16
Jane was glad the following day for the simple pleasure of shopping with her mother and Bennetta for new dancing shoes.
The temptation was strong to stay in her room, to be alone so she did not have to pretend to be happy, but she knew the rest of her family would begin to question her if she did so.
Anne and Celeste had surprisingly declined to accompany them.
“Celeste stayed at home in case Andrew called round,” Bennetta said as the carriage finally drew up outside Matlock House.
“And I imagine that Anne will have been anticipating Archer’s appearance.
Mama, can you not get Anne’s engagement settled quickly.
She’s like an irritated cat all day long, waiting for him to propose.
Why is it taking so long? We all know it is going to happen. ”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I have no idea. I can only imagine that he wishes to do so at the ball. Perhaps early on in the evening so he can then ask your papa for his blessing and then they can then make a splendid announcement.”
Jane busied herself with collecting their various parcels, trying not to imagine how she was going to cope when that happened.
She followed her mother and sister indoors where, to their surprise, they were greeted by the housekeeper, who asked for them to attend on Mr Darcy immediately in his study.
“My dear, whatever is the matter. Has something happened to Henry?” Elizabeth stood by the study door, all her fears for her youngest rushing through her as she saw her husband holding a letter. His face was dark with anger, though, she saw, not grief, which was a relief.
“No, everyone is quite well. Come in and sit down. You, too, Jane and Bennetta. I have sent for Anne but she has gone out to an appointment with her dressmaker. So I will tell her later.”
“Tell her what, Papa?” Jane was growing more and more concerned. She had rarely seen her father angry. It was upsetting. Had there been some news regarding Archer, something that would stop her father giving his consent to the marriage?
“Read this, Elizabeth. Read it carefully and tell me that I am not mistaken in any fashion.”
Mr Darcy handed his wife the letter and turned to gaze out of the window whilst she read it in silence. Finally Elizabeth raised her gaze from the page and sank down on a chair. “This can’t be true! There must be a mistake.”
“No mistake. Here are copies of all the documents sent in case we need to prove it.”
“Prove what?” Bennetta wished her papa would get to the point.
Mr Darcy took a deep breath. “When I was informed about Celeste’s arrival, I was very annoyed that her existence had been unknown to the Fitzwilliam family.
It seemed to me that there had been a serious dereliction of duty in some lawyer’s office.
The Earl is not in good health, as you know.
He did not feel well enough to meet the girl, so he asked me to enquire further.
It has been worrying him because even though his father declared Rose no longer part of the family, claims for inheritance, the way wills have been written, there could be all types of confusion. ”
“Yes, it was obvious to all of us that there had been some dreadful lack of communication,” Jane said quietly. “But letters do go astray and dealing with a foreign country in a different language must always cause problems.”
“Rose Fitzwilliam, who was, of course, my aunt, did indeed run away to Sicily with a groom before I was born. She was just fifteen years of age.”
He glanced across at his wife whose lips formed the word, ‘Lydia!’ and he nodded. Mrs Darcy’s youngest sister had eloped at that age with George Wickham and that wicked man had, before that dreadful day, tried to marry Mr Darcy’s little sister, Georgiana, when she was only fifteen!
“All that is true. Then news about her ceased completely. Of course it was not helped that my grandfather was so irate he cut her off and ordered his other children, including my mother, never to speak of Rose again. If he had been informed by some Italian lawyer or by Rose herself that she had had a child, the family was not told.”
“But she must have had a baby because Celeste is her granddaughter!” Bennetta broke in impatiently.
“But this letter, from a respectable lawyer in Italy, states that she did not. Rose passed away in Rome, a year ago, at a great age. And she had no children. No children at all!”
Jane felt bewildered. “Then who is Celeste?”
“Exactly!”
“If you will allow, I will tell you.” The voice from the doorway spun them round to find Celeste standing there, with Andrew at her side, holding her hand. Behind them Jane could see Archer, looking almost as confused as she felt herself.
“Dr Moore! Celeste—can I still call you by that name. Are you Celeste Fiorette?”
“Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy, ladies—Celeste knows she owes you all an apology and an explanation.” Andrew sounded very grave but Jane noticed he never once relinquished his hold on the Italian girl’s hand.
