Chapter 15
Although her meeting point with Darcy was mere steps from her home, Elizabeth had taken a hack chaise for the sole purpose of deception.
She did not wish him to realise she was so near; she wanted him to think she might have come from Poole or Bournemouth or wherever.
She did not want him to know about Bennet.
She did not want him to have any comprehension of her situation.
Yet she could not have imagined nor planned for a scene such as this.
Kitty was walking with Georgiana while her son was mere feet away with Merry.
And then Kitty was shrieking and calling her name, and Bennet was shouting, “Mama,” and running towards her, and Merry was smiling, and Georgiana was confused, then Bennet fell and tore his gown, and blood appeared on his knees, which caused more screaming and confusion as Merry tried to retrieve him, but in the obstinate way of a toddler, he wanted only for his Mama.
And she ran over to him because a mother’s instinct could permit no less, and she took him from Merry, heedless of the blood on her muslin, just allowing him to sob into her neck while she kissed his agony away.
Kitty hugged both of them, also crying, and laughing, and Elizabeth alternated kisses to her son and her sister.
And when Elizabeth raised her head, there stood Darcy, staring at them all.
Having left the carriage, Darcy walked to his meeting with Elizabeth. Following that, when he was again master of himself, he had gone to retrieve the ladies from their walk on the esplanade, only to be greeted by a scene such as he could not have imagined.
A small boy, one long, knobby-kneed leg having been cut on some sharp object in the sand, was howling his dismay into his mother’s bosom—his mother being Elizabeth, who held him tightly, kissing his head as Kitty hugged them both.
A dark-haired, young lady consoled the boy from the side, and Georgiana stared in wonder, Mrs Annesley by her side.
He walked to them slowly, comprehending that Elizabeth would have likely desired his absence. “Is the child well?” he asked.
“Lizzy! Is he my nephew?” Kitty asked eagerly.
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, still holding the boy to her chest. “This is Bennet,” she said, not directly answering Kitty.
Having heard his name, Bennet paused mid-sob and looked around interestedly.
Darcy’s breath caught upon seeing him, feeling an instant tug at his heart.
Although he was a baby, it was clear he had the Darcy nose and chin, much like Darcy himself had.
In a trice, he saw the boy walking the halls at Pemberley, its future secured, and the thought made him weak in the knees with humility.
The petite, dark-haired woman to Elizabeth’s side stepped forward. She was plainly curious about the scene occurring before her but said only, “Let me take him and get him cleaned.”
But Bennet immediately resumed shrieking at the very notion of being removed from his mother’s arms, so Elizabeth hurriedly said, “Let us all…we shall go…into the house, I suppose.” With another glance at Darcy, she added, “Just across the way.”
Elizabeth set off then, walking down the pavement holding her precious bundle, with the young lady on one side and Kitty on the other, who was chattering away, seemingly insensible of the undercurrent of turbulence around her.
Georgiana took Darcy’s arm as they followed behind, casting him the occasional anxious glance but saying little.
Mrs Annesley chose to wait by the sea on a bench that allowed a delightful view.
The house they arrived at was very fine, large and well situated. Elizabeth walked in the front door to be greeted by an elderly man who knew his business but could not help some grandfatherly clucks in Bennet’s direction.
“Shall I send for the apothecary, Mrs Elizabeth?” he asked.
“No, no,” said Elizabeth with a fond smile. “It is merely a skinned knee, but he likes the attention he is receiving over it.”
Bennet at last agreed to be relinquished into the care of his young nurse—Merry, she was called—and Elizabeth said she would retire above stairs to refresh herself. “May I come?” Georgiana asked.
With a forced smile, Elizabeth said, “Perhaps both of my sisters will join me? I daresay we have much to talk of.”
Darcy stepped towards her, “May I—”
“The sitting room is that way,” she said with a quick thrust of her chin towards a closed door to the left. “Wait there.”
Elizabeth’s maid was a woman named Blake, who had been in the service of Mrs Macy for the decade prior. Blake came now to Elizabeth’s bedchamber, chuckling over the state of her gown. “I am become quite the expert in the removal of such stains, ma’am.”
“It will be a sad day for me when he no longer runs into my arms with skinned knees,” Elizabeth said with a smile, “but not as much, perhaps, for you.”
“There you are wrong, ma’am, for the laundry is well worth the hugs and kisses we all get along with the skinned knees.”
Still smiling, Elizabeth directed her two sisters to a settee by her table, where they watched while Blake put her back to rights.
