Chapter 8 A Friend’s Counsel #2
Once beyond the garden gate, Elizabeth exhaled sharply. Longbourn grew smaller behind her as she strode purposefully toward Lucas Lodge. The autumn air held a bite that penetrated even her warmest pelisse, and gray clouds gathered overhead, casting a somber light over the landscape.
The three-mile walk to Lucas Lodge took her through fields now stripped bare after harvest, past skeletal trees whose branches rattled in the chill breeze like brittle bones. The path wound alongside a small stream swollen with recent rains, its waters dark and turbulent—much like her thoughts.
Lucas Lodge appeared through the morning mist. If anyone would help her, it would be Charlotte. Charlotte would understand. Charlotte, with her practical mind and loyal heart, would see the justice of Elizabeth’s cause and provide the assistance that her father had denied.
“Lizzy!” Charlotte’s surprise was evident as she welcomed her into the morning room. “How early you are abroad today. Nothing is amiss, I hope?”
Elizabeth’s carefully prepared speech dissolved at the sight of her friend’s kind face. “I need your help, Charlotte. Desperately.”
Charlotte guided Elizabeth to a seat near the fire that crackled cheerfully in the grate. “You look half-frozen. And is that a valise beneath your cloak? What’s happened?”
“I hardly know where to begin.” Elizabeth’s hands trembled as she removed her cloak, revealing the small traveling bag. “What I am about to tell you will strain belief, but I swear it is true. You must promise not to reveal this to anyone.”
Charlotte’s expression grew serious as she took Elizabeth’s cold hands in her warm ones. “You know you may trust me with anything. Come, sit closer to the fire.”
Elizabeth settled into the chair, grateful for the warmth that seemed to reach only her skin, leaving her core still chilled with dread and uncertainty.
The room, with its comfortable furnishings, had always represented security and friendship.
Now it felt like her last refuge in a suddenly hostile world.
“First, you must promise secrecy,” Elizabeth insisted. “What I’m about to tell you could put us both in danger if known.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened, but she nodded firmly. “I promise. Not a word shall pass my lips without your permission.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath and began her tale—the mysterious letter, her true identity as Elizabeth Rose Darcy, her parents’ murder, and the inheritance that awaited her if she could only reach Pemberley and secure the necessary documents before her twenty-first birthday.
As she spoke, Charlotte’s expression shifted from concern to disbelief to grave attention. She did not interrupt, though her grip on Elizabeth’s hands tightened at the mention of murder.
“Mr. Bennet confirmed it all,” Elizabeth concluded, her voice hoarse from the telling. “He is my uncle, not my father. He has raised me as his daughter to protect me from those who killed my parents.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” Charlotte whispered, her eyes bright and watery. “What a burden to carry.”
“You believe me?” Elizabeth asked, scarcely daring to hope.
Charlotte squeezed her hands. “I believe that you believe it. And I believe Mr. Bennet has confirmed something that has shaken your world. Whether all the details are as the letter claims…”
“You doubt me?”
“Not you, never you.” Charlotte rose and moved to a small cabinet, returning with two glasses and a decanter. She poured a measure of cordial for each of them. “But anonymous letters and fantastic claims of inheritance deserve careful consideration. Drink this—you’re still trembling.”
Elizabeth sipped the sweet blackcurrant cordial, its warmth spreading through her chest. “I know how it sounds. If anyone else told me such a tale, I would think them delusional.”
“And now you intend to… what? Travel alone to Derbyshire to claim an inheritance with no proof beyond an anonymous letter?” There was no mockery in Charlotte’s tone, only gentle concern.
“I need to find the documents mentioned in the letter. My parents’ marriage certificate, my baptismal record, and a witness statement confirming my identity. Then I can claim what is rightfully mine before my twenty-first birthday.”
The door opened suddenly, and Lady Lucas swept in, her ample figure draped in a morning dress of subdued green. “Charlotte, dear—oh! Miss Elizabeth! What a delightful surprise.”
Elizabeth hastily wiped her eyes, hoping her distress wasn’t too apparent. Charlotte, ever quick-witted, moved smoothly to intercept her mother.
“Mama, Lizzy has just brought some distressing news. Mr. Collins intends to propose to her this afternoon.”
