“Your grandmother, coming now? I thought she’d be dressing for dinner.” Elizabeth followed Sarah into the red-papered room as the dinner gong sounded below.
“Oh, she’ll be here for dinner, all right.” Sarah sank onto a tufted bench at the foot of her bed and looked up at Elizabeth with pleading eyes. “I just can’t do it anymore, Juliet. I’m not what she wants me to be.”
Elizabeth lowered herself beside her friend. “What do you mean?”
“Two years ago I took over managing the household when my sister Cornelia married. I thought Granny would see me as grown up and capable, and then she would have fewer excuses to come by and find fault with me. But now, it’s worse! Not only does she criticise my clothes and decorum, but it’s the menus, the way I treat the servants—everything! I’m not like Granny, or Mama, or Cornelia. I have no fondness for this lifestyle with its outdated traditions and stuffy manners. I’m suffocating here! I want adventure. Freedom! I want to go to France. Robert is there, and Margaret—.”
“Then why not go?”
“Father won’t let me. And I know Granny’s put him up to it. She thinks I should marry.”
“Marry Captain Darcy?”
Sarah laughed. “If I did, she’d be as pleased as Punch. But thank goodness she’s no longer beating that drum.”
Elizabeth gave her a little squeeze. “I know it’s hard. Have you asked Captain Darcy to speak to your father on your behalf?”
Sarah looked up at her. “No, I haven’t. But that’s a good idea. It gives me a little hope. And somehow talking about it makes me feel better. Thank you for listening.” She curled a weak smile and rose to her feet. “Now, we’d better find you something to wear, or we’ll be late for dinner.”
An hour later Elizabeth stood before Sarah’s full-length mirror and blinked. She could hardly believe she was looking at herself. She’d forgotten she could look so...pretty.
The beaded front of the red satin gown twinkled in the light as she angled side to side. And her hair! Generally pulled into a tight chignon, tonight Sarah’s maid had twisted and tucked her wavy locks into a stylish coiffure.
Sarah appeared in the mirror behind her and gripped her shoulders. “You look beautiful. Too bad William can’t see you.”
Elizabeth turned around, incredulous.
Sarah laughed. “Don’t act as if he hasn’t caught your eye, Juliet Thomas. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Elizabeth blanched. “Sarah, I couldn’t. I’m just.... And he’s—.”
“He’s a single man in possession of a good fortune and in need of a wife. And you’re perfect for him.”
“I don’t know about that.” Elizabeth laughed off the comment. “But I do know we’ll be in possession of a good scolding if we’re late for dinner.”
Elizabeth followed Sarah down the stairs, her thoughts whirring. So Sarah still had no interest in Fitzwilliam. But she was now the second person to comment on how Elizabeth looked at Fitzwilliam. She needed to leave. But with her dreams to serve abroad now shattered, where could she go? Dr. Scott would likely ask her to stay on at Hartfield, but what excuse could she give for wanting to leave? There was nowhere to go. Maybe she could work at a French orphanage like Margaret. At least little children wouldn’t recognise her. But she didn’t speak French.
What about America? She’d saved enough money. She rolled her eyes. How ridiculous. She needed a passport to sail to France or America, and arranging for one under a false name would hardly be easy.
As they neared the library, the clock chimed over the voices of Colonel Brandon and Dr. Scott inside.
A moment later, the two women crossed the threshold, and Donwell’s master rose from his chair. “Greetings, ladies, you look lovely this evening.”
The other men pushed to their feet and turned to face them. Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to Fitzwilliam, but she forced it away.
“Well,” Mrs. Knightley tittered, “the butler just announced dinner, and I thought I might have to play hostess for the evening.”
Sarah ignored her. “Good evening, everyone. Shall we go in to dinner?”
Elizabeth was shown to the seat beside Fitzwilliam, Sarah on his other. It was no surprise that Mrs. Knightley was positioned opposite him, flanked by Mr. Knightley, Dr. Scott, and the colonel.
