A Peculiar Connection (5 page)

I closed my eyes at the thought of my Aunt Philips’s loose tongue, but when I considered it, I changed my opinion. “Perhaps it would have been better had Aunt Philips known the truth, for then I would have been told at a much earlier age, and this entire situation could have been avoided.”

“Why would you say that, Lizzy? Neither Thomas nor Fanny knew your real father was the late Mr. Darcy. In truth, if Lady Catherine had not felt it necessary to inform you, none of us would know it to this day. I still do not understand why she revealed such a tale. Surely, she knew it would only bring scandal upon her nephew’s name. Why did she tell you?”

I felt my face grow warm. I did not wish my aunt to ask me that question, for what was I to answer?

“I…I do not know.” I fumbled about for words. “She seemed to fear an association between our family and that of Mr. Darcy…perhaps because his close friend is marrying Jane.”

“Surely, she did not think you had designs on Mr. Darcy. Everyone knows your account of the man, although I did observe a softening of your attitude toward him when we visited at Pemberley. But you never cared for him, did you, Lizzy?”

“Of course not,” I said quickly. I turned away and busied myself with a basket of dried blooms. Carrying them across the small room, I paid strict attention to sorting them into separate stacks by specie and colour.

“I assume your position toward him did change to one of gratitude when you learned of his assistance to Lydia.”

“I have expressed my thankfulness to him on our family’s behalf. At the same time, I do not wish to be further obliged to the man, so you see, it is best that I refuse his offer and remain as I am.”

I looked up to see whether my aunt believed my reasoning, but her expression appeared clouded. However, she agreed to share the true circumstances of my birth only with her husband and assured me he would not speak of it, a fact I trusted and for which I was grateful.

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The night before Jane’s wedding found me as nervous as the bride-to-be. My head ached anew at the thought of seeing Mr. Darcy again, so much so, that I could not swallow more than a few bites at dinner. My appetite had waned since I learned of the circumstances of my birth. Three times the dressmaker had altered the waistline of my dress for the wedding, and it still hung upon my frame. I could not sleep for dread of the coming day.

“This is insupportable!” I whispered to myself, rising from my bed. Walking to the window, I opened the shutter and stared at the full moon. I knew I must overcome the anxiety that dragged my presence down like an anchor thrown into the sea. The man was my brother; acceptance was the only answer. I would bury any other feelings I had ever felt for him and begin to think of him as I thought of Kitty or Mary.

“You can do this, Elizabeth Bennet,” I said to myself. There, I had voiced my resolve, and I would carry through no matter what. From that day forward, Mr. Darcy would be of no more consequence than a distant familial connection, just as Papá had declared he was. I would be as I had ever been…before I loved him.

With a determined set to my shoulders, I turned and quietly crawled back into bed, hoping to avoid waking Jane. The only problem that remained was what to do with the pain in my heart.

Chapter Three

Jane’s wedding was lovely, almost as lovely as the bride herself. Kitty and Mary had placed plentiful bouquets of dried arrangements at the altar, and their colours provided just the right contrast to Jane’s white silk gown and Mr. Bingley’s starched neckcloth.

I had attached myself to Jane’s side before the ceremony and remained with her above stairs until time to walk to the church. Neither of us could eat, although for dissimilar reasons. Inside the sanctuary, I was conscious of a number of guests as we walked down the aisle, but I kept my eyes upon Jane. If Mr. Darcy stood among the crowd, I did not wish to see him and thus cause my countenance to alter.

Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows as though God Himself beamed with joy at the union. As I listened to the bride and groom recite their vows, I fought the mist that filled my eyes. I was so happy for Jane—truly, I was—and yet, I could not help but wish I stood beside her, speaking those same words to the man I loved.

Stop it, Lizzy!
I told myself. I dug my fingernails into my palms to distract my thoughts.
You have vowed to think of him as your brother. Do not forsake that vow.
Silently, I repeated the words before God.
Mr. Darcy and I are brother and sister. I renounce all prior feelings for him from this moment on.

At the breakfast afterward, however, it proved impossible to avoid him. I felt his presence nearby rather than saw it, and with his greeting, I steeled myself to appear calm. Surprise overtook me when I turned and observed he was not alone. His sister stood beside him.

