Chapter Twenty-four
THE VISITS STARTED scarcely a month later.
Mr. Darcy welcomed his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam first, and Elizabeth was still not much up to playing hostess, and Darcy himself spent too much of his time walking about with little Patience, who had grown a bit spoiled, the nurses told him, and would not go down for naps without her mother or her father.
Darcy spent much of this visit, then, walking about the hallways of Pemberley with Patience in his arms, sleeping, while his cousin kept pace with him.
“You must tell me the truth,” said the colonel, “have you truly claimed Wickham’s child?”
“Patience is my daughter,” he said.
“Are you dodging me?” said the colonel. “Of anyone, you can trust me with the truth of it, I suppose. I do know her, you know, Darcy, and I have seen that wickedly expressive mouth of hers.”
“Are you truly talking of my wife’s mouth in that way to me?”
“Well, I am only saying, she is the sort of woman a man might do extraordinary things for, that is all,” said his cousin.
Darcy gave him such a look that his cousin’s steps faltered.
“Well, then,” muttered the colonel. “If that is your response to my saying that, it seems unlikely you would stand for anyone actually touching her.”
“I did try to kill him,” said Darcy. “I missed his heart by two inches, and now he is recovering.”
The colonel was stunned, and stopped walking entirely.
Darcy continued down the hall with little Patience in his arms.
When the colonel caught up to him again, he said in a low voice, “You are a better man than I am, but then you always were, I think. My guess is that he did to Elizabeth what he did to Georgiana? We have confirmation, then, that he did it?”
Darcy only nodded.
“We should have strung him up back then.”
“Perhaps,” said Darcy with a sigh. “But if they are saying his name, bandying that about back in London? I would rather he not hear that. He will begin to question everything again, and he may cause trouble for us.”
“I doubt that,” said the colonel. “What does Wickham want with an infant girl?”
“True,” admitted Darcy. He supposed he and Elizabeth had feared the worst with all of that, but Wickham would have no desire to claim a child and take responsibility for it.
Darcy supposed there was still a chance that Wickham might come to make threats and wish to be paid off, but Darcy did not entirely think so, not with the way Wickham was behaving now.
Why, these days, he seemed to have decided to fall back on his training to be a parson.
He was telling a story of how he had been a very bad man—cards and drink and women—until he was shot in the chest, had a vision of Christ himself, and then resolved to change his ways.
Darcy would have rathered Wickham did not get any redemption at all, but as long and Wickham kept clear of him, and his sister, and his wife, and his daughter, and as long as he never harmed another woman, he supposed Wickham could do as he liked.
The next visit was a month or so later, from Elizabeth’s parents. They were attentive to their new grandchild, quite complimentary over Pemberley itself, and rather more subdued in general than he remembered either of them.
But it was clear that they had heard things from Caroline, and they were not entirely sure what to make of all of this.
One night, when Darcy was sharing a brandy with Mr. Bennet, he thought the man might be about to come out and ask all manner of questions, but he eventually only said, “Well, the fact that you two were only married for three months before the babe was born isn’t ideal, but people will eventually stop talking about that. ”
“I think so,” said Darcy.
“And I see that you take good care of her.”
“Always,” said Darcy.
“And Patience, too.”
“I am utterly overcome with my love for my little daughter,” said Darcy.
“Yes, I see that,” said Mr. Bennet with a nod. He looked off. “I wish Lizzy would have come to me.”
“Well, you did insist she go to Brighton,” said Darcy, who had heard this story from his wife.
Mr. Bennet’s expression was nothing but shame. “So I did,” he said in a voice that was not strong. He finished his brandy in one gulp.
They never spoke of anything of that nature again.
The final visit was in early June, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, and Elizabeth professed that she did not know if she wished to see her sister Jane, that she was not even sure what she might say to her.
So, for some time, Mr. Darcy was certain not to leave her alone with her sister. He made sure they were all in a group. But eventually, Elizabeth and Jane went off together to talk one afternoon, taking little Patience along with them.
And then it was him and Bingley.
“How did Hurst take it?” Darcy finally said. “His wife went on for some time about how tangled a web that was going to prove.”
“Well, Hurst is rather staunchly in the camp of thinking the babe must be yours,” said Bingley. “He cannot believe you would marry a woman gone with another man’s child.”
“There are camps?” said Darcy.
Bingley smirked. “Oh, it’s the choicest gossip, Darcy.
I took quite a bit of flack for coming at all, but they will all be at me for news when I return.
I promise I shall not say anything at all, of course.
But, yes, there are camps. Caroline told everyone the babe was Mr. Wickham’s, but some people put the blame on your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam—”
“Why is that?” said Mr. Darcy, a bit annoyed at that. “He was not even in the country, was he?”
“Was he not?” said Bingley. “It hardly matters. Everyone feels that all the men in England would travel miles at a racing gallop to spill their seed in your wife.”
Mr. Darcy glared at him.
“Sorry.” Mr. Bingley grimaced. “I suppose I could have said that differently.”
“So, everyone is talking about it, then.”
