Day 17
“And our aunt is well?”
Lizzy put down her cup of tea. “Yes, she is. She was grateful for my assistance with the children. Nanny has recovered from her injury.” Elizabeth took up her cup and added softly, “It allowed us many opportunities to walk in the park and attend the theater and museums.”
“You and aunt?” Jane asked, choosing a new thread for her sewing.
“Yes. But mostly Mister…Fitzroy and me.”
Jane glanced up at Elizabeth, a knowing smirk on her lips. “He is at Rosings this morning?”
“Yes. He wanted to…thank Miss de Bourgh for the use of her townhouse and the carriage.”
“He is…quite a handsome man, is he not, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth felt a warmth rising through her. “Yes, I dare say he is.” She continued to sip her tea.
“I find it…” Jane’s words tapered off. “He is a perfect match for my favorite sister.”
An unease overcame Elizabeth at her sister’s tone.
“I actually received a letter from Papa about him.”
“Papa, wrote you a letter?” Elizabeth felt a tightening in her throat. “Papa never writes to anyone unless it is regarding business. And even then, he still requires his steward to do so. What could have been the meaning of his sudden interest in the written word?”
After threading the needle, Jane deftly pulled it through the fabric, allowing the thread to form into a beautiful little rosette. Shrugging her shoulders and seemingly indifferent, she replied, “Maybe at the promise of a new son?”
Lizzy almost choked on her tea. Regaining her composure, with an arched brow and a tease in her voice, she asked, “A son? Is there something Mama must make known to us? Will you not be the future mistress of Longbourn after all?”
The merriment from her joke turned quickly when she saw her usually amiable sister’s jaw tighten.
“If I became Mrs. Collins…” She seemed to realize what she was saying. She stood and made for the door. “Excuse me. I must speak to Elise about dinner.”
Elizabeth could do nothing but watch her go.
“What troubles you, my love?” The words escaped his mouth before he could control his thoughts.
He had found her beneath a tree reading her secreted copy of Shakespeare.
“I had hoped you would find me here.”
His heartbeat wildly at her words, and he sat beside her taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “I will always find you. I fear you will become tired of my attentions, and when we are seventy, will banish me to my study so you can achieve solitude.”
“I have lived twenty years without you, William. I assure you. That is long enough.”
A bashful smile graced her lips, and he kissed her brow before placing his hand on hers. “All is well?”
“Yes,” she said, demurring. “Did you tell Georgiana that you are Darcy?”
“Yes, but neither Miss de Bourgh nor Lady Catherine were there. I gave her leave to tell them but suspect they already knew.”
“And you did not, William? Your resemblance to the elder Mr. Darcy… How you knew so much of the family?” Her eyes sought his, and he felt the danger of the lie resting on his tongue.
“I had suspected for many years, something, but was never certain. I am honored to have been raised a Fitzroy but am grateful to discover I have been born a Darcy.”
His response seemed to pacify her. “And Georgiana? Was she happy?”
“She was stunned at first, then said how pleased she was to have a new brother and sister all within a day. I promised her I would secure her happiness if it is the last thing I do in this lifetime.” He squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Now, would you share your thoughts with me?”
A long sigh escaped her. “It is Jane. She hinted at something today which I was not expecting.”
“About us?” he asked.
“No. About…marriage.”
As if reading his mind, she said, attempting to put his unspoken concerns at ease, “She said how my father’s letter stated he was pleased to have a son. I teased her that maybe Mama was with child and she would not become the future mistress of Longbourn.”
With a look, Darcy silently encouraged her to continue.
“And she…she became…angry.”
“Angry?” he asked, tilting his head. “That does not sound like Mrs. Collins.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips then looked out across the haze of the meadow. “You and I have both spoken of Jane’s…unequal marriage. I am certain, with your limited knowledge of my sister, you can comprehend she has a heart dedicated to those she loves.”
“Of course.”
Lizzy picked at the blades of grass, tossing them up in the gentle breeze and watching them flutter away. “She said…”
He watched her wrestle with the thoughts.
“Elizabeth. I am your betrothed. I wish for a marriage of esteem. We will be partners in the truest sense. We will share both our struggles and our joys. Trust me.” He reached for her hand, resting in the grass. “What troubles you?”
