Trapped in Scandal

Chapter Nine

Elizabeth

E lizabeth hadn’t seen her beloved sister in several months, the repairs to Hartley House had taken longer than expected, thus Jane had split her time between Grosvenor House in London and Netherfield, and Elizabeth had to make do with letters from her sister. Now that Jane and Charles Bingley had finally settled into their northern home, she would have her beloved sister nearby and within a short distance to call upon often.

She felt a sense of excitement at the thought of having her sister visit Pemberley. With time, the house had become more of a home to her, especially since Mr Darcy’s gift and efforts to stand up to his aunt. Lady Catherine was still in residence but her sharp tongue had been decidedly subdued, though her eyes still did much of the talking as she gave Elizabeth disapproving glances whenever she thought her nephew could not see.

Elizabeth pushed these unpleasant thoughts aside as her sister excited the carriage and the two rushed into one another’s arms.

“It is lovely to have you here, Jane. At last, I can show you Pemberley,” Elizabeth said, her voice suffused with affection.

Jane smiled broadly in response. “Indeed, Lizzy. And now that we are settled in Hartley House, I hope our visits shall be much more frequent.”

Mr Darcy, standing beside Elizabeth, greeted Charles with equal warmth. “Bingley, it is good to see you again. How does Hartley House fare?”

“Well enough,” Charles replied with his characteristic cheer. “Though I have no doubt your advice ensured the purchase was a sound one and the tradesmen you recommended for the repairs were of course excellent indeed.”

“I am pleased, pray, have you brought the documents we spoke of?” Mr Darcy asked, and Elizabeth pursed her lips. He had been talking about a horse breeding venture he and Charles were considering investing in, but she’d expected such talk would take place later.

Not that she minded. She was eager to speak with her sister alone—and Jane appeared equally as unenthused about the prospect of listening to talk about business during tea.

“Lizzy, shall we walk in the gardens? I have admired them from afar but am desperate to see them up close. I am sure our husbands will not object.”

Elizabeth readily agreed, and arm in arm, the sisters strolled into the expansive grounds of Pemberley, leaving the men to head inside, their heads together as they spoke of business.

The gardens were as beautiful as ever, with daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, and primroses dotting the well-tended beds, and the air perfumed with the sweet scent of spring blossoms.

“Oh, my!” Jane exclaimed as they wandered further into the grounds. “These gardens are even more exquisite up close. I am sure they shall be unparalleled once summer arrives.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, they are splendid, though it is the wild parts of the estate I love most. The woods and the stream—they are a balm to a troubled mind.”

Jane tilted her head, her expression shifting from wonder to concern. “And has your mind been troubled, Lizzy? Your letters have given me the impression that you have not found all to your liking here. Yet, your spirits are much improved compared to your letters.”

Elizabeth hesitated before nodding. “It has been far from easy, Jane. Mr Darcy is not the simplest of men to live with, as you can imagine. But I must confess, things have improved somewhat of late.”

“Truly?” Jane asked, her brows lifting in hopeful curiosity.

Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “We have come to an understanding, you see. Civility reigns between us, and that alone has been a great improvement.”

Jane smiled warmly. “I can see it in you. On your wedding day, you seemed so blue-devilled that I feared you might never recover. It gladdens my heart to see you in better spirits.”

Elizabeth’s smile faltered slightly. “Your encouragement means much to me, Jane. But… there is something of greater importance I must share with you. I would value your counsel greatly.”

“Of course, Lizzy,” Jane said, her expression growing serious. “What is it?”

Elizabeth took a steadying breath. “Mr Darcy and I have spoken at length about the rumours that led to our marriage—the supposed indiscretion.”

Jane’s eyes widened briefly before a knowing look settled upon her face. “I am relieved to hear it. Charles assured me of Mr Darcy’s innocence long ago, and I never doubted yours for a moment.”

Elizabeth blinked, startled. “Did he? I had no idea Mr Bingley had interceded on Mr Darcy’s behalf. Why did you not tell me?”

“That Charles assumed Mr Darcy’s innocence? To be honest, I was uncertain if he was speaking from a place of friendship or if he could be objective. You see, he wanted to believe me when I said you were innocent, but I knew he had doubts. It is understandable, the rumours were rather detailed—though you know I never believed it. But tell me, Lizzy, now that the matter is spoken of, do you not see that you are both entirely blameless?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, but… it raises further questions, Jane. If neither Mr Darcy nor I were guilty of any impropriety, then who was?”

