Chapter 36 #2
“Now, shall we begin?” Elizabeth asked brightly, faking a cheer she did not feel.
“I am not entirely certain how to,” Mr. Bennet said.
“I believe it is best to begin at the beginning,” Elizabeth said, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “Perhaps you might tell us about your brother—my father. I had no notion of his existence until Jane mentioned him some weeks ago. You have never spoken of him.”
Mr. Bennet did not immediately answer.
He stood near the hearth, his usual ease entirely absent, his expression drawn in a way Elizabeth had never seen before.
“It is… painful,” he said at last. “And I had hoped never to be obliged to speak of it. I feared—” he glanced toward Lady Catherine, then away again “—that if the truth were known, it would bring danger as well as scandal. The Fitzwilliams are not… a family to be trifled with.”
Elizabeth’s heart gave a small, sharp twist.
“Well,” she said quietly, though there was a firmness beneath it, “it seems the truth has found us regardless. So, I beg you—tell us. How did all of this come about?”
Mr. Bennet exhaled slowly and sank into a chair, as though the telling itself were a burden.
“My brother,” he began, “was very unlike me. Frederick was… restless. Ambitious. He went away to school, and afterward intended to go into trade with your Uncle Gardiner.”
Elizabeth listened, her pulse beginning to quicken.
“He came home one holiday,” Mr. Bennet continued, “and spoke of a young lady he had met in Town. Cathy, he called her. He was quite undone over her—entirely so.”
A faint, humorless breath escaped him. “I told him he was being a fool.”
Lady Catherine did not move.
Elizabeth felt Darcy’s hand close more firmly around hers.
“He would not be persuaded,” Mr. Bennet went on. “Then came a letter—quite distraught—informing me that she was no ordinary young lady, but the daughter of an earl.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked, involuntarily, toward Lady Catherine.
“Another letter followed soon after, saying they were planning an elopement. But then—” His voice dropped.
“—then he appeared at Longbourn. Quite wild. Desperate. He said they had married, by a Catholic priest—though heaven knows how he was able to do that, since we have always been in the Church of England—and that she was with child. That her father and brother had discovered it, and that she had been taken away.”
Lady Catherine’s chin lifted, but she did not interrupt.
“He begged for money,” Mr. Bennet continued. “Said he must find her. That he would not abandon her or the child.”
Elizabeth felt something tighten in her chest. So, I was not born of a man who forfeited his duties. At least, not at first.
“I told him it was dangerous. That he was meddling with people who would not hesitate to ruin him, or worse. But he would not listen.”
Mr. Bennet paused.
“I did not see him again,” he said quietly, “until the night your mother was brought to bed just a year after Jane’s birth. It was a boy, but he was born blue. He never… never took breath.”
Elizabeth felt as though her heart were being cleaved in two. Tears filled her eyes as she watched her broken father stare into the flames in the grate, seeing images from the past that no one else could.
“He arrived—late—carrying a child.” Mr. Bennet’s voice grew rougher. “You. And he himself had been… badly beaten.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly.
“He left you with me,” Mr. Bennet said. “Said he could not keep you safe—not while he remained in England. He meant to go to India. To make his fortune. To return for you one day.”
Silence fell.
“I heard from him a few times,” Mr. Bennet went on. “He sent money—for your care. But the letters became fewer. And then…” he swallowed “…the last spoke of fever. Malaria. He did not expect to survive.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened in her skirts. “And after that?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” Mr. Bennet said. “I never heard from him again.”
The room seemed very still.
“I feared,” he added, more quietly, “that the Fitzwilliams might one day come looking. That they might claim you, or worse. So, I said nothing. To anyone.”
Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath.
“So, Mama does not know?” she asked.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “No. She was not conscious when Frederick came. When she awoke, she was told she had given birth to another girl.” He hesitated. “We allowed her to believe that her dead son had merely been a bad dream.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her mind struggling to process everything she had been told. The enormity of it—of all of it—seemed to press in at once.
