Chapter 3
The following day saw several callers at Longbourn, all of them female. Mrs. Phillips, Lady Lucas, and Charlotte Lucas all arrived at nearly the same time, and a discussion ensued wherein all the details of the assembly were discussed, and every single person’s actions were analyzed.
It was generally agreed that Mr. Bingley was charming and friendly and that he would make an excellent addition to the neighborhood. It was also agreed, though less enthusiastically, that his sisters were elegant with reasonably pleasant manners.
Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, was practically vilified. His pride, as demonstrated by his unwillingness to converse with anyone, was decried as the worst of bad manners.
Jane tried to save his character by mentioning that he asked to be introduced to Elizabeth, but everyone except Jane ignored that. The fact that he sought out Elizabeth but not any of the more acceptable members of society only sunk their opinion of him further.
That, at least, was what Elizabeth assumed they were thinking when they waved away this information without responding.
While this discussion was taking place, a carriage arrived at the front of the house. The ladies heard it approach, and they heard Mrs. Hill answer the door, but since no one was brought into the parlor, it was assumed that the visitor was here to see Mr. Bennet, and the discussion resumed.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Hill appeared in the parlor doorway. “Miss Elizabeth, your father would like to see you in his bookroom.”
Elizabeth easily extricated herself from the conversation since she was not really a part of it anyway. After knocking on the door to the bookroom, she entered.
It was immediately apparent who her father’s guest was. She felt her mouth split into a grin as she said, “Uncle Brandon! This is a surprise.”
“It is good to see you Elizabeth,” he said with a smile, though it seemed a little forced. As Elizabeth looked more closely, she noticed Uncle Brandon seemed somewhat nervous.
“Elizabeth, I am afraid we have something rather serious to discuss,” said her father. “Will you take a seat?”
Elizabeth sat down and looked back and forth between the two men. Neither of them seemed to want to begin, but eventually Uncle Brandon insisted Papa take the lead.
Mr. Bennet sighed. “I am certain you have heard the whispers in the neighborhood that you are not my legitimate child,” he said.
Her stomach turned to cold jelly as she nodded her head.
“Well, they are only half true,” he said. “The truth is that you are not my child at all.”
When Elizabeth cried out in shock, Mr. Bennet rushed to continue. “That is not to say that I don’t care for you. I have done my best to raise you as my own. Lizzy, you must know that.”
She did know. She knew Papa loved her. She also knew, somewhere deep down, that he was not her real father.
Vague images and impressions floated to the top of her mind, things she had always ignored, because they never made any sense.
Memories of a house that wasn’t Longbourn and parents that weren’t Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.
Since they were the memories of a very young child, they were incoherent, more impressions than actual memories.
Still, they had always bothered Elizabeth, because they only highlighted what she had been told in various unkind ways: that she had not always lived at Longbourn, that she was an outsider, that she did not belong.
“I know,” she said in a small voice. “I think I have always known that I am not your real daughter. Still, I also know that, in truth, you are my father. You have raised me, taught me, and loved me as if I were your own. For that, I am, and always will be, grateful.”
Mr. Bennet stood from his chair and pulled Elizabeth into a hug. “You have been a joy, Elizabeth. Thank you for being my daughter.” He kissed her forehead. When he let her go, he said, “Now, I suppose you would like to know who your real father is.”
His sideways glance toward Uncle Brandon combined with Uncle Brandon’s sheepish expression to raise Elizabeth’s suspicions. “Is it you?” she asked Uncle Brandon.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He simply nodded and looked down.
Oddly enough, she could easily accept this. Uncle Brandon had always taken a greater interest in Elizabeth than her sisters. She had always thought it was because he felt pity for her, but if he was her true father then it all made so much more sense.
“But why?” asked Elizabeth. “Why was this necessary?”
Uncle Brandon sighed. “Your mother, my wife, attempted to kill you when you were just four years old. I had to get you away from her in such a way that she believed you dead. I planned to tell you when you turned twenty-one next year, but circumstances have changed. Your mother died a few days ago, so the danger is gone.”
