Chapter 22
The garden was laid to lawn, with apple trees along one side and a bank shaded by a willow. Yew hedges gave privacy, and an old oak at the back had a swing attached to a thick branch.
‘How many other sisters do I have?’ Simona sat on the swing, as Elizabeth gently pushed.
‘Four. Half-sisters, actually.’
‘Are they as pedantic as you?’
‘No, but two of them are as quarrelsome as you.’
A hard push sent Simona soaring, and she squealed with pleasure. ‘And no half-brothers.’
‘I already told you that.’
‘Maybe Mr Bennet has a defect and can make only girls. Do your sisters look like me?’
Elizabeth considered. ‘Not much. Jane and Lydia take after mother. Mary and Kitty a mixture.’
‘When is your birthday?’
‘I was 21 last March.’
‘I’ll be 22 in a month.’
‘November. Four months difference.’ Elizabeth walked away, allowing the swing to settle. ‘It fits, Simona. Time for father to return to England and resume married life.’
They crossed the lawn to see whether fruit remained on the apple trees. Elizabeth managed to pull down a branch, allowing Simona to pull off a few apples, mostly pecked by birds.
‘This one is all right.’ Simona rubbed an intact apple on her sleeve and handed it over. ‘Try.’
Elizabeth sniffed and made a face. ‘Past its best.’
‘Coniglio!’ Simona grabbed the apple and took a bite.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Coward. Or literally, rabbit.’
‘I thought cowards were chickens.’
‘The other way in Italian. A rabbit is cowardly, a chicken incompetent.’ She threw the apple away.
‘You’re right. It’s horrid. What I don’t understand is, how did you find us?
Mother said you learned our address from a Mrs Leighton, whom we saw in London a few years ago.
But how did you find her? Through your father? ’
Elizabeth paused. ‘It started, believe it or not, when I saw a portrait of you at the Royal Academy.’
‘Of me? Don’t you mean mother? Uncle Mario painted her just after we arrived in England, but I never posed for him, or anyone else.’
‘Did you know a Signor Sgaravatti?’
Simona winced. ‘Uncle Mario’s landlord. Odious man! Always paying me compliments and sketching me when I wasn’t looking.’
‘He copied another artist’s painting, using your likeness instead of the original model. Then pretended it was a work by Lorenzo Pavan so that it would sell.’
‘So where is this picture? Still in the gallery?’
‘My friend Mr Darcy purchased it.’
‘Ha!’ Simona grinned. ‘As a present for you.’
‘No!’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Never mind why he bought it. I saw the portrait, noticed the resemblance, assumed it was coincidental, and forgot about it. Until it transpired that an artist named Pavan once visited my neighbourhood.’ She explained how after badgering her father and uncle she had learned of their trip to Venice and its aftermath.
Simona fell silent for a while, then said, ‘Will I ever meet your father? Or our father, if mother is telling the truth?’
Elizabeth raised her hands. ‘I’ve not even begun planning what to do next.’
‘Is he as mother described? Kind? Humorous?’
‘I suppose. But I see him as somehow defeated by circumstances—and meeting Concetta, I see why. My parents should never have married. My mother does her best, but she is limited in understanding, and easily upset. He treats her with tolerance, even affection on occasion, but a total absence of respect. For the rest, he shuts himself away in his study and reads.’
Simona nodded slowly. ‘He never loved her.’
‘He never found love, or even believed himself capable of it, before Concetta.’
‘Sad isn’t it? That they had only a week?’ Simona sighed. ‘Could they not have run off together?’
‘His life was in England. Wife, baby daughter, the estate he would one day inherit. And hers in Venice. What love, however strong, could survive such a strain?’
They walked towards the house, in silence, until Simona said, ‘Is it coincidence, do you think, that we are both still unmarried?’
‘You think we are cautious, having witnessed the consequences of marrying the wrong person?’
‘The prof, Mr Wharton, is quite worried about me, and has been praising Mr Darcy!’ Simona faced Elizabeth with an roguish smile. ‘Handsome, he told me! Intelligent. Honourable. It was one reason I hid in my room—until mother sent word that I should keep out.’
‘Upon which you burst in and pulled me upstairs.’
‘It was such a shock!’ She gave Elizabeth a little shove. ‘But I will have to meet Mr Darcy shortly …’
‘He will recognise you as the fanciulla from the portrait.’
‘Yes, dear half-sister.’ Another grin. ‘But what needs to be established is his significance to you. Are you intending to throw caution, how do you say, to the wind, and coax him into matrimony? Or is he merely the friend of a man who is to marry your sister?’
Elizabeth smiled back, but did not rise to the bait.
They re-entered the conservatory to find Darcy and Wharton seated beside Concetta. Darcy rose, catching sight of Simona for the first time, and studied her for several seconds before recalling the civilities, and bowing as his host performed the introduction.
There was an awkward silence, no-one being sure what the others knew, before Concetta explained lightly that certain events had occurred which should be discussed initially in two groups.
The study was made available for a tête-à-tête between Darcy and Elizabeth, while the Whartons stayed in the conservatory.