“Miss Bennet, I am so pleased to see you once again,” she said with a curtsy.

I responded in kind and searched my brain for something to say. What must she think of me now? I must have mumbled something coherent, for she moved closer, and I found myself standing between her and Mr. Darcy.

“My sister has been anxious to speak to you,” he said.

“Anxious?” I could not comprehend his meaning.

“Perhaps ‘anxious’ is an overstatement. ‘Eager’ might prove the better description.”

“Oh yes,” Georgiana said. “I have been eager to renew our acquaintance, especially in light of recent events.”

“Recent events?” It seemed I could do nothing more than echo like an idiot.

She drew close and whispered in my ear, “We are now something like cousins, are we not? My brother has told me the whole of the story.”

I straightened my shoulders, afraid of what she would say next.

“He says my aunt’s revelation has overwhelmed you, and I can readily understand that. To learn that the parents you have always honoured are not truly your parents must be difficult to accept. To realize that your real parents died before you even knew them must grieve you anew.”

“And do you not find it strange to accept that we are related, Miss Darcy?”

“I did find it shocking, but I am most pleased.”

“Pleased?” Once again, I sounded like a parrot.

She smiled and touched my hand. “I liked you from the first time we met, and I can think of no one I would rather call cousin more than you.”

How gracious her acceptance—it almost renewed my tears, and I took several steps backward to distance myself. Evidently, Mr. Darcy had told her the untruth my father created, and she, naturally, believed him. I wondered whether she would be as accepting of our relationship if she knew that we were sisters. I turned away slightly, hoping to spy Jane and thus escape the uneasiness of the situation, but Miss Darcy again laid a gentle hand on my arm.

“Miss Bennet, my brother and I would be honoured if you would consider visiting us at Pemberley. We leave Netherfield next week and hope you will make the journey with us.”

I could not believe the words I heard. Visit Pemberley again? Had Mr. Darcy seriously encouraged Georgiana in this request? Was it I, alone, who imagined daily torture if I returned to Pemberley attempting to act the role of poor relation while, in truth, I was his sibling?

“Forgive me, I must attend Jane,” I mumbled.

Forgetting my manners completely and without another glance in their direction, I fled the Darcys’ presence and crossed the room to find Jane and Mr. Bingley surrounded by well-wishers. When I could not penetrate the throng, I hurried through the entryway and out the side door.

The sting of cold January air caused me to gasp, but it was not unwelcome. It had grown much too warm within the house filled with guests, and although I was surprised when snowflakes fluttered softly about my cheeks, I rejoiced that it would make a picturesque setting for the bride and groom’s departure. Eventually growing cold, for I had not taken time to don a cloak, I stomped around and rubbed my hands up and down my arms to keep warm.

“Lizzy,” Kitty cried as she ran out the door. “Will you come help us with the bridal wreath? Jane and Mr. Bingley shall depart at any moment.”

I walked back into the house long enough to open the door while she and Maria Lucas carried the huge arch of beribboned flowers outside. Almost immediately, the throng of company followed them with much gaiety and cries of excitement. The crowd swept me out the door along with them, and before I could turn around, I heard my mother’s voice calling out last-minute admonitions to Jane. And then, there they were—Mr. and Mrs. Bingley—running through the wedding arch and climbing in their carriage. I reached out and clasped Jane’s hand for but a moment. She stopped and pressed her cheek to mine, and I could see joy shining in her eyes.

And then they were gone. What we had earnestly hoped and prayed for so long had now come to pass. My mother was thrilled that my sister married a rich man. I was thrilled that she married the man she loved. I knew for certain I would never be that fortunate.

Many of the guests began to take their leave while others stayed at my parents’ urging. I caught a glimpse of Miss Darcy in conversation with Mary and knew her brother would not stray far from her side. They turned to re-enter the house while I walked in the opposite direction. I crossed the park and hurried up the lane. Snow began to fall in abundance, and once more, I regretted not having grabbed my coat. I passed the villagers’ cottages and acknowledged several greetings. I knew I should return to my parents’ house, but I did not wish to face Miss Darcy or her brother again until I thought of an excuse to refuse her invitation. My vow would be easier to keep if I never saw him again.

