A Peculiar Connection (32 page)

“Wills, shall we repeat last evening’s entertainment? I have discovered another reel among my music.”

“Not tonight.”

“Oh, why not? We all had such fun last evening.”

Mrs. Gardiner intervened, stating that she remained tired from their walk, and Mrs. Annesley agreed, especially in light of the forthcoming day that awaited her.

Georgiana brooded a bit. “I do not see why everyone should be dismal tonight.”

I looked up to see Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon me as he filled his glass with sherry. ’Twas true; our mood was low, but how could it be otherwise? The tragic story of Peter Darcy and Elizabeth Willoughby hung over us. I felt guilty for my personal joy. Mr. Darcy and I were free to confess our love for each other, when my parents’ happiness had been cruelly snatched away.

Before long, Mrs. Annesley suggested that she and Georgiana retire. Since our company lacked the previous evening’s sparkle, Mr. Darcy’s sister did not resist. Bidding us good night, my aunt soon followed. In private, before dinner, I had informed her of what we learned from Father Darcy. Thus, she did not need to wait up for me, but I was well aware that she would not sleep until she knew I was safely above stairs. I assured Mrs. Gardiner that I would join her shortly upon completion of my correspondence.

The moment the door closed behind her, I felt William’s presence beside me. It took but one look to pass between us for me to lay down my pen and step into his embrace. Gently, he kissed me and held me close, wrapped securely in his strong arms.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

“And I love you.” I buried my face in his neck, delighting in how his scent never failed to stir my senses. He led me to the sofa where we sat together, my head upon his shoulder.

“Did you accomplish your letter?”

“Almost. I found it difficult to compose.”

“Understandably.”

I raised my head so that I might see his face. “Do you feel guilty, William?” When he frowned, I said, “Because we are happy and my parents were denied the right to their life together?”

“Your father would wish you to be neither guilty nor unhappy.”

“Sometimes I fear that this will not last. That from out of nowhere, some demon will appear and steal away our pleasure.”

He laid my head back onto his shoulder. His touch was gentle and comforting. “No, no, my love, no one shall take away our contentment. I will not allow it. Why should you fear the future?”

My eyes filled with tears. “Because it happened before. I thought my life was my own. I knew who I was and where I came from, and just when I discovered that I loved you, it all dissipated before my eyes. One word from Lady Catherine destroyed my faith that I would ever delight in life again. If it happened once, could it not do so again?”

I felt the muscles in his arms tighten. “If I find that she did this out of spite, someone had better restrain me!”

“At times, I think it is best that she told us. Papá would never have revealed it.”

“And why should he? True, we are cousins, but that connection will not impede our marriage. When I think of the anguish you and I suffered all those months thinking you were my sister…” He placed his lips on my forehead and drew me closer.

“It enabled me to discover my true father.”

“And encumbered Uncle Peter with a profound burden of guilt.”

“I grieve for him. I fear he will never regain his health.”

He kissed my hair. “I share that fear, but the fragility of his health existed before we arrived.”

“Shall I lose him just when I have found him?” A tear slid down my cheek. William stopped its descent with his lips.

“Come now,” he said, rising to his feet. “No more tears tonight. God willing, you shall spend much time with your father.”

“When do we sail for England?”

“I am in no hurry, and Mr. Gardiner must conclude his business before we book passage. I sent him a post this morning, urging him to join us as soon as possible.” He smiled, pulling me to my feet. “I have something important to ask him.”

“Oh?” I gave him an arch smile.

“I assume I should ask your uncle’s blessing on our engagement since he stands in for Mr. Bennet on this sojourn.”

“Yes, but I would have you ask another as well.” He raised his eyebrows in question. “My father, Peter Darcy.”

William nodded in agreement and smiled before touching his lips to mine. We kissed several times before he pulled me into a closer, warmer embrace, deepening his search until I succumbed and parted my lips. I melted into his arms and yielded my mouth, allowing him free rein, feeling my desire quicken and begin to flare. When I laboured to breathe, he, at length, withdrew, burying his face in my neck, his lips continuing to nibble my ear and the tender spot below. We parted for the night with great difficulty, repeating the previous evening’s farewells.

