by P. O. Dixon
Would she read in her new neighbors’ faces the questioning looks and the unmasked dismay that she would mourn the man who had stolen her away from her Bennet family when she was just four years old and raised her as his own flesh and blood for reasons of his own?
Would they question her sensibilities in honoring such a man? Would they, like Mrs. Bennet, regard him as a monster?
How she wished they would not—if not for her sake then for the sake of her Bennet family who surely would not want to be the object of any one’s pity, and for her Montlake family, who surely did not deserve to be regarded as evil.
Elizabeth looked at her papa, hoping that he would say something—anything to let her know that he was not of the same mind as her mama. When he looked up from his paper and observed her doing so, he arose from his chair, tucked his paper neatly under his arm, and quit the room.
Such blatant disregard for her feelings was all too overwhelming and rather than sit there and pretend she had not been injured, Elizabeth raced from the dining parlor and headed up the stairs to her room.
Standing, Jane meant to go after her sister, but Mrs. Bennet halted her. Minutes later, Mrs. Bennet entered Elizabeth’s room. She demanded to know what Elizabeth was about—why in heavens had she run off like that?
“What did you expect? I have spent the better part of my life loving His Grace as a granddaughter ought to love a grandfather. Such feelings do not fade easily.”
“Surely you do not expect any of us to revere that monster. The man was a vile criminal who hid behind his noble status to get away with his crime for as long as he did. You, too, ought to see him as such.”
Drawing a quick breath, Elizabeth said, “And what of Avery, the current duke, or Lady Sophia, the woman whom I have loved and revered as my mother? Am I expected to think meanly of her as well—to cast aside my love for her also?”
Tears trickled down Elizabeth’s face. She looked at her mama — the woman standing before her who had suffered the manner of pain no parent ought to have undergone. Elizabeth felt as if her heart was on the verge of being torn to shreds. Reading in Mrs. Bennet’s eyes what Elizabeth surmised was heartbreak; she placed her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Believe me when I say I am exceedingly grateful to be reunited with you, with my sisters, and my papa. Please say anything but that you wish for me to choose. I cannot choose, nor do I ever wish to choose. Her ladyship has always been very good to me—everything a mother ought to be. I love her.”
Mrs. Bennet placed her hand on Elizabeth’s chin. “As well you should, my dearest Lizzy. I would never expect or want you to turn your back on her ladyship.”
“Truly?” said Elizabeth, her mind a little more at ease because of her mama’s comforting touch and her reassuring words.
“Indeed. I have been exactly where her ladyship finds herself. I have lost you before. There is nothing so forlorn as the loss of one’s child. I would not wish such a fate upon anyone.”
“Oh, Mama! Thank you!” said Elizabeth.
Removing her handkerchief from her sleeve, Mrs. Bennet commenced dabbing her daughter’s tears. “There, there, my dear, all is well. Now, come along, young lady. Your aunt Mrs. Philips will soon be here as well as Lady Lucas and her daughters. I suspect Mrs. Long will arrive shortly after that. Why, all our neighbors are most anxious to meet you. Come along, my dear.”
When Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet arrived in the parlor, their first caller was already there. It was her aunt, Mrs. Agatha Philips. The younger girls’ eager questions about the happenings in Meryton gave Elizabeth to know Mrs. Philips was a great favorite. Where Elizabeth had seen in her mother’s brother, Mr. Gardiner, a sensible, sophisticated man, she could not say the same of her mother’s sister. While Elizabeth, by now, suspected she was not alone in believing her mama to be a woman of uncertain temperament and little knowledge of the world, she only wished that were the situation for her aunt. Here was a woman who lacked everything of elegance and good graces if ever Elizabeth saw one.
