A Peculiar Connection (3 page)

He had stared at the floor or around the room during much of his recital, rarely meeting my eyes. He now did so, and I saw the mist therein threatening to spill. “I am sorry, my dear, so very, very sorry. I am guilty of a grievous error in judgment. I should have told you. I see that now. I pray you will forgive me.”

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I spent the remainder of that day wandering the back lanes and countryside of Hertfordshire on foot. I could bear neither the closeness of the house nor my sisters’ solicitude. My father decided to tell Mary and Kitty his altered version of my birth and connection with the Darcys, adding that my real parents had been killed in an accident shortly after I was born. Naturally shocked, they each declared their love for me. Each expression of sympathy simply renewed my grief, and I desired solitude in which to grasp the enormity of the morning’s revelation.

Where I walked, I could not tell you. My mind raced from shock to anger to anguish while my body instinctively plodded on, placing one foot before the other. How could I accept the knowledge that my life would never be the same again…that I was not the person I always knew myself to be…that the family I loved as my own was nothing of the sort…and worst of all…that secretly I must now think of Mr. Darcy as my brother?

Hope no longer existed. He could never renew his addresses. Even the idea was abhorrent now. Most likely, he would flee the county to avoid facing the scandalous consequence his own father created, unaware of the fabrication Papá had invented. I should never be allowed to express my gratitude for his part in saving Lydia, for I knew in my heart that I would not see his face again.

Twilight had descended by the time I returned to Longbourn. Unaware of the lateness of the hour, I was surprised when of a sudden I could barely make out the road before me. I hastened my steps toward the lights shining in the windows of the house in which I had grown up. My heart ached to think I did not truly belong there. If my real father had wanted me, I would never have known Papá or Jane. I would never have slept in the bed I had crawled into every night all these years or shared the laughter and comfort of growing up one of five Bennet sisters.

Once more, tears trickled down my cheeks, and instead of entering the house, I stood back and remained in the shadows until I could wipe my face clean with the sleeve of my pelisse and swallow the emotions that choked me. At last, I opened the front door, hoping the family sat in the parlour so that I might make my escape above stairs.

“Miss Elizabeth!” Hill cried. “You must go into the family directly. They have been sorely troubled.”

“No, pray tell them I am tired and have gone to my room.”

“But you must, miss. The gentlemen callers are most anxious to see you as well.”

“Gentlemen callers?”

Just then, Kitty emerged from the parlour, and seeing me, she called back to my family that I had returned. With a great sigh, I straightened my shoulders before I was ushered into the room. The entire family was present along with Mr. Bingley, and to my utter dismay, I saw Mr. Darcy standing at the window.

“Lizzy, where have you been?” Mamá cried. “We have been worried nigh to death. Have you no compassion on my poor nerves?”

“Come in, my dear,” Papá said as he rose and crossed the room to my side.

I could feel my cheeks burn as I curtseyed briefly to Mr. Bingley and in the general direction of Mr. Darcy. I could not lift my eyes to meet his but chose to study the pineapple design in the carpet at my feet, a pattern as familiar as the wallpaper in my chamber. Never in my life had I felt such shame, not even at the news of Lydia’s elopement. Why was
he
here? How could he possess so little understanding?

“Shall you not answer me?” my mother asked again. “We feared you had been snatched by the gypsies, staying out this late in the evening.”

“Forgive me. I strayed too far and did not notice the passage of time.” I quickly crossed the room and sat beside Jane.

Mamá threw her hands in the air. “Did not notice—head in the clouds again, I suppose! And Mr. Darcy here has waited several hours—”

“It is of little importance,” Mr. Darcy interrupted, “as long as you are well.”

I raised my head then, feeling his gaze upon me. The expression in his eyes was pained, the natural dark-brown colour now almost black. We looked straight into each other’s eyes, and I was shocked to see neither disdain nor anger, but what appeared to be a reflection of sympathy.

“Mr. Darcy,” my father said, “I am in need of serious libation, and since it is obvious Mr. Bingley desires naught but the nectar of love, would you care to join me in the library?”

Jane blushed at Papá’s words, but they did not seem to deter Mr. Bingley’s steadfast attention.

