Chapter 3 A Most Unpleasant Surprise #3
This all seemed too fantastic to be believed, the stuff of fairy-tales, yet he made his remarkable ability sound almost reasonable.
“At certain times, a person’s thoughts may be palpable to me without any necessary effort on my part, such as the final moments before death or when they experience a potent emotion. On those occasions, the mental images create an impression that is visible to me.”
How strange and complex this experience must be. I bit my lip and raised my sight to him. “Do you see these images all the time?”
“No, but it is a common occurrence. Random thoughts of people I encounter might be accessible to me. The reflections of most people, like yourself and Darcy, are unavailable to me unless I am in physical contact and employing my faculties to receive them. In the case of those who have passed on, I can communicate with them via physical contact with their living loved ones as I did with Mrs. Green.”
“I have never witnessed anything so remarkable before. Despite the grievous nature of your revelation, you seemed to have provided her serenity.”
“Yes, I believed that would be the case else I should not have offered her the information.”
Did Graham’s astounding ability amount to more of a curse than a blessing? He must be subjected to all manner of unpleasant feelings and images. The poor man—what an awful burden he must bear!
He moved closer. “Has my explanation disturbed you? I should hate to make you uncomfortable in any way.”
“No. It has occurred to me, though, that your gift must be taxing and must overwhelm you at times.”
“Oh, I see. Your concern is appreciated, but I am well accustomed to my abilities, and they do not distress me in the least. In fact, I wonder if you have a question I might address with regard to a particular deceased person.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. An image of my Grandmama Bennet shot to the forefront of my thoughts. “Well…um…the concept is interesting, but I should not want to trouble you.”
“On the contrary, I should be pleased to be of service.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“Since you have been so kind as to offer, my Grandmother Bennet succumbed to influenza six years ago.” My voice held a slight quaver.
I placed my palms on my lap and attempted to quell my anticipation; perhaps he would be unable to reach her.
“She lived in our home in Hertfordshire, and we shared a close bond. She fell sick and died whilst I stayed with my aunt and uncle in town. I wish I had been there to say goodbye. I should be obliged if you would convey that to her.”
“That is easily done.” He held out his hand, and I placed my palm atop his.
My heart thudded as thoughts and images of my beloved Grandmama Bennet inundated me. Might I receive a message from her?
“Pray close your eyes for a moment and imagine your Grandmother Bennet.”
I complied and pictured my grandmama with her familiar smile on display and her favourite green shawl loose around her shoulders.
One memorable instance from about fifteen years ago came to mind: after Mama had chastised me for returning home with dirt on my dress, Grandmother came to me.
She took me in her arms, her lavender scent surrounding me.
“Cheer up, my sweet Lizzy. I fear your mother will never understand you but do not lose your spirit for adventure and your hunger for learning. These are the qualities in you that I most treasure.”
The silvery tones of her voice, her warm hand holding mine, and her wise, crinkled eyes came back to me. Then Graham’s speech broke through my reverie.
“Your grandmother is showing me a memory—she is teaching a young girl of twelve or thirteen to ride.” He pressed his fingers to the side of his head.
“The girl’s fear of horses makes her reluctant, yet her determination to please her instructor overpowers the fright.
” His eyelids fluttered and opened. “The little girl is you.”
“Yes.” He did reach her! The beginnings of tears blurred my vision, and I removed my handkerchief.
“At the age of ten, I suffered a bad fall from a horse. After that, I had no wish to ever ride again. But Grandmama Bennet pressed me against allowing my fear to rule me. Since she had always adored horses, she convinced me to try riding again on her own horse, a wise and gentle old mare named Jenny. Once I became comfortable riding Jenny, I rode her every day until the sweet horse grew sick. She died a year or so after Grandmama’s death. ”
“Your Grandmother Bennet wants you to know that she is not sorry to have died while you were away. She much prefers you to remember her as she was when you last saw her—when she hugged you goodbye before you entered your father’s carriage for London.” He removed his hand from under mine.
“What an irksome perspective.” A soft laugh passed my lips. “And yet I do not doubt she feels that way, for she hated for anyone to see her unless she looked her best. She took pride in the fact that in her seventh decade, she retained the figure of a much younger woman.” I snuffled.
