Sins of the Father

Chapter Fifteen

When I regained my wits at last there on the banks of the River Bandon, I realized that the rain had evidently ceased sometime earlier, for my clothes were but slightly damp. I shivered, aware that the sun now sat low in the sky. Rising to my feet, I looked around, glad to see that although I had run far from the cottage in my befuddled state, I had not strayed from the river.

I must return. Aunt Gardiner will worry, I thought, taking several steps toward the path, but then the realization of what I had learned in the priest's cottage flooded my mind once more, and I stood absolutely still. I am not a bastard! I am not Mr. Darcy's sister!

The loveliest feeling I could imagine crept over me, and I began to smile. I smiled and smiled and smiled. I am not his sister! The words swirled around me like snowflakes, but instead of feeling chilled, a delicious warmth flooded my heart.

I looked about for my bonnet, but evidently I had lost it somewhere along the way. I scanned the spot where I had sat, making sure I had not left my reticule behind. No, it hung from my wrist. I turned back to the path, raised my head, and caught my breath.

There stood Mr. Darcy, his hat in his hand. "Elizabeth!"

"Sir," I whispered, for my voice had somehow vanished.

He did not take a step toward me nor I toward him. We simply gazed at each other as though we might never drink our fill.

He swallowed. "I...am not...we are not...brother and sister."

"I know."

And then, he dropped his hat. Before I could blink, he covered the distance between us, clasped my face between his hands, and covered my mouth with his! Hungrily, he kissed me, greedily prodding my lips until they parted, and I felt a fire well up from deep within that I never knew before.

Just as suddenly, he released me, stepped back, and I watched his chest heave to and fro as he struggled for breath. I underwent my own struggle, attempting to grasp what had just happened between us. He lowered his chin and raised his eyes to stare at me from under his brows, as though he dared me to lash out at him.

"What I did was improper," he took a breath, "was it not?"

I nodded, frowning a bit. Was that all he could think of - impropriety?

He closed his eyes, a tortured look about his countenance. "I suppose you expect me to beg your forgiveness."

Did I dare speak honestly? I swallowed. "No."

His eyes flew open, incredulity therein. "No?"

"No." I took a step toward him, hoping he could see the light in my eyes.

"Elizabeth, may I dare to hope?"

"You may." I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.

He looked to the river on his right, at the trees on his left, at the ground below, and, finally, he looked into my eyes as though he could not believe the words I had spoken. He shook his head. "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were in April a year ago, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have only multiplied, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

I closed my eyes and looked away, struggling not to weep, but he misread my actions.

"I would not have you under obligation to me because of what just happened," he said quickly. "There are no witnesses, and I swear that no one shall ever know of my transgression."

I turned back to meet his gaze. "I do feel under obligation."

"You do? But why?"

"Be...because I wanted it to happen."

The nerve in his forehead twitched. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Inclining his head, he said, "You...wanted it to happen?"

I could not help but smile then. "I did."

"Dearest Elizabeth, I have loved you for so long, and I hope...I pray...that you will be mine, for I simply cannot go on without you."

I took another step in his direction. "William, I will."

Delight suffused his face. He gathered me into his arms, and gently touched his mouth to mine. Soft, undemanding, caressing, his kiss awakened my desire even more. My arms reached up to encircle his neck, and I could not keep from entangling my fingers in his curls. My body yielded to his with need so fervent that it overwhelmed me. The fires we had banked for so long would not be denied.

His lips moved across my forehead and my cheek, as he pulled my head onto his shoulder. "Oh, my lovely, lovely Elizabeth...I cannot breathe without you."

~ * ~/ Fortunately, or unfortunately - however one chooses to look at it - our good sense eventually returned before we gave into our passion there by the river. The sun had almost disappeared over the woods behind us by the time we returned to the bridge and, consequently, to the house where our companions awaited. When we had passed Father Darcy's cottage, I asked if we should make certain he was well. William ran up the slight hill while I waited below. He spoke briefly to a priest at the door, but did not go in, before returning.

"That was Father Rafferty. He had come only a moment or two before I concluded my earlier visit. I asked him to tell Uncle Peter that I had found you and that you are well. The priest said he insisted that my uncle retire, but that he had not yet fallen asleep, so he will inform him. I fear he was quite overcome with the day's revelations. He expects us on the morrow, for he has much to say, and I have many questions to be answered."

"As do I."

We had talked during the entire walk back to the village. He told me that he and Georgiana had returned to the house from Castelaine late in the afternoon to find Mrs. Gardiner alarmed at my extended absence. She feared that I had been caught in the heavy downpour. William had gone immediately to search the village, eventually learning at the pub that someone had seen me walking in the direction of the river. He followed the path, discovered the priest's cottage, and inquired therein, whereupon he found his uncle and heard the shocking news. They had spent no little time attempting to grasp what had happened when Father Rafferty arrived and saw that his friend and mentor was ailing. Leaving the younger priest to see to his uncle, William had resumed his search for me.

I was amazed that I had run so far, obviously in a stupor.

"If I had not found you, Elizabeth," he said right before we reached the house, "I could not have rallied."