As the men reached the doorway, my father turned back and inclined his head toward me. “And, Lizzy, I would speak with you.”

“Oh, yes,” Mamá said, rising quickly. “That is an excellent idea, Mr. Bennet. Let us repair to your study immediately.”

I saw consternation flicker across Mr. Darcy’s face, but Papá intervened. “My dear, you must not neglect our other guest. Think what Mr. Bingley should suffer in your absence. I am sure Mr. Darcy will make do with the sacrifice, for he is a generous man.”

My mother looked somewhat torn between the choices, but when Mr. Bingley bestowed one of his beatific smiles upon her, she happily sat down and gave him her full attention.

Inside my father’s study, I sat on the chaise at his insistence while Mr. Darcy remained standing.

“Lizzy, Mr. Darcy and I have talked at length. He agrees that no one must know the true nature of your relationship, not even Mr. Bingley, Jane, or his younger sister. He is perfectly willing to abide by the story that you are a distant cousin, and he has returned from Town this very day to make you a handsome offer.”

I frowned, baffled at the suggestion.

“He desires to bestow a generous settlement upon you.”

“I do not understand.” I turned to look at him. “Why should you do that, sir?”

Mr. Darcy took a few steps nearer. “I have the entirety of the matter from Lady Catherine. I mean to give you your inheritance, Elizabeth—secretly of course, but your rightful inheritance.”

“I still do not comprehend your meaning. Did your father name me in his will?”

He looked away, and I could see the embarrassment this entire scene caused him. Oh, I could not bear to be the reason for his shame.

“There was no mention in his will, except that a certain sum was to be sent to his solicitor in London every year in payment of a private debt. When I took over as master of Pemberley, my father’s attorney simply told me it was a
personal
matter. I now assume the money has been sent to the vicar of Longbourn Church, who then handed it over to Mr. Bennet.”

“That is correct,” my father said.

“The will provided Georgiana an ample fortune but left the bulk of his estate and the property, of course, to me. I propose to share a goodly portion with you. It shall be accomplished discreetly. No one need ever know, not even Georgiana. If Lady Catherine is your concern, be assured that she will remain silent, for she fears the taint of scandal. ”

I was mortified. How could he think I would accept such a gift? “Mr. Darcy, there is no need for you to make such a gesture. I thank you, but I shall not allow it.”

“But why not? It is your right. You are”—he swallowed—“my sister just as Georgiana is.”

“No, I am not.” I rose and walked to the window where I fingered the drapery and peered out into the darkness. “I am your half-sister, sir, born on the wrong side of the blanket, a fact that must be kept secret so as not to sully your good name. Your father did not want me, and I do not want anything that is his. If the only father I have ever known will allow me to remain in his house, then this is where I shall stay.” I turned my gaze upon Papá and saw him nod in agreement.

“Good night, Mr. Darcy. I do not think we should ever meet again.” I walked across the room, out the door, and up the stairs.

Chapter Two

In our bed that night, Jane allowed me to weep on her shoulder until, spent, I at last drifted into troubled slumber.

Upon awakening, I saw the rumple of sheets I had created. My sister had already risen and dressed. One look in the mirror told me I did not wish to encounter anyone before somehow repairing my wild tangle of hair. Restoring my swollen, red eyelids was another matter.

A slight tap at the door announced the maid bearing a tray containing mugs of hot, steaming tea.

“Taste it, Lizzy,” Jane said, “while I attack your curls.”

“Mmm, a hopeless task I fear.” I sipped the comforting drink and closed my eyes as my sister gently worked at the snarled locks streaming down my back.

“I hope you feel better today.”

I squinted at the sunshine beaming through the window and, for Jane’s sake, decided I would attempt a cheerful tone. “’Tis difficult to remain sad on a day deprived of morning fog. Not a cloud appears in the sky.”

“After I have worked wonders on your hair and we have breakfasted, shall we not go for a long tramp in the woods?”

I shook my head. “You forget Mamá has claimed you for the dressmaker’s this morning. Another fitting for your wedding gown awaits.” She frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but I was quicker than she. “Go along, Jane. I shall be well.”

