Chapter 5
FIVE
Before long, Elizabeth was settled at the home of Mr and Mrs Gardiner in Gracechurch Street.
Despite not being related to her by blood, they had always treated her as a niece, and she loved them and their four small children as dear family members.
She trusted them, too, and had confided in the couple her eagerness to learn more about Thomas Sterling, as well as her trepidation.
“Who is to say I shall like what I discover? All I know of him is what my mother wrote and that his family turned their backs to him because they did not like his choice of wife. They might refuse to even meet me.”
“Which would be hurtful,” Mrs Gardiner said sympathetically.
She, Elizabeth, and Mr Gardiner were sitting together in a snug parlour after dinner the day of Elizabeth’s arrival.
“I know how much you have always wished to feel a greater connexion to your father, one like that you have to your mother through Mr Bennet.”
Elizabeth nodded and took a sip of hot tea.
“I believe I have prepared myself for what might happen. Mr Bennet and I spoke of it several times over the last few days. The worst would be if I do not learn anything further, I suppose, worse than being rejected. I would be left with my questions and no hope of ever discovering the answers.” It was odd to call the man who had long been her father ‘Mr Bennet’, but she was finding it confusing to speak of both him and Thomas Sterling as her father.
In her heart, they were both equally important to her, albeit in different ways, just as her two mothers were.
“You mean to go ahead with finding Thomas Sterling’s family, despite the risk?” Mr Gardiner asked.
“I must,” Elizabeth said. “Do you have any notion how to go about it, sir?”
He inclined his head and appeared thoughtful. “Leave it to me, Lizzy. It is possible we shall not have to wait long for some resolution.”
She regarded him, sensing that he might say more. However, he was disinclined to speak of the matter further—as shown by his immediately changing the subject to how she and Mrs Gardiner might amuse themselves on the morrow.
“Go shopping,” he advised. “You have not had the opportunity to visit the shops in London for some months, Lizzy, and my darling wife was just telling me she required a new gown for all the Christmas parties she anticipates attending.” He reached across to Elizabeth and patted her hand affectionately.
“I shall do everything possible to find you the information you seek.”
Elizabeth offered him a smile to show her appreciation and allowed herself to be distracted by the discussion of where her aunt would like to go and what she hoped to purchase.
Just two days later, Mr Gardiner called her into his book-room and announced, “I have news for you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “So soon?” she said, speaking without forethought. She had assumed it would take much longer, possibly weeks.
He chuckled. “My name may not be known to those in the ton, but my success rests in part on knowing about them and their likely wants and needs. I set my best man to the task. The name Sterling was familiar to me, and now I understand why. My dear, I have every reason to believe Thomas Sterling was brother to the present Lady Romsley, wife to the Earl of Romsley.”
“An earl? Was his family…? Who were they? Are they, I should say.” Unconsciously, she had leant forward in the chair, as though being that slight distance closer to him meant she would learn what he had to tell her more quickly.
“I understand the Sterlings, while not titled, are very wealthy—seven or eight thousand a year—and highly regarded. The family estate is in Northamptonshire, and the current owner is the countess’s elder brother. Your uncle, in other words. Unless I am mistaken, but I do not believe I am.”
She exhaled a gust of air and sat back, her thoughts whirring. An aunt and an uncle, possibly more. She might have cousins, too—very likely did. From what Mr Gardiner implied, her paternal grandfather was dead, but possibly her grandmother was not.
Meeting Mr Gardiner’s eye, she said, “What do I do now? What do you advise?” If it were possible, she would approach one of Thomas Sterling’s relations immediately—her presumed relations, although she wanted them to confirm that they were connected to her father before she thought of them in such terms.
“From the information I obtained, Mr Sterling is in the country, but Lady Romsley and her family are in town.”
“She is?” Elizabeth interjected, eagerness rising like a large bubble within her. Instantly, she began to devise a plan. “I must call on her, tell her who I am.”
Mr Gardiner took her hand in his. “Take a moment to reflect. If you would take my advice—and you did ask for it—caution is called for. Although I believe it unlikely, it is possible I have drawn the incorrect conclusion. And think, Lizzy. We know your father was disinherited after he and your mother eloped. It is possible his brother and sister supported the decision and will not wish to revisit what many would see as a shameful family history. Even today, eloping is scandalous. It was worse twenty years ago.”