Jane frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I believe,” Elizabeth began slowly, “that someone else stayed at that inn that night, someone whose actions were mistaken for ours. And I have a suspicion as to who it might have been.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Surely you don’t mean to say—”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth interrupted, her tone grave. “I fear it may have been our sister.”

“Lydia?” Jane exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. “What cause have you to think so, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth hesitated, but only briefly. “It had to be someone who could be mistaken for me. Someone who had access to my handkerchiefs for it was undeniably mine, judging from the design and the initials. I would have believed it to be Lydia and Mr Wickham together, given Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham despise one another, but—”

“Lydia would not wilfully put you in danger,” Jane argued.

“I do not believe so either—I have no doubt that Mr Wickham would, but Lydia? She is reckless and silly but not vindictive or mean. So, I think perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps she was involved with another man.”

“Someone other than her husband?” Jane asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, it could not have been Mr Wickham for he was supposed to be in Brighton on that day. Lydia was travelling with the Forsters to join him. So… if it was Lydia…”

“No, Lizzy, I can’t believe it. Our sister is silly, but she would not violate the sanctity of marriage,” Jane said.

“That is what I thought, but I have had time to think on this, and Lydia is the only person I could think of.”

“If you are indeed correct, then why would they use Mr Darcy’s name?”

“Because they thought such a name would be above scrutiny? I do not know. I do not want to believe it was Lydia but who else could be mistaken for me and have access to my handkerchief? Besides, she would have reason not to speak up.”

Jane’s expression twisted with doubt. “I know Lydia is imprudent, but to implicate her in such a scheme—surely that is beyond her?”

“I wish I could agree,” Elizabeth said softly. “But we must consider her history. She has always been impetuous, and I fear her unhappiness has made her even more so.”

Jane was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “I wish to believe the best of her, Lizzy. But if what you say is true… what will you do?”

“I must find proof,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Mr Darcy and I must clear our names of this scandal. Even now, though we are wed, the stain of it lingers.”

Jane reached out to take her sister’s hand. “You have my support, Lizzy. But I pray that you are mistaken—that our sister is not the one behind this unpleasantness, because if she was, then that could have lasting implications for our family.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened, and she squeezed Jane’s hand gratefully. “Thank you, Jane. I hope so too.”

“Lizzy,” Jane began hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Have you written to Mama and Papa yet?”

Elizabeth glanced at her sister, her hands tightening on the frame. “No, I haven’t.”

Jane’s forehead creased with concern. “Do you think you ought to? If they knew the truth, they could defend you. Mama, for all her dramatics, would be pleased to know you did not engage in actions unbecoming of a lady. And Papa… he would surely want to know you are innocent.”

“I already protested my innocence before the wedding, and Papa said he believed me, but by that stage it was too late to silence the gossip. I wish I could tell Papa of my new suspicions, but Mr Darcy and I have agreed to involve as few people as possible for now. Every letter risks exposing too much—and we cannot afford for the real culprit to catch wind of what we are doing.”

Jane’s expression softened. “What are you doing?”

“Mr Darcy has been writing to those who attended the ball, seeking accounts of what they saw. He frames his enquiries as though he was searching for evidence against me, to avoid suspicion,” Elizabeth’s voice wavered slightly. “It is a clever strategy, but it leaves a bitter taste. To think he must feign belief in my guilt to uncover the truth…”

Jane reached out, taking Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Oh, Lizzy. How awful it must be for you both.”

Elizabeth’s gaze fell to her lap. “It is, but we cannot risk anything less than perfect discretion. And yet I cannot help but wish to write to Papa, to fully exonerate myself in his eyes. He is the only one whose opinion I truly value in this matter.”

“Then why not write to him?” Jane asked gently.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Not yet. Even Papa might let something slip, however unintentionally. He would mean well, but his pride in defending me might inadvertently undo all we are trying to accomplish. Also, if Lydia was involved, then the scandal could ruin our family. I cannot take that risk.”

Jane hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I understand. I promise I won’t say anything to them either.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Elizabeth said, squeezing her sister’s hand. “You have always been my steadfast ally. I can trust you to keep this confidence, even if Mama becomes unbearable about it.”

Jane smiled faintly. “I suspect she already senses something—Mama has an uncanny ability to concoct her own truths when left uninformed.”

Elizabeth managed a soft laugh. “Let her concoct. For now, silence is our greatest ally.”

The sisters shared a moment of quiet understanding before returning to their walk around the grounds of Pemberley, though the weight of unspoken words lingered between them.

As they embraced, Elizabeth felt a swell of gratitude for her sister’s unwavering love and support. Yet, as they resumed their walk, her resolve hardened. She would uncover the truth of what happened that night—whatever the cost.