Chapter Twenty #2
“We eloped to Scotland and married, and my brother and cousin seem to think that if no one ever finds out, it will be as if it never happened, but it did. I l-loved George and I m-married him.” Miss Darcy broke into fresh sobs.
Elizabeth gathered her close again, though shock rocked through her. Broke her heart indeed. Such a lie, and yet not one at all. And Scotland? Did that have something to do with Fitzwilliam going north so precipitously?
“Not that it was a real marriage,” Miss Darcy…or should Elizabeth think of her as Mrs. Wickham…sobbed. “He would not…we did not…he said I was too hideous to love and he never once made love to me.”
Confusion spiraled through Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam’s anger. Mr. Wickham protesting that he had not done that. Miss Darcy’s sobs. Elizabeth’s thoughts tumbled, realigning. “Does your brother know that?”
Miss Darcy pulled back, aghast even through her sobs. “Tell him that George and I never—” She choked on that. “That I am so hideous that even my dowry could not inspire him to…not even one time?” She looked at Elizabeth with wide blue eyes that clearly saw her as mad.
“You are not hideous.”
Miss Darcy let out a sigh, returning to twisting Elizabeth’s handkerchief.
“Everyone feels they must say that, but I know the truth. Thirty thousand pounds. That is how much I am worth to a husband, and it was not enough to get even so much as a real kiss from George.” Shaking her head, she trained her gaze out into the garden, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I am revolting.”
“No.” Elizabeth took the necklace from her pocket. “Do you remember that I said I found Mr. Wickham? He gave me this.”
Miss Darcy turned dull eyes on Elizabeth, eyes that went wide at the sight of the little heart in her palm. “My necklace.”
Elizabeth pried one of Miss Darcy’s icy hands from their twisting grip, then dropped the locket onto her palm.
“He gave me this and told me that he could not sell it. That he loved you too much to do so.” The full import of Mr. Wickham’s confession came to her.
“He told me that his love for you is that of an older brother.”
“A brother?” Miss Darcy’s brow puckered.
Closing Miss Darcy’s fingers over the locket, Elizabeth said, “He loved you deeply, and you are not hideous. You are a lovely young woman and…” Was she overstepping?
Deciding she did not care, Elizabeth drew in a breath and declared, “If no one knew about your union, and it went unconsummated, I daresay it can be as if it did not happen, if that is what you want. What you want, mind, not your brother, and not Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Miss Darcy stared at her. Her lips began to tremble. She clutched the locket to her chest. “At least I h-have this of him.”
“Then he has left you again?”
“Left me? George is dead. He died yesterday.” Anger hastened her words, giving them a hard edge.
“I only found out because I knew my brother and Richard were up to something, and I followed Richard. He went into a cottage far back from the roadway, and I followed him in, and my brother was there, and George was d-d-d—” Sobs overtook her words, engulfing them.
Elizabeth stared at her, aghast. The man she’d found was…dead? “He died in a cottage?”
“Yes. They had servants tending him, and my brother did as well, and an apothecary, but he still died, and I know he would not have if I had been there with him. I know—”
“Miss Darcy? Miss, where are you?” a voice called from nearer the house.
“Mrs. Annesley.” Miss Darcy’s voice cracked through her tears. “My companion. She is meant to take me to London.”
“Do you want to go?” Elizabeth asked, trying to reconcile Mr. Wickham’s death with her hope for his recovery. She had truly thought she’d saved him, but he’d died of his wounds. If she had told her father when she first found him, as she ought to have, would— She cut off that thought.
“I do not know if I want to go.” Miss Darcy squeezed her eyes closed. “London. Here. Pemberley. Does it matter? George is dead, and I am a widow, and my life is ruined.”
“It need not be.” Elizabeth squeezed an icy hand. “Think on what I have said, please, and come to your decision with care. Right now, nothing has happened about which the world need know. Nothing, if kept quiet, to ruin you.”
With a moan, Miss Darcy murmured, “I deserve to be ruined.”
“No. You are sixteen, and you erred. You deserve to have a future.”
“Miss Darcy?” Mrs. Annesley’s voice called again, nearer.
Miss Darcy swallowed. “I can see why my brother likes you.”
Elizabeth blinked in confusion. She’d always been under the impression that Mr. Darcy held her in amused disdain. She released Miss Darcy’s hand with a wry smile. “I am not certain he does, but thank you.”
“Miss Da— Oh.” The woman broke off as she rounded a shrubbery to the sight of them. “Ah, Miss Darcy, we are to depart soon.”