"You must not say such things."

"Perhaps not, but it is true. I have never feared any man, but my need for you...it is so great, it frightens me. Promise that you will never leave me."

"I will not leave," I whispered just before the servant opened the door for us.

Inside, we struggled to rein in our emotions, but my aunt's quizzical expression upon greeting us showed that we failed. While walking, we had decided to refrain from telling Georgiana any of what we had learned until after we had spoken to Father Darcy again. After all, the story was not just mine, but my father's, and we knew that it would not only affect his standing in the church and the parish but his very life. I feared for his fragile health and prayed that the shock would not cause him serious harm.

Before dinner, I enjoyed a hot bath and directed the maid to restyle my hair. I picked my brightest gown, and the maid nodded in approval when she finished my coiffure.

"You look particularly well tonight, Miss Bennet."

I smiled. In truth, I could not yet keep from smiling. All the joy I thought I had lost, all the love I had repressed for almost a year, now bubbled up without restraint. I simply could not contain my happiness. My aunt walked into the room just as the maid carried the wet towels out the door.

As simply as possible, I told her of what had happened at Peter Darcy's cottage and how I had responded, how Mr. Darcy found me, and that we had professed our love for each other. She, in turn, was not only relieved but also exceedingly pleased that I was to be happy at last with the man I loved. The moment we had returned, she had guessed, of course, that something momentous had occurred to provoke the elation that neither Mr. Darcy nor I could conceal.

Throughout the meal, I felt William's eyes upon me like a gentle caress, and I am certain that my love for him shone forth each time I looked up and met his gaze. Georgiana had not failed to notice the change in her brother's mood, but, fortunately, she did not recognize the connection between us as the cause.

"I think that walk in the rain did you good, Wills."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, your spirits have lightened. I declare that I have not seen you this happy in months."

"I believe you are right, my sweet little sister. I must walk in the rain more often."

She smiled innocently, and I clutched my napkin to my face to hide my amusement.

Following dinner, Georgiana played on the small pianoforte Lord Killaine had installed before we arrived. Although she deemed it inferior to the one her brother had given her at Pemberley, she still coaxed one lilting tune after another from its keys.

Suddenly, Mr. Darcy rose. "I am in serious need of a reel!"

"A reel!" Georgiana cried, clapping her hands. "Oh, yes, I know the perfect Irish song."

"Come, everyone," he demanded. "We must all join in."

Shock evident upon their faces, Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Gardiner laid their needlework aside, wondering aloud at the astonishing announcement. Mr. Darcy called the servants and assisted them in quickly shoving the settee, chairs, tables, and chaise back against the walls.

"Now, let us participate. Yes, all of you, ladies, come now. Mrs. Gardiner, you may partner with Mrs. Annesley...and Elizabeth, you shall dance with me." Mr. Darcy graced me with a most tender look. It took all my strength not to run into his arms.

The older ladies protested at first, but the gentleman would not be dissuaded. He signalled Georgiana to begin, and held out his hands, indicating that all four of us should join hands in a circle. With commencement of the first notes, much hilarity ensued as we skipped and bounced our way around the room, Mr. Darcy calling out encouragement with each change in pattern. Never had I seen him behave with such selfless abandonment. We laughed until, after three songs, Mrs. Gardiner begged to be seated, complaining that the merriment had caused a stitch in her side.

To quench our thirst, we sipped sherry and continued to laugh and visit for some time. Conversation sparkled, for Mr. Darcy regaled us with one amusing anecdote after another. Where had this man been hiding all my life? Discarding the burden from his heart had freed him in more ways than I ever imagined. I knew he possessed a reserved nature, and I doubted that tonight's excess of spirit signalled a permanent alteration in his character. Nonetheless, such knowledge did not keep me from thoroughly enjoying the elation he allowed himself to exhibit that particular evening.

At length, the ladies and Georgiana began to yawn and eventually bade their goodnights. I lingered a bit, hoping to snatch a moment alone with William.

"Are you coming, Lizzy?" my aunt asked, walking toward the door.

"In a moment, Aunt."

She cocked her head. "Be sure to look in on me before you retire, my dear."

"I shall."

"And do not be long."

I nodded, knowing she would not sleep until I had done as she wished. Once the door closed behind her, however, William caught my hand and pulled me to him.

"She knows, does she not?"

"She does, and she is more than pleased for us. I could not keep from telling her."

"I am glad you did. I long to step outside the door and shout to the entire world, 'Elizabeth Bennet loves me!'"

I laughed and leaned my head back to gaze up at him.

"Do you know how much I love you?" he said softly.

"Yes, but I should dearly love to hear you tell me all the same."

"I would rather show you," he whispered, gathering me close. I lifted my face to his and felt myself surrender as his lips covered mine. Softly, he caressed my mouth, nibbling and teasing until my lips parted, and he captured my mouth, provoking delicious waves of desire to flood over me. Unknowingly, I spread my hands over his chest, stroking repeatedly until I reached his face. His arms had encircled my waist, and he pulled me nearer and nearer.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I cannot hold you close enough," he whispered in my hair.

