Consequences (21 page)

“But you said—”

“William,” interrupted Elizabeth. “My family
was
disgraced. No decent man in the neighbourhood would have dreamed of paying attention to any of the notorious Bennet girls. And you had your sister, who appears to have turned out very well. Could I allow your family to be ruined along with mine?”

“So you would have refused me?” asked Darcy.

“I did not say that, either. All I am saying is . . . I do not know. It did not happen, so it is all speculation in any case.”

Darcy thought on that for some moments, and at last agreed Elizabeth could do nothing else than be honest. But he still had so many questions.

“You said all your sisters are dead?”

“Except for Lydia. I do not know about Lydia.”

“I believe that she is dead also, Elizabeth,” said Darcy slowly. “Fitzwilliam brought me the information—it was an article in
The Times
, about five years after Lydia eloped. A man’s body had been found on the dock, and it had been terribly mutilated, in just the way that Lydia threatened. No one could identify the victim, but both Fitzwilliam and I wondered. Then, several days later, another body was found in the Thames—a female this time. Both Fitzwilliam and I believe Lydia finally caught up to Wickham and killed him, just as she told me she would, and she then threw herself in the river and drowned. We do not know for sure, but we think it likely. Certainly, Wickham has never been seen since.”

“Possibly, possibly,” said Elizabeth mournfully. “Poor Lydia. She was my mother’s favourite, you know. I think it was because they were much alike. In any case, after my father died, Mr. Collins inherited Longbourn. Jane and I came to stay with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner at his Gracechurch Street house . . .”

“Gracechurch Street!” cried Darcy. “I looked for your uncle’s house at Gracechurch Street! Sir William’s daughter told me your uncle’s name, and I searched for him in Cheapside. I even found a house on Gracechurch Street that was newly sold, but no one had any information about where the family living there had gone.”

“Searching?” said Elizabeth in confusion. “I do not understand.”

Darcy sighed and said sadly, “It is a long story, Elizabeth. My aunt had another part to play in this drama. Fitzwilliam and I did not return to her house until the spring of 1815, due to my anger over how she delayed informing me of the scandalous elopement of your sister nearly three years earlier. It was not long after we arrived before Richard and I learned of the death of both Mrs. Collins and Mr. Bennet. Anne actually told me what occurred, of how Collins left to claim his inheritance, and I then forced the issue with my aunt until I learned how she thoughtfully lent him her solicitor so that her lickspittle parson could not only take possession of Longbourn but also cheat you out of your mother’s fortune. When we learned that, both Fitzwilliam and I immediately left Rosings, and we never saw our aunt again. Fitzwilliam returned to his regiment, and I left for Longbourn and an interview with Collins.

“I was determined to let nothing stand in my way this time. My sister was happily married by then, so she was safe. But Collins did not know where you were, nor did anyone else in the neighbourhood. Sir William Lucas told me that you and your elder sister had gone to stay with your aunt and uncle in London. He was not sure of their name and he had no address, but at least his daughter remembered their name was Gardiner.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth softly. “Sir William was not very good about that kind of thing. Lady Lucas took care of all the details so that her husband could concentrate on being civil to everyone.”

“And Lady Lucas was gone by then, he told me. Finally, worn out from searching London, I returned home and for some time lost myself in drink. It took years to combat that evil. Since then, I have just . . . lived. Existed. Until today.”

Elizabeth blushed at the light that suddenly illuminated Darcy’s eyes. She remembered that look, the one she misinterpreted as haughty disdain but was obviously something much different.

“You were asking about my sisters,” she said abruptly, trying to change topics and ignore that look, for it made her uncomfortable. She thought Darcy had long forgotten those feelings, and it discomfited her to be . . . desired. “My younger sisters went to live with my mother’s sister, who moved to Surrey to escape the scandal. My mother died shortly afterward—she simply could not cope with what had happened to her, I think—and my sisters died from the smallpox several years later.”

“And your eldest sister? And your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Gardiner died just three years ago, though my uncle passed on about ten years earlier. The greatest blow was losing Jane, more than eighteen years ago. She died from the lung fever, and I still cannot believe how quickly she went. She and I took similar positions to a pair of sisters who lived not five miles apart. We saw each other often, and our lives were really quite pleasant, but I have been alone since she died. Jane was always the most good-natured person I knew; she had difficulty believing any harm of a person. At first, she even had difficulty believing Mr. Wickham tried to elope with your sister, though she could not deny my information. I think she must have entered Heaven instantly; after she died, her face wore a look of contentment, and she had the strangest smile.”

Darcy was startled by this last comment. “When exactly did your sister die? You said it was about eighteen years ago, I believe,” he asked urgently. Upon being told that it was 1826, in early March, he was even more stunned.

“What is it, William? What is so significant about that date?”

“Because Charles Bingley died about that time, Elizabeth,” Darcy said slowly. “He never married—I think he never forgot your sister—and he died just before I arrived for a visit. The surgeon said that it must have been sudden heart failure, and his limbs were twisted as if he had been in convulsions before his heart stopped. But his face also had a smile, and he looked very much at peace.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy intently, and then let out her breath. “I am dreadfully sorry to hear about Mr. Bingley. He was always the most amiable gentleman.”

“Yes, he was, Elizabeth. He was the best friend I ever had, and I miss him dreadfully. But that brings me to another uncomfortable topic, and that is the manner in which I separated Charles and your sister. You were completely correct in what you said to me, though it took more time than it should have for me to understand. I am truly sorry for what I did. My motives were completely insufficient, and I have never forgiven myself for my interference.”

