Chapter Eleven #2
“I do not know a thing about your guardian, but I certainly know that I was proposed to,” Elizabeth said.
She blinked back tears of confusion, refusing to doubt all that she had felt, and all that had passed between them.
Mr. Darcy loved her, she truly believed it.
She narrowed her eyes, distrustful of her companion.
“Kitty, you must be teasing me – some impudent jest, which I am generally in favor of, though at present I confess I find it rather distressing.”
Kitty scowled at her. “I am sorry to distress you, but it is no jest, though I am also fond of such things – under happier circumstances. I do not know what you are about, coming here to make a claim on my dear cousin Darcy, but I can assure you that we are wildly in love. You may read all about it in my diary, if you like.”
She reached for the journal, opened it to a page that had been embellished with little drawings of flowers and kittens, and thrust it at Elizabeth. “There, you shall see – he proposed to me just an hour ago.”
Elizabeth read the twirly script, confused by the description of Mr. Darcy’s hair as golden, and shook her head in perplexity. “It says you are courting, but it cannot be the same Mr. Darcy. Here, you may read my diary – one should always have something sensational to read on long journeys.”
Elizabeth retrieved her own diary from her pocket – she had indeed been reading it in the carriage, comforting herself with the prospect of what joy awaited her.
The diary was scarcely larger than the palm of her hand, but thick, and her pages were rather lacking in fanciful doodles, but she found the page on which she had recorded Mr. Darcy’s proposal.
“There, you see – nine days ago, Mr. Darcy proposed to me. I certainly have the prior claim, for what it is worth.”
“Or perhaps, since proposing to you, Mr. Darcy has changed his mind,” Kitty quipped.
She examined the page and then grinned. “Well, it says he proposed to you, but you were interrupted before you could accept – that is hardly an engagement. It sounds more like folly, to me, but I am sorry for your inevitable disappointment.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with indignation.
“I cannot believe it. No, we shall wait for Mr. Darcy to join us, and I am sure he will explain this ghastly misapprehension, for it is not in his nature to be so inconstant. We spent six weeks together in London, and he made his devotion to me quite evident – just as I made my own sentiments perfectly clear to him.”
Kitty rose to her feet, looking heated. “I do not care for your insinuations, Miss….”
“Bennet. And they are not insinuations – merely facts.”
“Bennet?” Kitty cocked her head to one side as of recognizing this name; she furrowed her brows, then gave an odd shake of her head.
“Well, Miss Bennet, if that is even your name at all, I fear I am trespassing on your valuable time. No doubt, you have many other visits of a similar nature to make in the neighborhood.”
She gestured as if wishing for Elizabeth to leave, but Elizabeth stood, reveling in having the superior height; she folded her arms in front of herself and glared back at the girl. “I have travelled from Kent at great expense and peril to my reputation. I will see Mr. Darcy, Miss…?”
“Cardew.” Kitty jerked her head toward the house at the sound of a shout coming from an open window on the second floor that was partially obscured by a large oak tree. “Hmm, trouble in the billiard room – you may be waiting some time, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth gaped at Kitty, seeing so much of Jane in her and suddenly understanding. She sank back into her chair, stunned beyond comprehension. “Your name… your name is Catherine Cardew?”
“It is – for now. Soon, of course, it will be Catherine Darcy.”
“And your father? Was his name – oh, let me think – was it Phillip Cardew? He was once a vicar, but he married a wealthy widow eighteen years ago, when you were but a babe….”
Kitty went pale, and she slowly resumed her seat. “How do you know all that?”
“Your mother was called Fanny; she died giving birth to you.”
Kitty sucked in a sharp breath. “She had two other daughters, from her first marriage, who were taken into the custody of a wealthy, wicked benefactress in Kent. Oh, God! Can it be?”
“You are my sister, my half-sister,” Elizabeth breathed.
Kitty groaned. “Oh, but this is terrible! I have always longed to meet my half-sisters… though my father warned me they were ill-behaved and would likely grow up as obdurate and disobliging as their guardian! Even our uncle has wanted little to do with you.”
“Or with you – at least, that is what I heard when I saw him in London.” Elizabeth groaned. She, too, had sometimes been curious about her mother’s babe taken away to live with that boorish vicar. Evidently he had raised her to be a wretched creature indeed!
The two women simply stared at one another, the high emotion of their reunion at war with their jealousy over Mr. Darcy.