"You shall. Never fear, William, you shall."

He smiled, softly tracing his thumb along my chin. "Such a long time to wait." He groaned. "How shall I survive until we return to Longbourn? Think of that sea voyage that awaits us!"

"I have every confidence in you. Once you set your mind to something, your will is ironclad." My tone was gently mocking.

"Except when it comes to you. My love, you will always be my weakness."

"I cannot picture you with any weakness."

"Now that you are privy to my confession, you must be merciful."

I smiled. "Then, for mercy's sake, I shall leave you now."

"What kind of compassion is that?" he cried, reaching for me as I stepped out of his arms. "That will not relieve my suffering."

"Still, it is prudent, for if I do not, I fear that my aunt will soon walk through the door to fetch me."

He sighed. "If you must." I took another step from him, when he pulled me back. "One more kiss before parting."

Reclaiming my lips, he proceeded to take my breath away once again, and it was with the greatest difficulty that, at length, I managed to break loose from his embrace and climb the stairs. He watched me ascend, but when I reached halfway, he covered the distance between us in two long strides. Clasping my face in his hands, he kissed me quickly, released me, and then kissed me again.

I have never taken longer to reach my chamber than I did on that glorious night.

~ * ~

The next morning, I awakened late. I had slept better than I had for more than a year. Consequently, I walked into an empty breakfast room. As the servant set steaming coffee and muffins exuding a scrumptious aroma in front of me, he said that Master Darcy had gone out, and the ladies were assembled in the parlour.

Surely, William has not left for Peter Darcy's cottage without me, I hoped.

"Please ask Mrs. Gardiner to join me," I directed the servant. Within moments, she walked into the sun-lit room, dressed to go out, but for her pelisse.

"You are up at last, Lizzy."

"Forgive me, I did not know it was so late."

She waved her hand to dismiss my apology and hastened to announce that all of us were to call upon Father Darcy that afternoon. Mr. Darcy had gone on some errands but would return within the hour to escort us.

"All of us? What do you mean, Aunt? Has Mr. Darcy informed Georgiana of what transpired yesterday?"

She assured me that he had not, but stated that he thought it proper to introduce his sister to his uncle as soon as possible. He had arranged with Mrs. Gardiner that, after a suitably short visit, she would suggest that Georgiana and her companion join her for a walk along the river. Mr. Darcy and I would remain behind so that we might talk with the priest alone.

"Will Georgiana not question why I fail to accompany you, for she knows I am fond of walking?"

"You are to say that you are tired from your long sojourn in the rain the day before, and that you prefer to wait in the priest's cottage until we return." Mrs. Gardiner smiled as though she enjoyed this small attempt at subterfuge. She also said that she longed for Mr. Gardiner to join us, so that Mr. Darcy could formally ask his blessings upon our union. In Papá's absence, he would stand in as my guardian.

Perhaps, I thought, William ought to ask my true father for his permission.

Our plans for the afternoon succeeded with nary a snag. I was glad to see that Father Darcy had survived the night after receiving such a shock. It was distressing, however, to see that he was unable to rise from his bed. Father Rafferty ushered us in and explained that the older priest's strength had failed him that morning. Father Darcy, however, was pleased to meet his niece, and he was cordial to her companion and my aunt, but I noticed that his eyes rarely left my person. The younger priest cautioned us not to stay too long, which aided in my aunt's plot to remove Georgiana, her companion, and herself after only a brief visit. Father Rafferty also left at the same time, assuring his friend that he would return later that evening.

Once they departed, Mr. Darcy questioned his uncle as to the true status of his health and whether he wished us to withdraw also. The priest dismissed his nephew's concern.

"I must talk to Elizabeth. I must tell her how it all happened. You may stay, Fitzwilliam, for I think you should hear this also, especially since you have suffered from Catherine's tale about George."

Mr. Darcy sat in a chair at the foot of his uncle's bed, while I settled myself in the chair nearest my father. I leaned forward so that I might hear every word he wished to say and gazed into a pair of eyes that matched mine, but for their age.

"Dearest child, you truly are my daughter. Although you are the image of your mother, I can see bits of myself in you as well. What must you think of me, leaving you to be reared by another?"

"Let us not speak of that now, Father. I so long to understand what happened all those years ago."

He reached out his hand and patted my cheek before closing his eyes. Seeming to travel back in time, my father began his tale.

"I fell in love with Elizabeth Willoughby during the summer of 1790. I had returned home from Cambridge and found myself restless, finally accepting the bitter truth that I did not wish to be an Anglican vicar as my father had planned before his death and as my older brother presumed I would do. After spending countless hours at my ailing mother's bedside, listening to her urge me to remain true to my Catholic faith, I, at last, tired of the emotional struggle and sought refuge on the back of my favourite horse. Several times a week, we roamed the trails that led us throughout the hills and woods of Derbyshire.

"One day after a particularly long, hot ride, I dismounted some distance from the grounds at Pemberley and threw myself down on a grassy expanse. I allowed my horse to nibble at the tender, green shoots while I rested. I had almost fallen asleep, when I heard a rustling in the trees and the distinct melodic tone of a girl's laughter. I rose, followed the sound, and crept into the wood, whereupon I heard footsteps retreating through the bush. A flash of colour appeared before my eyes, and I darted after it in full pursuit.

