Chapter 20 Morning Dismissal #2
“All the more reason to succeed,” Elizabeth replied with a conspiratorial wink. “Shall we begin our adventure after breakfast?”
“Oh, yes, we shall encounter quite a few of the staff on our walk through the kitchen garden,” Georgiana agreed.
“And afterward, we might visit old Molly in the kitchen—she’s Cook’s mother and has been at Pemberley longer than anyone.
She loves to tell stories about the family, though you must take some of what she says with a grain of salt. Her memory can be… creative at times.”
“An elderly retainer with stories to tell? How delightful,” Elizabeth agreed, recognizing opportunity when it presented itself.
After they’d eaten their fill of breakfast, Elizabeth and Georgiana set out arm in arm through a side door that opened onto a flagstone path winding through formal gardens.
Despite the late season, Pemberley’s grounds retained much of their beauty—autumn flowers still bloomed in sheltered beds, while trees displayed glorious shades of crimson and gold against the backdrop of rolling Derbyshire hills.
“Uncle John designed that rose garden,” Georgiana said, pointing to an area where climbing roses created an enchanting bower despite the lateness of the season. “Father said he planned it as a wedding gift for Aunt Rose, though they were both gone before it reached maturity.”
Elizabeth stared at the roses, imagining the young man who had planted them for love of a woman he would not live to grow old with. The waste of it all—the lives cut short, the love destroyed, the family that might have been—struck her anew with bitter hurt.
“Georgiana,” she said carefully, “what do you remember being told about the fire? I know you were not yet born, but surely there were stories, explanations…”
“Precious little, actually,” Georgiana replied, picking at a deadhead. “Father never liked to speak of it, and when I was young, I was told only that there had been a terrible accident. It was not until I was older that I learned there had been… disagreements in the family before Uncle John died.”
“What sort of disagreements?”
“Business matters, mostly. Father had business with Mr. Benjamin Bingley, and Uncle John disapproved of the arrangement.” Georgiana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I once heard Father say that John never understood the necessities of commerce, that he was too idealistic for his own good.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. Business disputes could provide motives for violence beyond mere inheritance. “Did the partnership with Mr. Bingley continue after Uncle John’s death?”
“Oh yes, and it proved quite profitable. Father always said that Benjamin Bingley was a true friend who stood by him during the most difficult period of his life.” Georgiana paused, then added thoughtfully, “Though I sometimes wondered if that friendship came at some cost to family harmony.”
“You mean the elder Bingley took your father’s side over your uncle John’s?” Elizabeth probed, trying to maintain a casual tone despite her racing heart.
“I believe so. Charles once mentioned that his father had been involved in some disagreement with Uncle John—something about shipping practices.” Georgiana shrugged.
“I was often in the library, reading in a corner when the men came in with their disputes. They seemed to keep these discussions from Fitzwilliam.”
“I wonder why,” Elizabeth mused, thinking of Charles Bingley’s unexpected appearance at Pemberley and his sudden attentiveness toward her. “So both families stayed close?”
“The Bingleys were frequent visitors before Father died,” Georgiana confirmed. “Mrs. Bingley is my godmother, actually.”
“Are they still alive?” Elizabeth’s scalp prickled at the realization that they could be eyewitnesses to what happened twenty years ago.
“I’m not sure,” Georgiana said. “They haven’t come around lately. There are a few older sisters than Caroline. Mrs. Hurst was older and might remember more than the others.”
“Do you think she might have known my aunt Rose?” Elizabeth asked. “Remembered anything about the fire?”
“It’s possible,” Georgiana brightened at the thought.
“We should ask Caroline to invite her parents to the All Hallows’ Eve celebration.
Aunt Catherine said Mrs. Bingley had quite a challenge getting her daughters properly married.
They are from trade, you know, and I gather the older girls were rather too fond of militia officers. ”
Elizabeth hadn’t known this detail about the Bingley family, but she filed it away carefully. The Bingleys, it seemed, had a complex history with the Darcys—perhaps not all of it as respectable as Charles Bingley’s polished manners would suggest.
A strategy began to form in Elizabeth’s mind.
If Bingley possessed information about her parents’ deaths or her true identity, direct questioning would only put him on his guard.
But if she appeared receptive to his attentions—perhaps even encouraged them slightly—he might speak more freely, especially if he believed she was warming to him.
As her father had often told her, The straight road is seldom the safest, my dear; truth is best approached at a gentle angle.