“She sends her love and expresses her delight for the life you have with Darcy and your son.”
“Thank you. I appreciate this.”
“The pleasure has been mine.”
A sheen of perspiration on his upper lip caught my notice, and I peered at him. “Are you certain this activity did not cause you discomfort?”
“No, not at all, truly. Pray do not give it another thought.”
“Very well.”
Graham moved the horses forwards again. We did not converse for the rest of the ride as I sorted through the feelings and memories inspired by his communication with my grandmama.
Back at the house, we encountered an ornate coach in the courtyard.
Two footmen, donned in distinctive livery, unloaded luggage from the vehicle.
“Mercy, Lady Catherine is here!” A heavy feeling invaded the pit of my stomach, and my fingers clutched the fabric of my pelisse.
What could have provoked her to come—without a word of warning?
“Is aught amiss?” Graham’s eyes searched mine. “How may I assist you?”
“Oh no, nothing is wrong. Pray excuse my outburst.” I avoided his gaze. “My husband’s aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh is here. We…um…have not heard from her in a long while, so her arrival is…unexpected.”
Our estrangement from the de Bourghs—Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne—originated three years prior upon Fitzwilliam’s receipt of a letter from Lady Catherine.
In reply to his written notification of our engagement, she sent a correspondence filled with hostile, insulting words directed towards me.
In his fury, Fitzwilliam had declared all communication with his aunt to be at an end.
Since then, my gentle suggestions to him that he might write to Lady Catherine had met unwavering resistance.
Graham assisted me down from the curricle. With a calming breath, I readied myself for Lady Catherine’s formidable presence. Her appearance must indicate a willingness to reconcile and accept our marriage.
A florid-cheeked Mr. Rutley greeted us at the door. “Madam, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Rebecca Seymour arrived half an hour ago. They are in the saloon.” He bent closer. “A groom has been sent to retrieve the master.”
“Thank you, Rutley.” With a nod, he took our outerwear and departed.
Graham rubbed his palms together, his blue eyes flourishing with an impish gleam. “Shall we venture forth and greet your guests?”
“Alas, I am at a loss and cannot provide a practical alternative.” I wiped my hands, damp with perspiration, upon the skirt of my dress.
He offered his arm, and I took it. Upon our entrance to the bright and spacious room, Lady Catherine and her companion both stood, their gazes took me in before straying to Graham.
I curtsied. “Lady Catherine, this is an unexpected pleasure. Forgive me for not being here to welcome you earlier.”
My husband’s aunt turned to me with a grave, harsh look.
“Yes, I am sure you are well pleased for the honour of my visit.” She waved the other lady closer.
“Lady Rebecca Seymour, allow me to present the wife of my nephew, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Lady Catherine gritted her teeth, as though the act of pronouncing my name pained her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rebecca.” My respiration faltered as I took in the lady’s features—her beauty struck me as familiar and disturbing. She bore a closer resemblance to me than did my own sisters!
Lady Rebecca gave me a curt nod. Her sight lingered upon me, and her hands fell at her sides as she too seemed to have been taken aback by our similar features. Lady Catherine’s pointed stare at Graham alerted me to my duty, and I introduced him.
With an unsightly twist to her mouth, Lady Catherine studied Graham. “I am glad to meet any friend of Darcy’s. Of course, it is apparent you are a very close friend to Mrs. Darcy as well. I hope our advent has not disrupted any plans the two of you may have contrived.”
“Not at all, I assure you.” Graham gave her an easy smile. “Elizabeth and I have just returned from visiting a tenant.”
At his use of my given name, Lady Catherine started, her eyes narrowing.
Oh dear, my husband’s aunt could be counted on to attach the worst possible significance to this bit of familiarity.
What could be done to redeem the moment—order refreshments?
But no, my glance to the table showed that to be unnecessary; the ladies had already been served tea, cakes, and sandwiches.
No doubt Mrs. Reynolds had taken care to include the items Lady Catherine most preferred.
We all took seats, and Graham fixed himself a plate of food.
Lady Rebecca edged forwards to view me. “Pray, when do you expect your husband to return? Lady Catherine has described him in such complimentary terms that I am most anxious to meet him.” She licked her lips in a slow, lascivious way, as though in anticipation of a tasty morsel.