Mrs. Philips’s vulgarity was a great tax on Elizabeth’s forbearance; and though the lady at first appeared too much in awe of Elizabeth to speak with alacrity, whenever she did speak she must be vulgar. The thought that Mr. Darcy may have spent any time in company with her aunt must surely have not bided well. Such a fate likely served as the basis for some of his disdain of her Hertfordshire relations. She had not been in her aunt’s company for more than an hour before she began to consider that if Mr. Darcy never visited that part of the country again, she would be extremely disappointed, but she would in no way be surprised.
Elizabeth said a silent prayer of appreciation for her sensible relatives in town, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Such pleasant thoughts gave way to another intriguing prospect: that being the heir of Longbourn whom the Bennets had yet to meet.
Surely our cousin Mr. Collins can be no worse than my aunt Mrs. Philips.
Chapter 3 ~ Not a Lady
In his heart, Darcy knew that Elizabeth needed to return to Longbourn to the bosom of her true family, the Bennets. He would have been lying if he said a part of him did not wish that Elizabeth would find the Bennets as objectionable as he did and that she would wish to have little to do with them in time.
Surely she will realize that her true place is with the Duke of Dunsmore, the only brother she has ever known, and with Lady Sophia, who is loving and caring. Indeed, everything a mother ought to be.
He had endeavored to avoid Elizabeth’s questions about her family for fear that he would not be objective. How he disdained his friend Charles Bingley’s youngest sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, for speaking so unguardedly about his abhorrence of the Bennets in front of Elizabeth.
Darcy covered his face with both hands. There is no wonder Elizabeth would not allow me to speak the words that lay on the tip of my tongue that I wished to offer her my hand in marriage.
They had agreed that what Elizabeth needed most was time to sort through the loss of her former life as well as embrace her new life, but what if, upon discovering her true self, she decided that her life as a Bennet was the life she desired? If the past had taught him anything, it had been not to take too much of anything for granted.
All promises of giving her time meant nothing in the wake of his desire to be with her. Thus, he arranged to travel to Hertfordshire and to stay there for the foreseeable future. His initial thought of writing to his friend Bingley to tell him of his plans was one Darcy promptly reconsidered. Surely Bingley would have been amenable to offering Darcy all the hospitality afforded by a stay at Netherfield Park, but that would also oblige Miss Bingley to preside at her brother’s table. The last thing Darcy needed was to see Miss Caroline Bingley. He had rather suffer the inconveniences of a local Meryton inn.
The day Darcy was meant to depart, he received a surprise early morning visitor. He stood to greet his elegant cousin, Lady Victoria Fitzwilliam, when she waltzed into the room. After dispensing with all the usual civilities, Darcy said, “You should not have traveled all this way.”
“I was worried about you. My brother Richard told me what unfolded here at Pemberley with Lady Elizabeth—but then again, she’s not a lady, after all, is she?”
More annoyance than surprise graced his countenance. He had supposed when he was discussing the Montlakes’ story with his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam that the latter would know without being told that it was a confidence not meant to be shared.
“She is every bit the lady she has always been.”
“I suppose what I should have said is that she no longer bears the title—that she is nothing more than a country gentleman’s daughter.”
“My sister, Georgiana, is the daughter of a gentleman as well. What is the point of your assertion?”
“Well, dear Cousin, if we are to continue speaking of the woman, I suppose we ought to refer to her appropriately.”
“Pardon my saying this, Victoria, but I have no wish to discuss Elizabeth with you at all. What has unfolde
d, by virtue of the truth coming out, changes nothing. And I would ask you not to take it upon yourself to inform others about the Montlakes’ misfortunes.”
“How long do you suppose it will be before all of society learns the truth? While this revelation has not dampened your esteem for her, it must surely be consequential for the rest of the world. The Montlakes will be scorned and ridiculed wherever they go.”
“The duke is decent and upstanding. Society will not hold him accountable for what his grandfather did. The same may be said of Lady Sophia, his mother. They were as much victims of the late duke’s duplicity as was Elizabeth.”
“What you refer to as victims of His Grace’s duplicity others may well regard as complacent perpetrators of his misdeeds. What a tangled web of deceit this is.”
