His invitation hung in the air like a cloudy breath on a wintry morning.
He expelled the air in his lungs with an apologetic chuckle. “Forgive my blunt request. Speaking of this is not easy for me. But I held my tongue on another matter last year and have come to bitterly regret it.”
“You need not explain, Captain. Much as I wish—”
“No, please.” He held up his hand. “Before you judge my invitation untoward, allow me to confess a difficult truth. Elizabeth was lively, smart, kind, and strong. Qualities I appreciate in you as well. I’m told you even share a physical resemblance to her. Please don’t be offended when I tell you that, without my sight, I’ve had difficulty separating the two of you in my mind. If I could see you, come to know you in your own right, I can’t help but think we might have a chance at happiness together. I owe my very life to you, and it would mean much if you could stay and celebrate the return of my sight with me.”
“I would like that very much. But...I can’t.”
Frustration welled inside him. “Am I wrong in thinking there is something between us?”
“I do care for you, but....”
“But what? What is it? Is there something you’re not telling me? Some aspect of my character that is repugnant? Something of which I am unaware? My life has been in your hands these past few months, and you know me well. If there’s something I need to know, please, tell me.”
She closed the short distance between them. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re the finest man I’ve ever known.”
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm. “Then might I ask the reason for your haste to return to America? If you are in trouble, let me help.” His hand found her arm, then slid down to her fingers.
“I just can’t stay here. I’m not good for you. My family.... My past. I’m unsuitable for someone like you.” She pulled her hand away. “It’s just best that I remove myself to America.”
She was rejecting him—again! His shoulders sagged.
“Please don’t look so sad. I know this is painful. It pains me too. But it’s for the best.”
Releasing his breath, he turned aside. He felt as if he were drowning in the ocean of heartache and disappointment that filled the No-Man’s land between them. Would this be his final memory of her?
He turned back to her. “Would you allow me to touch your face, to form an impression to remember you by?”
An agonising moment ticked by before her voice cracked in a whisper, “Yes.”
She took up his hands, then placed them on her face.
He cupped her cheeks, and she relaxed under his touch as he spread his fingers over her smooth skin, then traced her jawline. This was the woman who’d spent months by his side teaching him to eat, read, and walk. She’d taught him to live—and love again.
He outlined her glasses, then smoothed his thumbs over her brows and down her small nose. Stroking his thumbs over her cheeks once more, his finger met a tear. The vice compressing his heart squeezed tighter. “Won’t you stay just a few weeks, until my sight returns?”
She shook her head ever so slightly.
Releasing his breath in defeat, his hands fell away from her face but his little finger snagged in a necklace chain. As the chain pulled taut, a rough texture grazed his hand. She gasped. He froze. Was it possible? Could she be—? His heart pounded as he groped for the dangling ornament, then chafed his thumb over the rough stones. That texture was as familiar as his name.
Shock radiated through him as his mind skipped over a dozen recollections: the smell of lavender, gentle fingers, a dark-haired woman, green eyes, uncanny familiarity, a tender embrace, her intuitive understanding, Fitzwilliam.
The world tilted as Juliet and Elizabeth merged into one.
He dropped the garnet necklace and stepped back, dumbfounded. “Elizabeth? How—? Why—?”
Elizabeth and Juliet were—. He’d fallen in love with the same woman—twice! She’d been beside him and nursed him all this time. For months! How could she have watched him suffer without saying a word? He’d yearned for her, ached for her—nearly took his own life in despair over her!
“Fitzwilliam,” her fingers tentatively brushed his hand, “please don’t be angry. I—”
He snatched his arm away.
These past eight months had been the most difficult of his life. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of her. So much of his pain could have been alleviated if he’d known she was there!
“Fitzwilliam, I had no choice. I had to leave. I—”
Pressing out his palm to silence her, he took another step back. She’d had no choice? She’d made the choice to keep her identity from him every day for months! Did it ever occur to her that he might be able to help her? That he might want the option of choosing whether or not to risk his reputation for her? No! She was too busy looking for opportunities to leave him—first as Elizabeth and then as Juliet.
Because she loves you. The thought struck him like a slap in the face. She was leaving because she loved him—to protect him. And though she’d feared for her own life, she’d stayed and nursed him out of love. The woman he’d searched for and agonised over—the one woman he’d ever loved was standing before him. Right now!
- - -
Crushing disappointment flooded Elizabeth. She’d dreamed of revealing herself to him a hundred times. Imagined his elation at discovering her, then catching her up in his arms, pulling her close, and telling her how much he’d missed and loved her. Instead he’d backed away, shunning her touch with his brows slashing downward.
Could he not understand why she’d kept her identity a secret, and why she must go now? He’d seen the letter from Caroline and the newspaper article. He knew the fate of suspected spies. Would he rather she was in prison? Hanged for treason? Preferred she’d accepted her VAD summons and allowed him to be sent to a London hospital all alone?