"She led me on a merry chase before I caught her, but I was well rewarded with my snare. For there before me stood a barefoot girl with laughing eyes, a wild tangle of dark curls streaming down her back, and an arch smile upon her lips that proved enchanting.

"When she identified herself as Elizabeth Willoughby, I could not believe the beautiful creature who stood before me was our neighbour's little girl from Bridesgate Manor, whom I had seen now and then through the years. When had she grown up? And why had I never before noticed how lovely she was?

"From that moment, we became inseparable. She was as natural as the forest she loved and yet foreign to every woman I had ever known before in my one and twenty years. A freedom possessed her - freedom from drawing rooms, parlour conversation, pretence, and convention. It was as though she and the earth were one, and outdoors, under God's benevolent eye, hidden deep in the woods that adjoined Pemberley and Bridesgate, she thrived as a healthy rosebud responds to generous helpings of rain and golden sunlight.

"I found everything she did and said fascinating, and she, in turn, encouraged my company. She shared her favourite haunts, while I entertained her with tales of my life at Cambridge and of my family's plans for me to inherit the living at Kympton.

'That means you are to be a vicar,' she said.

'And therein dwells the dilemma.'

'I do not understand. Do you not wish for a career in the church?'

'Not the Anglican church.'

"I then explained to her about my mother's Irish heritage, about her elopement with my father, subsequent break with her family, and of her living a lie throughout her marriage. I told how she had attended Anglican services all those years with her husband and sons, allowed her children to be raised in the Protestant religion, and yet yearned in her heart for all of us to someday become members of the true church. Elizabeth, of course, had no idea of what true church I spoke, but she was as open and innocent as a child when I began to teach her Catholic doctrine.

"Eventually, we visited the small chapel in the woods at Pemberley that my father had allowed built for my mother. There, Elizabeth accepted further instruction in the faith from the priest, Father Ayden. It was not long before she professed a desire to become baptized. After doing so, she received Our Lord in Holy Communion and completed the necessary studies for Confirmation. All this was done in secret, of course, and our growing relationship remained hidden.

"Elizabeth's younger sister, Eleanor, often accompanied us on our jaunts in the woods, but she was afraid of the priest and would not enter the church with us. She did, however, keep watch without to make certain we were not discovered. We made it into a sort of game, which she found highly entertaining, and she was only too pleased to play at what she considered an adventure. Eleanor had no idea at the gravity of her sister's decision, nor how serious Elizabeth and I had grown in our feelings for one another.

"My mother's illness progressed that autumn, and I postponed my return to Cambridge because of it. I had always been particularly close to her, and she sought my presence even more as her condition deteriorated. She became obsessed with the idea that I move to Ireland, her homeland, where I might practice my faith without causing repercussions upon the futures of my brothers. My father had died some years earlier, and George, who was eight years my senior, had assumed his place as head of the family. He had married Anne, a titled lady, whose connections could assist George in any future ambitions he might entertain.

'Once I am dead,' my mother said, 'George will be free of what this country considers the Catholic taint. If you go to Ireland, Peter, there will be no one to hold George back. And you might also re-establish contact with my family in County Cork. I trust that my brothers' hearts have softened and that they will take you in. When you reach the shores, call upon Lord Killaine. He will aid you, once he learns you are my son and that you have embraced the church.'

"Of course, my mother knew nothing of my affection for Elizabeth, nor my horror at the thought of leaving the girl behind. Whenever she had a good day, which grew ever less frequent as the months passed, Mother made meticulous plans for financing my leave-taking. She urged me to keep it our secret, for she and I both knew that George would never approve.

"Sadly, she died three weeks after Christmas. It was a bitterly cold day in January, and I felt the loss most acutely. I sought refuge at the chapel in the woods, and it was not long before Elizabeth found me weeping there. She shared my grief, not because she knew Mother well, but because she loved me. Any emotion either of us felt dominated the other, for our spirits were bound to each other.

"The day my brothers and I buried Mother, Elizabeth and I made plans to marry. We enlisted the aid of the parish priest, and I travelled to London to secure a special licence, telling my brothers that I was calling upon a friend from school. We could tell the truth to neither of our families, for her brother would have forbidden it and never given his consent, especially when he learned that I had influenced his sister to change her religion. I also knew that George and Lady Anne would not understand. After all, my education was not complete, nor did I possess much of a future, for now that I was Catholic, I could never accept the living at Kympton.

"Elizabeth's brother, Sir Linton Willoughby, was an ambitious but lazy scoundrel."

Mr. Darcy gave a disgusted grunt of agreement and rose from his chair.

"I see you have discovered that for yourself, Fitzwilliam." Father Darcy asked for water, which I quickly brought to his bedside. "Thank you, my dear." He sipped from the glass before returning it to me.

