Day 8
The next morning had dawned bright without a cloud in the sky. Jane and Elizabeth had set out with baskets from the parsonage kitchen for parish families and met their friends on the road.
“Mrs. Wickham, Miss de Bourgh. Good day to you.”
“And to you,” Georgiana said, with a smile. “It is a beautiful day, is it not?”
“It is, indeed. A fine day to walk. Have you been out long?”
Anne shook her head. “We have only just come from Rosings and are on our way to purchase some sheet music for Georgie. Would you care to join us?”
“We thank you but must leave you at the village. We are to go to the Hathornes’s, as the baby was born two nights ago.”
“Please let me know if there is anything we can do at Rosings.”
They resumed their walk when Elizabeth noticed Georgiana’s locket. “What a lovely piece of jewelry. I have never seen you wear that before.”
Fingering the object, she said, “It is very precious to me.” She unhooked the necklace and dropped the gold chain into her reticule. “I only wear it when I feel melancholy, missing my parents.” She opened the locket as Elizabeth and Jane both gasped.
“Your mother was lovely. So much like you,” Jane said. “And your father…what a handsome man he was.”
“Yes, Papa was. These are miniatures commissioned for the occasion of their wedding, so they were quite young.”
“Your father,” Elizabeth said, struggling to find the right words. “He is very striking.”
“Yes.”
“Do you not think”—she began and looked up at Anne de Bourgh, who was watching her with a raised brow—“do you not think…he looks like someone we know?”
Georgiana looked down at the picture with a furrowed brow.
“People always said that my husband resembled him as if he were a nephew, but I do not think that is true. Only in his coloring but not his expression or demeanor. And not to be indelicate, but Mama and Papa were traveling for a year on the continent when my husband was born. After her loss.”
“Forgive me, her loss?”
“Yes. She gave birth to a son. But he did not live. They named him William. Mama’s grief was so great that Papa took her away from Pemberley in attempts to rally her spirits.”
The four women stood on the side of the road, examining the miniatures when a baritone voice broke their reverie.
“Good morning, ladies. What a pleasant surprise on this dusty road.”
Startled, Elizabeth looked up to see Mr. Fitzroy, his brown eyes dancing with merriment, and a loan dark curl licking at his forehead. “I hope I am not interrupting some secret confidence…? If so, I can move along and wish you a good day.”
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth heard herself say. “We are just examining the miniatures in Mrs. Wickham’s locket.”
Georgiana smiled and held the locket for Mr. Fitzroy to see. “Miss Bennet and Mrs. Collins believe my father reminds them of an acquaintance we have. I”—she paused at a loss for words—“why Mr. Fitzroy, I have never before noticed the resemblance…” She opened the locket, handing it to him.
Elizabeth glanced again at the miniature in the gentleman’s hand and studied the strong jaw, warm brown eyes, small dimple, and same errant curls, and felt as if she were looking at the model of the painting.
Mr. Fitzroy did not respond, yet rather seemed fascinated by the locket too. A wrinkle came over Georgiana’s brow as she stared from the locket to Mr. Fitzroy.
“Well then. If you will excuse us, we should be about our errand,” Anne said, taking Georgiana’s arm. The movement broke her trance, and Georgiana quickly looked away from Mr. Fitzroy before glancing back in his direction.
“How singular,” she whispered shaking her head.
“Come, Cousin,” Anne said, before addressing the other party. “We will look forward to your arrival for dinner this evening. Good day.”
The women turned back toward Rosings, and Elizabeth looked up toward the handsome man. “Mrs. Wickham’s locket was quite lovely.”
Mr. Fitzroy assented. “The Darcys looked just as I remembered, save a bit younger. A wonderful couple.”
As the three walked toward the village, Jane dropped back, allowing Elizabeth to walk alongside Mr. Fitzroy. “Mr. Darcy cut quite a dashing figure.”
She noticed a quick smile cross his lips. “Yes, he did.”
“It is odd…how much he…how much he resembles…” She glanced up at the man beside her.
“Yes?”
“Why you, sir. He looks like you.”
Darcy grinned widely. “Miss Bennet, remembering the man as I do, I believe no one in this life has given me such a compliment. I have heard somewhere in the world we all have a twin.”
She acquiesced, dropping that vein of conversation and instead began to discuss the weather and books and then:
“I have always found it curious how you know so much about the Darcy family…”
He turned his gaze forward before replying. “If you recall, my father and mother were their contemporaries.”
“Yes.” She tugged at the cuffs of her pelisse. “Are you not at all related to Mrs. Wickham, maybe? Could you be a distant cousin?”
He gently laughed. “I can promise you that I am not Mrs. Wickham’s cousin. But I do have fond memories of the family. Quite possibly, it is just that affection which you recognize.”
“Possibly.”
They walked along in silence until clasping his hands behind his back, he asked, “Might I confess to a failing?”
“A failing? I am all anticipation.” She felt her insides roil, and her cheeks begin to burn as he looked at her with apparent pleasure.
“When I come to care for something, I do so with my whole heart.”
“And that is a failing, sir?”
“Some might call it so. It has recently placed me in situations which I do not believe I can escape.”
She attempted to modulate her breathing as his brown eyes penetrated hers.
“I am sure, whomever you care for would be honored by the attention.”
He considered her words before replying. “I thank you for your frankness, Miss Bennet. I hope your prediction proves true.”
They walked on together, his words saying more than Elizabeth dared to hope.
“Miss Bennet, an express has come from London. The rider is waiting for your response. Mr. Fitzroy, there is a letter in the post for you as well.”
Elizabeth stopped abruptly in the entrance of the parsonage. “From London?” She tore it open with Jane hovering behind her. “It must be from my aunt Gardiner.”
Darcy’s unease at the unspoken news grew with every passing moment.
“It appears there has been an accident,” she finally said, still reading the missive, before a long sigh escaped her. “The governess has twisted her ankle and must remain in bed for at least a week. Aunt has asked if I might come and help with the children.”
“The poor dear. Yes, you must go, Lizzy,” Jane said, nodding. “When does our aunt request your assistance?”
“At once. She is quite exhausted with her confinement almost upon her. I fear I must leave immediately.”
“Then, we will have you packed and ready to go at first light. I will have my husband go into the village and reserve your passage on a London bound coach, and we must go to Rosings and have you take your leave.”
Mrs. Collins left the room, and Darcy opened his letter. He read a few lines before happiness washed over him.
“Good news, I hope?”
“It is, Miss Bennet. I have been waiting for this correspondence since last week. If it is not an inconvenience, might I accompany you to London tomorrow? It appears I have some business to attend to.”