“Why don’t we all go into the drawing room, where we can be comfortable.” Elizabeth led the way, feeling the tension draining away once they were all seated. She knew that it was doubly hard to be confrontational when you were sitting down.
Jane was the last to leave the study—Archer was holding the door open for her. He seemed about to speak, then gravely stepped back to let her pass.
She entered the drawing room to find her mother and Bennetta sitting on one sofa, facing Andrew and Celeste on the other.
Mr Darcy was standing by the window and Jane quietly found a seat next to the chess table, gazing down to where the beautiful red and white marble pieces were still set out in the middle of a game.
She remembered the set at Deerwood Park.
The game must have finished because the King lay on his side, checkmated by a Queen and a pawn.
Jane was only too aware that Archer was standing behind her and felt a wave of pity for him. She knew how much he cared for his friend. This impossible situation must be hurting him deeply.
“Celeste—do you want to explain, my dear?” Andrew said quietly from his position next to her on the sofa.
“And pray, may I make myself quite clear, Celeste confessed her wretched story to me this morning when I arrived at Matlock House. Let me make it plain—what she has told me makes no difference to my feelings for her. I have asked Celeste to be my wife and she has done me the great honour of accepting. We will marry immediately and travel out to Greece in the spring together.”
“Andrew—my friend—listen—”
“No, Archer. I can guess what you will say. I repeat, nothing I have heard will make me change my mind. I love Celeste. And that is that.”
His friend fell silent but Jane could see he was deeply affected by the words.
There was a silence, then Celeste shook back her long dark hair, raised her chin almost defiantly and said, “My name is, indeed, Celeste Fiorette. But I am not related to the Fitzwilliam family. I grew up in Rome, I lost my mother when I was very young and three years ago, my dear father died. He taught English at an Italian school, which is why I speak it so well. But he had no savings, no money to leave and I was penniless, facing an uncertain future of poverty for I had no relations to ask for help.”
She hesitated, then went on, her voice never faltering. “I was lucky enough, through the church, to find a position as companion to a very elderly lady, Italian like myself, so I thought. But then I discovered she was not Italian but an English woman of aristocratic birth.”
“Rose Fitzwilliam,” Jane said softly.
“Yes. This lady told me many stories over the years I lived with her, stories of her family back in England.
She had collected cuttings from the newspapers of weddings, deaths, births—so many that she knew exactly what was happening here.
It seemed more important to her than her own life in Rome and Sicily where she had fled with her lover all those years ago.
“They had lived on a farm with his relations but times grew very hard in Sicily and the family, including her husband, decided to emigrate to America. But my mistress did not want to go and in anger her husband left her on her own and she moved to Rome. How she made a living she did not tell me, but I think she had many lovers in high positions in society.”
“But she never had a child.” Elizabeth was beginning to see how events had unfolded.
Celeste shook her head. “No. I became a substitute granddaughter and, wrongly, I hoped that when she, too, passed away, there would be a small legacy left to me.”
“But there was no legacy,” Archer added dryly.
Celeste shot him a sharp glance. “You are correct. All her money went to the local convent and I had a week to find myself a new home. As did Luisa, who was the old lady’s maid.
” She shrugged, pouted and tears glistened in her eyes.
“What should I have done? Begged on the streets? Taken in washing? Become a nun?”
“That would have been a great waste,” Andrew said and, to her surprise, Jane thought she saw her papa’s lips twitch into what was almost a smile.
“No, I decided to come to England as the old lady’s granddaughter.
Who was to say she had not produced a child?
Italy is a long way from England. So I discussed it with Luisa and we agreed that I would introduce myself as the long lost cousin and she would be my maid.
She has very little English, so I knew she would be in no danger of betraying our situation. ”
“But Celeste, what did you think would happen?”
Jane pushed some of the chess pieces around the board.
She knew she should be thinking of how dreadful the girl’s deception had been, but all that was in her mind was how poor Colonel Fitzwilliam would feel doubly betrayed.
Not only had he been harbouring a deceitful woman in his home, but he had been prepared to give her his name!