"Having assumed leadership of his family after his father's demise, Willoughby had already wasted much of his fortune. He was his mother's favourite, however, and she denied him nothing. Together, they had determined to marry Elizabeth to Lord Dudley Haversham, a balding, stout, old widower twice Elizabeth's age. Plans to secure the alliance during the approaching season in Town were already underway, for Sir Dudley's lust for young women was well known. Thus, it was essential that I married Elizabeth before she was forced to depart Derbyshire.

"To comply with the legalities of the Crown, we married on the first of March, 1791, in the Anglican church in which the vicar had baptised us and in the faith he assumed we yet professed. I secured his pledge and that of the witnesses, his wife and daughter, to keep the union secret until we informed our families. Afterwards, we proceeded to the Catholic chapel where Father Ayden married us before God. Two transient Irish laborers working temporarily in the country, whom Father Ayden had given shelter for the night, witnessed our vows. They made their marks, and on the morrow they went on their way. We planned to announce our marriage to both of our families two weeks later just before the Willoughbys were to leave for Town. That gave me sufficient time to confirm our passage to Ireland from the funds my mother had quietly hidden away for me in a distant county with a banker unknown to George.

"I shall not share with you how and where Elizabeth and I managed to be together during those two weeks, but be assured that I was as resourceful as any man violently in love. We determined to tell our news to Lady Willoughby and Sir Linton before we confessed the marriage to George and Lady Anne. Our plans, however, fell short at Bridesgate, and I never told George that I had married.

"Sir Linton erupted into a rage that I have never witnessed before or since. He vowed that he would annul the marriage, and that our wedding was invalid because Elizabeth was underage when she married and when she converted to what he called the Papist religion. He said he would see me in hell before he ever allowed me near his sister again. He declared that Elizabeth would marry Lord Haversham, and, that if I made any attempt to change his plans, he would destroy my family's reputation. Ordering Elizabeth confined to her room, he drove me from Bridesgate."

By that time in his uncle's narrative, Mr. Darcy had begun to pace back and forth.

"My first thought was to enlist George's aid, but he and Lady Anne had not yet returned from Town. They had travelled there with Henry to commence plans for his enlistment in His Majesty's service. I was wild with anger, fear, and frustration. I had no one at Pemberley to call upon for help, and I knew that the Willoughbys planned to leave Derbyshire the very next day. At last, I raced through the woods to the chapel and sought Father Ayden's counsel. We discussed my options at length, and he advised me to return to Bridesgate that night after Sir Linton's temper had cooled. He could not believe the man would not listen to reason once he settled down, and the priest assured me that Elizabeth's brother would not annul our marriage.

"That night, I hastened to see Sir Linton. A tremendous storm broke just as I climbed the stone steps to the entrance of the house. I recall how the butler refused me entry, evidently at his master's orders, and I stood out in the rain, waiting. At length, Sir Linton appeared and that is when...the unthinkable happened."

Father Darcy's voice broke, and I watched tears fill his eyes. He clutched his chest and inhaled sharply. I rose hastily and fetched the powder he had shown me earlier. I stirred it into another glass of water. Mr. Darcy assisted him in sitting up, and the priest sipped the concoction for some time before resuming his tale. As I turned to sit once more in the chair, he caught my hand.

"Stay close beside me, lass. Sit on the bed, pray, for my strength falters."

I eased myself down beside him, for I, too, had noticed the weakness of his voice. "Perchance you have said enough for today, Father."

He made a feeble gesture in protest. "No...no, I must tell you, before I am no longer able to do so. You, of all people, have a right to know." He swallowed visibly and fixed his eyes on some unseen object in the distance. He remained silent so long that I feared he was lapsing into some sort of vision, but, just as I despaired of his return to the story, he rallied and began again.

"That night, at the commencement of that terrible storm, Willoughby told me that my Elizabeth was dead. Dead...even after all these years, I still find it difficult to say the word."

"A bold-faced lie!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed, balling his hands into fists.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam," Father Darcy agreed, "but I did not know it until yesterday. Willoughby said she had fallen down the stairs from the second floor and broken her neck. Shock and outrage consumed me. I wanted to throttle him, but he slammed the door in my face with a hatred I shall never forget. I cannot recall much of what happened after that. I must have wandered through the woods like a madman all night, for, at dawn, I came to myself on the steps of the chapel, soaked and chilled from the rain.

"Inside, I threw myself before the altar and cried out my despair. The next thing I remember was Father Ayden's endless questions as to the cause of my sorrow. I grasped little of what he said, other than something about allowing God to work in my life."

"Out of my mind with grief, I fell into a raging fever. Father Ayden put me to bed in his quarters and tended to my needs. I remember begging him to return to Bridesgate and give Elizabeth the last rites before her brother had her buried. When he suggested returning me to Pemberley or at least going there to inform George, I insisted that he do as I ask and go to Bridesgate instead. I assured him that all my family were in London, so a visit to Pemberley would be useless.

"I remained with him for several days, eventually growing stronger. Upon my recovery, Father Ayden told me of what had transpired at Bridesgate. Armed men hired by Willoughby met him at the entrance to the grounds. The steward informed the priest that he was not welcome and neither he nor Peter Darcy would be admitted under any circumstances. Father Ayden asked to see Elizabeth's body, but was told that she had already been buried in an unmarked grave in a secluded place unknown to anyone but Sir Linton. A burly footman made a menacing gesture with his weapon lending force to the words of Willoughby's steward.