Elizabeth shrugged uncomfortably. “I forgave you many years ago, William, and so did my sister. Yes, I know you feel regret for your interference, especially since neither Jane nor Mr. Bingley ever married. But Jane said it best—you were trying to protect your friend as I was trying to protect her. So, please, let that be an end to it, I beg you.”

Darcy could see that Elizabeth really did not care to dwell on that thought any longer, and he nodded agreement. “You are too kind, Elizabeth,” he said earnestly.

“Then let us discuss other items that will hopefully be more cheerful. What of our other acquaintances, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne de Bourgh, for example? And Mr. Bingley’s two sisters! How could I forget Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst?”

Darcy smiled thinly. “Charles eventually did buy an estate in Derbyshire but it seems his estate was entailed like Longbourn, Elizabeth. After his death, it went to a cousin, who had the terminal misfortune to marry Caroline, much as Mr. Collins made an offer to you. He took to the bottle within a year of the wedding, and I do not believe he has crawled out of it since. I will say Caroline has managed the estate quite well without his help, though their only child is possibly the most worthless young man it was ever my misfortune to know. She and her sister, the widowed Mrs. Hurst, have been thick as thieves these many years. I try to avoid them as much as possible, but occasionally—about once every year or so—I am forced to spend an hour or more in their company.”

Elizabeth hid her smile behind her hand, knowing she should not be amused at Darcy’s droll recitation of Mr. Bingley’s relatives, but it was obvious Darcy had never been deceived for a minute by Caroline Bingley.

“As for my cousin Fitzwilliam, now Major General Fitzwilliam,” Darcy said with more humour, “he had the fortune to charge with the Scots Greys at Waterloo and was mentioned in Dispatches in the
Gazette
. He also suffered a most romantic wound that left him with an arm in a sling when he returned to London. He was quite popular among the young ladies, but he was especially popular with the daughter of his Major General. She was the possessor of youth, a sweet disposition, and a not inconsiderable fortune, even if nature had been a trifle chary when it came to pulchritude. They have been married for, what?—about twenty-eight years now, I believe! They appear quite content together—at least, content enough to produce seven children. And Richard has not had to worry about money for many years now!”

“How wonderful!” Elizabeth cried delightedly, clapping her hands for emphasis, for she had been quite fond of Colonel Fitzwilliam. “And what about Anne de Bourgh? She was so frail when I saw her at Rosings I have often wondered what happened to her.”

“She is still frail, and she is still ill quite often, but I begin to believe she might outlive us all! She never married, unfortunately, but she took in a distant cousin—Josephine— after the girl’s parents were killed in a carriage accident. Anne has made Josephine her heir, and she will continue the management of Rosings. I think well of young Josephine and the young man she is expected to marry, and I believe they will do well together, even if they have to wait for some years before Anne shuffles off this mortal coil!”

After that, there was little more to tell, and both Elizabeth and Darcy sat silently for several moments, but it was a more companionable silence than the silences that had so often marked their previous acquaintance.

Finally, Darcy spoke. “There is only one more item that must be investigated, Elizabeth.”

“And what is that, William?”

“I once said that I ardently admired and loved you, Elizabeth Bennet,” said Darcy softly, “and I have never stopped. I am no longer a young man—in fact, I recently passed my sixtieth birthday, and my health is not what it used to be. But I beg you to consider accepting my hand in marriage for what remains of our lives.”

Elizabeth was not really surprised. All their conversation had been leading in this direction, she knew, but she had not had time to consider it in all its ramifications. She felt the pull of duty toward her employer and her children. Since she had none of her own, she lavished her love on the children she led, guided, and educated, and the temptation was to continue. But Darcy was also right. While Elizabeth would not have said her life had been completely without joy, she would not have described it as a happy life, and it appeared the same was true of Darcy. Certainly, their lives had been incomplete.

“I do not know if I—”

“There can no longer be any possibility of scandal, Elizabeth.”

“I know that, but it is more a question of the children—Judith’s children. I love them, and I would hate to leave them.”

“What would Mrs. Fleming say if you asked her?” asked Darcy shrewdly, and Elizabeth laughed.

“Touché, Mr. Darcy,” she smiled. “Did you know I have known her since she was barely two years old? I could not be more proud of her if she were my own daughter. Yes, Mrs. Fleming would demand I take any chance of happiness, late as it might be.”

“Then what will your answer be, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” whispered Darcy.

Elizabeth looked at him intently for a few seconds and finally shrugged her shoulders with a smile. “You have become
much
more persuasive over the years, Mr. Darcy. Very well, yes, I will marry you. Even though the thought of a sixty-year old groom and a fifty-two year old maiden is not exactly—how should I say this?—not exactly how the fairy tales envisioned true romance.”

Darcy returned her rueful smile and then cocked his head as the sound of footsteps approaching their arbour was heard by both of them. As the footsteps reached them, Georgiana suddenly turned the corner around the roses surrounding the structure on three sides. She definitely favoured Elizabeth with an objectionable glare before she turned to her brother.

“How much longer are you going to be, William? You have been gone for hours!”

Hours?
Elizabeth thought.
Has it really been that long?

“Elizabeth and I had many things to discuss, Georgiana,” said Darcy mildly.

“Elizabeth!” said Georgiana angrily. She stepped forward to almost place herself between Darcy and Elizabeth, looking very much like a mother defending her offspring. “So it
is
the Elizabeth who made you so miserable for all these years!” she charged. “Well, I will not allow you to make my brother unhappy any longer! If you think—”

Georgiana halted as Darcy took hold of her arms and turned her around to face him. “Georgiana, do not say any more. You do not know of what you are speaking,” he said quietly.

“Do I not?” she asked furiously. “I know you have never been—”

“Georgiana,” said Darcy forcefully, and she instantly fell silent. The years peeled away, and he was again the older brother whom she looked up to as a father.