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. He’d been mourning her loss for eight months, and she’d allowed him to continue to believe she was gone. She’d deceived him—a man who abhorred deception of any kind. And though she never intended for him to fall in love with her as Juliet, he had. She’d rejected and abandoned him as Elizabeth and as Juliet. How cruel!
She winced and turned away. It was all such a tragedy. Even if he’d swept her up with declarations of love, it didn’t change the outcome. She had to remove herself. Aunt Eliza already knew she wasn’t Juliet Thomas and would be all too happy to expose her if she didn’t board that steamer bound for America tomorrow evening. Oh but what she would do to be held by him one more time, hear him say he loved her, and kiss her goodbye! But now there was no use prolonging the inevitable.
Forcing herself to turn back, she levelled her gaze on him. With his face billowing like clouds in an uncertain sky, she drew in a fortifying breath and opened her mouth. “I understand that you are angry, but if you think this has been easy for me, you are mistaken. When I left Pemberley, I thought only of protecting you and everything you hold dear. And when you arrived at Hartfield, broken, blind, and deaf, I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around you, coddle, and commiserate with you, but I didn’t. Because I love you. Even now were I to do it all over again, I would do the same thing. I would never ask you to choose between me and your family and reputation. I only regret that we are parting on a bitter note now. Goodbye, Fitz—”
“No!” She flinched at his outburst and the vice-like grip that seized her arm. “Would you stay if I promised you we could be safe together?”
“O-of course! But it’s impossible. You know it is! I’m a marked woman. Your money and station can’t buy my freedom. I’ll be—”
“Oh my love.” The words whooshed out as he drew her into his arms. “No one is coming for you. You’re safe. Stay with me.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as he squeezed her against his chest in a fierce hug. This was the man she loved—saying she was safe! She was in his arms! His name
formed on her lips, but the bubble in her throat rendered her mute. She could only wrap her arms around him and cling to him.
His nose nuzzled her ear. “I’m so sorry I was angry,” he whispered, kneading the small of her back. “Promise you’ll never leave me again. You didn’t have to leave. Stay with me now.”
She burrowed into his broad chest, but a hundred questions swirled in her mind. “I want nothing more than to stay with you, but how can you say that I’m safe? The newspaper said they’re looking for me. I could be shot—”
“No. No.” He squeezed her tighter. “No one will take you away. Let me hold you.”
“Please, Fitzwilliam. I’m scared.” She pulled away. “Your Aunt Eliza already knows I’m not Juliet Thomas.”
“You let me handle my Aunt Eliza.” He trailed his palms down her arms and squeezed her hands. “And you can rest assured that no one is coming for you, Elizabeth. I was an agent.”
“An agent?” She stiffened in horror.
“No,” he chuckled, “an intelligence agent. Sent by the Crown under the guise of assisting at The Ritz, and I know for a fact that you are not under investigation.”
“Y-you were an intelligence agent?”
“I was.”
“So you know all about...whatever it is that was going on at The Ritz?”
“I know all about it. And all about the false accusations against you.” He drew her back to himself. “It’s so good to have you back.”
“So Dr. Cowart had nothing against me?” She spoke against his chest.
“No. You’re safe, right here with me.” He stroked her hair.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“So I can be Elizabeth Bennet again?”
“Yes.”
“I was about to leave you forever—for nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, clinging to him. She’d spent the past eight months living in fear and separated from Fitzwilliam. For nothing! She nestled against his strong chest. “Watching you suffer and keeping my identity from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. During our months together here, I only grew to love you more. I was only going to America to keep you safe.”
“And now you don’t have to go.”
“No.”
He held her a while longer before gently pulling away. “May I kiss you now—as Elizabeth and Juliet?”
“I’d like nothing more.” She smiled into his handsome face.
He placed a hand on her cheek, then guided his face towards hers and touched his lips onto hers. His arms came around her, and then he was kissing her, giving, loving, sharing.
She returned his affection with equal fervour before stepping back. “Fitzwilliam, help me to understand. Caroline’s letter said Dr. Cowart had evidence against me. Was she lying?”
“Cowart was a buffoon.”
She released a nervous chuckle. “That’s not how the rest of the country views him.”
“He was all just pomp and posturing, and the War Office used it as propaganda. And besides,” he smiled, pulling her into his arms, “consider this: You’d be an overnight sensation were it known you saved his life and were awarded the Croix de Guerre for it.”
“So I really am free? I can be Elizabeth Bennet, and no one is going to arrest me for treason?”
“No arrest for treason, my love.”
“So I’m safe? We’re safe?”
“Yes, I promise.” His gentle laugh rumbled beneath her ear.
“It’s just all so...shocking, for once in my life I find I don’t quite know what to say.”
“Say yes,” he whispered.
“Yes?” She pulled away.
“Say you’ll stay and be the first face I see when my sight returns.”
“Yes!”
“Say you’ll come home to Pemberley with me.”
“Gladly!”
He released her and dropped to one knee with an outstretched hand. “Juliet Elizabeth Thomas Bennet, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
She took his hand. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, yes. Yes! YES!”