'Sir Linton says to tell Mr. Peter Darcy he is not welcome at Bridesgate, that if he or anyone from that Papist church trespasses, our orders are to treat him as any common intruder.'

"I did not return to Pemberley. I did not write to George or Henry in Town. Within the week, I recovered enough to depart for Holyhead, where I booked passage on a ship sailing for Dublin, and made my way to my mother's home county. The banker my mother had trusted gave me his pledge of secrecy. I also secured Father Ayden's vow of silence about the matter before leaving, for I now feared for his safety as well as that of my family. To my way of thinking, Willoughby had become insane."

"But why?" Mr. Darcy cried. "Why did you not go to Father and enlist his aid?"

The old priest closed his eyes. "To this day, my boy, I do not know why I failed to inform my family of my whereabouts. Perhaps, I was simply too overcome with my own misery to think clearly. When Henry found me fourteen years later, that, too, was his first question, but I did not have an answer, and I still do not. By that time, I wore the cassock I wear today. Perhaps, I knew that George would never approve my decision to join the priesthood, and I did not wish to endure the aggravation of his censure. I freely admit that is not an adequate reason, and I regret having caused Lady Anne and George, as well as Henry, anguish over my disappearance.

"I never told any of them about my marriage to Elizabeth. After all, she was gone, and the entire union had existed no longer than a fortnight. When Henry did not mention the Willoughbys, I assumed Sir Linton's wrath had subsided and he had kept it quiet, wishing to hide the news of what he considered his sister's disgrace from even my family.

"Now, you tell me that Elizabeth did not die as her brother falsely said, that she died some nine months later in childbirth. How deserted she must have felt! What must she have thought of my forsaking her? A coward...surely, she must have considered me the lowliest of cowards. I cannot forgive myself for having left her." Tears trickled down his worn, lined cheeks.

"Sir Linton is the one I shall never forgive," Mr. Darcy declared, and I murmured my agreement. He walked across the room to the window. He stood there some time before turning to face us. "What I wonder is exactly how much my father knew of this matter."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did he know that Elizabeth Willoughby had married Uncle Peter, or did he believe her child was illegitimate?"

"According to Lady Catherine, he believed the latter," I said.

"But...did Lady Catherine tell us the truth?"

Father Darcy sighed. "If I know Catherine, she told as much truth as she needed to satisfy her demands."

"She demanded that I never engage myself to Mr. Darcy," I said.

"Exactly," Mr. Darcy said. "And she professed to believe that Elizabeth was the natural daughter of George Darcy. Surely, my father would never have told such a lie, even to protect you, Uncle Peter. I say that a call upon my aunt is in order as soon as we return to England."

"And I shall write to Miss Willoughby this evening," I added. "I would be very interested in knowing how much of the story she assumed that we knew, but did not."

"Is Eleanor happy?" Father Darcy asked. "She was such a lively little girl. Her laugh was contagious - one could not keep from smiling when hearing her."

I sighed. "She has not had an easy life, living with her brother, but I am thankful to report that she bears a pleasant expression and a kind manner. She never married, but she seems content."

A light tap on the door signalled the ladies' return. They waited without as we made our good-byes.

"Shall you visit me tomorrow, my dear?" the priest asked, clinging to my hand. I assured him that I would. "Then, God give me strength so I may begin to beg your forgiveness on the morrow."

"There is nothing to forgive, Father. You have been sinned against as much as I."

Chapter Sixteen

That evening, Mr. Darcy and I remained much subdued. Fortunately, Georgiana chattered incessantly about her upcoming visit with Lord Killaine's daughter on the morrow. Being nearly the same age, they had taken an immediate liking for each other's company, and Miss Niamh Killaine had invited her to spend the day. They planned to ride horses selected from her father's highly-regarded stable and enjoy a picnic with their older companions. Miss Annesley, regrettably, did not share her young charge's enthusiasm for horses, but she did her best to remain cheerful.

When Georgiana took her place at the pianoforte, I sat down at the desk and began my letter to Miss Willoughby. I hardly knew what to say, for my father's story had stunned me. The need for answers, however, caused me to find the words.

"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 pouted a bit. "I do not see why everyone should be so glum tonight."

I looked up to see Mr. Darcy's gaze upon me as he filled his glass with sherry. 'Twas true, our mood was glum, 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 goodnight, 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 her 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 then 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 complete 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."

Gently, he pulled my head back onto his shoulder. "No, no, my love, no one shall take away our contentment. I shall 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 evaporated 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 his muscles 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 fact 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 saddled Uncle Peter with an enormous 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 that 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."

He nodded in agreement and smiled before touching his lips to mine. We kissed several times before he pulled me into a closer, warm embrace, deepening his search until I succumbed and parted my lips. I melted into his arms and yielded my mouth, allowing him free reign, 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!

~ * ~

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 rug 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 reticence did not exist without reason. Gently, he continued to probe 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 fact about my life from me."

