as Mrs. Anderson. We will not be required to give an explanation to our guests, other than her husband died in the war.
He waited for them to come up the stairs but watched expectantly for Elizabeth. Did she not come? A moment of panic spread over him but was washed away as her dainty slipper appeared first. She stepped from the carriage, wearing a pale muslin gown; her curls bounced around her cheeks and her eyes lit up at the sight of Pemberley.
“Georgiana, Mr. Turner and Mrs. Anderson you know. May I introduce you to Mrs. Gardiner, Mrs. Margaret Anderson, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn?”
The women all curtseyed to each other, before beginning their discourse. “Miss Darcy. It is lovely to finally meet you,” Elizabeth began. “I have heard many wonderful things.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” she replied, smiling. Turning to Darcy, she continued, “However, you should not believe everything my brother tells you. He is quite prejudiced towards me.”
“That I am.” He gave a quick bow, and asked, “Will you take tea with us before Mrs. Reynolds takes you to your rooms? Or do you wish to rest from your journey?”
“I would be surprised if Lizzy did not change her dress and come down directly to walk through your beautiful woods, Mr. Darcy. I could barely contain her enthusiasm for them.”
“Mrs. Gardiner, I was certain that would be the case, so I have already had Mrs. Reynolds make a maid aware she might be walking today.”
He turned and gave Elizabeth a small smile before taking Georgiana on one arm, and Mrs. Anderson on the other, and walking into the house. He had to strain to hear Mrs. Gardiner’s words. “See Lizzy. I told you. He is so thoughtful. Whoever marries him will be a lucky woman.” But hope filled his breast at her whispered reply, “Yes, Aunt. She will indeed.”
She had escaped through the side door and he waited long enough to not make obvious his object before he excused himself and went out to the stables.
As soon as Ulysses was saddled, Darcy followed the path he believed she had taken.
He easily found her sitting upon a rock by a stream, her bonnet removed and the light playing through her curls. It took all in his power to not ride up and declare himself. But, he knew he must be patient and discuss the events of the evening two nights past, so he cautiously approached her.
“No, please. Do not get up. I did not wish to disturb you.”
“You are not, sir,” she said, her eyes not meeting his. “I only needed to surround myself with nature, as the carriage ride was too confining for me.”
“Yes,” he said, dismounting his horse and sitting down on a large rock across from her. “I imagine it was.”
They sat in silence, Ulysses nibbling some nearby grasses before he turned to nuzzle Elizabeth. She giggled and wrapped her hands around his mane, pulling him closer and rubbing his cheek with her own. “You are a lovely one, aren’t you?”
I have never wanted to be a horse until this very moment! She gently nudged Ulysses away, and he brought his face back to hers several times, each time with her giggling.
“Mr. Darcy, it appears your horse wants all of my attention.”
“I cannot blame him.” Darcy grabbed Ulysses reins and led him to a patch of clover. He patted his withers and said, “Sorry, Ulysses, but I will not compete for her attentions today.”
Standing before her, he took his hat in his hand and said, “I must beg you to forgive me for the other evening.”
She looked down at her hands. “There is nothing to forgive, sir. As you say, it was a mistake—”
“Miss Bennet—”
“I ask only that”—she swallowed and raised her chin defiantly—“that you do not imagine I—”
“No, never—”
“I am ashamed of my actions…but,” she said looking up at him, through large brown eyes, welling with unshed tears, “I am not ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just.”
Hope bloomed in his heart and he lifted her face to his. “Miss Bennet…Elizabeth,” he said, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Do you not know—”
“Yoo-hoo! Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth turned her back to the path to hide her tears as Lady Cecilia came riding up. “Mr. Darcy, there you are, and…Miss Bennet? What do you do here?”
Darcy said, “I was out riding and came across my guest.”
“Yes, well, now you have come across another one. Will you ride with me to that bluff you and Georgie were talking about last night?”
He cringed at her use
of his pet name for his sister but bowed to her. “Regretfully, I cannot. Miss Bennet is unwell, and I have just offered to accompany her back to Pemberley.”
“Hmmph! Very well. I will join you, then.”
“Please do not delay your ride on my account. I am well,” Elizabeth said quickly.