“My mother tried to kill me?” asked Elizabeth, stunned. Simply saying the words, however, brought forth a memory that she had suppressed long ago. Cold thin hands had seized her throat, closing off her breathing, while eyes full of fury and hatred stared down at her.
The fear that had permeated her at the time surfaced in her mind, and to Elizabeth, it was as if it was all happening again. Her father’s bookroom faded from view, and all she could see was eyes full of hatred, boring into her soul.
She felt the hands on her neck, and she couldn’t breathe. Try as she might, she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to suck in air, but it was not enough. It was not enough.
Suddenly, strong hands seized her shoulders and shook her gently. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth. You are safe. She won’t harm you anymore. I promise.”
The voice and the words. They were the same as on that day. She opened her eyes and saw…her father. And Uncle Brandon.
It was Uncle Brandon’s voice that had brought her out of her panic, the same voice she now remembered as her father’s voice from when she was a little child. But it was Mr. Bennet’s strong hands that were holding her steady.
When she had calmed down, Mr. Bennet moved back to his chair while Elizabeth sat back up. She looked back and forth between her two fathers. “What should I call you? I can’t call you both Papa, that would get confusing.”
“You may call us whatever makes you comfortable, for now,” said Uncle Brandon. “That may change, depending on what we decide to do from here, though.”
“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth
“Well, I am hoping you will be willing to come home and take up your rightful place. If you do, you will need to call me either Father or Papa,” said Uncle Brandon.
“However, I realize that would mean taking you from the only home you remember, and I would not wish to make you unhappy. Therefore, I think it’s best if we discuss together what is to be done. ”
Mr. Bennet said, “I suppose we should start by you telling Elizabeth who you really are.”
Uncle Brandon sighed. “You are correct,” he said. Then he turned to Elizabeth. “What do you remember of your home before coming here?”
“Not much,” she replied. “I have a vague impression of gleefully running away from my nurse down a very long hallway. I think I also remember playing in a large garden. The size of those places could just be an illusion based on the fact that I was very small at the time. Mostly what I remember, however, must be my toys in the nursery.”
Uncle Brandon shook his head. “It is not an illusion. My house truly is very large. You see, I am the Duke of Essex.”
The first thought that managed to pierce Elizabeth’s shock was a memory from the assembly. “Mr. Darcy said I looked like you,” she said.
“Darcy? Is that Fitzwilliam Darcy from Derbyshire?” asked the duke.
“I don’t know his first name, but he is most definitely from Derbyshire,” said Elizabeth.
“I was good friends with his father. He was a very good man. In fact, when I was trying to decide where to take you after we left home, I was torn between taking you to Darcy or bringing you here. Both Darcy and Bennet have been longstanding friends of mine, and they also happen to be my only friends without a title, which was a paramount consideration when trying to hide you from my wife.”
“Why did you decide to bring me here instead of taking me to Derbyshire?” asked Elizabeth.
“Two reasons,” replied the duke. “First, this house was closer. Derbyshire is more than a day’s journey farther away, even with a fast carriage.
The second reason is that, at the time, Darcy did not have any daughters.
I thought you would want to be with sisters rather than a single, much older, brother.
Besides, Darcy’s wife was the daughter of an earl, which was a little too close to the nobility for comfort. ”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She loved her family here at Longbourn despite often feeling as though she didn’t quite belong. Yet, she couldn’t shake the memory of the magical time she had spent talking with Mr. Darcy last night. What would it have been like growing up with him as her brother?
Her hesitation seemed to cause the duke to frown in concern.
So, she forced herself to speak. “I have been happy enough here, so there is no need to doubt your decision. Who can say what might have been? Let us think no more on it. We should think of the past only as its remembrance brings us pleasure. I have many, many fond memories of times spent here at Longbourn which I shall always treasure no matter where I go.”
“Then I am glad I brought you here,” said the duke. “I shall do my best to follow your advice and not regret the choices of the past. Do you have any other questions for me before we discuss your future?”