Chapter 19 The Rose Chamber #2
By the time Elizabeth emerged from her bath, wrapped in a soft linen towel, she felt physically refreshed, though mentally no less confused.
Cassie produced a borrowed nightgown and wrapper, “Miss Georgiana sent them, miss, with her compliments”—and helped her into both before settling her before the fire to dry her hair.
The simple domesticity of the moment brought a lump to Elizabeth’s throat.
What would it have been like to grow up here?
To take such luxuries for granted? To be surrounded by servants who had known her from infancy, remembered her parents, and considered her rightfully belonging to this grand estate?
She returned to her chair before the fire, allowing Cassie to continue drying her hair with gentle efficiency.
The maid’s chatter provided a soothing background to Elizabeth’s troubled thoughts.
Who could she trust in this household? Darcy showed unexpected kindness, yet his father stood accused of orchestrating her parents’ deaths.
The Bingleys offered support, yet their sudden attentiveness reeked of calculation.
Mrs. Wickham claimed to be her savior, yet demanded marriage to her son as payment for testimony.
“There now, miss,” Cassie announced, stepping back to admire her work. “All dry and ready for brushing. You’ve lovely hair, if you don’t mind my saying so. Just like the portrait in the gallery—your mother had the same curls.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard against the renewed tightness in her throat. “Thank you, Cassie. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Shall I brush it out for you, miss? Or would you prefer to rest? You’ve had quite a day, from what I hear.”
“I think I should like to write some letters first,” Elizabeth decided. “Though I would appreciate your assistance with my hair afterward.”
“Of course, miss. I’ll tidy the bath things while you write.”
Elizabeth moved to the writing desk, pulling the chair close to the fire for warmth. The small portrait seemed to watch her, those painted faces from the past bearing witness to her present confusion. What would they want her to do? How would they advise her to proceed?
She selected a sheet of paper, dipped a pen in ink, and began to write:
Dearest Jane,
I scarcely know how to begin this letter, for the events that have transpired since I left Longbourn seem scarcely credible even to me, who has lived them.
I write to you from Pemberley, the great estate in Derbyshire belonging to Mr. Darcy, though whether it truly belongs to him or to me remains a question of some urgency and considerable complexity…
She paused, considering how much to reveal of her emotional state, her doubts about Mrs. Wickham, and her conflicted feelings toward Darcy himself. Jane’s gentle heart would understand, yet Elizabeth hesitated to burden her sister with concerns she could not ameliorate from a distance.
I have seen portraits of John and Rose Darcy today—my parents, if Mrs. Wickham’s claims are true. The resemblance is undeniable. I saw myself in their faces with a clarity that left no room for doubt. Whatever else may be false in this tangled web, I am convinced that I am indeed their daughter.
There is more to tell than I can commit to paper, but I beg you to speak to Papa about a gold locket that may have been among my possessions when I arrived at Longbourn as an infant.
Mrs. Wickham claims such a locket exists and contains miniatures of my true parents.
Its discovery would provide crucial evidence of my identity.
I remain, your loving sister,
Elizabeth
She set the letter aside to dry and began a second, this one addressed to her mother:
Dear Mama,
Extraordinary circumstances have led to my residence at Pemberley in Derbyshire, the estate of Mr. Darcy, whom we met in Hertfordshire.
I write with news that will doubtless surprise you as much as it has astonished me: there is reason to believe I may be Elizabeth Rose Darcy, daughter of John Darcy and Rose Bennet Darcy, thought to have perished in a fire twenty years ago…
Elizabeth hesitated, considering how best to phrase her request. Her mother’s excitement upon learning of a potential connection to Pemberley would be boundless, her discretion nonexistent. Yet this very lack of restraint might prove useful if it brought the locket swiftly to Derbyshire.
I require your assistance in a matter of great importance.
I believe Papa may have in his possession a gold locket containing miniature portraits—a locket that accompanied me to Longbourn as an infant.
If such exists, I beg you to bring it to Pemberley with all possible haste.
An assembly is planned for All Hallows’ Eve, providing the perfect occasion for your arrival…
She continued writing, emphasizing the urgency of her request while downplaying the potential dangers. Her mother would focus on the social opportunity rather than the risks, making her the perfect courier for the vital evidence.
Please give my love to Father and my sisters, and tell them I am well and in no immediate danger. I shall explain everything when we meet.
Your devoted daughter,
Elizabeth
She sealed this letter carefully, knowing it would bring hysterical nerves in its wake, but seeing no alternative.
Mrs. Bennet would undoubtedly arrive in high spirits at the prospect of her daughter claiming a great estate.
With her father refusing his assistance, her mother’s urge for social advancement would bring her to Pemberley post haste.
A soft knock at the door preceded Georgiana’s appearance.
“I hope I do not intrude,” she said, hovering in the doorway. “I merely wished to ensure you had everything you required for comfort.”
Elizabeth smiled, genuinely touched by the girl’s solicitude. “You are most welcome, Georgiana. Please, come in.”
Cassie discreetly moved to the dressing room with the bath linens, leaving them in relative privacy.
Georgiana entered, her eyes taking in Elizabeth’s borrowed nightclothes with evident pleasure.
“They suit you,” she said, gesturing to the garments.
