Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation (59 page)

Suddenly Elizabeth pulled herself up, wiped her eyes and spoke for the first time. “I must leave. I will go to London, and my uncle will book passage for me. The only solution to protect Bethany and my family is for me to leave England. If I am far away in Canada, everyone will forget me. It is becoming impossible to keep my disgrace secret… I made a bargain with Mr Darcy.”

“Elizabeth, you are being silly. There is threat of a war in the Americas. Besides, Mr Darcy should leave the country. He caused your shame.”

“Mary, you do not understand. Mr Darcy is not Bethany’s father.”

Mary looked dumbfounded. In every possible scenario she had contemplated for Elizabeth’s disgrace, Mr Darcy inevitably figured as the compromiser. With a shaky voice, she asked the most pressing question. “Who is her father?”

“Mary I will tell you, but then you must help me to leave. Miss Darcy must not know. Her brother thinks very poorly of me, and he would have a reason to retaliate if he found I allowed his sister to learn our secret.” Suddenly panic suffused her face. “Did you show Miss Darcy or Miss Bethany your amber cross?”

Mary was confused, but shook her head ‘no’ and looked at her sister expectantly.

In a voice completely devoid of emotion, Elizabeth began her narrative, “I am Bethany’s mother. Her father is Mr Darcy’s cousin. Six years ago, I met the Darcys and the Viscount Wolfbridge at the theatre. Mrs Darcy began a friendship with me that I now believe was, from the beginning, to accommodate her cousin. She and I were in each other’s company quite often, but my aunt was always with me.”

Lizzie broke the monotone of her story with a derisive snort, “What a silly proud thing I was. You would never have been so easily fooled, Mary. All I could think was how well it reflected on me that both Mrs Darcy and the heir to an earldom wanted to be in my company.”

Elizabeth paused as she collected her thoughts and decided what she was able to tell her sister. “Lord Wolfbridge was not attentive enough to me to make me uncomfortable, or Aunt Gardiner suspicious. He was charming and made me feel special. I did become aware that he liked to see me blush, but I knew not the meaning of his pleasure.”

Mary cringed at her sister’s last words. For the first time she detected a quiet sort of anger as Lizzy continued; “One day, Cousin Susan was sick, and Aunt Gardiner stayed home to care for her. She encouraged me to visit Darcy House as we had planned. Anne Darcy sent a note that she would come to fetch me. When I arrived, we went upstairs to what I thought was her sitting room. After a while, she excused herself to retrieve a recently purchased gown she wanted to show me.”

Mary felt sick to her stomach as the horror of what she was hearing dawned. Once again, she noticed that tears had begun to form in her sister’s eyes. “Elizabeth, are you able to continue? Maybe we should talk about this later.” This was said with her discomfort in mind as well as her sister’s.

Lizzy shook her head and squared her shoulders. “The Viscount entered. I knew it was wrong to be alone with him. I kept praying Mrs Darcy would return and was very polite when I asked him to leave—I called him your Lordship and said ‘please’ numerous times!” Elizabeth laughed unexpectedly as she said, “instead of being indignant that he had put me in a compromising situation, I worried that I would offend him with my request.” Her voice became a whisper. “But, the look in his eyes told me something was very wrong. When I tried to leave, the door was locked. Mrs Darcy had allowed her cousin to trap me.”

Raising her eyes, she schooled her face to show no emotion in response to the shock she saw reflected in her sister’s. “There is more, but I am unable to reveal all the details. Much of what happened is gone from my memory. It is only the humiliation and pain that I recall, but that is enough to cause nightmares.” Again she retreated to an emotionless tone as she added, “Shame made me try to keep the incident a secret from everyone. My naiveté kept me from realizing the possible consequence of what he had done. When Aunt Gardiner began to suspect I was with child, she forced me to reveal what had happened.”

“How did the baby come to be raised by Mr Darcy?”

“Aunt and Uncle wanted to confront Lord Wolfbridge and make him marry me. But Mary, I could not agree to that. I hated and feared him. After much pleading, a way was found to preserve our family’s honour and keep secret what had happened—even from Papa. Our wonderful aunt and uncle took pity on me and the baby. We developed a scheme to pretend the child was theirs.”