The first two courses passed with pleasant conversation about the Americans’ success in Flanders, the demise of the Red Baron, and other war news. Elizabeth tried to appear engaged, but her mind kept mulling over her situation. Where could she go?
Throughout the meal Mrs. Knightley kept a careful eye on Fitzwilliam, but Elizabeth felt like she was the one on trial. As if she had done something she should be ashamed of. Thankfully, Fitzwilliam’s manners were flawless and his knowledgeable contributions to the conversation impressive. Those mornings spent tediously tapping news onto his arm had been worthwhile.
The conversation drifted to Hartfield, and Fitzwilliam asked, “So, Colonel, will you be making any special preparations for the upcoming benefit concert?”
“As a matter of fact, we are.” Colonel Brandon turned to address Mrs. Knightley. “Perhaps you would like to make the announcement.”
“Well,” the matriarch smiled smugly at the attention suddenly focused on her, “news of the Duke’s visit has caused quite a stir in the village. I expect the benefit concert will be standing-room only. I thought we would take advantage of the occasion by holding a fund-raising bazaar that afternoon on Hartfield’s lawn, then host a dance after the concert. It will show the duke we know how to host affairs and raise additional funds at the same time.”
“What a splendid idea, Mother. I understand that Lady Almina at Highclere put on a bazaar, and one booth sold art made by the patients.”
Colonel Brandon looked to Dr. Scott. “I believe the patients would be amenable to that.”
“Agreed.” Dr. Scott returned his napkin to his lap. “For those well enough to participate, it will give them purpose and a goal to work towards.”
“Where will you hold the dance, Granny?”
“In Hartfield’s entry hall. Moving the furniture will provide plenty of space.” Her gaze shifted to Elizabeth. “William told me the men at St. Dunstan’s are given instruction in dance. Could you teach him?”
“I-I suppose.”
“I don’t think so,” Fitzwilliam returned his wineglass to the table. “I’m not one for dancing.”
“Oh come now, William, don’t be silly. You must show the duke that a blind man is fully capable of a simple foxtrot and waltz.”
Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to object, but Dr. Scott spoke first. “I know you’re not overly fond of dancing, Captain, but would you do it as a special favour for me and the officers we hope to help at Hartfield?”
Fitzwilliam paused, then finally conceded. “I’ll do it for you. And the men.”

When the evening came to a close, the doctor and colonel rose to take their leave. Mrs. Knightley discretely pulled Elizabeth aside. “Before you go, Miss Thomas, I’d like a word.”
Elizabeth followed the woman into the adjoining music room. What could this be about? Their last tête-à-tête had hardly been a friendly chat.
The matriarch perched on a red velvet settee, and Elizabeth took the tapestried chair facing her.
The grande dame folded her hands in her lap and raised her chin with a smug grin. “I’ve recently learnt some news about you.”
Elizabeth steeled herself, determined not to be intimidated by the woman. “It’s no secret that my VAD application was not accepted. Although I find it curious that you should know when I only learnt of it this afternoon.”
“I make it my business to know these sorts of things. But you are holding a secret, aren’t you?” The elderly woman’s head wavered as she bore her gaze into Elizabeth. “I’ve done some investigating, and I know you’re not who you purport yourself to be. There’s no record of any Dr. Thomas residing in Corpus Christi, Texas, or
a Juliet Thomas crossing the Atlantic. For that matter, there’s no record of any Juliet Thomas at all.”
Panic swept over her. Did the woman know she was Elizabeth Bennet?
“I see I’ve struck a chord, Miss...Thomas. But you need not worry on my account if you’re willing to agree to my terms.”
Elizabeth released her captive breath.
“As you know, this dinner party has recently taken on a new importance. With or without the Duke of Norwich, we want to show the Medical Director that we can provide training in everything a blinded gentleman needs. Brush-making and poultry farming are admirable skills for common blind men, but gentlemen like William need business and social skills. In short, I want to ensure the evening’s success. And part of its success hinges on my great-nephew making a flawless showing. He’ll need to be proficient in not only dining, but dancing, rowing, riding, swimming, and typewriting. You can teach him, can’t you?”
