Windswept: A Pride & Prejudice Variation

Chapter 26

By the time Jane and Elizabeth gathered the blankets from the guest rooms, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and their mother were tucked into their beds, fast asleep. Their father was still ensconced in his bookroom with no interest in the care of his family, though he was appreciative of the biscuits and cider.

Soon thereafter, Jane crawled into her bed. Within a breath, she, too, was sleeping. Not too many minutes later, Elizabeth heard her father’s footsteps ascend the staircase whereupon he entered his chambers and closed the door.

Where was Fitzwilliam? He promised to return after delivering Mrs. Hammond to Meryton. Had something happened? Had he found Mr. Wickham? Was he tending to his care?

She could not help but fret.

In the quiet of the night, a door slammed from somewhere below. Had Fitzwilliam returned? She hurried to the kitchen to discover their butler and housekeeper had returned from aiding their families.

Mr. Hill carried in a bucket of coal. His wife, Hill, had a full bucket of water in each hand.

“Glory be, Miss Lizzy, but this is the worst storm in my memory. When the wind slowed enough for us to be confident we could make it to our daughter’s cottage, we hurried to help her with her children. Her husband is still down with consumption. He does not look like he will make it until spring, poor dear ones.” She set the buckets on the hearth, where her husband shoved aside the small pile Jane had made. “The wind is picking up again, Miss Lizzy. We did not know if you would be here or still at Netherfield Park. In no time at all, you shall have warm water for tea and to refresh yourself. In the morning, I will tend to your sisters and mother. Unless the weather keeps her away, Cook will also be back once the day breaks and after she feeds her loved ones. I do hope you do not mind that we were not here.”

“Not at all,” she quickly reassured their long-time housekeeper. “We only returned this evening.”

“How is it at Netherfield Park?” Hill asked.

Elizabeth described the property as she saw it when she strolled the grounds with Fitzwilliam.

“Well, we are fortunate here at Longbourn as the building is brick and stone, as are the outbuildings. I suppose my next task will be starting bread enough to feed those whose properties can no longer sustain them.”

Keeping in mind her earlier intention, Elizabeth said, “I agree. With that in mind, would you mind if I watched and possibly helped? Jane and I saw the lack in our education when we had no idea what to do to start a fire and feed ourselves and others.”

Hill looked at her sharply. “While I am appreciative, Miss Lizzy, it simply is not done. A lady such as yourself has no need to soil your hands with kitchen work.”

Elizabeth stood firm. “At Netherfield Park the full burden for all those people fell on Mrs. Nicholls, your counterpart. If it had been Longbourn that was hard pressed, would you not appreciate a helping hand, even mine?”

“Well, I guess.”

“Hill, the world is uncertain enough that we all should have the skills to look after ourselves. I am aware that I know nothing, and with the blisters on my fingers, I cannot do much. But I would like to learn.”

“Very well. As long as you only sit and watch, then I will not complain.”

Relief at having something to do to fill the hours until morning when she would again see Fitzwilliam moved Elizabeth into action. By the time daylight began appearing over the horizon, there were a full dozen loaves of bread on the kitchen table. Although she did no physical work, she could see how her appreciation and encouragement lightened Hill’s load. Both of them were happy with what they accomplished.

Stepping outside after she refreshed herself and changed, Elizabeth was happy to see that in the early morning light there was not a gray cloud in sight. Birds, which had been noticeably absent during the storm, were again chirping in the trees or pecking for worms in the dirt. Tree branches were still, and the water was already draining from the puddles.

The storm was over, leaving everything within her eyesight windswept.

Picking up fallen fronds along the walkway, she piled them alongside the damaged boxwood shrubs, clearing the approach to Longbourn in hopes that Fitzwilliam would soon arrive. When he had not done so by the time she finished, she decided to walk to Meryton, being cautious of any obstacles in the way. As was his plan, he likely was seeing that Mrs. Hammond made it safely to her home that morning (instead of the evening prior) since the wind whipped up again while she helped Hill make bread.

Eager to see them both, she hurried toward the junction with the Meryton Road only to be almost run down by a galloping horse and rider.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth”—Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled his mount to a stop—“Have you seen Darcy?”

Her heart pounded in her chest and worry threatened to weaken her knees. “He did not return to Netherfield?”

“He did not.”

Time stood still. Then her hands flew to her chest to make certain her heart still beat Where was Darcy?

The colonel’s grip on his reins pulled his gloves taut. “I am to Forster’s for help. It was a fool’s mission for Darcy not to wait to find Wickham—”

Elizabeth ran as fast as her feet allowed.

“Where are you off to?”the colonel called out.

From Oakham Mount, she could see all the way from Meryton to Netherfield. She heard his horse thunder up beside her. The colonel, apparently realizing her intent, reached down from the horse and easily settled her behind him.

“Do you see him?” she asked before they reached the top.She held the colonel tightly as the horse leapt the final distance to the crest.

“I see something by a stile.”

The colonel’s horse ate up the distance.

An apple-green ribbon was draped from the post. She said, “That belongs to Mr. Wickham.” With his assistance, Elizabeth slid to the ground, untying the knot.

The colonel stood in the stirrups.

“Can you see anything, Colonel? Anyone?”

“No. What I can see clearly are drag marks in the mud.”

