Minutes later Hobson met her at the door, then led her down the short hallway to the grande dame’s drawing room, which she hadn’t seen since arriving at Hartfield more than three months before.
“Ah, Miss Thomas, come in. Sit down.” Mrs. Knightley perched on her ornate chair like a queen on her throne.
Elizabeth lowered herself onto the green brocade settee.
The imperious woman dismissed the butler, then turned back to Elizabeth, her chin held high. “I trust you’ve surmised my summoning you here is not under social auspices but a matter of business, so I will get right to the point. The family is grateful to you for the care you’ve given William. But now that he no longer requires your services as an interpreter....”
Elizabeth balled her fist. After all she’d done for Fitzwilliam, this woman was going to brush her aside like a worn-out frock.
“...It’s time he settles down with a woman of his station and gets on with the business of producing an heir. I believe you are aware that he and my granddaughter Sarah are very fond of one another, and she is like a sister to Georgiana. Everyone agrees it is an excellent match.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue.
“...Now, it seems the only thing preventing William from forming the proper attachment to Sarah is the memory of a deceased woman. But I’m no fool, Miss Thomas. I see the way you look at him, and I’ll take no chances with my granddaughter’s future. You’re a smart and sensible girl, so I’m sure you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of his duty and future happiness, would you?”
Fuming, Elizabeth adjusted her glasses, then levelled her gaze at the matriarch. “Just as I made the choice to forfeit my VAD summons for overseas service in order to care for Captain Darcy, I made the choice to reapply. And I did so just this morning in London.”
“Well,” the matron sat back with a smug grin, “I’m glad you did. It seems it is all settled then.”
“Indeed.” Elizabeth forced herself to smile. “Will that be all?”
“There is another trivial matter. Now that your services as an interpreter are no longer needed, it seems rather gratuitous for you to reside in the room adjoining William’s. Thus I’ve taken the liberty of having your things moved back to your room at Hartfield. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable there among the other...employed VADs until you are summoned for foreign service.”
“So you wish to dismiss me as his interpreter and his blind aide?”
“Now that William can hear, I see no reason to retain your services. He can communicate on his own, and Sarah can assist him in whatever else he may need.” Raising her chin in victory, the imperious woman reached for the butler’s bell.
Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll see myself out. And as for my dismissal, I’ll continue to aid the captain until my employer, the army, sees fit to relieve me.” She turned on her heel and exited without a backwards glance.
Striding out of the front door, it was all Elizabeth could do not to slam the door behind her. That conspiring, meddling woman! She was as bad as Fitzwilliam’s Aunt Catherine—maybe worse!
Elizabeth strode past the car and headed down Ashworth’s cobbled drive, her heels hammering the stones as fast as her heart pounded in her chest. If Sarah thought she had to deport herself in a manner similar to Lady Catherine or her grandmother, it was no wonder she had no desire to be mistress of a great estate. If Elizabeth were ever a mistress reigning over a great house, she would never be so high-handed and dictatorial.
But she needn’t worry about that. She would never reign over an estate or anything else.
The realisation struck her like a slap in the face. Her shoulders slumped and she slowed her steps. What did it matter that she was sent back to Hartfield like a naughty child banished to her room? She would be leaving sooner than later anyway.
And she couldn’t hold on to Fitzwilliam no matter how much she loved him.

Darcy mounted the stairs at Donwell with Spero at his heels and a smile on his face. Miss Thomas was a good woman.
He crossed the rug in his room, then lowered himself onto the cushioned chair and laid his officer’s cap and cane on the adjacent table. When Spero’s head nudged its way onto his knee, Darcy scratched the dog’s ears. In the quiet solitude of his room, his mind returned to his morning’s visitors.
Caroline Bingley. He shook his head. She was like an annoying gnat that refused to be swatted away. She had a lot of nerve visiting him as if she were innocent. So much for her friendly letter where she might have voiced Cowart’s suspicions about Elizabeth. He huffed. Then she’d acted coy when he cornered her alone in the library. But she’d never forget the dressing-down he’d given her for sharing Cowart’s so-called suspicions about Elizabeth with Wickham! That conniving shrew knew just what she was doing. Blast her!
