Chapter Seventeen
Darcy awoke late the morning after the assembly, his mind foggy with a sense of unease. Never had he enjoyed an evening of dancing so much, and he knew that he likely never would again. He ought to be exultant that the scheme Richard had foisted upon him had worked so splendidly. The picnic had shown the first cracks in Anne and Sir Sidney’s relationship, and after the assembly there could be no doubt in Darcy’s mind that his cousin had come to despise her suitor.
Richard had done a great deal of cajoling the last few days; he had incited the same teasing speculation in Bingley, and even the usually sensible Knightley. Darcy’s three dearest friends made no secret of their preference for his future bride, and had spoken of his choosing Elizabeth over Anne as if it were a predestined certainty. Indeed, nearly everybody who knew of their false courtship treated it as if it were reality.
And Elizabeth herself…. Darcy had lost all sense of what she must be thinking. As fiercely as he wished to believe she had come to love him in return, he feared that she had done what he ought to have, and kept her wits about her. It would be all the better for her if her heart remained untouched, for as much as Darcy wished to make his mark there, he was not at liberty to alter his course. It had to be Anne.
His cousin and sister were breaking their fast when Darcy at last emerged from his chambers, and he hesitated in the corridor beyond the breakfast nook. Georgiana looked forlorn, and he need not guess why. She had her heart set on Elizabeth as a sister.
Darcy could not face her, knowing that he had given her this pain to spare her the humiliation of Lady Catherine making her dalliance with Wickham public. Neither could he bear to explain his reasons to Richard, who knew nothing of the blackmail. Perhaps he would tell them one day, once he had made his peace with marrying Anne.
He was sure that he would, and he quietly slipped out the back door of the cottage, determined to pursue that precious peace of mind. A ride would clear his head. He made the brief walk to the stables with his thoughts reeling too swiftly to comb through. It was only once he was mounted on his horse and putting distance between himself and the village that his mind began to clear.
What assaulted him first was a heavy sense of shame at having taken the ruse too far. He had indulged himself in a fantasy that could never be, and in the process he had raised Georgiana’s hopes, and perhaps even Elizabeth’s. He hoped he had not cost Georgiana such a beautiful friendship, though if Elizabeth had come to feel half of what filled his own heart, she may wish to sever the acquaintance entirely.
And yet, he selfishly wished that her heart had been touched as his was, that he was not a fool who had deluded himself unpardonably. It had all felt so real, the affection and the flirtation, the depth of understanding that existed between their minds. Elizabeth evoked things in him that he never knew himself capable of feeling, from the joy of making romantic gestures to the surprisingly comfortable enjoyment of being in company with her.
The way they had waltzed before supper had been a smoldering torment, every moment delicious torture as he resisted the urge to take her in his arms and devour her. She had looked at him with such heat, such encouraging passion, and he had wanted her to feel what he felt.
And then at supper, seeing her so charming and graciously at ease with his dearest companions and her own; they all blended together so well, just as he imagined a family ought to do. It was natural and right, and he had let himself imagine a future full of such occasions.
The sense of loss he felt at knowing there could be no such future for himself and Elizabeth evoked a guttural groan as he urged his horse onward. His despair felt insurmountable as he turned his thoughts to Anne. He had scarcely noticed her last evening, beyond a vague sense of pity for her. Sir Sidney had paid so much attention to Miss Denham that Anne was obliged to sit out, or stand up with her companion Miss Lovelace, for most of the dances. It had never occurred to Darcy to dance with Anne himself.
Darcy could not reconcile the woman that spurned him and seethed with resentment toward her new suitor with the woman who had written him the love letters he had long cherished. What had once given him hope now felt like a mirage, a distant memory belonging to some other man. Every feeling they once aroused in him now connected only to the sparkling eyes and bewitching smile of Elizabeth Bennet, for she was the woman who had lit his very soul.
After an hour of riding, Darcy took pity on his horse and returned to Sandpiper Cottage, though his own spirits had not improved. Neither had the mood in the cottage. As Darcy entered the parlor overlooking the sea, he found his sister weeping in Richard’s arms on the sofa.
“Good God, what has happened? Georgie, are you unwell? Is there anything I can get you? Some water, or wine, perhaps.”
Darcy hastened to her side and hovered protectively. Georgiana lifted her head from their cousin’s shoulder and dabbed at her face, gesturing for him to sit on the sofa beside her. When Darcy did so, Richard got up and poured three brandys, bringing the drinks over with as serious a visage as Darcy had ever seen on him. “Lady Catherine was here while you were out.”