Elizabeth saw her sister’s confusion. Her whole body sank as she began to relate the next part of her story. “Both Uncle Gardiner and I were very angry, and I foolishly persuaded him, and he foolishly allowed me to confront Lord Wolfbridge, as well as Mr and Mrs Darcy, to demand money for my silence.”

For the first time since her sister began her tale, Mary looked disapproving. “Lizzy, why would you do such a reckless thing?”

“I made a poor decision and Uncle did not stop me. The Viscount and Mrs Darcy had treated me as though I was of no importance and beneath their consideration. It was about revenge. I demanded six thousand pounds, but Mrs Darcy decided she wanted the baby, and in the end I was forced to agree. They offered me twenty three thousand pounds, but you are right in your assessment—the bargain has caused me great anguish, and will be the undoing of our family. It would have been believable that a child of the Gardiners looked like me.”

“How did Bethany become known as the baby of Mr and Mrs Darcy?”

“The original scheme was modified to have the world think she was theirs. Because Aunt Gardiner’s cousin is the Darcy family’s personal physician, it was not difficult; and only a few people know of the deception.”

Mary’s disapproval was forgotten. She could not believe that her sister had gone through such an ordeal at barely fifteen. “Elizabeth, how have you survived with no one at home to share your sorrow? I am ashamed I thought you consented to an affair.”

Elizabeth took her sister’s hand and gave her a smile of forgiveness. “Since that day, I often wonder when I hear of a young woman who has been disgraced, whether she consented. I had no idea people of such importance would be so callous of another’s feelings—not to mention thinking nothing of stealing my virtue. I appealed to him to stop by telling him of my fears for my sisters. Mary, he laughed at me! And oh, the guilt I feel because I did not fight or scream. It never seems to fade. I lost so much that day I was ruined—my beautiful reputation and the right to a life.”

“But Lizzy, why not consider marriage with Mr Darcy as a way to at least protect yourself from scandal and gain a bit of happiness. Your daughter and his son are wonderful children. I have seen the way Mr Darcy looks at you… and you do not seem to hate him.”

“Yes, he likes my figure, my hair, and that I make him laugh, but he thinks me totally mercenary. That is why he became angry at the ball. He charged me with being in league with Lieutenant Wickham to extort more money from him.”

Mary looked startled at the mention of Mr Wickham. She had forgotten the discussion of him the morning after the ball. “I knew that name was familiar, and I have some additional information why Mr Darcy would have become so suspicious. Miss Darcy’s companion was a friend of Mr Wickham’s. She informed him that Georgiana would be in Ramsgate last summer. He came there, and Mrs Younge, the companion, allowed them to be alone together.”

“Her companion was Mrs Younge?” Lizzy now understood why he had thrown that accusation at her.

“Yes, she had been with her since Miss Darcy’s governess married our John’s father.” Perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination to reply, she began again to speak of Miss Darcy’s disappointment. This Wickham reminded her he had known her as a little girl; and according to Georgiana, he was devastatingly charming. Within days, he persuaded her to elope with him, but Mr Darcy arrived to visit, and she confessed their plans. During the confrontation between her brother and Mr Wickham, it became clear to her he only wanted her dowry. Her confidence is shaken as she knows she almost sentenced herself to a loveless marriage. But, the greatest source of sadness is because she feels her brother has lost trust in her.”

“Oh, the poor girl… I wish I could assure her just how precious she is to him. When we were together at Netherfield, he spoke glowingly of her accomplishments.” Lizzy paused to ponder Mr Darcy before she spoke again. “Trust is precisely what her brother does not have in me. When I tried to tell him of the role his wife played, he refused to listen.”

“I think you both need to reassure each other about Mr Darcy. Georgiana says he spoke of you often since he returned to Derbyshire.”

“Mary, I refuse to meet Miss Darcy. I have told you my story, and now, as promised, you need to help me leave.”

Just then, Rose knocked on the door and was bid enter. Behind her stood a young woman Elizabeth recognized immediately as Georgiana Darcy. No longer a child, she looked like the portrait of her mother in her brother’s study at Darcy House—though a little less arrogant and much more vulnerable. Intense fear registered on her face as her life spiralled out of control. The number of people knowing her secret continued to grow. She must flee Kent!