“I can’t teach riding, but two weeks is hardly ample time to help him with so many physical skills when he still tires easily.”
“But you will do it, won’t you?”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to be defiant and conceded, “I’ll do my best.”
“Good. I knew you would see reason.” The elder woman straightened, looking pleased with herself. “Now, since you are supposedly so familiar with Texas, I’m sure you won’t object to returning there. But you know as well as I that obtaining a passport for Juliet Thomas would be next to impossible. Fortunately I have a connection in London who owes me a favour. It may require several weeks, but I am confident that with a little extra time, he will come through for me. You can finish your business here and soon be on your way. But in return, I ask that you make your intentions clearly known to William and resist the impulse to further encourage any...association with him. Is that agreeable?”
Elizabeth nodded. She despised being blackmailed, but wasn’t this an ideal solution?
Mrs. Knightley drew an envelope from her reticule and extended it to Elizabeth. “Inside you will find a ticket to Liverpool and a generous sum of money. You only need submit a photograph for the passport, and I’ll complete the arrangements.”
As Elizabeth reached for the envelope, she lost all hope that a fairy godmother would wave her wand and restore her to her Prince Charming. Instead, a grandmother handed her an envelope with a ticket to America.
Thousands of miles away from Fitzwilliam.
~THIRTY-EIGHT~
A week later
Darcy laid the braille book aside, then checked his pocket watch. He’d only finished tea with George and Sarah half an hour ago. Dinner wasn’t until eight. Taking tea with the Knightleys had previously been a pleasant way to end his afternoons with Sarah, but lately he found himself missing the times when he and Miss Thomas had taken breakfast and tea alone.
He leaned back in his room’s upholstered chair. Now that the dinner and concert had taken on a new significance, Miss Thomas had replaced his morning dining lessons with typewriting, and their time at the pond included as much rowing and swimming as business and braille. The lessons could be frustrating at times, but it was gratifying to be making progress and using his muscles. He felt a sense of accomplishment he’d never felt at the Front.
And Miss Thomas…. He smiled at the thought of her. Somehow she made it all seem...enjoyable. He’d liked and appreciated her from the very beginning. But now like and respect were growing into something much deeper. He shouldn’t be surprised. Every day her qualities and mannerisms were little reminders of Elizabeth. Reminders that produced a niggle of guilt that he forced away, knowing it was Elizabeth’s wish for him.
Spero nuzzled his hand. Darcy scratched the dog’s head, then let a floppy ear flow through his fingers.
Touch. Since he’d lost his sight, his sense of touch had become much more sensitive. In those early weeks of being deaf and blind, he hadn’t realised how much Miss Thomas’ physical presence meant to him. All the times she’d left her hand on his arm just to reassure him someone was there. And the thousands of taps to communicate with him. Even the brushing of his knuckles to let him know his visitors had departed. He missed it. He missed that physical connection with a woman that had begun with Elizabeth in France. Holding her had awakened something dormant inside him, a hunger for touch and affection he hadn’t realised was there. Elizabeth was now gone. But Juliet wasn’t. Yet. But her call could come any day.
On his return from St. Dunstan’s, he’d purposed to get to know her better and then evaluate his feelings. That had been some ten days ago. So how did he feel about her? Did he want to pursue her, or was his heart still too attached to Elizabeth? Juliet had no family to speak of. And certainly no position to recommend her. But she was an extraordinary woman and they got on well. She seemed to have an intuitive understanding of him. She understood the challenges of a blind man, and she seemed to like him. And he liked—. What was he waiting for?
Grabbing his cane, Darcy pushed up from the chair, then whistled for Spero to follow and strode out of the door.
A short time later, he stepped from the motorcar at Hartfield with a promise from Lawson to return just before eight o’clock. With any luck, the dog would occupy the patients and give him an opportunity to speak with Juliet.
Once inside, he moved towards the hum of conversation and clink of porcelain drifting from the officers’ dining room.
