Chapter 9
Next morning
Arriving at the inn Darcy found Elizabeth alone in an old-fashioned lounge with comfortable chairs set around small tables, and cupboards holding books and games.
‘Your uncle and aunt?’ he asked.
‘Gone for a walk.’ She smiled. ‘I thought we might follow, but it seems we will not be disturbed here.’
He sat opposite her, and she continued, ‘I am going to tell a strange story, sir, recently extracted from my father. I promised to tell no-one else in the family. Which is why I am imposing on you instead.’
‘I assure you of my secrecy.’
Elizabeth began, quietly and coherently, as if she had planned exactly what to confide.
The theme, as before, was how incurious children were about their parents.
She had been told of her father’s Grand Tour, and of Mr Gardiner’s journey to Italy to make trading contacts.
But the timing of these events had come as a surprise.
It transpired that Mr Bennet had not gone on his tour upon graduating, as would be normal, but after his marriage and the birth of his first daughter.
Furthermore, he had travelled not just with university friends but with Mr Gardiner, leaving Mrs Bennet and Jane at Longbourn.
Darcy saw how this might be embarrassing, especially for Bennet. He might prefer Jane not to know that he had left on such a long trip soon after her birth.
‘All the same,’ he said, ‘separations of this kind are common, especially in certain professions. A sea captain has to spend time away from his wife and children. As will Colonel Fitzwilliam, if he marries.’
‘There is more.’ Elizabeth paused, treading carefully.
‘A year later, in 1790, the travellers returned in excellent spirits, Mr Gardiner having impressed a Venice dealer—Mario Pavan’s father.
As a result uncle moved to London, where he helped run two warehouses.
Later that year, when my mother learned she was with child, my parents went to stay with Mr Gardiner, and it was in this house that I came into the world, in March 1791.
Or so I have always been told.’ She faced him, voice shaking. ‘Do you see what is in my mind?’
He gasped. ‘Perhaps …’
‘I am probably being foolish. But just suppose … that the stay in London was undertaken to conceal the date of my birth! Was I in fact conceived just before my father returned from Italy?’
‘The true father being Mario Pavan?’
Elizabeth nodded. ‘It is fanciful, I agree, but explains so much. My father’s deception over the circumstances of his trip to Italy.
The evasiveness of my mother and uncle when questioned about Pavan.
The stay in London. Most of all, my resemblance to the lady in the portrait, who could easily be related to Mario Pavan—his sister, say. ’
‘Have you considered asking your mother’s sister?’
‘Mrs Phillips?’ Elizabeth winced. ‘She has never spoken of those times, embarrassed I suppose by the behaviour of my father and her brother. Mr Gardiner was meant to be training for the law. Only through father’s support was he able to break free and set up his own business.’
Darcy nodded, realising that Mrs Phillips would have to defend her sister against any hint of impropriety.
He marvelled at Elizabeth’s bravery in contemplating such a possibility, and confiding it to a man who had hoped to marry her.
Could this be a clever ruse to discourage his suit? He pushed the thought aside.
As to the theory, he saw several further points in its favour, principal of which was Mrs Bennet’s character.
As a young woman she probably resembled Lydia and Kitty—not only flirtatious, but foolish, easily led by a handsome man who flattered her.
The incident would explain her subsequent treatment by Bennet, who either ignored her, or displayed a lack of respect bordering on contempt.
Against this, Darcy pondered Bennet’s evident respect and liking for the child who was not his daughter. But here too the theory held, for Bennet was at heart a kindly man, and might bestow particular affection on the innocent result of his wife’s betrayal.
‘Well?’ Elizabeth confronted him with a smile. ‘Does my theory convince, or am I hallucinating?’
He paused, then shrugged. ‘Such things happen. But on balance, I doubt it. The mind makes patterns. We look up at the clouds and see faces or ships or animals.’
‘I could press Mr Gardiner again, or my father. But I think they are bound by promises to my mother, so I would only cause distress …’ Elizabeth broke off as a servant entered. ‘Yes, Hannah?’
‘These just arrived, madam.’ The maid held out two letters.
‘Thank you.’ Elizabeth glanced at the handwriting, and turned to Darcy. ‘I’ve been expecting a letter from Jane all week: now I have two! Would you mind very much …’
‘By all means read them now.’ He smiled. ‘If my presence doesn’t distract you, I’d like to wait a few minutes and give my regards to your uncle and aunt.’
‘By all means stay. And thank you so much for humouring my perplexities.’
She opened a letter and began to read.