Darcy closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. But it didn’t change the fact that Elizabeth was missing. And if she was still alive, that ridiculous “Cowart was no Coward” business would undoubtedly keep her in hiding.
He grunted. Rehashing thoughts about her disappearance was like a phonograph needle going ‘round and around at the end of a record but accomplishing nothing. He’d done all he could to find Elizabeth. He’d followed every lead and even hired a private investigator—all to no avail. Hell, he’d have gone looking himself if his condition allowed it. But even the Crown’s intelligence hadn't been able to find her! She was gone, and he couldn’t allow his grief to spin him into despondency. He needed to focus on Pemberley, Georgiana, and prepare himself for St. Dunstan’s.
Pemberley…. The roses would be in full bloom. Now that he’d refined his sense of smell, he longed to stroll in the garden and drink in their fragrance.
Speaking of Pemberley, another list of things that needed his attention should be arriving from his steward in the next few days—perhaps it already had. Directing his mind to issues at home was a welcome change from leading men at the Front. Deciding what route to take across No-Man’s land and hoping to avoid a sniper’s bullet were a world away from deciding which stallion had the best chance of siring a prize-winning foal.
His slid his hand over Spero’s silky head. How much longer would Britain’s young men be slaves to the great leviathan of war?
The stairs creaked in the distance. Spero turned towards the sound, but didn’t wag his tail—it couldn’t be Miss Thomas.
The unfamiliar footsteps neared, then stopped. “Good afternoon, Captain. I’m Mr. Dixon. Mrs. Knightley asked me to stand in as your valet.”
“Valet? Thank you, but I’ve been getting on quite well without one.”
“Ah, then perhaps I could unpack your things.”
“That won’t be necessary. Miss Thomas will be returning shortly.”
“Sir, Miss Thomas has removed to Hartfield.”
“She’s only gone to Ashworth House for tea.”
Dixon hesitated. “I believe you’ll find her room empty, sir. Miss Knightley’s maid moved her things this afternoon.”
“Then have her bring them back.” His ire was rising. “Who directed her to move them? Certainly not Miss Thomas nor I. We’ve been in London for the past two days.”
“Mrs. Knightley ordered them moved, sir.”
“I beg your pardon?” Darcy sat up in the chair.
“Mrs. Knightley said now that your hearing had returned, there was no need for an interpreter. She ordered Miss Thomas’ things moved to Hartfield and asked me to look after you.”
“You tell my aunt I don’t need looking after! I can put on my own bloody shirt and trousers.”
An uneasy moment passed. “Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes, that’s all.” The nerve of his aunt. Taking it upon herself to remove Miss Thomas and make arrangements for him like he was a child. What must Miss Thomas be thinking?
Springing to his feet, he nearly tripped on the carpet in pursuit of the valet. “Dixon!” he called down the hall. Footsteps halted. “S
ummon Lawson to take me to Ashworth House.”
“Yes, sir.” The man called back before his soles pattered down the steps.
Darcy smacked his palm on the doorframe. Blast Aunt Eliza! What was it about matriarchs and meddling? His Aunt Catherine, Great Aunt Eliza, Elizabeth’s mother—. His chest tightened at the reminder of Elizabeth.
“William!”
His head jerked up at Sarah’s voice and her rapidly approaching footsteps.
“I can’t believe Granny had the nerve to remove Miss Thomas. You didn’t request it, did you?”
“Certainly not.”
She huffed. “I’ve had enough of her plotting interference and manoeuvrings. I can’t stand it here any longer. I’m leaving as soon as I can make arrangements.”
“Don’t do anything rash.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” she bellowed. “Granny wants me to be just like her, but I have no intention of ruling like a queen bee reigning from a golden throne. And this dinner party and benefit concert.... Granny is driving me mad with the preparations, clothes fittings, and criticising my every move. My name may be Knightley, but I’m not like them. Neither was my brother.”