Heat burnt her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.
While she could admit he was correct—and certainly agreed that eloping was unconscionable—it was insulting to think that she might be disregarded because of a decision her parents had made.
She had half convinced herself that her mother and father had been left with little choice but to marry against their parents’ wishes, that their parents, her father’s in particular, had been unreasonable to seek to separate the couple, given the depths of their affection.
Mr Gardiner’s voice was gentle when he continued.
“Write to Mr Sterling or to Lady Romsley or even to both. Tell them who you are and permit them the opportunity to decide whether or not they will receive you. The countess would be my recommendation, since she is nearby, in Mayfair. She might invite you to call. The news of your existence would be less shocking coming in a letter rather than from a young lady knocking at the door.”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “Supposing they do not know about me.”
“I doubt they do,” he was quick to say. “From what your mother wrote to Bennet, they had no contact with the Sterlings after they were married.”
Again, Elizabeth nodded. She excused herself and went to her bedchamber, where she worked on the note until dinner. The following morning, she revised the letter several times before asking that it be delivered to Lady Romsley.
“My dear,” Lord Romsley said.
The earl was attempting to gain his wife’s attention, but Darcy also started at his uncle’s words, which he spoke more loudly than usual.
Darcy had not realised his thoughts had wandered, and he surreptitiously shook himself and took note of his surroundings.
He, his sister, the earl and countess, and his cousins were in the dining room at Fitzwilliam House in Grosvenor Square.
The meal was excellent, as it always was, but they had been unusually quiet, which was because his aunt was not chatting as she commonly did.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” Lady Romsley said a moment later. “I am afraid I am dreadfully scattered today.”
“Is anything amiss, Mama?” her elder son, Viscount Bramwell, asked.
“No, not at all,” she quickly assured him. Looking about the table, she smiled weakly and added, “It is so lovely that we are all here together.”
“Truly, you have been excessively distracted,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “You are not ill, are you?”
“Ill?” the earl repeated, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his wife.
“No,” Lady Romsley insisted with a chuckle.
“Goodness, I must be worse than I thought, if you believe I might be—” She sighed and took a sip of wine, which appeared to bolster her.
Visibly gathering her resolve, she admitted, “Something has occurred. It has been most unexpected, and I do not know what to think. I never… That is to say, I have been completely taken aback. Shocked.”
“Well, you cannot say that without telling us everything,” Bramwell said.
“I must insist that you do. I do not like seeing you so discomposed,” Lord Romsley said. Glancing at their sons, niece, and nephew, he added, “Perhaps we ought to speak of it alone.”
Smiling lovingly at her husband, the countess said, “You are making too much of it, my dear. I assure you, I am well, I shall tell you, and there is no need to keep it secret from anyone here. I trust you all not to spread my business to the world.”
With each statement she made, Darcy’s curiosity grew.
Wondering if his cousins had any notion what had transpired, he studied them.
Fitzwilliam met his eye and shrugged before Darcy settled on studying Georgiana; he took his role as her guardian seriously, and since the previous summer, when she had nearly eloped with a villain, she was easily distressed.
Darcy, who sat beside her, gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
Judging by Bramwell’s expression, it was evident that he was as confused as Darcy was.
“I received a letter from someone I did not even know existed,” Lady Romsley said. “A…a young woman who purports to be my niece, the daughter of my late brother.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Georgiana turn to him, her brow furrowed. He gestured that he, too, was not sure who their aunt meant.
“Your late brother?” Lord Romsley repeated. “Thomas?”
“What?” the colonel, whose given name was Thomas, said, evidently believing his father was speaking to him. “I do not know who— Oh! Your younger brother, Mama? The one for whom I was named, even though you told people it was for an uncle of my father’s?”
She nodded. “I have not heard Thomas spoken of in years. I am ashamed to admit that I do not think of him often. It has been so long.”
“Over twenty years,” the earl said. “But I am not sure any of the younger amongst us know what we are speaking of.”