"Has he ever acted in an unloving manner toward you?"

"No," I said softly.

"Then, is it not possible that he simply acted out of love? What child would wish to grow up thinking they were not legitimate? I suspect Mr. Bennet followed his conscience, wishing to spare you pain."

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

"Indeed, but the man who raised you did not bring it about. From what I have learned of him, he has been a true father to you. He gave you a home, a family, and his name." When I did not respond, he said, "Consider my counsel, Elizabeth, and deal gently with this good 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 surmised 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 finer 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, he 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 he spent in the village, he was more than willing to grant his approval of our engagement. At the conclusion of his talk with Mr. Darcy after dinner, 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 responded 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 had, of course, 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 me 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 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 reaction would be. She rose from the chair on which she sat, and, 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 decision 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.

~ * ~

At last, the time arrived for us to leave Ballymeghan. Only the evening before, a letter from Miss Willoughby had arrived by 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.

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 ruckus brewing within the drawing room could be heard quite clearly.

Linton vowed to annul your parents' marriage. He threatened your father with dire 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, that if she refused or ever told anyone of this prior "marriage," that 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.

I shrank back into the shadows and watched maids scurry to and fro like mice running from a tomcat. Linton personally escorted Elizabeth up the stairs and forced her into her chamber. When I witnessed her incessant pleading and cries for his understanding, I could not remain hidden. Running out into the open, I grabbed my brother's hand and attempted to dislodge his grip from my sister's arm. My efforts were as futile as a tiny insect waging war upon a wild boar. He thrust her into the room and locked the door behind her.

I did not know your father returned to our house that night. I do recall the terrible storm, for its roar was the only sound that muffled my sister's weeping. At that time, I knew nothing of the lie Linton told your father.

All of us left for Town the next day, save my grandmother. Elizabeth and I were kept apart most of the time or supervised by either Mother or the governess. I remember that during the journey my sister attempted to run away more than once, but she was recovered each time.

In London, Elizabeth was kept under lock and key for what seemed like ages to a child, but could not have been more than two or three months. Of a sudden, one day she was gone - returned to Bridesgate without any explanation. I suppose I was considered too young to be told why. I never saw her again.

In December, a few weeks before Christmas, I was told that my sister had died. I was heartbroken, undone with sorrow. When I asked the cause of her death, no one answered me. I suppose my mother grieved, but, if so, she kept it hidden from me. Linton continued on his downward spiral of personal destruction. My grandmother passed away the next month, and, when we travelled to Derbyshire to close up the house, I stole away one afternoon and found Elizabeth's grave. They had buried my grandmother between my sister and my grandfather.

I looked up to see my father sobbing. Tears filled my eyes, and my throat constricted so that I could not continue. William saw my distress and took the letter from me. Father Darcy beckoned, and I knelt on the floor at his feet, holding his hand while William finished reading.

I did not learn that my sister had died in childbirth until seven years later. Upon her deathbed, my mother revealed the truth to me. She was terrified of dying, afraid that she would be held accountable in the next life for her part in Elizabeth's tragic story.

You ask whether my sister knew that Mr. Darcy believed her dead. I cannot answer that. As I said, I was prevented from being in her presence alone, for Linton and Mother blamed me for knowing of your parents' friendship and keeping it secret. I do know that I never saw her smile again nor any trace of that lively spirit she had always possessed. I saw nothing but grief and hopeless resignation in her eyes. We snatched but a moment to speak alone the day before she disappeared from our house in Town.

"I shall always love him, Ellie," she whispered.

"Surely, Darcy will come for you," I said.

"Yes, he will come if he can, but I fear something dreadful has happened to him, for I know he would never forsake me. No matter what happens or what they do to me, they cannot destroy what I feel in my heart. Linton may annul my marriage, but I shall never marry Lord Haversham. I shall die first, for Darcy will always be my husband."

Those were the last words I heard Elizabeth utter.

I am sorry, my dear, that I cannot shed more light on your questions or give you happier news. I do know this: Your mother loved your father, and, if she had lived, I know she would have loved you more than life itself. She would not have you grieve for her. She would wish for you to live life to its fullest. Be happy, Elizabeth, for your mother's sake and for your own.

With deepest regards, Eleanor

I heard Mr. Darcy fold the paper and slip it into his coat pocket. I had laid my head upon my father's knee, and he gently smoothed my hair back. All three of us remained silent, save the sounds of my father's weeping. At length, I looked up at his lined face, and he reached out, clutching me to his breast.

"I love you, Father," I whispered over and over.

"And I love you more than you will ever know, my own dearest child."

I could hear Mr. Darcy begin to pace, as he did when greatly agitated. "What has happened is monstrous! Someone must pay for this. I shall call out Willoughby as soon as I reach London!"

"No!" I cried. "William, you must not."

"Stand still, Fitzwilliam. You tire me out with all that walking about. Come, and listen to reason."

Mr. Darcy looked as though he wished he might utter an oath, but he ceased pacing and sat in the chair I had vacated. "It is not right, Uncle! He should not go free without suffering some consequence for this dastardly deed."