The deception.
The secrecy.
The years of silence.
She did not know whether to feel anger—or gratitude.
Perhaps both.
Darcy’s voice, calm but firm, broke the moment.
“Forgive me if this seems indelicate,” he said, his gaze fixed on Mr. Bennet, “but the settlements drawn for Elizabeth were identical to those of Miss Bennet. What became of the funds her father provided?”
Mr. Bennet shifted.
For the first time, he looked—sheepish.
“They were… applied,” he said, not meeting Darcy’s eye.
“Applied?” Darcy repeated.
“To useful purposes,” Mr. Bennet amended, with faint defensiveness. “Books, for instance. A most excellent collection. Had I not purchased them, Elizabeth would hardly be as well-read—or as witty—as she is.”
Elizabeth lifted her gaze heavenward in exasperation. “Papa,” she chided.
He cleared his throat. “It would not have done to distinguish between you and your sisters. Questions would have been asked.”
“Other arrangements could have been made,” Darcy replied sternly.
Mr. Bennet lifted his hands in supplication. “I did the best I could.”
Darcy opened his mouth again, but Elizabeth pressed his hand lightly. He paused, then folded his fingers over hers, quieting without protest.
“And you, Aunt Catherine?” Richard asked, and all eyes shifted from Mr. Bennet to the grate lady on the large chair. “Is there anything else you feel should be added?”
Lady Catherine sighed. “Freddy was not wrong; my father would have had him killed. It is why I did not leave with him when he came to rescue me. I shall never forget the relief I felt when I saw his head through my bedroom window. It took all my strength to not follow him down that ladder, but I knew that if I left, we would have been found.”
“But if you were married properly…” Elizabeth began.
“No,” Lady Catherine said, shaking her head.
“Our not being married in the eyes of British law is part of what saved your father’s life.
Had we actually been able to make it to Gretna Green, my father and brother would have simply had Freddy killed so I could be married off again to the highest bidder. ”
“Now you see why I could not have you associated with the Fitzwilliam name,” Mr. Bennet said. “The risk was simply too great.”
“Be that as it may, it does not absolve you of your own guilt!” Elizabeth’s voice as harsh, and she broke into a small sob on her last word.
“You could have talked to me, to Darcy, Perhaps even told us a bit of the truth. But to drug me? To try to kidnap me and force me into marriage with some stranger?”
She broke off, her shoulders heaving as her chest strained for air. Darcy rubbed her back soothingly, urging her to breathe, while he glared over at Mr. Bennet.
“Do not worry, son,” Mr. Bennet said in response. “You cannot hate me any more than I hate myself. Please, Lizzy, just know that I was doing it all for you.”
“No, you were doing it for yourself,” she shot back. “You broke my trust, Papa, and it may take years for me to be able to trust you again.”
Mr. Bennet’s shoulders slumped down even further. “I… I understand, my dear.”
“But that does not mean I cannot forgive you,” she added. “I do still love you, Papa. And I am extremely grateful for the person that I have become under your tutelage. I just… I will need some time.”
“Of course, Lizzy. And if you have any questions about any of it, please ask,” Mr. Bennet said. “I would love to talk more about Freddy.”
“As would I,” Lady Catherine added. “Mr. Bennet, I would like to hear more about Freddy’s childhood and the kind of man he was before I met him. If you do not have other accommodations, I suppose I could have a room prepared for you to stay the night.”
For the first time, Mr. Bennet raised his eyes and looked at Lady Catherine. “I thank you,” he said hoarsely.
“Do not thank her yet,” Richard said with a grin, “or else she will be even more insufferable than she usually is.”
Richard’s joke achieved its intended purpose in lightening the moment. All of a sudden, all of the emotions of the last several days washed over Elizabeth at once.
“I—please excuse me,” she said as she stood and fled the company. Once out of sight, tears began pouring down her face.
She had witnessed a miracle.