Chapter 61
Chapter Sixty-One
Elizabeth had known Fitzwilliam had found a few diamonds in his sister’s companion’s room.
She had not known the companion was French and had stolen those and far more diamonds from Lord and Lady Rowe.
She had felt a twinge in her heart when Fitzwilliam said Lord Rowe’s wife had also been in Antwerp and had been killed with him.
They had all listened, rapt, as Fitzwilliam told them about the Rowes, who turned out to be working for the Crown to help the war effort in several ways. The Gardiners were as eager as she was, excited to hear an adventure story better than the one they had been anticipating for weeks.
She saw Uncle Bennet had tears streaming down his face, though.
Still, he smiled to hear of the bravery of the Rowes, as well.
As much as it was obvious he knew some of this story, he did not know all.
Fitzwilliam told them about letters and visiting Mrs. Younge and then going to Yorkshire to tell the elderly duke what had really happened to his son.
Elizabeth was grateful her aunt had taken the seat on her other side. Her fingers were still in Fitzwilliam’s firm grip, despite Uncle Bennet’s presence, but she took her aunt’s hand, too, when he mentioned the poor, sad duke.
“As my cousin and I sat and talked with His Grace, we discovered he had been estranged from his son. He had known nothing of Lord Rowe’s work for the Crown, and he asked us to tell him every detail we knew.
He also wished to know about Lady Rowe. The duke had never met her because he had not approved of his son’s marrying her. ”
Elizabeth gave him a sad smile and a light squeeze to his hand. They were attempting to avoid an unsanctioned marriage, unlike the Rowes.
“While Lord and Lady Rowe were in Antwerp, or perhaps even preparing to depart England at the start of their voyage, a painting was delivered to Rowe Manor in Yorkshire. The duchess had not cut off ties with her son, and she had recently visited him and commissioned a painting of him and his family.”
Uncle Bennet gasped. Elizabeth turned to him. He covered his mouth with his hands, and tears flowed freely.
“Are you well, Uncle? What is it?” She had never seen her uncle cry before today.
He waved away her question and nodded at Fitzwilliam to continue.
“As my cousin and I sat in the duke’s study, talking about his memories and of his love for his son, he kept looking behind us. Finally, I turned and saw the painting.”
Fitzwilliam hesitated. He looked at her as though waiting for her to tell the rest of the story, but she did not know it. She gave a faint shake of her head and offered him a smile to help him continue.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed. She was surprised her aunt and uncles did not say something about his informality, but she could not look away from his face to gauge their reactions.
He broke their eye contact and looked down.
“What did you see?”
He looked back into her eyes, studied her face.
“You. Elizabeth, I saw you.”
Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. Fitzwilliam pulled the miniature of her mother from his waistcoat pocket. He held it in his fingers so she could see it, but she quickly looked back to him and his eyes trained on her.
“The painting was of this woman and a man with your eyes…and of a baby girl with her father’s sparkling eyes and her mother’s dark curls.”
Elizabeth sagged back against her aunt, who released her hand to wrap her arms around her. Fitzwilliam held her hand even more tightly, as though afraid of allowing her to slip from his grasp.
“I do not understand.” She looked between Fitzwilliam and Uncle Bennet, who looked at each other.
“Lizzy, my sister, Susannah, your mother…married Lord Oliver Rowe, also known as the Earl Rowe, three years before you were born. They both loved you dearly, but they had to leave you with me for your safety before they went to Antwerp. Within a fortnight, they should have returned…”
“Papa Oliver…”
“Oliver was a good, honorable man. He read you a story before you fell asleep his last night with you. He and your mother delayed their journey as long as they could to be with you the next morning. Neither wished to leave you, and they made me promise to protect you.”
Elizabeth crossed to where Uncle Bennet sat and fell on his knees, wrapping her arms around his legs as they wept together.
Many more questions and explanations ensued.
Tears and embraces abounded. Overall, though, the atmosphere was of hope and happiness.
Darcy had not regained his hold on Elizabeth’s hand since she had gone to her uncle, and he felt bereft without it.
Would Elizabeth return to him? She was slowly beginning to understand her past, but the topics of her present and future had barely been broached.
Darcy cleared his throat when a lull in conversation gave him the opportunity to speak.