Oh, how I loved him and longed to be his wife!

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In the weeks that followed, I spent much of every day in my father’s company, often beside his bed. On a good day, Mr. Darcy and I assisted him down the slope so that he might sit by the river on a chair that William had transported down the hill. I covered him with a light blanket and felt cheered that he was able to enjoy the warmth of the sun and fresh air for a short while.

We talked of everything. He wished to know all about me, my life at Longbourn, my sisters, and of course, my parents. He seemed particularly interested in Mr. Bennet, inquiring how he had treated me, whether he had been kind or harsh. I grew quiet and said little other than he had provided for me and never treated me unkindly. Father Darcy, however, sensed that my reserve did not exist without reason. Gently, he continued to search until I confessed my anger that Papá had allowed me to grow up ignorant of the truth. I had always believed him to be my father, and because that fact had been disguised, I doubted that I would ever trust him again.

“You have not forgiven Mr. Bennet, have you?” he asked. “Why not?”

I shrugged. “I cannot say, Father. We were always close. In truth, he favoured me above my sisters. I cannot seem to overcome the shock that he would conceal such an important truth about my life from me.”

“Has he ever acted toward you in an unloving manner?”

“No,” I said softly.

“Then, is it not possible that he simply acted out of love? What child would wish to grow up thinking she did not belong? I suspect Mr. Bennet followed his conscience, wishing to spare you pain.”

“But the manner in which I was told caused me great pain.”

“True, but the man who reared you did not bring it about. From what I have learned of Mr. Bennet, he has been a good father to you. He gave you a home, a family, and his name.” When I did not answer, he said, “Consider my counsel, Elizabeth, and deal tenderly with this fine man who obviously loves you. He simply did what he thought best, and is that not all we can expect from a man?”

I bowed my head, unable to meet his eyes, but I did not promise to follow his admonition.

Of course, Father Darcy was also interested to learn under what circumstances I had met his nephew. It had not taken long before he suspected that we were in love, and he gave us his blessing without reserve.

“Fitzwilliam is my only nephew. Even if I had others, he would remain my favourite. I cannot think of a better man to be your husband, my child.”

His eyes misted over as he spoke to us. In truth, he often struggled not to weep. I fear that he truly suffered from the revelation of my existence coming upon him without warning.

That is not to say he had not lived a good and an exciting life. He confided some of his exploits on behalf of his parishioners that had oft times resulted in narrow escapes from penal confinement. If not for Lord Killaine’s friendship and influence over the local magistrate, Father Darcy might not have evaded arrest. Being an Englishman also proved advantageous when he argued his case and disguised his fervent support for the rights of the Irish people. All in all, he had lived a remarkable life, and I did not tire of hearing his tales.

At the conclusion of each visit, Father Darcy continued to cling to my hand, for he knew the time would soon arrive when I must return to my homeland. I felt torn in half. I could not wait to marry William, but I did not want to leave this father I had grown to love so easily.

Within a month, Mr. Gardiner joined us at Ballymeghan, his business affairs settled at last. Mr. Darcy had written to him a second time, informing him of our discoveries and telling him of our love for each other. I knew full well that he would not find the latter surprising. The first evening my uncle spent in the village, he was more than willing to grant his approval of our engagement.

After dinner, at the conclusion of his talk with Mr. Darcy, they walked into the parlour, and Mr. Gardiner announced the happy news to our companions. My aunt, of course, simply smiled, but Georgiana was shocked. I am pleased to report, however, that the coming marriage filled her with delight. She declared she was glad that we were to be sisters, and I answered in kind. Little did she know how relieved I was not to be her sister by birth!