“Captain Darcy, what a pleasant surprise.” Miss Thomas stepped out of the recreation room. “I thought I heard you coming.” Spero’s tail thumped the ground, and she leaned over to him.
“I brought the dog to see the men.” That was partially true anyway.
“They’re just finishing their dinner and gathering—.”
“Darcy, bring that dog of yours and join us on the terrace,” Captain Dennett called from amongst a shuffle of feet exiting the dining room.
“I’ll be along in a moment.” He called out before turning back to Juliet. “Would you like to join us?”
“Thank you. Let me get Lieutenant Grover in his wheelchair, and I’ll be out in a moment.” She patted his arm and stepped away.
So far, so good. Darcy continued down the hallway.
“Darcy,” Major Massey clapped him on the arm. “Good to see you, ol’ chap. We’ve been missing you here.”
“Missing me or my dog?”
The major laughed and opened the terrace door. “You got me on that one. I hear you’re leaving after the concert next week. Are you taking Spero?”
“I am.”
“Guess we’d better enjoy him now.” The major directed Darcy to a chair and sat down beside him. “So are you here to see us or that attractive nurse of yours? I might be interested myself if I thought I had a chance with her. But word is she only has eyes for you.”
“Let’s just say I’m exploring my options.”
“Good man. Here she comes now. I’ll buy you some time.”
Good as his word, Massey took charge of the wheelchair and drew the other half-dozen officers to the opposite side of the terrace.
Juliet settled in the vacated seat. “Thank you for bringing the dog. He’s a wonderful diversion for the men.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Now he just needed the dog to divert the men elsewhere and leave him alone with Juliet.
“Did you and Sarah enjoy your long-awaited ride on Samson this afternoon?”
Darcy chuckled. “I’d hardly call it a ride. We walked about the stable yard.”
“No galloping across the meadow?”
“Tomorrow. Scott wanted me to start slowly. He’s afraid I’ll get a headache, and I’m happy to err on the side of caution.”
Spero barked, prompting cheers and commotion from the other side of the terrace.
Darcy smiled. “The men are so good-humoured, I often forget they’re wounded, some with grossly disfigured faces.”
“The good-humoured ones have been able to draw strength from one another. But there are just as many�
��”
More exuberant barking and a whoop from the men cut off her words. The dog bounded by, followed by the men’s raucous laughter.
“A reward for the dog, and then to the gaming tables!” Major Massey’s voice rose above the hubbub as the men and wheelchair clamoured by.
Juliet chuckled. “Spero nearly cornered a squirrel.”
“Care to join us, Darcy?” Dennett called out. “I believe we have a set of braille dominoes inside.”
“I think I’ll sit out here a bit, thank you.”
“Suit yourself. Mind if we take the dog?”
“Not at all.”
The men’s voices faded as they made their way indoors. Darcy was suddenly aware that he and Juliet were alone. This was the opportunity he’d been hoping for.
Before he could second-guess himself, he opened his mouth. “It’s hard to believe the concert is next week and I’ll be leaving the following day.”
“Yes, I know.”
A wistful silence opened between them.
Darcy shifted, but a moment later a ragtime tune drifted from the phonograph indoors. “Would you care to help me practice dancing, Miss Thomas?”
“I-I’d be happy to.”
She obviously detected his disquiet. Did she suspect why he’d come?
Darcy rose to his feet, and she took his extended hand. Stepping away from the table, he drew her to himself, then stepped on the next downbeat.
“Are you looking forward to going to St. Dunstan’s?” Her words broke the silence between them.
“Only because it will equip me to run my estate. But Juliet...I’ll miss your company.”
They took three steps before she replied in a shaky voice, “I’ll miss you too.”
She was handing him an opportunity on a silver platter. “Juliet, these past few weeks I’ve come to...care for you. And I believe you are fond of me as well. But having both recently lost loved ones, we need more time. Would you allow me to write to you?”
“But I’m leaving.”
He laughed softly, pulling her closer. “That would be the reason for letters.”
Darcy's Hope at Donwell Abbey, a WW1 Pride & Prejudice Companion Page 25