“Shall you not come with us? You know I treasure your opinion above that of Mamá.”

“I fear I would be a gloomy impediment on what should be a joyful excursion. Let me remain here for today.”

“But, Lizzy…”

I rose from the chair and took the brush from her hand. “I insist, Jane. From the looks of that bed, I have already spoilt your night. I shall not spoil your day. Forget this mop of hair as well. I shall pin it up in a simple knot, and it will do perfectly well. After all, it is not as though there is anyone of importance who will wish to see me.”

She caught my hand and pulled me around to face her. “Now, Lizzy, you must conquer this. I know the secret you learned yesterday is shocking. It pains all of us that you were orphaned as an infant and not born a Bennet, but it does not change who you are: my sister, my dearest sister, who is lovely and lively and brings joy to any room she enters. I pray you will not let this accident of birth alter that essential.”

I closed my eyes, but she would not let go of my hand. How I longed to tell her the truth, but I could not bring myself to inflict more pain upon her. I did not wish anything to interfere with the happy anticipation of her coming marriage.

“Very well, I shall try, but only for you, Jane.” She hugged me and helped me shed my gown and don a morning dress of pale yellow and white. “That does not mean I shall go to Meryton with you, though.”

“But, Lizzy…”

“No, Jane, not today. Do not ask more than I can give.”

That afternoon, when the house had emptied of my mother and sisters and Papá had been called to the stable to inspect a recent wound in the ear of one of the cows, I found myself increasingly restless. After wandering about the parlour, upstairs and down again, I found nothing with which to occupy my mind. At last, I grabbed my bonnet and left for a walk. Throughout the morning, I had tried my best to remain cheerful with both family and servants, ignoring the strain the effort played upon my emotions. Relief abounded in the freedom of a solitary trek through the woods. There, I no longer needed to offer pretence of any sort.

I had no particular destination in mind but soon found myself nearing the stream that meandered through the deepest part of the forest. Sounds of water rushing over the rocks caused me to hasten my steps, for of a sudden, a longing to sit beside its clean, untroubled flow washed over me.

I stopped short, however, when I heard the sound of a man’s voice. Cursing! Harsh, angry words spewed from his mouth as fast as the spring bubbled below. Quickly, I stepped behind a tree, but not before he saw me. Mr. Darcy looked up and halted both his pacing and his swearing.

“Miss Bennet—Elizabeth!” He threw the hat he held in his hand to the ground and took a step toward me.

I turned away, wishing nothing more than to flee from the scene with all haste.

“Pray, do not go.” Within moments, he stood beside me and then moved to bar my escape. “Forgive me. I should never have used that language had I known you were present.”

“I did not mean to intrude, sir. If you will excuse me.” I attempted to brush by him, but he took my hand in his. My skin tingled at the warmth of his touch.

“You did not intrude. Come now.” In spite of every inclination to leave, I allowed him to lead me down the bank to the stream. He dropped my hand and picked up his hat. “You must think you happened upon a madman.”

“One can see you are angry.”

“Angry…that does not begin to describe my feelings.”

“I thought you would return directly to Town or to Derbyshire,” I said, floundering about for some way to change the subject. I felt quite sure I was the cause of his anger, and I did not wish to argue my decision of the night before.

“No…not yet. Will you sit?” He indicated a large grouping of rocks near the water.

I picked my way through the stones and found a smooth place. “I have whiled away many an afternoon on this old stone. It is an excellent perch not only for soaking one’s feet but for contemplation as well. The calm I find in this setting has never yet failed to ease my soul. I consider it much like a familiar friend.”

He smiled slightly, picked up a stone, and skipped it across the pond. When I commended his skill, he repeated the action. “If you had grown up at Pemberley, no doubt you would have discovered all the creeks and rills hidden within the wood, for I know you delight in nature’s beauty.”

“Mr. Darcy—”

He raised his hand as though he would brace himself against my words. “I know what you will say. I shall not add to your woes by painting a picture of a past that can never be. You have enough with which to make peace. I can see it is far too early to expect you to wish to learn more of the heritage that should have been yours.”