Chapter 8 #2
“Also, he believes Netherfield is a good property and he approved my decision to keep it,” he continued, much to Elizabeth’s increasing distress. She was now certain that—somehow—Mr. Darcy had changed his opinion on such an important matter and they had no reason to fear his opposition.
“I am sure Mr. Darcy is right about Netherfield,” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Indeed he is. I value his opinion very much; he is an excellent landlord. It was he who advised me to take Netherfield in the first place.”
“How lovely of him,” Mrs. Bennet declared, suddenly inclined to approve of the proud man she once hated.
The subject of Mr. Darcy troubled Elizabeth greatly all day. Even by the evening, her distress had not diminished in the slightest.
Furthermore, it appeared that her husband was hosting a party to which she had not been invited—nor did she wish to join it.
But the noise—the music, chatter and laughter—sounded throughout the house.
To Elizabeth, the gathering was indecorous, considering Lady Sedgewick’s poor health.
But there was little she could do, except struggle through another sleepless night.
The following morning, she woke up rather early. The whole house was in a deep silence. She opened the windows widely, hoping the fresh air would calm her.
She dressed without ringing for the maid, then she went downstairs, to ask for a cup of tea.
It was the first time she had ventured into that area and she needed some time to find her way. She stopped when she heard sobs and a voice, saying, “I must leave...I cannot stay here...”
“Libby, where will you go? You’ll never find another position without a proper recommendation. What will you do about your mother?”
“But I cannot stay any longer,” the sobbing voice repeated. “I cannot...”
Elizabeth took a step forward and noticed two maids speaking in low voices. She did not know their names, as she had never been introduced to the staff and there were only two who served her directly.
Seeing her, their fear made them still and speechless. The face of one of them was bruised and swollen, her lips bleeding and her right eye surrounded by a dark circle. There was no doubt that she had been beaten and Elizabeth’s heart ached. She took a step towards her and the girl stepped back.
“Hello. I am Miss...Lady Barrington. I would just like a cup of tea.”
“But, did your ladyship not ring? We did not hear anything,” one of them whispered.
“I did not. May I ask what happened? Is your name Libby? Who hurt you?”
“Yes, Libby. Tis nothing, ma’am,” the girl whispered.
“You may tell me, do not be scared...” Elizabeth said warmly.
“Tis nothing, ma’am,” the girl repeated. She then apologised and disappeared.
“Lady Barrington, your tea will be sent to your room immediately. Does your ladyship wish for anything else?”
“Only tea. But please tell me—what happened to her?” Elizabeth insisted.
The maid lowered her head. “Nothing, ma’am. Please, I will bring you the tea shortly.”
The incident was like a sharp claw in Elizabeth’s chest. That something grave had happened was certain. She wondered who she might speak to and realised she was not well enough acquainted with the housekeeper—Mrs. Nott.
She was troubled enough as she returned to her room, and then a servant stopped her on the stairs.
“Lady Barrington, Lady Sedgewick has sent for you. She wishes to speak to you—a man is waiting for you outside if you wish to go.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment. “Of course I will go. Please inform Lord Barrington of my whereabouts,” she said, before exiting the house in a hurry.
“How is Lady Sedgewick?” she asked as she hastened her pace.
“Not well, I am afraid, your ladyship. I beg your pardon for coming at such an early hour, but...”
“Do not worry—the hour does not matter.”
She arrived at the house within minutes and was shown to the lady’s apartment. Cece hovered next to the bed and the doctor was standing in the corner. Seeing her, Lady Sedgewick smiled.
“Elizabeth. Thank you for coming, my dear.”
“Please do not thank me. I am glad to be here,” Elizabeth said, sitting next to her and taking her hand.
“How is your father, my dear?”
“Better, your ladyship. With the doctor's care and God’s will, he will be well soon.”
“Good. Elizabeth, there is something I want to give you. Besides any other settlements.”
She then took off a gold and diamond ring—too large for her thin fingers—and handed it to Elizabeth.
“I was given it by my grandmother. I always hoped to give it to my daughter one day, but as it is, I wish you to keep it. Please give it to your own daughter, if God blesses you with children.”
Elizabeth looked at the ring in disbelief. Its value was extraordinary—not only in money but more so in meaning. She put it on her finger, and Lady Sedgewick grasped her hand. The grip was weak and cold.
“I am leaving a heavy burden on your shoulders, Elizabeth. I hope God will forgive me for that.”
“God will bless you for all the good you have done, your ladyship,” Cece said tearfully, kneeling by the bed.
“My dear, please play something for me,” Lady Sedgewick asked, stroking Cece’s hair. The young woman rose and hurried to the small pianoforte. The beautiful notes flew around the chamber, bringing a peaceful smile to Lady Sedgewick’s face.
In a short while, with the last note of the song, the Countess of Sedgewick breathed deeply and her soul left her weak body, her hand still holding Elizabeth’s.
When Elizabeth began to cry, Cece returned to the bed, took the other hand and kissed it affectionately.
Elizabeth’s tears fell freely, her heart broken by pain, sorrow, and a strange sense of desolation. She felt even lonelier and helpless than before.