Chapter 8
EIGHT
The moment Lady Romsley had mentioned her nephew Darcy from Derbyshire, Elizabeth felt like she had been thrust from a beautiful summer day to the middle of the coldest, wettest winter storm.
There had been no doubt that the man her aunt spoke of was the same disagreeable one she had met in Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth’s distress was of short duration, however.
She was too happy, too overjoyed to have met her father’s family, who were extraordinarily welcoming and caring.
The countess had been especially warm, and Elizabeth was already very fond of her; she believed the sentiment was returned.
This development was the fulfilment of a life’s dream, and she would not let him destroy it for her.
Still, a part of her was anxious, likely more than was reasonable.
She was almost dizzy with how much had happened, and during some moments, she worried it was all a dream or that, once the initial pleasure at meeting her was past, Lady Romsley might not be so intent on maintaining a close connexion to her.
There might be disagreements ahead of them over her desire to remain close to the Bennets, Philipses, and Gardiners—the people who had long made up her family circle.
As soon as Elizabeth had admitted she knew Mr Darcy, the countess—and later the earl and her cousins—had wanted to know everything about her previous experiences with him.
She had made light of the matter, saying only, “We saw one another on many occasions, which is hardly a surprise, given how small the society is in Meryton.” She had hesitated before admitting to having stayed for some days at Netherfield to tend to Jane during her illness, eventually saying, “I cannot recall that Mr Darcy and I said more than half a dozen words to each other.”
She was trusting the gentleman to hide his disdain for her from their mutual relations.
It was astonishing that they had mutual relations, but there was no denying it.
Of course, he might view her differently, given that she was no longer ‘just’ the Bennets’ adopted daughter who had known almost nothing about her father or the circumstances of her parents’ relationship.
If that were the case, she would vow not to forget how arrogant he had been; she would never like him.
She would be polite; she might even make a friend of his sister, if she was as delightful as Fitzwilliam claimed she was, but she and Mr Darcy would remain indifferent acquaintances.
It had been a relief to be separated from him during dinner. Perhaps inevitably, the topic of the circumstances that had brought her to this place at this time was raised, and soon after the Darcys arrived, Fitzwilliam had said, “I do not believe Georgiana knows how you found us, Elizabeth.”
Miss Darcy, whom Elizabeth supposed she should call by her first name, was a shy, pretty girl who spoke little; she peeked timidly at Elizabeth and shook her head.
“I would not claim to understand the circumstances perfectly, either,” Bramwell said.
Elizabeth chuckled. “I do not suppose I was especially eloquent yesterday.” Turning to the countess, she continued. “I cannot recall everything you told me about the time my parents met. I had thought to ask you this morning, but we had so many other subjects to discuss that there was no occasion.”
“You are right. I do not believe I explained much about that dreadful time,” Lady Romsley said. “Very well. Let us go over it again. It will benefit my niece and nephew, and we might gain a clearer understanding of why we were apart for so long.”
Thus, Elizabeth told the story of her mother’s letter, which Mr Bennet had long believed lost forever, his discovery of it, and her decision to contact her father’s people.
Wide-eyed and eating slowly, Georgiana watched her as she spoke.
When Elizabeth was finished with her recitation, attention turned to Lady Romsley.
“I have asked myself over and over again how we could have failed to know Thomas had a child,” the countess said, shaking her head. “It was such a distressing time. We were in Ireland, at the Romsley estate. My father-in-law had insisted we go.”
“My father was not an easy man,” Lord Romsley interjected.
“Even before Thomas eloped, there was gossip about the increasingly strained relationship between him and his father, including speculation as to the reason for it. Some of it was scandalous, even more so than the elopement was. My father hated that my wife’s family was being spoken of in such terms, and he insisted we make an extended visit to Kilkenny, where my estate is.
I was the viscount then, of course, and dependent on my father.
With a wife and two young children, I could not afford to argue with him. ”
“Ireland is beautiful,” Lady Romsley said.
“But there is no forgetting that we had been banished during a period when I would rather have been here. Well, part of me wishes we had been, so that I might have been near Robert, who had a terrible time of it, and maybe even convinced my father not to be so harsh in his judgement of Thomas. The other part of me is glad we were removed from the situation, I admit.”
“It is understandable,” Bramwell said. “I remember how demanding both of my grandfathers could be. To say it would have been unpleasant to be in company with either of them when they were so enraged, even if you were not the cause of it, would be an understatement.”
Lady Romsley nodded. “Thomas and my father were often at odds. My brother was not rebellious, but it was hard to please my father, and once he had decided what you were supposed to do, he expected obedience. As a second son, Thomas required a career. Papa wished him to go into the army, but Thomas was adamant that he would not. He preferred to take orders, and the family has some valuable livings at their disposal. The law was also a possibility, in my brother’s view, but not my father’s.
They fought bitterly over the matter and had not settled it when Thomas met Elizabeth’s mother.
” She sighed deeply and lowered her chin for a long moment.
“We were still in Ireland when news came that Thomas had eloped. When he approached our father afterwards, seeking reconciliation and acceptance, my father turned his back on him. Thomas vowed never to return, and, of course, within a few years, he was dead.”
Elizabeth took one of the countess’s hands in hers, hoping to ease her distress.
Her aunt gave her a weak smile, which lightened a heaviness Elizabeth had not known was in her heart.
Their shared history held a great deal of sorrow, and that might also bond them to one another.
Perhaps being here with her now will help to heal her grief.
If so, I shall be glad. Lady Romsley was such a caring, generous woman, and Elizabeth was wary of becoming a burden to her relations, especially if her presence reminded them of events they would prefer to forget.