At length, Elizabeth spoke again. “Well, this is hardly how I imagined a meeting with my long-lost sister might go. Given your outward resemblance to Jane, I might have hoped your manners would be just as pleasantly similar. She is gentle and obliging, and has never quarreled with anybody.”
“I have thought of my distant half-sisters many times, but it never occurred to me that one of them might appear quiet suddenly, and at great peril to her reputation to make a bold and patently false claim on my intended. I suppose I ought to have heeded my father’s warning about my relations.”
“I was three years old when last I saw your father – and I am not the one behaving like a three-year-old at present,” Elizabeth hissed, fuming at the mean-spirited slander by her mother’s second husband.
Kitty began to make a retort, but her expression suddenly brightened. “Well, I had meant to suggest you have a lie-down until your tantrum has passed, but here is Mr. Darcy. He shall no doubt put an end to your vicious nonsense.”
Kitty stalked off, calling out to Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth gasped as she beheld Charles Bingley stalking toward them.
Baffled, she trailed after her half-sister.
Kitty embraced Mr. Bingley, then sharply withdrew.
“Mr. Darcy, before I inquire how your conversation with William went, I must know something. Are you engaged to Elizabeth Bennet?”
Mr. Bingley gave Elizabeth a sheepish grin before turning back to Kitty. “I am not. It is a funny story, in fact….”
Elizabeth strode toward them with triumphant confusion. “I cannot possibly account for your error, Kitty, but this gentleman is not Mr. Darcy. It is his intimate friend, Mr. Charles Bingley.”
Kitty’s countenance fell into an expression of dismay. “Bingley? Bingley!” He reached for her, but Kitty shoved him away.
Movement caught her eye; Elizabeth turned and smiled at the sight of her beloved, who was nearly running toward them, a queer look on his face. “Here is Mr. Darcy!”
As he approached, Elizabeth rushed to him, her arms outstretched for an embrace, and she let out a peal of laughter as he picked her up and gave her a spin. “Elizabeth, you are really here,” he breathed. His loving gaze turned to their companions, and he scowled.
Kitty snorted with laughter. “I was certain you were in some great state of misconception, Lizzy. That is my guardian, Mr. William Worthing.”
Elizabeth recoiled from her lover’s embrace. “Worthing? No!”
Kitty turned querulously to Mr. Bingley. “Is that why you made such a fuss about your name, when we were kissing in the treehouse? You are not my cousin Darcy at all – you are really called Mr. Bingley?”
Making a strangled sound, Elizabeth’s betrothed grimaced at Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth clenched her fists at her side, raging at the thought that she had thrown caution to the wind to elope with a man who had deceived her.
“Are you really called Worthing? Good God, you did make a strange fuss about my admiration of the name Darcy.”
“Is is a most lovely name,” Kitty murmured.
“It is,” Mr. Bingley agreed, stalking toward the table where the ladies had taken refreshments. “But I must admit, it is purely a fabrication. I am called Bingley, my darling. Charles Bingley. I had meant to tell you the truth, but….”
Kitty scoffed. “But instead you lied to me for three days.”
Elizabeth took a step toward her beloved, begging him to refute the accusations. “Surely you did not deceive me for six weeks, sir.”
“I wanted to tell you,” he said, his hand reached for hers. She stepped back.
“William Worthing,” she repeated.
“Yes. That is my name. It has been for years. I have always pretended to be called Will Darcy in London, but here at home I am William Worthing; it is the name my guardian gave me. I meant to tell you, but it was… complicated….”
Kitty let out a cry of indignation, and took Elizabeth by the hand. “My poor, wronged sister! What a horrid trick my guardian has played on you!”
Elizabeth patted Kitty’s cheek. “My darling sister! I am terribly sorry for misjudging you – we have both been most egregiously deceived.”
They glared over at the gentlemen. Mr. Bingley had taken a seat at the table and was inspecting the tray of muffins, while Mr. Worthing, as he was apparently called, looked between his friend and the ladies with considerable panic.
Mr. Bingley laughed. “Well, you did say they would be calling each other sister within an hour.”
Elizabeth’s rage finally boiled over, and she flew at Mr. Worthing, pounding her fists into his chest. “You knew? You knew she was my sister, and never mentioned her to me? You are a liar, and my mother was right to take me away from you!”
“What?”
Elizabeth stilled and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “How could you?”
“I do not understand. What did I know? I know nothing!”
“Clearly,” Mr. Bingley said through a mouthful of muffin.