“Have you spoken to your father of these concerns?”
“He’s no better than Granny. He never stands up for me. He thinks young ladies should spend their days embroidering and taking tea while waiting for a husband. I can’t stand the boredom. I want to do something. Make my life count for something. As a VAD, I had a taste of it. I’ll never go back to the old way. If they keep pushing, they’ll lose me just like they lost Stephen.”
“You wouldn’t hurt yourself—”
“No! Of course not. I just want to live my own life and feel useful.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’ve been a great help to me. Robert would never have sent me here had you not known telegraphy.”
“But now that you can hear, my telegraphy skills are irrelevant. There’s nothing I can do for you that Miss Thomas can’t do better.” She placed her hand on his arm. “It’s not that I don’t care for you, William, I do. But—.”
“I understand.” He patted her hand.
“Pardon me, Captain, Lawson’s here.”
“Thank you, Dixon. I’ll be along straightaway.”
“Where are you going?” Sarah’s grip tightened on his arm.
“To make my position clear to Aunt Eliza and reassure Miss Thomas.”
“Let me go with you!”
“I think you’ll make a stronger case with your grandmother after you’ve had some time to think things through and devise a solid argument. Your grandmother is an expert in rhetoric.”
Sarah relaxed, releasing her grip. “You’re right. Whenever I’ve flown off the handle before, I’ve ended up looking like a petulant child. Give Miss Thomas my regards.”
Minutes later Darcy secured his officer’s cap and ducked into the motor car with his cane.
Lawson slid into the driver’s seat and eased the car into gear. “To Ashworth House, sir?”
“Yes. I presume you’ve delivered Miss Thomas to Hartfield?”
Lawson hesitated. “The cook at Ashworth invited me in for tea, but not a dozen minutes later Hobson reported that Miss Thomas had let herself out. I went after her, but she said she preferred to walk.”
Darcy groaned. The invitation to tea had no doubt been just a guise for a reprimand or insult. But like Elizabeth, Miss Thomas had pluck. She wasn’t likely to allow Aunt Eliza to have the last word. Darcy chuckled under his breath, recalling their heated exchange the day he’d flung the contents of his luncheon tray across the room.
But even if Miss Thomas had the last word, it didn’t give Aunt Eliza the right to meddle or intimidate. He didn’t appreciate his aunt’s interference either—with Miss Thomas, a valet, or his choice of a wife.
Once at Ashworth, Lawson let him out and pointed him towards the door. Darcy swept his cane across the uneven cobbles and mounted the steps of the dower house.
A moment later Hobson showed him into the drawing room.
“Ah, William,” his aunt crooned, directing him with a gentle tug of his arm. “What a pleasant surprise. Shall I ring for tea?”
He retracted his arm. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t intend to stay long.” His cane located a chair, and he seated himself as he spoke. “I’m sure you can guess why I’m here.”
“Would it have something to do with Miss Thomas?”
“You know it does. I may be sleeping at Donwell, but I’m still under military jurisdiction, as is Miss Thomas. Any changes in my care will be decided by the army, Dr. Scott, and me. My personal arrangements, such as choosing a valet, are my affair as well.”
“Oh, come now, William, you make it sound as if I’ve done you a disservice. You no longer require the services of Miss Thomas. A man of your standing needs a proper valet, not a common nurse with no better sense than to allow her charge to fall into the pond. And certainly not some scheming gold digger sleeping in the next room. It’s nearly scandalous!”
“Miss Thomas didn’t allow me to fall in the pond. And her good sense and care has enabled me to make excellent progress. She even declined the opportunity to serve abroad in order to care for me. She’s been nothing but professional, and I won’t cast her out like a racehorse past his prime.”
“She’s done her duty as interpreter and we can thank her for that, but it doesn’t mean we must keep her on indefinitely. Besides, she’s already reapplied for service overseas.”