“What this is, Cousin, is none of your concern. I shall be very disappointed should I learn you have been the means of spreading gossip and innuendo about my friend Avery. Should I find out about it, I shall know how to act.”
“Are you threatening me? I, who stood by you through all your long-suffering despair regarding Lady Elizabeth,” said her ladyship, her voice laced with hurt and dismay.
While Darcy may have openly discussed his increasing regard for Elizabeth with his cousin initially, he ceased being so forthcoming when he began to suspect Victoria did not share his good opinion. “I have no wish to argue with you. You know better than most what Elizabeth means to me, which is the reason I will not suffer your snide remarks. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” she said rather unconvincingly.
It would have to do, for Darcy needed to attend to more urgent matters. “Capital. Now, if you will pardon me, I must be on my way if I am to keep to my travel schedule.”
“When shall I expect to see you again?”
“That’s not possible for me to say just yet.” Indeed, he only knew he had to see Elizabeth and he would remain in Hertfordshire for as long as he needed to be there. “God willing, when next you and I meet, I will have won Elizabeth’s acceptance of my offer of marriage.”
~*~
Two weeks had passed. Truth be told, Elizabeth missed her home—her brother, her mother and, yes, even her grandfather. She missed her former life and manner of living. Not one night passed that she did not dream of those times gone by.
At first, she never allowed more than a couple days to pass without writing to Avery, but she began to consider that if his receiving her letters were the cause for such pain and heartbreak as she sometimes felt in receiving his letters, then she ought to write to him with less frequency. The same could be said of her letters to their mother. Elizabeth had long since given up on the pretense that she must not consider Lady Sophia as her mother. I am blessed to have two mothers, and I shall not pretend otherwise.
Avery Montlake, the Duke of Dunsmore, is my brother, and Lady Sophia Montlake is our mother. Not anyone who would dare to think otherwise is someone to whom I shall give consequence.
All this was easier said than done, for her Bennet family, when they would speak of the Montlakes, were far more likely to speak ill of them than to speak kindly. Elizabeth had learned to be tolerant of them, for she considered that was their way of expressing their pain. She would not allow that anyone who was unconnected to her by blood bore such rights.
Her brother Avery she loved more than anyone whom she was about to meet. He had done nothing but love and protect her throughout most of her life as a devoted big brother would. Lady Sophia was everything a mother ought to be, and though Elizabeth had been saddened by the revelation that her ladyship and she were not of the same blood, she rightly supposed that it took more than blood to fashion a family—much more.
She also missed Mr. Darcy. His being a single gentleman made it impossible that they might share correspondence, but she had hoped that his being one of her brother’s closest friends would allow her to hear about him. Except Avery never mentioned Mr. Darcy in his letters, and Elizabeth began to consider whether her brother might bear ill will towards him for his role in reuniting her with the Bennet family.
She prayed that such was not the case, for, indeed, she owed Mr. Darcy a great deal of gratitude. Were it not for his persistence, the truth would never have come to light. As much as Elizabeth missed her former life, she was grateful for the chance to know her Bennet family. At last, a part of the puzzle was found. Her dreams of the beautiful blonde-haired girl with the angelic blue eyes had ceased, as did her dreams of the tall man with the tall black hat whose face she could never quite discern.
Chapter 4 ~ Undisguised Curiosity
Elizabeth was no stranger to walking. Rather she enjoyed it, hence when her younger sisters prevailed upon her to walk with them to Meryton nearly every day, she gladly accepted their invitations. By now much of the novelty of being back with her Bennet family, where she belonged everyone always said, had worn off. No longer did she see wonderment, puzzlement, and undisguised curiosity in her neighbors’ eyes when they looked at her.
Elizabeth and Jane often walked side by side in front while their younger sisters Kitty and Lydia skipped along behind them and their sister Mary lagged somewhat behind the party with her nose buried in a book.