She took a deep breath. “I know Jane became angry with the idea that she married Mr. Collins to secure her family’s future and that it might have been unnecessary was insulting, unfair.”
Darcy remained silent, allowing Elizabeth to muddle through her thoughts.
“Growing up, we said only the deepest love would induce us into matrimony. Yet, that is not how her story ended.”
She fell silent again, and he thought better than to offer her hollow words of comfort.
“William, I am uncertain if I could ever be truly happy knowing my sister is trapped in her marriage when the man she loves—”
“Resides not a quarter mile from here?” Darcy finished, thinking immediately of Bingley.
Lizzy nodded as he turned from her and stared out over the field.
It is no matter. We will marry and move to Pemberley, where we will have our own joy with the life we create.
And when we have children… His heart danced with glee until he looked back at the face of the woman he loved.
A shadow crossed her features, and her smile did not reach her eyes.
I cannot make this right for her. Will she truly not be happy—with me—if Jane is thus?
He wrestled with his thoughts, hoping to solve this dilemma.
Enough! I have always lived for others: for duty to my family, my home, and my name.
I have made my decision! I have chosen this life!
I wish to live for me! Looking back at Elizabeth, he put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.
She rested her head on his chest, and he breathed in her scent. And I will be the happiest of men!
“Dinner was delicious,” Darcy said, addressing Jane, who since earlier in the day had taken on a sullen countenance.
“Thank you for the compliment, sir. I will let Cook know you approve of her creamed peas.”
“Creamed peas are truly a culinary masterpiece,” Mr. Collins intoned, soaking up the juices from the roast with his bread. “Had Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh not offered us the expertise of their undercook, we would be eating fewer satisfying meals.”
Jane attempted to hide her grimace while Elizabeth turned away. Darcy observed all, trying to clear his mind of the earlier conversation with Elizabeth. Maybe Mr. Collins’s waist would do better without such satisfying meals?
“And did you have an enjoyable time in Town, Mr. Fitzroy? Lizzy intimated there was news you had to share with us? Or was that my father?”
Jane’s eyes sparkled with a glimpse of her kindness.
“Yes,” he said, looking at Elizabeth, reaching for her hand. “Miss Elizabeth has consented to be my bride––”
“That is wonderful news, sir! Allow me to hope that your felicity will match mine and my Jane’s. We were designed for each other and share a love which has not been replicated since Samson and Delilah.”
They all looked at Mr. Collins, frustrated but unsurprised by his interruption, when Mr. Darcy said, “But that is not the only news. While in London, I have discovered that the Fitzroys were my adoptive parents.”
“You were adopted?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied to Mr. Collins. “You see, I am not William Fitzroy, but instead, my name is William––”
“Darcy!” Miss de Bourgh shouted, rushing into the room, breathless. “You must come at once! He is letting them take Georgiana!”
“Who? Who is taking her?”
“Wickham! He has returned from London and brought men with him. They are removing her as we speak! My mother and the footmen are trying to stop them, but they are overpowered.”
He stood immediately and followed Miss de Bourgh out the door with Elizabeth close behind.
“Why did you call him Darcy?” Mr. Collins called, scampering after them.
Night had fallen, and Rosings looked aglow from candlelight through the glazing. “What brought this about?” he asked Miss de Bourgh, who was struggling to keep up with his long legs.
“I am uncertain. He received an express from London yesterday and immediately had a horse saddled before riding off without a word.”
“I saw him depart as we arrived from London.”
“Yes, we knew not what had caused his flight, but to be honest, were quite relieved,” she panted. “He had become more and more agitated, rummaging through books in the library, trunks in the attic.”
“He is still searching for something?”
“Yes. My mother was furious and confronted him. Still, he said he knew about the letter and would find it. It is some letter which could change the course of his life, he says.”
“What letter?” Elizabeth asked, attempting to catch her breath.
“I know not. My mother seems to have an inkling but refuses to answer any of my questions.”
Darcy said, “I am certain his reaction comes from the news of my new-found parentage.”
They ran up the stairs to the portico and Miss de Bourgh said, “He accused Georgiana of knowing all along and was hiding the Darcy money for you. He has lost his mind.”
They raced through the door and through the empty hall. “Where are the servants? You,” he said, spotting a footman coming from below stairs, “you follow me to Mrs. Wickham’s room immediately!”
