Consequences (20 page)

Assuming, that is, that it was also Elizabeth’s wish. They had known each other for many years, and she only had to look at her old governess, and the faint nod she received settled her mind. Turning back to Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Fleming continued, “Very well, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, I will summon one of the girls to take the children back to the nursery. Take as much time as you wish. If Mrs. Hartecourt has to leave before her brother is ready, I will borrow Mr. Fleming’s carriage to return him to Plymouth.”

“Thank you, Judith,” Elizabeth said with a polite nod. “Mr. Darcy, the garden is this way.”

Darcy followed Elizabeth down the front hallway to a door at the side of the house. The garden outside was very pleasing to his taste, not being one of the overly manicured gardens so many newly rich industrialists believed necessary for their country estates. Elizabeth led the way to an arbour with a curved trellis covered on all sides except the front by blooming roses. There were two facing benches in the arbour, and she took one bench while Darcy took the other.

Now they were finally alone, Darcy’s ability to communicate suddenly seemed to vanish. He sat looking at her, and he simply could not find where to start. She certainly did not act as if she still harboured animosity toward him. He had dreamt a thousand dreams where he encountered her in one setting or another, only to have her reject him with the same angry words as had passed the night of his disastrous proposal.

He was even more conflicted when he saw Elizabeth start to smile. He knew she was recognizing his total inability to speak, and the more he tried, the more inarticulate he became.

Finally, Elizabeth laughed, but it was not a mean-spirited laugh. “I can see the passing years have not cured your inability to speak, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a smile. “So I will begin before you strangle yourself in front of me. I hope the years have been kind to you, and, though it might surprise you to hear, it is pleasing to see you again.”

Whatever Darcy had expected, it was not a friendly greeting such as this. It was almost as if their final parting had been on a friendly basis rather than as acrimonious as possible.

Finally, he managed, “Thank you, Miss Bennet.” Then, he blurted out, almost exactly as he had blurted so many things more than thirty years previously, “I am amazed you would even talk to me! I did not know what to expect, but I would not have been surprised to find you as angry with me as ever!”

“And what good would that do, sir?” Elizabeth asked gently. “Time not only heals wounds, it sometimes allows a person to grow in wisdom and even forgive one’s self for past blunders. And I might respond the same as you; after the unjustified offenses of which I accused you, it is I who might logically expect that you would want to avoid me at all cost.”

Darcy nodded at her comments, wordlessly knowing she was referring to both of them. Then, drawing a deep breath, he asked the question he had to ask, even though it was likely to be painful.

“I hesitate to ask, for it has been near thirty-two years since I saw you last, but how is your family?”

The serenity in Elizabeth’s face faded at this question, but she understood why he had asked. “You know about Lydia, my youngest sister?”

Darcy nodded. “My aunt derived considerable glee in describing her elopement with Wickham in a letter she wrote to inform me of the particulars. She seemed especially to delight in the fact that she prophesied disaster when you visited Rosings, due to the fact, as she stated it, ‘all your sisters were out, the youngest before the eldest was married.’ Her satisfaction at your family’s misfortune, however, did not sit well with me, and we were estranged for a decade before she died.”

Elizabeth was rather startled at this, for she knew how important family was to Darcy, but she continued, “I am not sure about Lydia, but I am afraid that my parents and my other sisters are dead. The eldest, Jane, was the last to pass on, about eighteen years ago from lung-fever. For all I know, I am the last of the Bennet sisters.”

Darcy winced in pain at what she told him.

All of them! May the Lord have mercy on their souls!

He debated whether he ought to tell her what he knew about Lydia. Heaven knew he did not want to do so, but he also knew he would have wanted to know what had occurred to Georgiana if Wickham had indeed eloped with her. He would have wanted to know, needed to know, even if the knowledge would be terribly painful.

Elizabeth would likely want to know also
, he thought.

“I am truly sorry to hear about your family, Miss Bennet. Please accept my condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth quietly.

“Do you know what happened to your youngest sister after she disappeared with Wickham?” he asked, temporizing and hoping she already knew so he would not have to inform her of all the sordid details.

“No, Mr. Darcy. My father and my uncle looked for months, but they were never able to find a trace of her. They even employed agents and offered a reward, but nothing came of it.”

Darcy nodded in understanding and then sighed. “I do have knowledge of your sister, Miss Bennet, but I warn you, it is rather disturbing.”

“Disturbing or not, one of the lessons I have learned is it is better to know than to guess. One’s mind can craft much worse fates than does life.”

“Sometimes,” said Darcy. “In any event, this is what I found. My aunt did not write to tell me of your sister until December. By that time, Wickham and your sister had been gone around four months.”

“And by that time, our family was totally disgraced and ruined. No one called anymore. We were pariahs.”

“I immediately journeyed to London to do what I could to find them, even if it were late.” He saw her look of vast surprise, and he continued, “I felt a need to redeem at least one of my many errors with respect to you and your family, Miss Bennet. I was so concerned no one should ever learn of my sister’s embarrassment with Wickham that I did not lay his true character before all of Hertfordshire. I once thought my actions ought to speak for themselves, but by that time, I knew I had been wrong. If I had revealed Wickham’s character, no one would have allowed their daughters and sisters anywhere near the man.”

Elizabeth shook her head energetically. “No, sir, I cannot allow you to shoulder that blame. My sister Jane and I discussed it, and we had the opportunity to reveal his true character to the neighbourhood, and we did not do so. No, it was our fault, and what happened to my family was brought on by its own members, in this affair as in others.”