Georgiana Darcy looked at the woman standing before her and wondered why she had a look of sheer terror on her face, and then became absorbed in attempting to remember why she looked so familiar. It was… yes, now she remembered, she was Mrs Bennet—Jamie’s cousin. Next, it was as if one of the children’s picture puzzles was assembling itself in front of her eyes. Disparate images being pieced together… her brother sending her away just before Anne was to give birth… Bethany forever reminding her of someone she could not recall… Mary saying her sister’s name was Elizabeth… fitting together to become an understandable image. “You are Bethany’s mother and my brother is her father.” Speaking those words frightened Georgiana. “Did he compromise you, and then force you to give him the baby?”

For the second time that day, Elizabeth Bennet told her story.

41 OH TELL ME THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE, DEPRAVITY AND WAR

Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam were disparate personalities that complemented each other. The Colonel admired Darcy’s determination to be honourable in all things, and thought him the epitome of a good man and father—though often too sombre for his own good. Richard was gregarious and more than a little irreverent, but with an equally fierce sense of duty and honour. Richard always felt it his responsibility to chip away at Darcy’s face of stone when they were in each other’s company. Often when together, the two would reminisce about their age of innocence… the time when they knew not about life’s habit of delivering random cruelty. Together they had realized the Earl’s disregard for the Countess—to one a beloved mother, and to the other a favourite aunt. Before they were sent away to school, they had observed Mr and Mrs Darcy struggle to maintain their own loving marriage in the face of one’s brother humiliating the other’s sister. The Colonel covered over the pain he felt for his mother with humour while for Darcy the death of his mother was the termination of his frequent laughter.

The two were on their way to Kent for Easter—a journey they had made together many times since they were boys. While still in the environs of London, the Colonel decided to provide comic relief for a brooding Darcy by debating which was preferable—the previous four years fighting Napoleon’s troops or the resumption of their annual pilgrimage to visit their formidable aunt. Richard was not fond of Lady Catherine, but he agreed to endure her in the interest of spending time with his cousins and Darcy’s delightful children. His only requirement was that matters of estate management not be allowed to completely disrupt their pleasure.

Darcy needed to ask Richard about Edmund, but feared the topic might not be welcome. The Colonel seemed to be avoiding speaking of the time he had recently spent at Elderton. He had never been candid about what Darcy feared was a betrayal by Eleanor and Edmund.

The first two hours of their journey was devoted to Richard’s adventures in Portugal and Spain. He entertained his cousin with one raucous tale after another of General Beresford and the Anglo-Portuguese and Spanish troops under his command. There were stories of hunting for hares with a pack of greyhounds near Badajoz and the fine stews their Andalusian cook made of them. During the shank of the second hour, he settled into a blow by blow account of the Battle of Albuera.

The highlight of this part of his narrative was a humorous explanation of how he had acquired his wound. “Toward the end of the fighting, I was riding down a ridge toward Beresford with a dispatch when Viceroy, my charger, took a ball right between his eyes. That dear companion died on the spot and toppled over. Darcy, you would have gotten a great chuckle had you been there. For the life of me, I cannot remember why I was so distracted—maybe, I was suffering from fatigue; or sometimes I seem to recall I was thinking of Derbyshire. A letter had come from home a few days before. For whatever reason, I had more hair than wits at that moment.” He touched his thinning locks and grinned. “Here I am, forever telling you that my receding hairline is the reason for my superior intelligence; and it did me not a whit of good that day. We are trained to jump before our mount hits the ground, but I did not. My fall was broken by a shard of wood that pierced my rump. Poor old Vice was partially on top of me. Finally the damned French retreated, and they hauled me out from under him.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam got a gleam in his eye as he pointed to his left buttock. “Luckily, the wound was in the fleshy part—a mighty pain in my backside, but hardly life threatening—but the bloody thing just would not heal properly. Oh the misery, Cuz—particularly when I tried to sleep. Finally, after we were forced to abandon our siege of Badajoz; they took pity on me. Of course, what good to the empire is an officer who can no longer sit astride a horse? Permission to come to England for proper treatment was given me by Lord Wellington himself. It did not hurt my case that Beresford had an even more ignoble complaint than mine—he suffered from nervous fits and had to spend months in Lisbon recuperating.”