‘So we’ve found her.’ Darcy frowned. ‘The lady with the letter. But why is this so delicate that we need to discuss it separately?’
Elizabeth explained that Concetta did not even know of the painting: what had been revealed was far more momentous.
He listened grave-faced, and trying to lighten the atmosphere she concluded, with a grin, ‘So you see, my family is even worse than you supposed. I am the product of a foolish mother and an immoral father.’
He was silent a moment, studying her. ‘You like to joke about life’s challenges. One of your many charms. But seriously, how do you feel about this?’
Elizabeth was temporarily at a loss: she had not yet got so far as to interrogate her own feelings.
But somehow the words came, and she said confidently, ‘I know there will be implications to be faced. But in this moment I am relieved that the enigma is resolved, and joyful at discovering a half-sister who might have been forever hidden from me.’ She met his eye with a wry smile.
‘I realise of course that this further proof of family weakness might deter an honourable gentleman such as yourself from contemplating me as a suitable wife.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘The matter can surely be concealed. As for myself …’ A shrug. ‘You have made your feelings abundantly clear.’
‘Feelings can change.’
He gasped, and Elizabeth began to shiver, realising how brazen these words must appear. What had possessed her? The answer immediately presented itself. She had been alarmed by Simona’s hint that she too might have an interest in this handsome ex-scholar.
Eventually he replied, ‘Mine have not.’
A wave of relief hit her, and for the second time that afternoon, tears came to her eyes.
‘This is too much for one day.’ She held out a hand. ‘But if you mean what I pray you mean, my answer is yes.’
He took her hand, and kissed it. ‘Dearest Elizabeth. I hoped of course that you thought me not quite so bad as before …’
‘It goes far beyond that. You have my respect, my gratitude, my heart too. But what of the revelations concerning my father? Are they not an impediment?’
He shook his head. ‘Such dalliances, although regrettable, occur in all families all the way up to royalty. Among the haut ton they are thought normal, even admirable. The faithful husband is considered a dullard, the lover a fine fellow—provided he is discreet. Kiss, yes, but don’t tell.’
‘Father did not tell,’ Elizabeth mused. ‘Nor Concetta, until we forced her to.’ She met his eye. ‘So what next?’
He thought awhile, before replying gently, ‘I will marry you whatever happens, Elizabeth. But for your own good, and that of your mother and sisters, I counsel discretion.’
She nodded. ‘I absolutely cannot tell mother. She would be distressed, scandalised, and inclined to vent her anger to all and sundry. Mary would be hurt; Kitty would blurt out the news to mother. Father is the problem. He has a daughter, born of the woman he adored. He has kept their love affair secret all these years. Surely he has a right to know.’
Two more chairs had been brought to the conservatory, and they sat in a semicircle around Concetta.
‘Have you decided?’ Wharton asked Elizabeth.
‘I confided fully in Mr Darcy. We believe this should go no further, except to my father.’
Concetta nodded. ‘I have told my husband.’ She stroked his hand. ‘Who is good at remaining silent, except on the topic of Greek and Roman culture. We too believe, mostly for Simona’s sake, that her origins are best left under a veil.’
Elizabeth faced Simona. ‘Are you happy with this?’
‘I would like to meet my real father. And my half-sisters. But not at the cost of harming the reputation of your family.’
‘Can we not be—friends?’ Professor Wharton said. ‘In the eyes of the world?’
Simona smiled at Elizabeth. ‘Well?’
‘For my part, gladly. And the story holds together, does it not?’ She turned to Wharton. ‘For we are linked through Mr Darcy and yourself, sir. He visited you and was introduced to your wife and step-daughter, so I met them too.’
Concetta looked innocently at Elizabeth. ‘Put that way it sounds most convincing, except that people might wonder why you returned home in Mr Darcy’s company rather than that of your aunt and uncle.’
A glance passed between Elizabeth and Darcy, who said drily, ‘Perhaps something can be done about that.’
‘If so,’ Concetta said, ‘it is your business, not ours.’
A silence followed, no-one daring to comment further, until Concetta said, ‘I think a celebration is in order. Cecil, have we anything suitable in your cellar?’
‘A pink wine from the Champagne region should serve. What say you, Darcy?’
The pink wine had aged well and was sweet and delicious. Drawing Elizabeth aside, Simona whispered, ‘As I thought! You are betrothed, and hid it from me.’
‘I did no such thing.’
‘You mean …’ She dropped her voice again. ‘This just happened, in the study?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Ha!’ Simona was gleeful. ‘You feared he might prefer me, and decided to strike before it was too late.’
‘The thought never entered my mind.’
‘He looks distinguished, but rather serious.’ She moved close to whisper. ‘Wealthy?’
‘A pleasant estate in Derbyshire.’
‘I love him already. You have broken my heart.’ Simona glared in mock anger. ‘And you expect me to pretend to be your friend.’
‘You have no alternative, if you wish to meet my family.’
They locked eyes, struggling not to laugh, then moved on to other subjects.