“Is it true this upcoming dinner party holds social significance for you?”
“Yes, of course it does. It’s not every day one has the opportunity to entertain the Duke of Norwich.”
“And you wish for me to make a good impression in hopes of attracting his generous donation?”
“It sounds rather blunt when you put it that way, but yes, we’re proud of your progress and consider you one of Hartfield’s outstanding...features.”
“I’m willing to do my part and work to perform at your little production—but only for the sake of Scott and the blind officers awaiting care. But in order to perform well, I’ll need training. And Miss Thomas is my selected trainer. So, as long as she is here, I expect you to treat her with respect.”
“I’m afraid you might be allowing her to cloud your judgement. You need to think about your future and find a suitable wife to look after you. Someone fitting for the role of mistress of Pemberley.”
“That’s the point of St. Dunstan’s.”
“Not to find a wife I hope,” she chuckled.
“No. To learn how to care for myself and learn the skills necessary to properly manage Pemberley and my future. And should I decide I need a wife, I will choose who and when. Now, if you will summon Hobson to show me out, I’ll invite Miss Thomas to return to Donwell so we can get on with the business of preparing for your dinner party.”
A beat of silence passed.
“William,” she paused, her voice almost pleading, “is there no way I can convince you to consider Sarah?”
“I’m very fond of Sarah—just as I’m fond of my cousin Anne. But I have no intention of marrying either of them. And I must warn you, Aunt, if you keep pressing Sarah, you will likely lose her.”
The matron sighed. “I’m afraid you could be right. She’s threatened to follow Margaret. But Sarah is too young to be traipsing off to France. And working with street urchins?” She scoffed. “It’s so undignified and...low class.”
“She’s no longer a child. She knows her mind. And I can assure you, a marriage proposal won’t keep her here. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to invite Miss Thomas to return to Donwell.”
Darcy took his leave, and minutes later Lawson let him out at Hartfield.
“Good afternoon, Captain.” Miss Dashwood met him at the car. “May I see you inside? Have you come for tea with the officers?”
“I’ve come to speak with Miss Thomas.” He offered his arm.
&nb
sp; “Is she not with you at Donwell?” She led him through the door.
“I believe she returned here. To her former quarters upstairs.”
“If you’d like to wait in the library, I’ll see.”
Once in the library, Darcy lowered himself into a leather wing chair and inhaled the smell of worn leather and paper. As a clock hammered out the silence, a longing for Pemberley overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes, his mind roaming over every detail of his beloved library. If he didn’t regularly picture the familiar room, he could lose its magnificence and detail.
Sadness crept over him like a cloud moving over the sun. He would never read any of those books again. His access to poetry, literature, and history would be limited to the few books published in braille.
He released the air in his lungs. He couldn’t allow himself to drown in sorrow. He was fortunate he could afford whatever braille books he liked. And fortunate to have a skilled woman teaching him to read them.
Recognising Miss Thomas’ approaching footsteps, he rose. She paused at the threshold. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”
Sensing an uncharacteristic timidity about her, he held out a welcoming hand. “Please, come in.”
Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, then stopped in front of him.
“I hope I haven’t spoken—”
“Please, forgive my aunt—”
They spoke at the same time, then relaxed, gently laughing together.
“You first.” He gestured in her direction.
“I’m afraid I gave in to my temper earlier with your aunt. I failed to consider the gravity of my words and that perhaps you might fully agree with her and no longer wish me to serve as your teacher and aide.”
“Not at all. Her behaviour was inexcusable. Please, will you come back? I’ve enjoyed our mornings at the pond together. Not only am I improving in my reading, but it’s gratifying to be attending Pemberley’s business.” He chuckled softly. “Besides, if I’m to be the main attraction in winning over the duke, my skills will need to be honed to perfection.”
“I admire you for your willingness to participate, knowing how you hated being paraded at the hospital ceremony.”
Darcy's Hope at Donwell Abbey, a WW1 Pride & Prejudice Companion Page 23