“Lovely. She is well. Come on, Mr. Darcy. Let us ride.”
Elizabeth turned her back, disgusted by this woman throwing herself at Mr. Darcy! She was tying the ribbons of her bonnet, when another horse came thundering behind them and they all turned to the rider.
Riding up was a man that Elizabeth had never seen before. “Darcy,” he called before dismounting.
“Richard! You have arrived. Georgiana will be so happy. Ladies,” he said, turning to the two women. “Might I introduce you to my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”
“The son of the Earl of Matlock?” Lady Cecilia asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Richard said, bowing.
“And this is Lady Cecilia Markham, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over sharply and appraised Elizabeth at the mention of her name. “Lady Cecilia. Miss Bennet,” he said, smiling at her. “How lovely to meet you both.”
“It is always a pleasure to meet one in service of His Majesty,” Lady Cecilia replied, batting her eyelashes with no restraint.
I have not seen such marked flirtation in a lady since being in company with my youngest sister. The colonel looked from both herself to Lady Cecilia, with his eyes finally resting upon his cousin Darcy with a wink.
“Richard, I am glad you have arrived. There is a matter of some importance I need to discuss with you.”
“There always is, Cousin. Allow me half an hour and I will meet you in your study.”
“Excellent.” Darcy nodded with a grimace.
“We were all returning to the house,” Lady Cecilia volunteered.
“And Miss Bennet with no horse? Allow me to accompany you to the stables, Lady Cecilia, and my cousin will return with Miss Bennet. I would not want your excellent animal to receive little exercise this morning. He looks as if he is in want of a good run.”
“You are too kind, Colonel. If it is no imposition?” she asked, turning to Darcy.
“No, none at all.”
“Very well, then,” the colonel said. “Miss Bennet, I look forward to your company this evening. After you, Lady Cecilia.” He tipped his hat to Elizabeth, then once again winked at Darcy, before following Lady Cecilia’s horse down the path towards Pemberley.
Pemberley’s woods returned to silence, save the awkward movements of the two, until Elizabeth spoke.
“He is an energetic man, the colonel.”
“Yes, he is at that. Shall we walk?”
She nodded as Darcy untied Ulysses and fell into step beside her.
“Miss Bennet—”
“Are Miss Darcy and the colonel intimates?” Elizabeth asked, unable to return to their previous conversation.
“Yes,” he said. “Very.” He wrapped the reins tighter around his hand. “Richard and I share custody of Georgiana. He is like another brother to her. To us.”
“I should have liked to have a brother. Someone to teach me to skip stones or climb trees.”
“I imagined that you knew how to do those things already.”
She nodded. “I do. But I had to teach myself and then teach my sisters. So, you see, a brother would have been an ideal addition to our family, for other obvious reasons as well.”
Darcy snickered. “Excuse me, but I do not see either the eldest Miss Bennet or Miss Mary as a great climber of trees.”
She turned quickly to him.
“Did I say something amiss?” he asked, stopping on the path. “Miss Elizabeth, if you will only—”
“You remember my sister’s name?”
“Pardon me?”
“My sister. Mary. You remembered her name.” She looked at him with incredulity awaiting a reply.
“Of course, I remember your sister’s name. I remember your sister, and your aunt Phillips, and your housekeeper, Mrs. Hill…”
She stayed him with her hand. “Mrs. Hill? You remember Mrs. Hill?”
He nodded.
“But why?”
A boy from the stable came running up and took Ulysses back to the stalls. Then Darcy reached over to rest his hand on hers. “Miss Elizabeth, surely it can come as no surprise—”
“I have found them, Colonel,” the shrill voice of Lady Cecilia cried. “Come Mr. Darcy, await your cousin in the music room with me. I am sure dear Georgiana will play for us.”
Lady Cecilia walked up and gripped Darcy’s arm, pulling him with her. Darcy pursed his lips and nodded, “We shall continue our conversation later, Miss Bennet?”
They walked up the stairs and into the front door, Lady Cecilia never releasing her hold on him.
On second thought, I believe Lydia to be all that is proper and refined in comparison with Lady Cecilia!