“Though we shall have to see about proper gowns tomorrow. My modiste in London could send patterns—” She stopped abruptly. “Forgive me. I presume too much.”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth assured her, rising from the desk. “Your kindness has been a beacon in what has been, frankly, the most bewildering day of my life.”
Georgiana moved closer, her expression turning serious.
“I cannot imagine what you must be feeling. To discover such things about oneself, about one’s family…
” She trailed off, then continued with unexpected firmness: “I want you to know that I believe you. The resemblance is too striking to ignore, and there is something… familiar about you, though we have only just met.”
Elizabeth felt a rush of affection for this earnest, sweet-natured girl who offered her trust so freely. “You cannot know what that means to me.”
“May I show you something?” Georgiana asked, suddenly animated. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small leather case. “Fitzwilliam doesn’t know I have this—he believes it was lost years ago.”
She opened the case to reveal a miniature portrait of a young woman with dark curls and dancing eyes—unmistakably Rose Bennet Darcy.
“This one belonged to Grandmother Darcy, who gave it to me secretly when I was nine. She told me to remember that Darcy women had spirit as well as dignity, and that I should never let anyone convince me otherwise.”
Elizabeth stared at the miniature, transfixed by another glimpse of the mother she had never known. “She was beautiful.”
“Like you,” Georgiana said simply. “Everyone must see it, especially Fitzwilliam.”
The mention of Darcy brought Elizabeth’s confusion rushing back. “Your brother has been unexpectedly kind today. The chamber, the portrait, even his words after my embarrassing display in the gallery.”
“That’s who he truly is,” Georgiana insisted, returning the miniature to her pocket.
“Not the stern, prideful man most people see, but the brother who stayed up all night when I had a fever, who learned to curl my hair himself when our mother died, who tries so hard to be both father and brother to me.”
This glimpse of Darcy through his sister’s eyes added another layer to Elizabeth’s already complex impression of the man.
Could the severe gentleman who had dismissed her at the Meryton assembly truly be the same person who had placed a family portrait on her writing desk, who had thought to provide her with blue linens reminiscent of home?
Georgiana leaned close to speak. “I want you to know that, regardless of what investigations or legal proceedings may follow, I am already glad you are here. I have been rather lonely since… well, since recent difficulties with someone I thought I could trust.” Her voice faltered slightly before gaining strength.
“Having a sister—or cousin—someone who understands what it means to be part of this family… it would mean everything to me.”
Elizabeth felt tears prick her eyes at the simple sincerity of Georgiana’s words. Here was acceptance without conditions, affection without calculation—something she had not dared hope to find at Pemberley.
“You are very kind, Georgiana. I confess I have felt rather adrift these past days, uncertain of who to trust or what to believe. Your friendship means more than you know.”
Georgiana’s smile lit her entire face. “Then we are agreed. We shall be sisters in truth, whatever the legal determinations may reveal.” She paused, then added with a hint of mischief that reminded Elizabeth strongly of herself, “And perhaps we might work together to uncover the truth about what really happened twenty years ago. I have always suspected there was more to the story than we were told.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “You sound as though you have given this considerable thought.”
“I have,” Georgiana admitted. “Fitzwilliam thinks me too romantic, but I have always wondered about the coincidences, the timing, the way Father would change the subject whenever Uncle John was mentioned. There are too many unanswered questions for the official story to be entirely true.”
Here was an unexpected ally—someone with access to family history and servants’ gossip, someone with her own reasons for wanting the truth revealed. Elizabeth felt a spark of hope kindle in her chest.
“What sort of questions?” she asked carefully.
“Fitzwilliam would most certainly disapprove, but I listened in when people did not notice me. My aunt Catherine had questions, Uncle Matlock had his own speculations, and of course, the servants talked.”
Elizabeth stared at her in amazement. Behind Georgiana’s gentle exterior lay a mind that observed and questioned with impressive acuity. Perhaps they could indeed work together to uncover the truth.
“I suspect your brother would not approve of the two of us listening through walls,” Elizabeth said.
“A sixteen-year-old girl is still young enough to go up and down the servants’ staircase.
I sit with the kitchen maids and speak to the butler’s wife.
Walk around the grounds. Perhaps the two of us might explore Pemberley together?
We may encounter people who might remember things about Uncle John and Aunt Rose that could help establish your claim. ”
Elizabeth recognized the invitation for what it was—not merely a tour, but an offer of alliance in her quest for truth. “I would like that very much.”
“Excellent!” Georgiana’s face lit with excitement. “We shall begin tomorrow. Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper, has been here since before I was born. She knew your parents—that is, Uncle John and Aunt Rose—quite well.”
“Then perhaps we should discuss how to proceed,” Elizabeth said, settling back into her chair and gesturing for Georgiana to take the settee. “Though we must be careful. If there truly were murders twenty years ago, the perpetrators may still pose a danger.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened with excitement rather than fear. “A real mystery to solve. Oh, Elizabeth, this is far more interesting than anything in my novels.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s enthusiasm, even as a part of her worried about involving someone so young in potentially dangerous investigations.
But Georgiana was right—if Elizabeth truly was Elizabeth Rose Darcy, then justice demanded the truth be revealed, whatever the personal cost.
“I will discover the truth,” she promised Georgiana. “If Pemberley proves to be my birthright, I shall share it with you and your brother. This, I promise you.”
“I knew you would.” Georgiana rose to embrace Elizabeth. “I should let you rest. We shall start after breakfast. It will be a real adventure.”