Darcy’s stomach lurched. Since the very beginning of his engagement to Anne, he had kept his aunt’s blackmail secret from his sister to spare her any guilt or self-recrimination. Yet both were written in her pained expression as she slipped her hands into his and attempted to calm her weeping gasps.
“Georgie, what did she say to you?”
“Nothing. I saw her coming through the window and I hid in my room like a coward, for we had a row at the assembly last evening, and I feared she wished to resume our quarrel.”
“What? You showed no signs of distress last evening.”
Richard gave Georgiana a knowing look. “You were right, he must have been too distracted by Miss Bennet to notice. But we must tell him all.”
“Tell me everything,” Darcy cried, still fearing the worst.
Richard took a deep swig of brandy and began. “I spoke with our aunt for a quarter hour; she was very cross to find you gone, Darcy, and I did not enjoy the interview one iota. She came to gloat, you see, for last night after the assembly, Sir Sidney Parker eloped with Miss Esther Denham.”
Darcy blinked. This was the last thing he expected to hear, though he knew there must be more, for Georgiana to be so aggrieved. He wrapped an arm around his sister and motioned for Richard to continue.
“Oh, our aunt was in fine form! So proud of herself! It was all her own doing, you see. She bribed Miss Denham with ten thousand pounds if she would compromise the wretch and detach him irrevocably from Anne. Though the old dragon was smug about her success, she was also quite put out at being driven to such measures, and she holds you accountable, Darcy. She asked me to inform you that the sum would be subtracted when she pays you Anne’s dowry.”
“Ten thousand pounds!” Georgiana gasped. “You did not tell me it was such a vast sum!”
Richard shrugged. “No less would tempt the young lady. Our aunt had offered Sir Sidney the money first, but he refused outright, knowing Rosings to be a far greater prize – and of course this must have earned him considerable esteem from our cousin. Apparently you ought to have acted with greater alacrity to prevent such drastic measures, Darcy.”
“Drastic measures,” Darcy thundered, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He calmed himself, sobered by the realization that he had now caused Richard pain, as well. “I had thought Miss Denham’s interest lay elsewhere. I am sorry, cousin.”
Richard sipped his brandy and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “She was merely a suitable heiress, candid enough to be interesting and pretty enough to pursue. In truth, Mrs. Knightley’s interest in making a match between us rather soured my enjoyment.”
“I doubt Anne will be so cavalier about it,” Darcy replied. “What did Lady Catherine say of her daughter?”
“Anne must be devastated, though perhaps she may be relieved. I cannot guess what goes on in the mind of such a creature, and our aunt did not say. I doubt she cares much. But I suppose you must… proceed.” Richard frowned at Darcy, his eyes crinkling in a sympathetic gaze.
“Yes, I must.” Darcy sighed, finally taking a drink from his own glass. When he looked up, he saw that Georgiana’s glass was empty. She was clenching it so hard he feared it might shatter, and then she finally slammed it down on the table before jumping to her feet with a tearful shriek. “No! No, you must not! I cannot bear it, William! If you shall not ask me why I quarreled with our aunt last night, I will tell you, and you will hear me!”
Richard’s jaw fell slack, though his lips curled upward just a bit as he regarded Georgiana in astonishment. Darcy stood and reached for his sister’s hand, but she began to pace wildly, tears pouring down her face once more.
“I know why you agreed to marry Anne, William. And I do not care. Let her ruin me! Better that I bear the consequences of my actions than you and Lizzy!”
“What?!” Richard leapt to his feet and fixed Darcy with an accusatory gaze. “She was blackmailing you all along? You told me you fell in love with Anne through her letters, not that Lady Catherine threatened our ward! Did you not think that as her other guardian, I had some right to know? Were you so eager to sacrifice yourself?”
“Please, William, I beg of you, do not marry Anne. You will lose Lizzy, I will lose Lizzy, and I cannot bear it!”
“I will not ruin you,” Darcy said, frantic at the sight of Georgiana so distraught. She had not come so unraveled even after Wickham.
“That is what Lizzy said last night.” Georgiana’s eyes blazed with anger as she landed this blow.
Darcy took an unsteady step backward and groaned. “She knows?”
“She loves you, just as I know that you love her. If my tears do not move you, shall I tell you of hers? Of how she wept to know she would have her heart broken again! ”
That final word undid Darcy. He staggered backward into the sofa and sank down on it, his posture crumpling. “I ought never to have let myself harbor such feelings for her, nor give her such encouragement to return my love.”