Chapter 12
Looking at the grounds around her, Margaret Anderson was amazed at all before her. This place had haunted the dreams of her husband for months. No, not my husband. Never my husband. The trees, the pond he described falling into when he was six years old and almost drowned. No, he did not fall– he said Fitzwilliam Darcy had pushed him in and tried to drown him.
But now nothing she had believed was true. All was a falsehood except this unborn child within her. How could she, a girl alone in the world, be expected to have any logical thought after what she had learned?
She was alone. And yet, Mr. Turner said he will take me under his protection and help me collect my inheritance. So many George has deceived. How could there been so many other women when he told me I was the only one he ever loved?
“I knew there had to be other women,” she told the barn cat curling around her feet and resting in a patch of sunlight. “He is twelve years my senior. I understand … that men must fall in love and out of love. And when one is as handsome as George, women must flock to him like birds.”
She sat on the bench looking around at this world that she had hoped to bring her child into.
She sighed. “I only pray,” she said aloud, shaking her red curls, “that I can find a good man who will take pity on me. A man who will accept my child as his own, give my babe his name and respectability.” She looked down at the purring ball of fur and rubbed its belly with her slipper. “Do you think that's possible, kitty? Do you think a man could love me? Could take care of me? Could want me and my child?”
“I believe there is hope, Mrs. Anderson,” she heard a voice behind her say. Looking up, she saw Phillip Turner standing there, his blue eyes kind and his smile soft. “Darcy and I will ensure that you have a future. Do not fear you will be cast to the hedgerows. I can assure you that will never happen.”
“I thank you, Mr. Turner.” She cast her eyes downwards. “No, my deepest regret is not that my husband, or the man I believed to be my husband, turned out to be a scoundrel. Although that truly pains me, my deepest regret is that I have disgraced the memory of my parents—my good parents, who would never have allowed this to happen if they were living.”
“This is no fault of your own. Do not blame yourself for falling into the trap of a practiced seducer. Women more experienced than you have ended in the same fate and even worse.”
“Be that as it may,” she said, standing and taking agitated steps towards the pond, “I am not those women. I am Margaret Anderson, daughter of Arthur and Mary Anderson—respectable people who would never have hoped for this for their only child, nor anyone’s child for that matter.” She sunk back down on the bench blowing out a long breath. “But my lot has been cast. My life is no longer my own. It now belongs to this man who ruined me, whether or not I ever see him again.”
Mr. Turner stood and paced back and forth in front of the bench. “Miss… Mrs. Anderson, I do not wish to seem indelicate, but have you given thought to the matter of t
he child? Will you keep it?”
“Keep the child? Of course, I shall keep the child. Whether or not my…Mr. Wickham was the man I believed him to be, this child has grown within me and I have loved it for the last eight months. There is nothing I want more than to hold this infant in my arms and be loved by something unconditionally. I have no one else.”
“You misunderstand me. I do not wish to—”
“Please forgive my outburst, but you must understand I have no prospects. The only future I know to be true is that this child will need me. Without the kindness of friends, I do not know what we shall do. Retire quietly and alone to a far away land? If that is what must be done to avoid scandal, then so be it. I do not wish my child touched by the whispers of illegitimacy.” She looked back up at him attempting to hide the tears welling in her eyes and was once again so grateful for the kindness that she saw reflected in his own.
“Miss…Mrs. Anderson, please know you are not alone. My sister, myself, my brother. You are our family. You are not alone.”
The barn cat rubbed against her legs again, and she was comforted by the rhythmic sound of its purring. “Sir, your kindness is most comforting. But, I will somehow secure a future for myself and my child.” She took a shuddering breath, and continued.
“But I must tell you, Mr. Turner. I am no longer the naïve sixteen-year-old girl I was merely a week ago. I do not know if I can trust a man again. I will never ever give my heart to someone who has the ability to crush it from hundreds of miles away. That Margaret Anderson is dead.”
Turner studied the young woman across from him. He had never in his life expected to be in a situation where at twenty-seven years of age, he would be the caretaker of a young woman—a girl with child who was so wholly unconnected to him. And yet, he did not resent the fact. In truth, he felt an admiration for this woman who seemed to recognize her circumstances, was attempting to solve them, and not wallow in her grief.
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