It wasn’t a lie, merely a selective truth, and Elizabeth felt a surge of gratitude for her friend’s discretion.
Lady Lucas’s face registered first surprise, then calculation, then a quickly masked disappointment. “Indeed? How… felicitous for your family. Sir William had thought perhaps… but no matter. The ways of Providence are mysterious indeed.”
“Lizzy came to seek my counsel,” Charlotte explained. “Might we have some privacy? The matter is rather delicate.”
“Of course, of course.” Lady Lucas’s gaze drifted to the valise now partially visible beside Elizabeth’s chair. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Though I would advise caution, Miss Elizabeth. Decisions made in haste are often regretted at leisure.”
“Thank you, Lady Lucas,” Elizabeth managed, forcing a smile. “Your wisdom is much appreciated.”
Once the door closed behind her mother, Charlotte moved to ensure it was properly shut, then returned to Elizabeth’s side. “Now, you were explaining your plan.”
“I had hoped…” Elizabeth hesitated, suddenly aware of how presumptuous her request would sound. “I had hoped you might accompany me. Two ladies traveling together would attract less attention than one alone.”
Charlotte’s face softened with genuine regret. “Oh, Lizzy. Where are you planning to go?”
“To Pemberley. To claim my birthright.”
“Pemberley? In Derbyshire? Now?”
“I have little choice. My birthday is in a little more than a fortnight, and I must secure proof of my identity before then.”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed as she considered the practicalities. “The journey would take at least three days by post, if the weather holds. The roads will be treacherous with autumn rains. You have, what, three pounds? That would barely cover a day’s travel expenses.”
“I had thought perhaps you might…” Elizabeth stopped, shame flooding her cheeks. How could she ask Charlotte to not only accompany her but also fund this mad venture?
“Lend you money?” Charlotte finished gently. “Even if I could access sufficient funds without my father’s knowledge, Lizzy, I cannot support such a reckless plan. Not because I don’t believe in you, but because I care for you too much.”
“What alternative do I have?” Elizabeth’s voice cracked. “Marry Mr. Collins? Surrender my birthright? Allow my parents’ murderers to escape justice?”
“If Pemberley is truly yours, there are proper channels. Legal counsel, formal inquiries—”
“My uncle believes those who murdered my parents would kill me if I pursued this openly,” Elizabeth interrupted. “The heir who has been master of Pemberley since his father died will not surrender it without a fight.”
Charlotte took both of Elizabeth’s hands in hers, her grip firm but gentle. “Listen to me, dearest. You are proposing to challenge one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in England for his estate based on a letter that could be genuine—or could be a trap to lure you into danger.”
“It is not a trap,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mr. Bennet confirmed it all.”
“Did he advise this course of action?”
Elizabeth hesitated, then shook her head. “He wishes me to marry Mr. Collins immediately and forget the entire matter.”
“Then perhaps his counsel deserves consideration.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with compassionate understanding. “If the danger is real, if these murderers still lurk, what chance would you have alone and friendless in a strange place?”
“But you would be with me,” Elizabeth whispered, a tear escaping to trace a path down her cheek. “I would not be alone if you came.”
Charlotte’s own eyes glistened. “I cannot, Lizzy. I cannot risk my reputation, my family’s standing, perhaps even my safety on what may be a wild fancy. If there is truly an inheritance, seek legal counsel first. Establish your claim properly.”
“There’s no time! My birthday—”
“If the inheritance is legally yours, there will be recourse even after your birthday. The law provides for instances where heirs were unaware of their rights.”
Elizabeth rose from her chair and moved to the window, gazing out at the barren garden. The sky had darkened further, and the first raindrops spattered against the glass, mirroring the tears she fought to contain.
“I had thought you of all people would understand,” she said quietly.
Charlotte crossed the room to stand beside her, their reflections ghostly in the rain-streaked window.
“I understand perfectly. I understand that you are in shock, that you’ve had your entire identity shaken to its foundations, that you’re desperate for some control over your fate.
I understand that marriage to Mr. Collins seems a prison sentence, and that this inheritance represents freedom and justice. ”
“Then help me,” Elizabeth pleaded, turning to face her friend.