The man moved with haste, following Darcy to the family wing.
“How do you know where you are going?” Elizabeth asked.
He was saved from answering as they rounded the corner to Georgiana’s room and were halted. Before them, bound and gagged, was Georgiana, carried by a hulking man with his arms tightly securing her form.
“Release her at once!” Darcy bellowed over Lady Catherine’s cries, sending the corridor filled with footmen and maids into silence.
“She is my wife,” Wickham snarled. “And she has been deemed insane.”
“By whom?” Darcy said, stepping forward. “Where are the physicians who have done so? I demand to see their report.”
Wickham cackled. “Your demands are meaningless. She is my wife, and you are nothing to her but her bastard brother. If I had not received the express from a dear friend in London—”
“You may have your spies in London, and even at de Bourgh House, but that does not change the fact: I am the heir to Pemberley and the Darcy name. All of its land and possessions are mine.”
“By what authority?” Wickham sneered.
“By the authority of my father,” he said, pulling the letter from his coat pocket. “Notarized here by Bainbridge & Sons.”
“Where…where did you find that?” he asked. “I have scoured the attics of Rosings, through every book and piece of furniture for the letter which my godfather said would bring about the fall of the Darcys and Fitzwilliams.”
“That? That is the letter you sought?” Lady Catherine’s outcry startled Darcy. “That is why I allowed him to control us? That is not the letter from my sister to her husband,” she said almost to herself.
“What letter from Lady Anne to Uncle Darcy? Mother, of what are you speaking?” Anne asked.
“What are you mumbling about, you old hag? That”—pointing at the letter in Darcy’s hand—“is the letter which would ensure my place in this family. I overheard a conversation between Sir Lewis and my godfather years ago about his son and a secret account. It was then I knew I would have to marry Georgie to reap the wealth I deserved. That my years of scraping at my godfather’s boots would give me nothing but a gentleman’s education and a living at Kympton if I wanted it, he said. I assure you… I wanted more.”
Wickham lunged for the parchment before Darcy pulled it away, returning it to his coat.
Darcy’s controlled tone showed the measure of the man.
“That is a sorry tale indeed, Wickham. A gentleman’s education for the son of a steward.
More than any other landowner would offer, yet this is how you repay him? Now, put her down.”
A menacing sound came from Wickham’s lips. “There is nothing left of Pemberley or the Darcy estate. It is owned by another and will never fall into your hands.”
“It is owned by me,” Lady Catherine said. “And I am returning it to the Darcy family. But,” she said, turning to Darcy, “the terms of our agreement have not been fulfilled.”
Looking between the two of them, Wickham stayed the progress of his ruffian as Georgiana kicked and cried out with exertion.
“I see no reason for that to be a necessity, Lady Catherine. I would rather honorably circumvent the issue.”
“Honorably? Honorably? No honor has been shown to my niece, to our family!”
Georgiana persevered to writhe in attempts to free herself.
Wickham’s impatience was spent. “I assume Bainbridge & Sons also apprised you of her dowry? If she becomes ill, her money reverts to me. As her husband, I have been concerned for her well-being of late. She has acted out of sorts: speaking to her dead father, seeing spirits, and other abnormalities. She is going to be evaluated at Bedlam.”
“Bedlam? Set her down, Wickham,” Darcy demanded. “You will gain nothing from putting an innocent girl in an asylum.”
“Have you not been listening, Darcy? I will gain everything!”
“Set her down.”
Wickham signaled to his brutes, who dropped her on the floor. Elizabeth and Miss de Bourgh rushed to remove Georgiana’s gag.
“You are a vile man, and I hate you!” she shouted at Wickham. “I am grateful to have a brother—”
“You were the means to an end—”
“Who is so honorable—”
“Shut your mouth!” shouted Wickham.
“And reflects the values of a Darcy.”
“Pemberley was all I wanted from you—”
“My father would loathe the man you have become—”
“And I had it!”
Georgiana spat back. “Until you gambled it away!”
Wickham’s eyes bulged at her comment, and without warning, he pulled his hand back and struck Georgiana across the face.
A deathly hush echoed down the corridor.
Darcy inhaled slowly. “Pistols at sunrise at the old Rosings ruins.”
“I will be there!” was Wickham’s reply before he and his men walked down the stairs and out of Rosings.