Sweeping her up, he spun her around with a whoop of glee and was kissing her before her feet landed on the ground. Pulling back, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It’s so good to have you back. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
~FORTY-THREE ~
Darcy drew Elizabeth back into his arms, then pressed her head to his chest. He couldn’t stop smiling. He was holding Elizabeth! Of course it all made sense now, but he could still hardly believe that Elizabeth and Juliet were one and the same. He chuckled to himself. Keeping up with his changing circumstances was becoming quite a challenge. An hour ago he’d merely hoped to convince Juliet to stay. Fifteen minutes ago he’d learnt Juliet was Elizabeth. A minute ago he’d proposed to her. And now he could look forward to the rest of his life with the woman he loved. The path to this point had been long and hard. He was ready to get on with his future. But first he—and she—needed to close the chapter on the past eight months.
He rubbed her shoulder. “Might we sit in our spot under the oak tree and sort out the conspiracy and everything that has kept us apart? Then we can leave it all behind us.”
“All right.” She arched away from him. “As long as you promise we can leave it behind us, and then I can have you all to myself.”
“You already have all of me.”
She nudged him at his teasing. “All right, Prince Charming, where would you like to start?”
He twined his fingers with hers and started for their tree. “At the beginning.”
“Does that mean starting in Meryton when we first met?”
Darcy chuckled, then placed his hand on the tree and turned to her. “For the sake of my pride, I’d prefer not to go that far back. Let’s start with your sister Lydia.”
“Lydia? We can start with Lydia.”
He lowered himself to the ground, then raised one knee and drew her back against his chest. Spero settled beside them.
“All right.” He draped his arms over her shoulders. “You know Lydia crossed the Channel disguised as a soldier. What you may not know is that Wickham was her accomplice. Once in France, they were assigned to dig trenches. After a blast, they were recovered by Germans and recruited as agents.”
Elizabeth jerked around to face him. “So it was much more than just Lydia marrying a German officer?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, how can you still want me?”
“Because you are not the traitor.” He slid his hand up her neck and cupped her cheek. “I’m not proud of some of my relatives either, but I wouldn’t want others to hold it against me.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, then pulled his hand away. “We’d better get on with it, before you distract me too much.”
She pecked a kiss on his cheek, then turned back around and resettled.
“As you know, Sapper and Wickham ended up at The Ritz as sanitation workers. The two conspired with Bongaerts to smuggle out wounded German prisoners.”
“How did they do it?”
“I credit you with discovering one of their ploys.”
“Me?”
“You noticed that the blades of the windmill had been turned, and I realised it was always just before a prisoner escape.”
“So they were using the windmill as a signalling device?”
“Indeed.”
“How did I fit into the scheme?”
“It started when Wickham broke his leg and landed in your ward in Boulogne.”
“Wickham arranged the position for me at the Ritz as nursemaid for Mons—.” She sucked in a breath. “Was Monsieur Dubois in on the ploy?”
“It seems he was an innocent bystander like you, but his visits with Bongaerts provided valuable intelligence about the activity at the Ritz. I suppose you recall your friend Lorna?”
“Sapper’s sister? Of course. We had a lovely correspondence.”
/>
“Do you recall that all of the letters from her were typewritten?”
“She said she was hoping to land a clerical position and needed the practice.”
“Elizabeth, Sapper didn’t have a sister. You were corresponding with Lydia.”
“Lydia?” Elizabeth stiffened. “No wonder I felt like I was corresponding with one of my sisters. How could I have been so stupid?”
Fitzwilliam kneaded her shoulder in sympathy. “Wickham preyed on your innocence in recruiting you.”
“You mean my naïveté. Oh, Fitzwilliam, I feel terrible. I told Lorna everything! Did Dr. Cowart know? Is that why he suspected I was a spy?”
“Cowart wasn’t the cleverest chap. I don’t think he knew about Lorna or Lydia.”
“How did you know Lorna was Lydia?”
“Sapper was funnelling the post through the washerwoman—through the laundry.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. “I feel like such a fool. I played right into Sapper’s hands. Wait.... You and Dr. Cowart arrived the same day. Please don’t tell me he was an...?”
“Agent? Indeed he was. Sent to aid me in the investigation. His uncle was in charge of the operation.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Truly fact is stranger than fiction. Does the Croix de Guerre medal from Dr. Cowart somehow play into all of this?”
“It does. You may recall you received it not long after Cowart was killed. Wickham had him eliminated, then sent you the medal on Cowart’s behalf.”
“What for?”
“Because the back was etched with a code referencing the location of a list containing the names of all the agents.”
Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “That must be why the medal was so important to Sapper. He nearly shot me over the silly thing!”
“Only after he tried to blow you up in your tent.”
“What?” She turned to him.
“The air raid on The Ritz was merely a cover for prisoner escapes. And an excuse to destroy your tent. They were trying to get rid of you and that medal, Elizabeth.”
Darcy's Hope at Donwell Abbey, a WW1 Pride & Prejudice Companion Page 29