“I shall not argue with you, Miss Elizabeth. I was merely explaining why I went in search of your sister. I was able to locate Mrs. Younge, who had the charge of my sister at Ramsgate. I knew she and Wickham were acquainted, and I believed he would have gone to her first. In fact, he had done so, but she had not been able to accommodate him. It took two days for me to pry an address from her, but the delay was insignificant. Wickham had been gone for months. I believe he abandoned your sister when he tired of her, but I was not able to determine the exact time. In any case, I then sought the aid of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and we finally learned the location of your sister, though it took another month to do it. He and I immediately paid her a visit and—”

“Then you actually saw her!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “My father and my uncle were never able to catch even a clue, and yet you actually found her!”

“But it was too late, thanks to my aunt. And when I finally found Miss Lydia . . . well, I am sorry to give you pain, but we located her in one of the brothels in a quite unsavoury locale in London.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes in pain, though she was not surprised. “Poor Lydia. Poor, stupid, stupid Lydia!”

“I am sorry for the pain this brings you. I tried to convince her to return with me to Longbourn, but she would not even consider it. She was indifferent to the damage she had done the family, and she cared nothing for her friends, for she liked her new friends much better.”

“Lydia, a common cyprian of London,” Elizabeth said morosely. “I had hoped it was not so—that she and Wickham were actually married somewhere or sometime, but I certainly feared the worst. Actually, worse than worst—I had hoped my family was treated unfairly, but the sad truth is that, once again, all that my family suffered was due to our own neglect. All was completely justified and deserved.”

“Not entirely, Miss Bennet. I agree with you about your sister’s foolishness, but I know from talking to her that she truly believed George Wickham was going to marry her, even if it did not seem to matter when that was. But I believe something changed for the worse when George abandoned her. She could not reconcile what had happened to her with her fantasies, and she simply, I believe, went out of her mind.”

“Out of her mind? You mean insane?” asked Elizabeth in surprise.

“I believe so. One example will illustrate why I believe that true. When I mentioned Wickham’s name, she became quite irrational and pulled a knife from under her pillow. I actually thought she meant to attack me and started to retreat from her, but I quickly saw she had meant me no harm. Then, she caressed the knife, almost crooning to it. She described what she would do to Wickham if she ever met him again. The way she talked frightened me as much as when I thought she intended me harm. She said her new friends were teaching her how to use it, so she would know what to do to George when she met him.”

Elizabeth was silent after that, looking down at her hands, imagining Lydia stroking the knife. It was all too incredible!

“I left soon after that. I knew it was completely hopeless, that she could never rejoin civilized people again.” Darcy’s eyes were dark with grief at the memory. “I should have immediately gone to Longbourn and told your father what I knew,” he whispered. “Then I should have begged your forgiveness, dearest Elizabeth. I should have begged for another chance, but I was a coward. How could I marry a girl whose sister was a fallen woman? I have lived with the memory of my cowardice—of my final and supreme blunder—for years.”

“
Your
cowardice?” exclaimed Elizabeth. “After what
you
did? You actually found Lydia and dared to go into a brothel in order to offer her a chance to leave and return home? I do not call that cowardice, sir. Indeed I do not.” She looked at Darcy quizzically. “You mentioned it was an unsavoury part of London. Exactly how unsavoury was it? Since you are castigating yourself for cowardice, may I inquire what provisions you had to take to make sure you and your cousin escaped with your lives?”

“Well, Richard did have his cavalry sabre. And I thought it prudent to take along a sword cane,” said Darcy uncomfortably. “And, I had him retain my purse when I went upstairs.”

“So any vagabonds would have had to contend with a very upset colonel; I imagine he was wearing a uniform also. Yes, I can see why you should be vastly ashamed of yourself, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile.

“That was the easy part, Miss Bennet . . .”

“You called me Elizabeth just a minute ago, Mr. Darcy. At our age, perhaps we could dispense with the artificialities?”

“I forgot myself.”

“I rather liked the sound of it, sir. Would it surprise you to know that, if you had come to Longbourn, your reception would have been warmer than you thought? There would have been no requirement for you to beg for forgiveness. I had already realized how unfair and unjustified were many of the charges I laid at your feet that night in the Parsonage. And when I toured Pemberley with my aunt and uncle in August,” she smiled at Darcy’s surprise, but she only nodded and continued, “right before we found out about Lydia’s elopement, your housekeeper gave a description of you that was the diametrical opposite of what I thought your character to be. ‘He was always the sweetest tempered boy, and I have known him since he was four,’ she said. And what praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? No, I had already good reason to be ashamed of myself before Lydia’s foolishness plunged my family into disaster.”

“But what did you say that was not true? I have never forgotten your reproof—‘had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.’ No, you thought me devoid of any proper feeling, and there was truth to that charge.”

“And much error, too. I believe both of us have well realized our mistakes. There is no need to continue to apologize for them.”

Darcy was silent, taking in all she said. Sighing, he added, “I am all astonished that you have been to Pemberley. If only I had known . . .”

“It seems so long ago. I was to tour the Lakes with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner but his business shortened our trip to allow for only the beauties of Derbyshire. And since my Aunt had grown up in Lambton, she insisted we tour Pemberley. You cannot imagine my anxiety until I was assured the family was not at home. I was in a constant state that I would happen upon you and you would assume I was throwing myself in your way. But now I have a question—if you are to call me Elizabeth, what shall I call you? What does your sister call you?”

“She calls me William.” Darcy smiled. Inside, he was happy beyond belief, happy to have found Elizabeth, happy that she could talk openly without the stilted and artificial aspect to their intercourse so many years before.

“Then I shall call you William, also,” said Elizabeth firmly. “Now, you were saying that interviewing my sister in a brothel in a part of town so dangerous that both you and your fully uniformed cousin, each of you carrying at least a sword—and, no, William, I do not believe those were your only weapons—you said that was the easy part. But I said you would have been received warmly at Longbourn, at least by me. That is true. What is not so certain is that, if you had renewed your offers, whether those offers would have been accepted.”