In the days that followed, Mr. Gardiner met Father Darcy. The two of them discussed with Mr. Darcy the consequences of revealing locally that the priest had a daughter. While the Irish loved their priest, they also had a hearty regard for any and all scandal, and such news would be the talk of the parish and neighbouring parishes for some time. He, of course, had told his confessor, who did not think it necessary to enlighten the people. The bishop was informed, and he agreed, largely out of respect for his friend and benefactor, Lord Killaine, but coupled with the fact that he did not want a scandal on his hands. My father accepted the bishop’s decision, although he declared that he was willing to tell the world, for he was proud of me, a fact that filled my heart with peace. Shame had been my companion for so long. I often had to pinch myself to realize no cause for it had ever existed.

Mr. Darcy asked the priest for his counsel as to whom we should tell in England and, also, whether we should inform Georgiana that I was Peter Darcy’s daughter. He asked them to bring his niece to visit him once more, whereupon he told her a love story. At the conclusion, she wept.

“That is the saddest tale I have ever heard, Father,” she said.

“It is true,” he responded.

“True? Do you know the couple involved?”

“Intimately.” He then explained that it was his story and that of his wife, Elizabeth.

Georgiana’s eyes grew wide. “But you are a priest, Father. I do not understand.”

“It happened before you were born, my child, when I was very young and before I made the decision to join the priesthood. I was the young man who fled Pemberley, thinking my bride had died, never knowing she was with child. I made a new life for myself in this country, for I could not bear to remain without her in the place where she had lived.”

“And the baby, Father. What happened to her?”

“The baby will soon become your sister.”

“My sister? I do not understand. Elizabeth will be my sister when she is wedded to Wills.”

Father Darcy nodded. Slowly, recognition registered on Georgiana’s face. I held my breath, wondering what her rejoinder would be. She rose from the chair on which she sat, and after running around the bed, she embraced me. We clung to each other, unable to speak until she, at last, turned toward her brother. “Wills, why did you never tell me before?”

“I did not learn the truth until we came to this village. When I did, I thought the revelation belonged to our uncle and to Elizabeth.”

“How long have you loved her?”

“A long time.”

“No wonder you discouraged me from matchmaking when she last visited Pemberley!”

“No wonder, indeed,” he said, hugging her close. His eyes met mine, and I rejoiced to know that we no longer were required to keep the circumstances of my birth secret.

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At last, the time arrived for us to leave Ballymeghan. Only the evening before, a letter from Miss Willoughby had arrived with the post. I shared it with Mr. Darcy and the Gardiners and then set out to show it to my father. Mr. Darcy accompanied me, for he also wished to bid his uncle farewell. Fortunately, it was a fair day for the priest. He sat by the fire in his favourite chair and called for us to enter when he heard the knock on the door.

“I have heard from Miss Eleanor Willoughby, Father,” I said after we had greeted each other. “Would you like to read the letter?”

“My eyesight is dim, my dear. Shall you read it for me?”

I pulled my chair close to his so that he might hear every word.

London

My dearest Elizabeth,

I received your letter with alacrity, but I confess I am shocked that Linton did not share the entire truth of the matter concerning your mother. I rejoice that you have found your father after all these years. I remember him with pleasure, for I thought him the most agreeable of men. Naturally, from my tender perspective, I had few with whom to compare. Still, he always treated me with kindness.

I had no idea that you were unaware of your parents’ marriage. Linton certainly knew, as did my mother and grandmother. I remember the morning your father came to call after they had been married some two weeks earlier. We were all present in the drawing room—my brother, sister, mother, and grandmother—but when your father made the announcement of his marriage to Elizabeth, I was quickly dispatched to the schoolroom. I confess, however, that I did not remain there once my governess began to doze in her chair. I crept down to the landing, where the uproar brewing within the drawing room could be heard quite clearly.

Linton vowed to annul your parents’ marriage. He threatened your father with direful warnings that I did not understand at the time. Once he drove him from the house, he assured Elizabeth that she would carry out his plans and marry Lord Haversham, and if she refused or ever told anyone of this prior marriage, he would commit bodily harm upon Mr. Darcy. Mother then called the servants and told them to finish packing for our immediate removal to London.