“Mrs. Annesley, meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Miss Darcy came to her feet as she spoke, applying the bedraggled handkerchief to her cheeks. “Miss Elizabeth, this is my companion, Mrs. Annesley.”
Elizabeth stood as well, offering a smile. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Annesley.”
“You have been crying,” Mrs. Annesley stated, eyeing Elizabeth.
“Yes. Miss Elizabeth found me here sobbing, I am afraid.” Miss Darcy drew in a deep breath, drawing back her shoulders. “But I am feeling much better now.” Obscured in Elizabeth’s handkerchief, Miss Darcy slipped the necklace into a pocket of her gown.
“You are?” Mrs. Annesley’s voice held hope.
“I am.” The smile Miss Darcy mustered was wan, but a smile nonetheless.
“Well, then, are you ready to depart for London?”
Miss Darcy shook her head. “I would like to call on the Bennets first. Miss Elizabeth has four sisters and they have been my particular friends here. I wish to bid them farewell.”
Mrs. Annesley pursed her lips, looking Elizabeth up and down. She must not have found anything lacking, for she nodded. “Miss Elizabeth, would you care to return to…” She broke off, looking the question.
“My father’s estate is called Longbourn,” Elizabeth replied, realizing Miss Darcy’s companion was not yet familiar with who the Bennets were and hoping her phrasing reassured the woman.
Relief indeed touching her smile, Mrs. Annesley nodded acknowledgment and continued, “Would you care to ride with us to Longbourn? Miss Darcy, I am certain, wishes to refresh herself, and we will be but a short time readying the carriages for the remainder of our journey. Perhaps tea while you wait?”
Deciding her arrival in the company of Miss Darcy, a favorite guest, and her companion, would mitigate any worry about how long she’d been out walking, finally alone, Elizabeth nodded. “That is very kind of you.”
Falling in step, they made their way through the garden and into the house. Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley excused themselves, and Elizabeth was shown into the same parlor she’d taken tea in on previous calls, to find Miss Bingley there alone.
Closing the book she held, the title of which appeared both historical and martial, Miss Bingley stood. “Miss Elizabeth. Are you here alone?”
“I chanced upon Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley while out walking,” Elizabeth replied, not wanting to mention the locket as her reason for seeking out Miss Darcy.
“You seem rather adept at chancing upon people.”
As there was an odd lack of accusation in Miss Bingley’s voice, Elizabeth merely smiled.
“I spend a great deal of time walking.” Did Miss Bingley refer to Elizabeth’s meetings with Fitzwilliam, or to her discovery of Mr. Wickham?
Likely the latter, as Mr. Darcy seemed more apt to tell Miss Bingley things than Fitzwilliam did.
Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy seemed deep in each other’s confidence whenever Elizabeth saw them together.
“Miss Darcy has gone to ready for her journey to London, with a call on Longbourn on the way, and tea was suggested while I wait, but I do not mean to intrude.”
Miss Bingley gestured to the square of sofas. “I will order some. Charles is out making calls, so I am afraid you must make due with me until Miss Darcy returns.”
No snide edge touched Miss Bingley’s voice, and Elizabeth wondered why she was not making calls with her brother.
As much as she maligned their society, she was always out and about in the community.
Today, however, Miss Bingley appeared somehow deflated.
Diminished. Like a spring day with no sunshine.
But after requesting tea, she rallied some of her usual condescension, to say, “You were out walking? On Netherfield Park’s lands again, I imagine? You are quite the notorious walker, Miss Eliza.”
“I am known as such, I imagine,” Elizabeth allowed.
Miss Bingley opened her mouth, but before she could say more, a commotion reached them from the hallway.
“…simply barge in unannounced sir, madam.”
“I believe you will find you mean ‘lord’ and ‘lady,’” an unfamiliar, masculine voice stated with clear authority. “And that we may do as we please.”
“But, sir…er, ah, my lord, sir, please permit me to announce you.”
Clomping feet heralded the appearance of a man and woman in the drawing room doorway. Both tall, both with matching expressions of obstinance, and both very, very finely garbed, they were too similar to be aught but siblings.
Elizabeth came to her feet alongside Miss Bingley, casting a look her way, but the other woman appeared equally confused.
“May I help you?” Miss Bingley asked.
The woman looked down her nose. “I seek Miss Caroline Bingley.”
“I am Miss Bingley.” She exchanged another confused look with Elizabeth.
“And you are?” the woman snapped, turning her attention on Elizabeth as well. “For if you are secretly Miss Bingley, do not think I will be fooled. You have a look about you I daresay would beguile my fool of a nephew.”