“I help you most by being honest. This plan is not merely impractical; it’s dangerous. You have no proof, no resources, no protection. How far do you imagine you would get before disaster befell you?”
A tear slid down Elizabeth’s cheek, followed by another. “What would you have me do? Submit to a lifetime with Mr. Collins? Forget who I truly am?”
Charlotte reached up and gently wiped away Elizabeth’s tears.
“I would have you stay alive. I would have you proceed with caution rather than desperation. I would have you remember that Pemberley will still stand next month, next year, five years hence—but your life, once risked, may be lost forever.”
“I cannot simply do nothing,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Doing nothing is not your only alternative.” Charlotte led her back to the fire, which had burned lower during their conversation.
“Your uncle Philips is a solicitor. He should be able to write to your grandparents’ solicitor.
Marriage records would exist at the parish.
As for witnesses, Mr. Bennet and that locket he mentioned.
Or servants. They might help establish your claim properly, through legitimate channels. ”
Elizabeth considered this suggestion. Her uncle Philips was indeed a solicitor, but her aunt Philips was a gossip, and furthermore, would report her actions directly to her sister, Mrs. Bennet.
“That still leaves Mr. Collins,” she said. “He arrives this afternoon, expecting my hand.”
“Refuse him,” Charlotte said simply.
“My mother—Mrs. Bennet—will never forgive me.”
“She will recover,” Charlotte assured her. “And a reluctant bride makes a miserable wife. Even Mr. Collins deserves better than that.”
Elizabeth managed a watery smile. “Since when did you become an advocate for Mr. Collins?”
“I advocate for prudence.” Charlotte returned her smile. “Though he is not without his… compensations.”
“His compensations?”
“A comfortable home, independence from parental authority, a respectable position.” Charlotte’s expression grew thoughtful. “Not every woman has the luxury of marrying for affection, Lizzy. Some must be content with security and companionship.”
Elizabeth studied her friend’s face, seeing something she had never noticed before—a resignation that held its own dignity. “You would consider Mr. Collins?”
“I would consider any respectable gentleman who offered me the chance to be mistress of my own household,” Charlotte replied honestly. “At seven-and-twenty, my prospects diminish daily.”
“Oh, Charlotte.” Elizabeth embraced her friend tightly. “You deserve so much more.”
“We all deserve more than life often provides,” Charlotte said, returning the embrace. “The art lies in making peace with what is possible rather than yearning endlessly for the ideal.”
They stood together by the fire, two friends united by genuine affection despite their different perspectives.
“Promise me you won’t attempt this journey alone,” Charlotte said finally, drawing back to look into Elizabeth’s face. “Promise me you’ll consider safer alternatives.”
Elizabeth wanted to promise, wanted to ease the worry in her friend’s eyes, but found she could not lie—not to Charlotte, who had always been honest with her. “I cannot promise what I do not know. My path forward is shrouded in uncertainty.”
“Then promise me this,” Charlotte said firmly. “Whatever you decide, whatever path you choose, you will write to me. You will not vanish without a word, leaving me to wonder and worry.”
This, at least, Elizabeth could honestly agree to. “I promise. And will you promise to keep my secret? To tell no one, not even your parents, what I have revealed today?”
“I promise.” Charlotte took Elizabeth’s hands in hers, her grip warm and steady. “Your secrets are safe with me, as they have always been.”
The two friends embraced once more, and Elizabeth felt tears rising again—for Charlotte’s loyalty, for her own uncertain future, for the impossible choices that lay before her.
“I should return before I am missed,” Elizabeth said, gathering her damp cloak and concealing the valise beneath it.
“Lizzy.” Charlotte’s voice halted her at the door. “Remember that true courage lies not in reckless action, but in facing difficult truths and making wise choices despite fear.”
“I understand your reasoning,” Elizabeth said quietly, rising to take her leave. “Though I confess I had hoped for different counsel.”
“I give the counsel of someone who loves you,” Charlotte replied, embracing her warmly. “Do not let pride prevent you from choosing security, my dear friend.”
“Goodbye, Charlotte.” Elizabeth stepped back into the gray morning, her heart heavier than when she had arrived. If Charlotte would not support her quest for alternatives to Collins, who would?