Elizabeth could rightfully say that Mary was not at all like her sisters in beauty or in temperament. Perhaps that is why she had given herself airs of self-importance that bore themselves out as pedantic, even a bit conceited. Self-important is how she would describe the youngest sister, Lydia, as well, but for entirely different reasons. Lydia was wild and, perhaps by virtue of being the youngest and a favorite of her mother, thought far too highly of herself for a girl who lacked accomplishments.
Lydia’s being out in society at so tender an age as fifteen bothered Elizabeth. The young girl lacked the sensibility of someone who understood what being out in society truly meant and Elizabeth reasoned that if no one bothered to check her, then she might be destined for more trouble than the Bennet family’s reputation could bear. Moreover, by virtue of her sister Kitty’s habit of going along with anything Lydia suggested, Elizabeth feared she might fare no better.
Jane was far too kind to think meanly of anyone and thus could not possibly consider all the perils awaiting girls as silly as the youngest two. Elizabeth’s mind wandered from thoughts of Jane’s sensibilities to those of her parents. My mama does not possess the inclination to curb the younger girls’ wild enthusiasm and my papa does not possess the determination.
Elizabeth considered that this was yet another reason it was such a blessing that she was once again with her Bennet family – where she belonged – as she always reminded herself to say.
I shall be my younger sisters’ keeper. I shall be the one to steer them clear of harm’s way and be that shining example for them to follow.
By now, Elizabeth and her sisters were near the neighboring estate of Lucas Lodge, and they decided to call on the Lucases just in case the Lucas daughters might wish to accompany them to Meryton that fine morning. Elizabeth was especially fond of the eldest daughter, Miss Charlotte Lucas. At seven and twenty, she was practical, and Elizabeth found in Charlotte a sense of camaraderie she did not often see in her sisters, including her dearest Jane. With Charlotte, Elizabeth always fell readily into conversations that bore weight and consequence—much like those conversations she often had with Avery.
The coming days and weeks afforded many opportunities for company as Charlotte Lucas was from the neighboring estate. She and Elizabeth became intimate friends. Impatient to know how her new friend had perceived Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth’s curiosity could no longer be contained. At length, she set up to resolve every particular with which she was concerned.
“No doubt, your family – indeed all of us – are indebted to Mr. Darcy for his part in connecting the pieces of your disappearance and reuniting you with your family, but you will understand what a shock it was to many of us that he would give himself the trouble,” said Charlotte rather pointedly.
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sp; “Oh?”
“Indeed. The gentleman you know, and perhaps greatly esteem, hardly endeared himself at all to anyone when he visited with his friend last year. He was thought to be eaten up with pride, and he suffered a general disdain for anyone he perceived as his inferior.”
“Perhaps what others perceived as his haughtiness was merely shyness. I know him well enough to know he finds it difficult to recommend himself to strangers.”
“At the risk of giving offense, I would say it is more likely that he does not give himself the trouble.”
Elizabeth had never been in the habit of engaging in any manner of discourse that painted Mr. Darcy in an adverse light. She was not about to start now. “For the sake of our growing intimacy, dear Charlotte, I would say you and I must agree to disagree. Mr. Darcy is one of my brother’s—” here Elizabeth paused “—one of His Grace’s closest friends, which afforded the opportunity for me to form a fond attachment to him as well.”
“A fond attachment? Are you certain that is all it is?”
Elizabeth could easily surmise that her new friend was clever. This was but one thing that she found so endearing about the older woman. “The truth is, Charlotte, I do not dare categorize my sentiments in light of the manner of our parting in Derbyshire. You see, Mr. Darcy does not care for my Bennet relations, which must surely affect his regard for me as well.”
Chapter 5 ~ Sufficient Encouragement
Elizabeth saw Kitty and Lydia standing across the street speaking with members of the local militia that had recently encamped just outside of town. Their flirtatious manners and girlish giggles immediately drew her concern.