Chapter 6
SIX
As soon as Elizabeth entered the Earl of Romsley’s town house, a maid appeared and took her pelisse and bonnet.
Elizabeth then followed the liveried butler, her heart feeling heavy—as if it had grown three times its usual size—and beating quickly.
Never had she been in such a fine house, but what did she expect?
In truth, she had not thought so much of where she was going; she had been too intent on whom she would be meeting.
At last, they reached their destination.
The butler opened the door to an elegant drawing room and announced her; he then slipped away, and she was left facing a middle-aged couple and two gentlemen she presumed were their sons.
The room was not as formal as she had feared it might be, which eased her slightly.
So, too, did the open, curious expressions she was met with.
The sons—her cousins—were both smiling. Elizabeth tried to return the friendly gesture, but she was not certain her nerves permitted her to do so.
She knew her anxiety was partly due to eagerness at having such a dear wish—one she had held close to herself for as long as she could remember—finally fulfilled.
For years, she had believed this moment would never come.
She curtseyed, and the lady stepped towards her. The countess gasped softly, and she held out a hand, which Elizabeth instinctively took.
“You do have the look of a Sterling,” Lady Romsley said, studying her.
“Your hair is the exact colour my mother’s was, and the shape of your nose, but—your eyes!
They are so like my brother’s.” Glancing over her shoulder, she addressed the earl.
“Philip, she is Thomas’s daughter. There can be no doubt.
Does she not resemble the portrait of my mother from the time of her marriage?
” Again addressing Elizabeth, she continued.
“From what you wrote, it seemed unlikely that a mistake had been made—there were far too many coincidences for that—but seeing you.” A hand flew to her mouth, and she covered it briefly.
“I beg your pardon, my dear. I have not even introduced myself, although you must know who I am.”
“Lady Romsley, I presume,” Elizabeth said.
This time, she managed to smile. The woman’s greeting had been so warm that Elizabeth could feel it flooding her body, soothing her nerves.
If she did not keep control of her emotions, she might well end up in tears.
She was standing with people who had known her father!
“Your aunt,” Lady Romsley said with a shocked laugh. “This is so unexpected. Oh, but let me introduce…”
Keeping hold of Elizabeth’s hand, the countess stood facing the gentlemen. “My husband, Lord Romsley, and our sons, Viscount Bramwell and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Your uncle and cousins.”
Elizabeth curtseyed, and the gentlemen bowed.
In a moment, they were all seated, she beside Lady Romsley on a settee, and the others on chairs next to them.
Over the next while, Elizabeth was encouraged to share her story.
She had brought the letter her mother had written to Mr Bennet, which the earl, the countess, and their sons read, while she sat and awkwardly waited for them to finish the long missive, doing her utmost not to notice how their expressions changed or the soft noises and comments they made, which she knew she might easily misconstrue.
She wanted nothing to disrupt her pleasure at being amongst her newly discovered family.
After the letter was read and briefly discussed, she was asked about the Bennets and Longbourn. Feeling she had spoken a great deal already, Elizabeth shared a little about them and said, “I would so like to learn about you too. Until earlier this month, I did not even know my father’s name.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled, and she thought it was meant to be both reassuring and approving, as though he was glad to know she was not the sort of person who always preferred to speak of themselves.
In truth, Elizabeth was interested in other people—not to be intrusive but to understand their experiences.
Her life had been limited in many ways, since the society near Longbourn was not large, and hearing about how people lived their lives and the places they had been was pleasing.
These people were part of her family, her father’s history, which made her intensely curious about them.
Lord Bramwell chuckled and said, “While that is understandable, my new cousin, I believe we are more interested in hearing about you than reviewing our own, far too familiar and thus uninteresting history.”
The earl shook his head. “Save your jokes for when she knows us better.” To Elizabeth, he said, “We shall try not to question you too much. After all, we shall have many more opportunities to learn about you.” Turning to his wife, he continued. “Is that not right, my dear?”
The countess took one of Elizabeth’s hands. “It is. I do hope we are not making you uneasy.”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth assured her. She laughed lightly and added, “Perhaps I ought to apologise to you. Given how much I wish to ask, I should understand that you also would like to know about my life and what I know about your brother.”
“I could wish it were more,” Lady Romsley said. “For both of our sakes. It would be wonderful to know what his life was like during the years we were apart. I am very sorry you were unable to know your parents.”
A stab of sorrow made it difficult for Elizabeth to smile, but she said, “As am I. I have vague memories, mainly of my mother, but I am unsure if they are true or if I have devised them after speaking to Mr Bennet about her.”
“To satisfy your request,” Lord Romsley said after a brief silence, “we are not an especially large family. These two”—he gestured at his sons—“are our only children.”
“And neither of us have done as we ought to and secured wives yet, to our parents’ regret,” the colonel interjected.
“I am working on changing that,” Lord Bramwell muttered, a slight colour creeping into his cheeks.
Showing the easy good humour that had helped reduce Elizabeth’s anxiety at meeting an earl for the first time, Lord Romsley rolled his eyes.
Addressing Elizabeth, he said, “It has been six months, and I admit, I am puzzled by how ineffective his efforts have been. The object of his interest, should he succeed in winning her, would be a charming addition to our family. Bramwell is thirty years old, and Fitzwilliam nine-and-twenty.”
“And knowing that, there is nothing more you need to hear about us. Not at the moment,” the viscount said. “Mama, tell her about my uncle.”
“I shall, if any of you would give me a chance,” Lady Romsley said.
“Elizabeth, amongst the reasons I have for being so pleased you are here, one is that it does become oppressive always being surrounded by men. This house—and Romsley Hall—requires more ladies. Which is why we have been urging our sons to settle.”
Her tone was teasing, and the exchange further comforted Elizabeth. She could sense the affection the quartet had for one another, and she would gladly become part of it, to whatever extent they permitted.
The countess continued. “I have one older brother, Robert, who is married to Sophia. They have three boys—John, Walter, and Christopher. They are not in town, but I shall write to Robert today to tell him about you.” Briefly, she tightened her hold on Elizabeth’s hand.
“I shall not lie. Finding out about you has been so surprising, and it has brought up painful memories. I anticipate it will do the same for my brother. Our mother and father were distraught at Thomas’s defiance and decision to elope.
I have no interest in debating whether he and—goodness, what was her name? ”
“My mother was named Elizabeth, as I am,” she said.
Speaking to Lady Romsley, Lord Romsley said, “Your brother insisted his daughter bear her mother’s name.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Because he loved her,” the countess said, her voice a little wistful.
Elizabeth nodded. “I believe they must have loved one another very much. They must have known their parents might reject them, that there was a risk of scandal—unless the affair was hushed up—yet…”
“Yet, they chose to elope rather than risk losing each other,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said.
“And instead, they lost their families forever,” Elizabeth concluded.
“Oh, how sad it makes me!” Lady Romsley cried. “But you are here now, reunited with us. I know that would have made Thomas very happy.”
“I could wish it had happened sooner,” the earl said, scowling. His eyes were on his wife, and Elizabeth assumed he was thinking of the lady’s feelings rather than his own.
Elizabeth said, “As does my fa—uncle, I should say. Forgive me. I have long thought of Mr and Mrs Bennet as my father and mother, even though I have always known they were not my true parents. The Bennets treated me as a daughter, even gave me their name. Since they believed they were the only family I would know, I suppose they wanted me to feel I was one of them, not always an orphaned cousin and niece.”
“I am glad you had a good family,” the colonel said.
With a cheerfulness that seemed forced, Lady Romsley agreed. “As am I. It does not matter so much that it has taken all these years for us to find one another. What does matter is that you are here now.”