“Of course you ought to have! That is not what vexes me. Good God, William, I had not thought you capable of such faults of understanding! Nothing has ever made me so happy as watching you and Lizzy fall in love; only having her as my sister could eclipse such joy as I have had this past fortnight. I should embrace ruin and eschew ever marrying if I might have such a sister at Pemberley – and such a brother as the man you are when you are with her.”
Georgiana was heaving through her tears, her eyes wide with the shock of how she had railed at him. She and Darcy stared at one another for an agonizing eternity, until finally Darcy spoke. “I cannot do it, Georgiana. God knows I want to; I want her for my wife so desperately that I could hurl our aunt into the sea. But I cannot jeopardize your reputation, for such a scandal would not only affect yourself. She has three unwed sisters, and her stepsisters, who would be tainted by association after her marriage to me. Even her infant half-brother may suffer from the scandal. Look what the guilt of it has done to you already. Do you wish a lifetime of such agony?”
Georgiana’s ferocity surged once more. “Throw our aunt into the sea, then! There is a great deal of it!” She gestured at the window. “How cruel that our mother and Lizzy’s should be taken so young, when Lady Catherine will live to be a hundred and still be tormenting us all with her dying breath!”
Suddenly, Richard began to roar with laughter. “That is it! Ha, mothers indeed! The lengths that Lady Catherine has gone to – first she blackmailed you, Darcy, threatened her own angelic niece, and then she tried to bribe Sir Sidney, and now she has bribed Miss Denham and orchestrated a compromise and an elopement without a second thought for what her own daughter might wish.”
“She is the devil,” Georgiana hissed.
“Probably,” Richard agreed with a smirk. “But all this is merely what we know about – and I would wager that there is much more that we do not. But I know who would; my mother has despised Lady Catherine longer than we have been alive; she has devoted her life to this loathing, and to being the keeper of the family secrets. She has told me a few that would give you the vapors for weeks, but I know she is holding a few cards very close to her chest, and now is the time for us to play them.”
Georgiana gasped and then broke into a smile. “Blackmail her back? And in doing so, silence her. Force her to release William. Oh, Richard, yes! It is perfect!”
“I shall write to my dear mother at once. A dowager countess would lend Sanditon much distinction, do you not agree?”
“Oh, we are saved!” Georgiana spun with glee and sat down beside Darcy. “I am sorry for my outburst, but not for the sentiments I expressed. You and Lizzy belong together – you must go to her and tell her that there is hope! Aunt Margaret will surely think of something.”
Hope. Darcy dared not hope; brooding fool that he was, his instinct was to cling to his despair. Surely the solution to his troubles could not be so simple. Darcy only stared at Richard and Georgiana, too stunned to speak.
Richard surveyed him as if he were a madman. “I sincerely hope you are not going to protest against such devious methods, Darcy.”
“I am only in shock, to think there is any chance of it turning out well. I dare not hope until we have heard from your mother,” Darcy said, his discernment warring with a desperate desire to believe he might not be bound to Anne in the end.
“We will fix this,” Richard insisted. “And if you had told me of the blackmail sooner, we might have squashed the matter directly.”
“Oh, but then we would never have come here and William would not have met Lizzy,” Georgiana said. “Go at once and make yourself presentable, William! Are you not eager to go to her?”
He was, despite the tremendous shock of all that had transpired. Stunned and reeling from the drastic shift from despair to relief, and still a little apprehensive about Richard’s new scheme, Darcy rose from the sofa and smiled tentatively at the looks of encouragement Georgiana and Richard offered him. Suddenly energized, he hastened from the room to dress himself for a call on Elizabeth Bennet.
A quarter hour later, when he was ready to depart, Richard and Georgiana declared their intention to accompany him. Richard had already written and dispatched a hasty missive to his mother, and he saw the good sense in being on hand to ensure Darcy had an opportunity to speak privately with Elizabeth.
“Surely she must have a friend or sister with her,” Georgiana pointed out. “She will be in want of a confidante after last night.”
Georgiana was proven correct when they were shown into the sunlit parlor of the Gardiner apartments above the ballroom. Lady Parker and Miss Dashwood were taking tea with Elizabeth and speaking with great animation about the previous evening’s events. Elizabeth offered a weak smile as she welcomed them.