“Oh, positively everyone,” said Bingley. “I should stay away, were I you. You have been wise to miss the Season, and I would not return until the new year, if you want my advice.”
“Fine by me, of course,” said Darcy. “I do worry about Georgiana.”
“You could likely have her stay with some relation, the Matlocks, perhaps? She would not be overly bothered by it. I am surprised no one in your family has said anything to you about it.”
“Well, that’s not their way,” said Darcy. “We don’t dignify these things with attention, and you know that.”
“I don’t know if I do know that,” said Bingley. “But I shall tuck that away as a sage piece of advice, I think. If such a thing ever happens to me, I shall not dignify it.”
Darcy give him a weary smile.”
“We, of course, know,” said Bingley. “Because right before the wedding, there was a great deal of discussion of what we must do. My wife was quite worried over all of it, and my sister made her plans. I should have realized what it was she was after, I suppose. I did not, and I have heard from Louisa how badly things went.”
Darcy sighed heavily.
“No, I must apologize,” said Bingley. “Caroline is…” He let out a breath. “I have no words for what my sister is, but I know you were angry enough with her to threaten that you would no longer associate with us.”
“Look, Bingley, I likely would not have taken you to task for whatever it was that Caroline did—”
“You would have been well within your rights,” said Bingley. “It was with trepidation that I wrote you. I thought it likely you simply would not respond or that you would make excuses that it would not be a good time for us to visit. I would not have blamed you, if so.”
“No, there was a time where there was to be all sorts of, I don’t know, retribution, I suppose. And then I went and shot him and everything…”
“Oh, that’s how he was shot.” Bingley swallowed. “Oh, I see.”
Darcy sighed. “Perhaps I ought not have admitted that to you.”
“No, I would have done something similar in your situation, I think,” said Bingley.
“At any rate, there was no taking anyone to task. Not him. Not your sister. No one. And now Patience is here, and she is quite the sweetest of babes, and I think that whatever we went through to get her, I cannot entirely regret it, because she is so perfect, you know.”
“Well, be that as it may, I sent her off,” said Bingley.
“You sent… Caroline?”
“Mmm,” said Bingley. “I sent her to stay with some maiden aunts we have in Ireland. They live on a little pig farm, and I get letters from them that they are finally making progress in making Caroline understand she must earn her keep if she wishes to be fed the same as everyone else.”
Darcy could not help it. He laughed. “You are not serious. Really? I think that’s marvelous.”
“It did nothing to quell the rumors, however,” said Bingley. “And who knows what it will mean for your Patience when she is grown, when it is time for her to wed.”
“Who knows indeed,” said Darcy. “We can but weather one thing at a time, though.”
“Those are wise words, my friend.”
ELIZABETH DID NOT know what to say to Jane.
She kept waiting for her sister to apologize.
But Jane did not.
That day that they were alone together, her sister spoke mostly about herself, relaying that she was finally with child with her husband, how she had nearly despaired of it happening for a time, but that everything had seemingly worked out now, and that she was ever so grateful.
Jane said only this: “I suppose those sparring matches with Mr. Darcy were truly something else. He has become your white knight, I see. The way he dotes on you, Lizzy. And little Patience, too. You are likely the luckiest woman in England.”
At first Elizabeth was rather affronted.
Lucky?
How dare Jane say such a thing? Lucky to have been raped by Mr. Wickham? Lucky to have gotten with child from one encounter? Lucky to have been shipped up to Derbyshire and hidden away by the Bingley sisters? Lucky to have nearly starved to death?
None of it had been lucky.
But after Jane had left and some weeks had passed, Elizabeth received a missive from her aunt, who said she and Mr. Gardiner and the children would be staying in the Lambton cottage, and that if Elizabeth wished to visit them, they would be happy to receive her.
They had no thoughts of being invited to Mr. Darcy’s house, of course, for he would not associate with people like them.
But Elizabeth knew her husband better.
They received the Gardiners at Pemberley, and Mr. Darcy said they must come by any time, that Mr. Gardiner could fish in the stream, that the children might enjoy gamboling in the fields.
She and Mrs. Gardiner walked together and she found herself spilling all of the story to her aunt, every spare moment of all that had befallen her.
And her aunt was horrified, gasping out protests again and again, saying, “Appalling!” and “You poor child” over and over.
It warmed Elizabeth. Would that she could have had her aunt here as she was expecting. It would have been good to have someone sympathetic.
But she found herself saying to her aunt, “No, no, it has turned out right in the end, I think. I am likely the luckiest woman in England.”
“Well, you have been through ever so much, Lizzy,” said her aunt.
“Yes, but Mr. Darcy is quite devoted.”
“Yes, I can see that,” said her aunt.
“And I am mistress of all this.” She gestured to the grounds of Pemberley.
“It is quite a lot to be mistress of,” agreed her aunt, smiling.
“And I am safe now, you know? I have so much to be thankful for.”
“Yes,” said her aunt. “Yes, you are lucky, Lizzy. I am lucky, too, of course. Both to have you as my niece and to have such a husband as I have, such children, such a life.”
Elizabeth smiled at her. Yes, lucky, indeed.
She must own it was true.