“So,” Elizabeth asked with feigned cheer, “how is it that you are in Weymouth?”
“There is a friend of Darcy’s nearby,” said Kitty. “A Mr Rollings. He is taken with Lydia and invited us all down to visit.”
“With Lydia? Do you think they will make a match of it?”
“He is ever so wealthy, but our sister does still like a man in regimentals, and Jolly does want for those.” Kitty giggled. “Oh, Lizzy, how much we have to tell each other!”
Elizabeth smiled at her young sister. “Are our parents here too?”
“No,” Kitty said. “Mama’s nerves could not bear the travel. In fact, Lydia and I have been with Darcy for some time now.”
“It is very agreeable for me,” said Georgiana, her first timid foray into the conversation. “I have learnt what it is to have sisters, which has long been my wish.”
Elizabeth did not speak her thoughts—that Georgiana did have a sister, and that sister had been sent away. But such things could not be said in front of Blake, so Elizabeth merely asked, “And what is your opinion of the match, Georgiana? Will it work?”
“She likes him very well. I do think he will offer for her. He is mostly in town, which I think Lydia will prefer.”
“I see.” Elizabeth nodded and thanked Blake who had, expediently as usual, set her to rights again. Blake curtseyed and left them, and Elizabeth turned to her sisters. Before she could speak, however, Georgiana stopped her.
“Lizzy…I mean, Elizabeth, that is to say I…did my brother…what…”
She had become distressed, and Elizabeth wondered at the meaning of it. “What is it Georgiana?”
“I wonder whether I might speak…to tell you some things my brother…did my brother tell you much about why…?” She shrugged helplessly.
“Why he sent me off and abandoned me?” Elizabeth smiled. “No, our conversation ended before that.”
“Then perhaps you would like me—”
Elizabeth held up her hand. “It is not necessary, I am sure.”
Georgiana began to weep, and Kitty took her hand. “You should hear her, Lizzy. After all, you are married to the man. You cannot un-marry him.”
“He does not want me,” Elizabeth said calmly but firmly. “And I no longer want him either.”
Georgiana’s tears had begun to flow in earnest. “But no! Please! You must hear why my brother…what made him do as he did. I do not wish to defend him. Indeed, he despises himself for his own errors, but let me explain. Please.”
Elizabeth rose from her dressing table and brought Georgiana a moistened handkerchief. “My dear, do not pain yourself so. I shall hear whatever it is you wish to say, but please, do not think you can fix what he, himself, has broken.”
Georgiana nodded, dabbing at her face and attempting to gather her equanimity. Elizabeth took her seat again, this time facing the two younger ladies.
With a fortifying breath, Georgiana began, “Back in ’12…no, it began in ’11…I fancied myself in love with George Wickham.”
She seemed to think the name might have some significance to Elizabeth, but Elizabeth had no recollection of any such person. She looked over at Kitty who said, “Mr Wickham was in Hertfordshire in ’11, Lizzy, part of that regiment with Colonel Forster.”
“Did I meet him?”
“I think so. He was fearful handsome. We were all in love with him—well, all except you. Your head was too full of Mr Darcy to look at the poor soldiers.”
Her jest, given in the usual way of sisters, was ill timed. It made Elizabeth frown before she forced a wan smile, “That must be true, for I do not remember him or any of the other soldiers very well at all.”
“He was a poor soldier,” Georgiana agreed. “But he was raised at Pemberley, a playmate to my brother and given a gentleman’s education. When my father died, he was left a sum of one thousand pounds.”
“Oh, I do remember this now. He believed he was owed more?”
“The living at Kympton,” Georgiana corrected. “My brother had paid him a sum, but George wanted more. He formed a design to get to me, but stupid as I was…”
Here she paused, additional tears forming in her eyes. “Stupid as I was, I thought he really loved me.”
Kitty put her arm around Georgiana, and Elizabeth, moved to compassion, reached for her hand. “These are painful recollections for you, my dear. Pray, do not feel—”
“There is more,” Georgiana blurted. She went on to explain how her friend and confidante had advised her in the matter and told her that Elizabeth and Wickham were lovers of long standing, co-conspirators in a scheme to cuckold some wealthy man who would keep them in fashion and turn a blind eye.
At this, Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Good heavens! What an imagination your friend may boast!”
“And…and the truth was, I was angry about that. Because of what she said, I came to think of you as a rival and, worse, a fortune huntress, someone who had come to take advantage of my dear brother with your nefarious schemes.”