“I suppose you have heard about Sir Sidney and Miss Denham,” Elizabeth said as Darcy sat beside her.
His gut twisted at the sorrow in her eyes. “Yes, we have heard.”
Miss Dashwood screwed up her face with distaste. “Was there ever much attraction between them? I saw them speaking at the picnic, but you would know better, Charlotte.”
“Lady Denham is not likely to favor the match,” Lady Parker said cautiously. “I am surprised that Miss Denham would risk her aunt’s favor, with the prospect of future prosperity at stake.”
“Yes, Miss Denham has always struck me as having a pragmatic view on social connections, but then, I cannot imagine there was any secret romance involved. I hope he did not prevail upon her,” Elizabeth mused.
“I believe it was her pragmatism that motivated her, rather than any untoward coercion. I saw Lady Catherine this morning and she told me without a modicum of shame that she paid Miss Denham to remove Sir Sidney from her daughter. I am, of course, heartbroken,” Richard said with a wink.
Lady Parker gasped. “Lady Denham must be preparing her pistols! Good Lord! Perhaps we had best not speak of it to anybody else. Oh dear, she will be so angry with poor Sir Thomas.”
Darcy saw Elizabeth’s brow furrow with concern for her friend’s husband, whom he understood to be heavily connected to the local dowager in their business dealings. Without thinking of what he might feasibly do to help, he blurted out, “I should be happy to speak with her; my aunt acted as she did to press for the match between myself and Anne. I am to blame.”
Miss Dashwood scoffed in indignant disagreement, and Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “I suppose you are nearer to what you have desired all along. I shall soon be wishing you joy.”
“I….” Darcy sighed. He wanted to fall at her feet and give her every possible reassurance that he would find a way out of this disaster, that what he desired had so materially altered since knowing Elizabeth that he could only be wished joy once he had made her his wife.
Richard and Georgiana had accompanied him to divert Elizabeth’s friends so that he might speak privately with Elizabeth, and at present they were doing a terrible job of it. Instead, they were conversing with great animation about the upcoming events in Sanditon.
Darcy was floundering. Elizabeth would not meet his eye, and there was an alarming look of defeat in her posture that he was desperate to ease. He cast a look around the room and spied the books that he had given Elizabeth; the flowers that had accompanied his gift were wilting in a vase beside them.
“Elizabeth,” he said, infusing her name with all the adoration he could lavish on those four syllables. “Have you found a place of much distinction for your collection of autographed Bevan novels?”
“I have indeed,” she said. “Do you wish to admire the little shrine I have made for my treasures?”
“If you would be so kind as to show me.” Darcy smiled as she led him across the room, relieved that he had managed to detach her from the others. Richard gave Darcy a nod and a smile, as if he had anything to do with it.
Elizabeth made a sweeping gesture of her hand over the space dedicated to the novels on a shelf across the room, situated just under a wide window overlooking the cliffs. “My uncle says I need only a few candles here to light daily, to complete my worship of my favorite novelist,” she said with laughter dancing in her eyes.
Darcy examined a small sketch on paper that was propped up next to one of the books, depicting Mrs. Bevan at the reading held at Trafalgar House. “Georgie made this; I saw her drawing something at Mrs. Bevan’s reading but I never asked her about it.”
“She knew that when the euphoria of my elixir waned, I would lament missing the event,” Elizabeth explained. “She is a dear girl. I… I hope you will not object to our friendship after you and Miss de Bourgh are married.”
“Georgiana thinks of you as a sister,” Darcy said warmly. “As to my marriage, after what my aunt has done….”
Elizabeth averted her gaze. “It must be inevitable; I daresay it shall be soon.”
“No.”
Elizabeth looked up with wide eyes. She was paler than usual, and something about her countenance was altered. She appeared tired, and he suspected she had recently wept – because of him. Her lips parted a few times before she finally spoke. “Has something changed?”
“I hope so,” he said softly.He knew not how to explain what was not yet a certainty, and feared giving her any false hope, though he had begun to cling to his cousin and sister’s reassurances that the dowager countess would outmaneuver Lady Catherine.
Across the room, Miss Dashwood opened a window looking down on the courtyard and called out to the Bingleys below, then to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, look who has come! The Bingleys, and the Knightleys, too. And there are the Bevanses by the fountain. Oh, and there is your uncle! I shall tell them all to come up.”
Elizabeth looked panicked. She gave Darcy a hasty nod before rejoining their companions. “My uncle does not like to receive hotel guests in our home. Perhaps we might all walk to the beach instead? We would be terribly crowded in here.”