“Mr. Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Lady Elizabeth.” Elizabeth startled at her title. “Would this evening be too soon to dine with me at Darcy House? Someone is waiting there, eager to make your acquaintance.”
Elizabeth gasped and reached for his hand. He gratefully took it, not caring about propriety.
“Is it…?”
“Your grandfather has a great desire to meet you.”
“My…grandfather.” Her face was radiant, and she looked to Mr. Bennet as if for permission to be so happy.
He nodded, appearing relieved to have the burden of this secret lifted from him, or so Darcy imagined.
He prayed the man had truly accepted his niece’s new state.
She turned back to Darcy and nodded energetically.
“Yes, oh, yes. I would very much like to meet him.”
Darcy thought it best to leave Elizabeth to her family for now and returned home to finalize arrangements for the dinner party he had that morning told his cook to expect.
The meeting that night between Elizabeth and the duke left no dry eyes.
They sat together awkwardly for only a few minutes before conversing like old friends.
Perhaps Elizabeth had inherited more than the duke’s eyes.
He had been a recluse for years, but it was clear now that he craved company and had a facility for engaging conversation like his granddaughter did.
Darcy felt blessed to witness His Grace giving Elizabeth their family portrait that he had brought from Rowe Manor. To see her finally understanding her family and her part in it was a moment he was honored to watch.
Even Mr. Bennet and the duke were soon comfortable together. His Grace had been upset Mr. Bennet had kept the truth from Elizabeth for so long until her uncle explained his sister’s and brother’s wishes. True understanding and forgiveness shortly followed.
In light of the new connections being understood, Darcy explained Mrs. Jeune’s motivations for asking Wickham to kill Elizabeth. As the man was not used to such violent behavior, his success was fortunately limited.
“Tomorrow, my cousin will question Mrs. Jeune and Wickham again, now that we know more.”
“What about the diamonds, Darcy? Are they yours or His Grace’s? Does the Crown own them?” Mr. Gardiner had a particular interest in this portion of the story, due to Mr. Green’s previous involvement.
“I assume they belong to the Crown. My cousin will finally take them from me to give to his superiors in a couple of days. He has refused to hold them for more than a minute or two since we first found them. I think he has been a little afraid to know how much wealth I have been carrying all over England.”
This prompted a laugh from all.
As lighthearted as everyone had become this evening, Darcy felt a weight in his stomach.
He had scarcely managed to eat a bite at dinner.
His eyes had hungrily taken in Elizabeth’s every movement instead.
Would he be allowed to marry her? Or would her uncle and grandfather insist she be presented to the queen, partake in a Season, and be courted by peers? He felt sick thinking of it.
The next few days, Darcy was in Elizabeth’s company a great deal since the duke was a guest in his home, but they barely spoke. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet called on Monday before Darcy delivered the diamonds to Richard.
Then he and the duke called at Gracechurch Street on Tuesday.
He knew Elizabeth had prepared her grandfather for the area of London in which she lived, and His Grace had already befriended the Gardiners, so he commented only a little on the undignified location where she had lived for the past five years.
It was clear from his expressions, though, that he had expected better than this neighborhood for his granddaughter.
He was appeased upon entering the house, at least.
Wednesday was the same. Elizabeth, her grandfather, and Mr. Bennet sat together and spoke animatedly for the duration of the visit to Gracechurch Street.
Darcy watched from across the room as he tried to make conversation with the Gardiners.
He did not begrudge Elizabeth the opportunity to know her family.
This was exactly what he had hoped for, in fact.
Yet he could not help but feel he was no longer necessary to her happiness.
He was not even sure he would be welcome anymore if he had not had the task of housing the duke and squiring him about London.
The duke’s carriage had been in Darcy’s mews for days, though, so on Thursday, he told the duke he had business to attend to, and he went to see his Matlock relations, remaining all day and into the evening.
His aunt and uncle were relieved and excited by the news Richard had given them, but they also agreed his betrothal could be complicated.
On Friday, Darcy went to Angelo’s and then spent several hours in his club.
Somehow, word was already spreading that the Rowe heiress had not died after all and had been found.
People did not know yet who she was, but Darcy heard far too much speculation about her future marital prospects to remain long at White’s.