As soon as he pointed to where two parallel trailed in the wet earth, Elizabeth took off running. “The chalk cave,” she yelled behind her. “They are not far.”

Without hesitation,Elizabeth rushed into the cave, the darkness blinding her. Feeling the colonel’s presence at her back, she squinted until her eyes adjusted to the change of light.

Two men were in front of her, one on the ground, one on his knees beside him.

She approached, kneeling beside Fitzwilliam. Darcy barely acknowledged her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to her as Colonel Fitzwilliam put his hand on Mr. Wickham’s chest to see if it was rising and falling or whether it was still. When the colonel shook his head, she knew they were too late to help Mr. Wickham.

Her beloved’s body shook in grief. Tears streamed down her cheeks in silent sympathy.

Elizabeth kissed Darcy’s forehead, her hands on each side of his face, gently encouraging him to look away from Mr. Wickham, to fill his sight with someone who loved him dearly and who was alive.

Wrapping her arm around his neck, she held him to her chest, her fingers caressing every inch of his face, smoothing his brow, tracing his cheekbones, brushing over the rough whiskers on his jaw, and feeling the whisper of his breath from his lips.

“Here, I brought brandy.” The colonel unscrewed a flask.

“Please, my love,” she begged.

He sat erect as if finally seeing her.

“I…no, I do not need brandy.” Darcy grabbed her hand with his. “I could not leave him out there,” he explained unnecessarily.

“You certainly would not.” Quick to reassure him, she kissed the back of his hand. “Pray, tell me about the good in him.”

Darcy closed his eyes. When the colonel started to speak, Elizabeth glared at him until he closed his mouth tightly.

Into the silence of the cave, Darcy said, “He is my half-brother.”

Stunned, Elizabeth’s mind spun with the implications. The colonel looked like someone hit him over the head with a millstone.

“Your half-brother?” the colonel repeated, still in shock. “Your father’s son? It is what all of us suspected for years.”

“My parents married three years before I was born. My father was in love with Lady Anne Fitzwilliam but there was no possibility of her father approving of the union. The favorite daughter of an earl deserved a duke, not a squire. Nor did my mother have any interest in Gerald Darcy of Pemberley. No, her interest was with a stable boy at Matlock Farms.”

“Good heavens! George Wickham is the son of my aunt, not my uncle?”

Elizabeth could not keep her mouth from gaping open in imitation of the colonel.

“He was.” Darcy wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and pulled her tight. “When our grandfather discovered that his precious daughter was with child, he had the stable boy transported to the colonies and betrothed her to my father with the caveat that they married quickly. Lord Matlock insisted the babe be sent to Scotland, where a tenant farmer would raise him on one of the Matlock estates. My father’s only request was that if the child was a boy, that he would not be raised as his heir.”

“Then why was he raised at Pemberley?” the colonel asked.

“My mother could not stand the idea that her son would be away from her. Father compromised by having his steward raise Wickham when he saw how much it pleased his new wife. Everything he did for little George’s benefit made Lady Anne happier. After mother died, he kept it up in her memory.”

Elizabeth whispered, “He loved her.”

“Aye, to his dying breath.”

The colonel ran his hands over his face. “Then the rake was your half-brother and my cousin. Good God in heavens, Darce. Why did you never tell me?”

Darcy sighed heavily. “My father insisted that no one be told, that nothing damage the reputation of his wife. He lived in fear that someone would find out. He passed that same fear to me through the pages of the journal, which I have since burned.”

“Did Wickham know?”

“I showed him the journal at Ramsgate, making him promise that if he stayed away from Georgiana, I would keep you away from him.”

The colonel practically slid to the ground. “I am equal parts angry and horrified, Darce. I cannot even…if he had succeeded with the elopement, you would have had to petition for divorce through the archbishop. There would have been no way possible to keep this private.”

“I know.”

His words hung in the air as Elizabeth tried to process all that was said. Miss Darcy almost ran off with Mr. Wickham? She was shocked and equally as horrified as the colonel at the idea of Miss Darcy being attached to a man who unknowingly was her brother. Her poor Fitzwilliam bore the weight of this knowledge alone.

“Will you tell her?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy’s chin dropped. “Yes, she needs to know now that any danger is over.”

Darcy’s hand again reached for hers. “Will you still have me, Elizabeth? You now know the sort of family we are.”

She was quick to reassure him and herself. “Do you think I would abandon you because of the secrets of your parents? Did you not already prove to me that you would not hold the conduct of my parents against me? How could I not do likewise? I will still have you, you dear man.”

His smile was slight, evidence of his continued pain.

“I want him buried at Pemberley, Richard. Please make the arrangements, if you would. I need to go to the inn. There is no longer any room for me at Netherfield Park.”

“Will you stay with my cousin while I get a cart for him and Wickham?” Richard asked.

“I will.”

The colonel had no sooner exited the cave than Elizabeth kissed Darcy with a passion that shook them both.

“I have not yet said the words, Elizabeth.” He kissed her again. “I love you with my whole heart and soul. I cannot begin to fathom a future without you by my side.”

Her heart squeezed from the beauty of his expression.

“I love you as well, my dearest man.” Her tender fingers made their way into his hair at his temples. “We will be happy, Fitzwilliam, I promise.”

“Then kiss me like you mean it, Elizabeth.”

And she did.