As the others agreed and filed out of the room to find their outerwear, Elizabeth lingered, whispering fervently to Lady Parker. “I just need a moment to speak privately with him.”
Darcy turned away, not wishing to eavesdrop, and pained by the pity in Lady Parker’s countenance. He ran his fingers over the volumes. Something caught his attention – a folded slip of thick paper protruding from the pages of one of the Bevan volumes. He knew it must be a place marker, yet some vague sense of recognition compelled him to reach for it. He unfolded what turned out to be a heart-shaped valentine.
Darcy felt as if his brain had fallen out of his head as he gaped at it. Though the paper was warped and the ink blurred from water damage, he could make out traces of his own handwriting – words he had once written to Anne. How did Elizabeth have it? He swiftly tucked it into his pocket and took a few steps toward her, hardly knowing what he wished to ask. Had Anne given this to her? Had she found it and taken it as a memento?
Mr. Gardiner was entering the apartment as the others prepared to depart, and he greeted them all warmly. “I have only come back for my spectacles – I always leave them here on the shelf by the door. But I see your friends are gathering downstairs and waiting, so I shall not keep you. Oh, but Lady Parker, I have something for you.”
Lady Parker looked mildly surprised. “For me?”
“For your former self, as it were.” Sir Edward produced a folded envelope from his coat and handed it to her. “I meant to give it to you yesterday, but in all the hullabaloo I completely forgot. I must admit, I find it curious that Miss de Bourgh asked me to post this to an address in Bunbury, and to Charlotte Lucas , rather than just sending it to Trafalgar House directly. A mystery we shall leave for another time, for I must be off.”
As Sir Edward hastened back to his duties at the hotel and Miss Dashwood flounced after him to tell their friends to wait for them, Darcy moved closer to Lady Parker and Elizabeth, who had reached for her friend’s letter. “I know that writing.”
Lady Parker looked between Darcy and Elizabeth with inexplicable horror. “It is as I feared!”
Richard had just helped Georgiana into her pelisse; now Georgiana spun around and looked at Lady Parker with concern. “Has something happened, Charlotte?”
“It was Anne,” Elizabeth said to her friend, before turning to Darcy with bewilderment. “And it was you.”
Darcy glanced down at the letter, and found that he also recognized the handwriting on the letter. It was Anne’s, though the direction said Penny. Her maid, Penelope Lovelace, had apparently acted as secretary – but why? As Darcy grasped for the missing information the ladies were too stunned to supply, Darcy ran his fingers over the valentine in his pocket.
Elizabeth burst into tears. “I heard you tell her to communicate with him – to write to him – at the picnic. How long have you known, Charlotte?” But before she could get an answer, she glanced over at Darcy and then fled the room, covering her face in her hands.
Georgiana took a step to follow her and then stopped. “What is happening? What did Anne write to you, and why did she do it in such a strange way? If she is threatening Lizzy, I have already considered drowning as an effective method of problem solving!”
And now Richard was interested. “Who is Anne threatening? Is she cross with you, Lady Parker, over Sir Sidney’s defection? I should not fault you for feeling some relief at gaining a more agreeable sister-in-law.”
Lady Parker held the letter in her fingers as if it were poisonous, and then fixed her anxious gaze on Darcy. “Your cousin is not threatening anybody; I suspect she wishes to make amends.”
Darcy furrowed his brow and shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “Why would she write to you? And why address you as Charlotte Lucas, at a different address than your home?”
“Your cousin does not know me as Charlotte Lucas,” Lady Parker said. “To her, Miss Lucas is only the woman who answered an anonymous advertisement in the papers a year and a half ago, and agreed to write love letters on her behalf. It seemed a pleasant distraction for a certain eloquent and romantic friend of mine who had just lost her mother.”
Darcy had never been so lost for words. He gaped at Lady Parker for what felt like an eternity before reaching into his pocket and presenting the valentine he had accidentally crumpled in his hand. Lady Parker looked at it and nodded sadly. “Lizzy kept all the letters, but this is her favorite. It is written in your own hand, not copied by Miss Penny.”
He was struck with the memory of Elizabeth reeling from the effects of her medicine at Trafalgar House, lighting up the corridor with her fanciful effusions. She had said something to Lady Parker about a Mr. Penny – she had said Darcy reminded her of him. And then Darcy truly understood what Elizabeth had meant in telling him that she had loved and lost, and he felt as if he might faint.