That did not seem to be the case with this part of her family; whether her uncle Sterling and his wife and sons felt the same remained to be seen, however.
“My father-in-law demanded we, along with Robert and his wife, have nothing to do with Thomas,” the earl explained. “Even had we wished to maintain contact with him, it was impossible. No one knew where he had settled.”
“I suppose the elopement made the gossip worse?” Fitzwilliam asked.
Both the earl and countess nodded, with the lady saying, “In their letters, Robert and Sophia, his wife, told us about it. I remember thinking it sounded horrible and unfair, what people were saying of Thomas and our family. My father was quick to disavow the couple, and, I am sorry to say, I understand he spoke rather meanly of my younger brother. It likely helped to lessen how much it damaged my family’s standing in society, but it was some years before people entirely forgot. ”
For a moment, silence hung about the table. Glancing between the earl and countess, Elizabeth broke the stillness by saying, “I am very sorry you had to experience so much turmoil.”
“You are hardly to blame,” Lord Romsley said. “It was a difficult period, but it is in the past, and I dare say my wife would say it was all worth it, because it has given us another niece.”
Lady Romsley smiled at him. “You are happy about it too. Do not let Elizabeth think it is only me who rejoices at this unexpected turn of events.”
“We all are glad,” Fitzwilliam said. “Even Georgiana and Darcy, I wager. Is that not right?” His question was directed at his youngest cousin, who glanced at Elizabeth, bit her lips, and nodded vigorously.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr Darcy gave her a steady look and, his voice solemn yet warm, said, “Indeed.”
The conversation moved on to other subjects—Georgiana’s lessons, the upcoming Festive Season, and the like.
Elizabeth had no occasion to speak to Mr Darcy, given their positions at the table, but soon after they were all in the drawing room, he encouraged Fitzwilliam and his sister to ask Lady Romsley about something or other to do with her music lessons.
As he did, he glanced at her several times, giving her the impression he wished to have a quiet word with her.
While part of her would prefer to overlook Mr Darcy entirely, she accepted that she could not.
Speaking to him—briefly—would be necessary.
He could say whatever he liked, and she would respond accordingly.
Thus, she stood slightly removed from the others, and when he came to her, he kept his voice low.
“You are my aunt’s niece, Thomas Sterling’s daughter? I do not believe I have ever been so shocked in my life,” he said. “How did you not know?”
She found his questions demanding, almost as though he was suspicious.
“I believe how I learnt of the connexion was discussed adequately earlier. There is nothing more I can add to what has already been said. Unfortunately, I did not know, Mr Bennet did not recall what his sister had written, and he had good reason to suppose the letter destroyed. It was a difficult time for him.” She did not know why she felt compelled to defend Mr Bennet’s actions; perhaps it was because she knew how much Mr Darcy disdained the Bennets.
He reached out a hand as though he was about to touch her arm, but he stopped himself. “Forgive me. I did not mean to sound sceptical. As I said, I find this news astonishing.”
“For me, it is wonderful. I can finally know my father through Lady Romsley’s memories, as well as those of the earl and Bramwell.
Fitzwilliam says he has few, having been rather young when the breach between my father and his family began.
I hope you can understand how important this is to me.
” While she avoided asking him outright not to spoil her new and thus fragile connexion to her aunt and the others, she wanted to hint at her concern that he might.
His brow furrowed, and he leant a little closer to her. “I do not take your meaning.”
She backed away and averted her gaze for a moment before fixing her eyes on his. “I am aware that you did not think especially highly of me when we met. You made that clear from the very beginning. I would not want your opinion to affect—”
He interjected, his visage expressing a mixture of surprise and insult. “You are much mistaken in my character if you think I would do such a thing! As for when we knew each other in Hertfordshire, surely you can see that the situation—your situation—has entirely altered.”
She hissed. “I was not good enough for you when you believed I was nothing but a poor daughter of a country gentleman, and you thought even less of me when you discovered I was adopted. Your behaviour showed it, especially the way you acted towards me when Jane was ill and I was at Netherfield. If I was not good enough for you then, I am not good enough for you now.”
“You thought I did not like…?” He shook his head.
“I like these people,” she said before he could go on, gesturing subtly to their companions. “Soon, I shall love them. They have welcomed me to their family. I shall not burden you by telling you how important it is to me. If you fear I have some devious motive in—”
“Of course not!” he cried.
She gave a curt nod.
“You are mistaken,” he continued. “But I fear we do not have time to discuss what you have misunderstood or how it happened. You must see that this changes everything, and I am extremely glad about it.”
Fortunately or unfortunately—she was not sure which—Bramwell joined them, leaving her no opportunity to ask what he meant.
“What are you two talking about so secretively?” the viscount asked.
He smiled at her, his bright-blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Elizabeth, you cannot imagine how much I want to tease you and Darcy for sneaking into a corner to have a private conversation.” He laughed.
“But I shall save that until we know one another a little better. Just a little, mind you.” He glanced at Mr Darcy then added, “I suspect you would find it amusing, but he would be offended.”
“Bramwell,” Mr Darcy said, sounding reprimanding.
Again, the viscount laughed. “He actually has a very good sense of humour,” he told Elizabeth. “But you must know that already, since you spent five or six weeks being often in company.”
In fact, Elizabeth did not know it, but she had no intention of explaining that she and Mr Darcy had disliked one another. “It was unexpected to meet this way. That is all we were saying.” It was a small white lie but an acceptable one, given the circumstances.
Mr Darcy murmured his agreement, and Bramwell suggested they join the others, which they did.