Before I knew it, I stood upon the threshold of the church building. The door remained open, and I could feel the warmth from within. Slowly, I walked into the deserted sanctuary and down the aisle Jane had trod a few hours earlier. I sank down upon a polished wooden pew close to the altar. Once again, I gazed at the stained glass window, but the sun no longer beamed in approval. Snow clouds darkened the coloured panes, and the old building suddenly seemed filled with shadows.

“Dear God,” I prayed silently, “favour me with your grace. Help me honour the vow I made earlier. From this day forward, may I truly see Mr. Darcy as my brother and nothing more. Blot out those feelings I harbour for him. You know my thoughts, Lord; rid my mind of them. Oh, God, I entreat thee. Have mercy, I pray.”

“Miss Elizabeth?”

I shuddered at the sound, aware that I was not alone. Turning, I saw the stooped figure of Mr. Fawcett standing in the aisle outside the pew. The old man had long ago retired as Longbourn’s vicar, but he remained in his house, a legacy granted by my father for the years he had served the parish. He still looked after the church building as former habits could not be denied.

“I thought that was you,” he said, “although my eyes are not as proficient as they once were. What causes you to seek refuge here, my child? I thought you would be a participant in the happy event.”

“They made their departure a short while ago, Mr. Fawcett.”

“And you tired of a house full of guests? I am surprised. For one my age, that would be natural, but you are a young woman, and do not the young enjoy a good party?”

I smiled. “I confess I strayed from the house without a wrap, and the warmth of the church drew me in.”

“Do you miss your sister already?”

I nodded. “I am very happy for her, though.”

“Yes, but not so happy for yourself. Am I right?”

“Sir?”

He sat down beside me, his eyes a cloudy blue beneath their overgrown brows. “Your father told me of the recent revelation, and you may recall I had a most unpleasant call from Lady Catherine. I trust you do not remain despondent.”

I was surprised at his boldness until the knowledge came flooding back that he had been vicar when Lady Catherine’s husband delivered me to the church at Hertfordshire twenty-one years earlier. “I hope I am not, sir.”

“I always thought Mr. Bennet in error to keep the truth from you. But then, I do not have children, so it was not for me to say.”

“How did you know Sir Lewis de Bourgh, Mr. Fawcett?”

He looked away with a grimace. “As a young curate, I served at Hunsford parish. Unfortunately, I incurred the disapproval of Lady Catherine, so much so that she insisted on my removal from the living. If not for Sir Lewis’s intervention, I might have been forced from service to the church altogether. It was due to his kindness that I received the living here at Longbourn. He was a friend of a friend of Mr. Bennet’s, so when the gentleman came calling in the middle of the night, asking for my assistance, I could do nothing less.”

“Sir Lewis himself delivered me to Hertfordshire?”

“With the help of a serving woman who cared for you on the journey. ’Twas a difficult beginning, my dear, but one that turned out well after all, would you not agree?”

“Mmm…I am indebted to the Bennets for taking me in.”

“Child, they did not just take you in. You are truly their daughter.”

I shivered slightly.

With difficulty, he rose from the pew. “The fire has gone out. Perhaps you should return home.”

I stood, but before stepping out into the aisle, I placed my hand on his arm. “Mr. Fawcett, did Sir Lewis ever tell you anything of my mother…my real mother?”

He shook his head. “Only that you were given her Christian name and that she died giving birth. He did not say who she was, but I sensed that your mother was not a servant, that she might have been of noble birth.”

“Whatever gave you cause to think that?”

“Sir Lewis said neither family—that of your father nor your mother—could bear the disgrace. Common folk live with their sins; the gentry possess the means to hide theirs.”

I closed my eyes and turned away. He patted my shoulder and then shuffled toward the side door. “Do not stay too long, my dear. The chill in the room will soon turn bitter.”

I swallowed as I heard the door close behind him.
I shall not weep again. I refuse to give in to grief any longer.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out into the aisle to return to Longbourn. I was startled to see the form of a man standing beside the last pew at the rear of the building. The dim light was just enough for me to make out who stood privy to my conversation—Mr. Darcy.