Georgiana appeared to piece it all together apace with him. “The letters – the only reason you ever felt that Anne loved you, the only reason you loved her! It was Lizzy all along? And she kept the letters. She was in love with you all this time! But that is… a miracle!”
Behind her, Richard clapped his hands and guffawed. “Oh, that is rich! Anne could not be troubled to correspond with you, Darcy, and actually enlisted the aid of a stranger! I trust you were handsomely paid, Lady Parker.”
Georgiana looked aghast, and Lady Parker shifted uncomfortably. Darcy felt a surge of resentment at his cousin’s words, and at the shadow they cast on this unfathomable revelation. Darcy clenched his jaw before asking, “Elizabeth accepted payment to participate in this deception, as Anne made a fool of me? I must repeat the same question as she, Lady Parker – just how long have you known that Miss de Bourgh was involved in this scheme?”
Lady Parker recoiled at the sharp edge in his voice. Georgiana scowled at him, and Richard raised his brows. Darcy bowed his head with a measure of contrition. “Forgive my unintentional severity, Lady Parker. I am shocked, utterly stunned. I merely wish to know all, so that I might reconcile a falsehood I have long cherished to… whatever is the truth.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile that he did not entirely deserve. “It is astonishing. I had a suspicion last week when Lizzy stayed at Trafalgar House. I saw the valentine in her book, and I compared it to the writing on the note that accompanied your flowers. She was muddled from her medicine; she could not see the similarities. The ink is rather smudged, but you must have recognized it.”
Darcy nodded pensively. “And you told Anne to write to me? You wished to test your theory.”
“It was a stroke of luck that she asked the owner of the hotel to dispatch the letter; I had intended to collect it from the post office in Bunbury tomorrow or the next day, and see if the return address was the Tremont.” Lady Parker sighed and glanced down the corridor to where Elizabeth had fled to her room. “She must think I have betrayed her somehow. I had hoped that it would be a fine thing if it was you, but perhaps it will only deepen the loss.”
A heavy silence fell over them. Lady Parker squared her shoulders as she looked back at Darcy, tears in her eyes. “When her brother was born, Lizzy gave all the money to her uncle, who is a solicitor in Meryton. He put the sum in the four percents for her younger sisters, and was so impressed with Lizzy that he promised to add the same twenty pounds to the sum every year until they are all settled. I believe he even managed to persuade her father to do likewise.”
“You are both very good to your sisters,” Georgiana said, laying a hand on Darcy’s arm. Her expression was not as gentle as her words, but mirrored the warning in Lady Parker’s gaze.
Darcy had not yet cooled the fury that balked at humiliation in his chest, but he understood what his sister meant. “I would do better to direct my present sentiments elsewhere.”
“Darcy, you are all in upheaval,” Richard said. “This morning has brought too much upon you, too swiftly.”
“I think Charlotte and I should speak to Lizzy first,” Georgiana told him. “Perhaps I could recant what I told her last night, in light of our appeal to Aunt Margaret.”
Darcy had not intended to speak to Elizabeth. Not yet. Darcy could not bear to see her in such a state, knowing himself to be, in part, the cause of it. No doubt she was also tormenting herself with recrimination. He wished to ease what she suffered, and yet he could not yet fully comprehend the enormity of what he had learned. The woman he had recently lost his heart to was the very same woman whose soul-bearing letters he had also fallen in love with; a woman who had consoled herself in a time of grief by writing to the betrothed of another, and forming an attachment to a man she was complicit in deceiving.
“Was it really her?” Darcy asked Lady Parker. “Was it – was it the true Elizabeth – did she merely write what she imagined Anne might say, what I might wish to hear? Did she think it a lark to participate in that ruse?”
“It was never a lark to her, Mr. Darcy,” Lady Parker said calmly. “As to the rest, I think you should ask her, once you have both calmed yourselves. Your sister and I will go to her first.”
Darcy clasped his sister’s hand as she moved away. In answer to the question she had asked him, he said, “The dowager countess is not a certainty, but….” He brought the valentine to his lips and then handed it to his sister. She smiled at it and nodded before following Lady Parker to Elizabeth’s room in all haste.
Richard moved back into the parlor. “Shall we wait?”
“Go along with the others, down to the beach, and try to behave normally. I have somewhere else I must go before I speak to Elizabeth.” Darcy strode off, clutching the letter he had slid out of Lady Parker’s hand.