"From what you and Elizabeth have told me, Sir Linton has not gone free. His life is ruined, and he has no future. Do not seek revenge, for the past is dead. Leave him to God."

"I shall never forgive him!" Mr. Darcy muttered.

"You must. Both of you must forgive the man. Your hatred will do him no harm, but it will kill your souls. Forgiveness is the only answer, my children."

"You ask too much, Uncle."

"All things are possible with God, my son." He patted my hair again and stared off in the distance. "The only obstacle I cannot overcome...is how to forgive myself."

"But Father," I said, "you have no guilt in this matter."

He placed his hand tenderly upon my cheek. "Tell that to my heart, my child."

---

We sailed from Ireland on the 26th of September, taking advantage of the last calm seas before the harsh tides of winter set in. Leaving Father Darcy had proved painful, for we both knew it was most likely that we should never meet again. Before we parted, I asked him if he regretted learning of my existence.

"Never, my child, for knowing that Elizabeth and I will live on in you and your children is a blessing I never anticipated. I thought that dream had died in England, and now I rejoice that it has come true."

William and I had discussed the possibility of my father returning to Pemberley with us, but we feared that he could not survive the journey. When we broached the subject with Father, he declined as we expected, stating that Ireland was his home. It had been so far too long for him to leave it now. I promised to write often, and he assured me that Father Rafferty would read the letters to him and copy his answers as he dictated. A generous amount of tears were shed between us, but we parted with a smile. Although I was sad, I longed to go home, and thus, my feelings were conflicted as we rode out of Ballymeghan.

I shall not relate the tedious and often boring detail of our journey. Suffice it to say that it was as tiring as one might expect, both by carriage and by ship. My heart, however, gradually began to grow lighter with the passing of each mile, for I looked forward to the future with expectations that I had not dared entertain before. I knew that, God willing, Mr. Darcy and I would wed at Longbourn Church as soon as he was able to secure a special licence. That thought sustained me through all the travails of travelling.

It seems somewhat silly, but I recall the most difficult aspect of that journey was the fact that William and I were unable to find a moment of privacy together. During the confinement of the long carriage ride, either Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley shared the coach or Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did. William was forced to content himself with simply gazing upon me as the miles crept by. We found the inns crowded along the route to Dublin, so that finding a hidden setting proved impossible. Even when we took a walk in the evening, Georgiana wished to keep us company. We loved her, but oh, how we hoped she felt too tired for exercise at the end of each day. Alas, God blessed the young girl with an unpardonable amount of energy!

We spent a week in Dublin awaiting our ship, during which Mr. Darcy secured tickets for a box at the theatre on Wednesday night. Neither Mrs. Gardiner nor Mrs. Annesley felt up to the outing, so my uncle and Georgiana accompanied us. Believe me when I say that Mr. Darcy took every opportunity to hold my hand each time the lights dimmed for the performance. Softly, he traced circles in my palm or caressed my wrist with such tenderness that I confess I could not tell you what the play was about. In the darkness, I could feel his eyes upon me, and, consequently, I spent the majority of the evening returning his loving gaze rather than watching the actors on stage. Not a word was spoken between us, but we did not need words.

Once aboard ship, our attempts to be alone were thwarted even more. The cramped quarters below deck threw us together with our companions and the other passengers, and above deck, of course, we were in open view of the captain and his crew. Our separation began to play on Mr. Darcy's temper. More than once, he answered Georgiana with a tone of irritation or refused her requests, whatever they were, a behaviour I had not witnessed before and one that baffled his young sister.

At length, one evening at the close of the dinner meal, as he withdrew from the table to join the gentlemen for a drink, he stopped beside my chair.

"Your shawl, Miss Bennet," he said quietly, as he picked it up from the floor. Evidently, it had slipped from my shoulders and dropped from the chair. Placing it in my hands, he also enclosed a tiny scrap of paper. I looked up to meet his eyes and read the message therein. As soon as possible, I unfolded the note.

Meet me on deck after the others retire.

My heart beat faster at the thought. Might I possibly slip away without alerting Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner or being heard by anyone else? The thought filled me with adventure. I feared the evening would never end. The captain and ship's doctor entertained us with a duet on cello and violin. Their performance was quite proficient, but it would go on and on. Georgiana was entranced and wished for a pianoforte so that she might join them. I began to think they should play all night.

Finally, the company disbanded, we bade each other goodnight, and settled in our cabins. I did not undress. Instead, I repeatedly checked my appearance in the small mirror. One would think I was to attend my first ball from the glow on my cheeks. Tapping my foot impatiently, I placed my head against the wall, hoping to hear nothing but silence from the next room. When all was quiet, I proceeded to the door and leaned against it to detect noises from without. Imagine my surprise when someone rapped on the door precisely on the spot next to my ear!

"Oh!" I cried aloud, but opened the door forthwith to find my aunt asking to come in.

"Why, Lizzy, you have not even begun to prepare for bed. Are you not tired yet?"

"I...I am. I was just...looking for a favourite book before I turn in. What brings you, Aunt? Are you unwell again? May I be of service?"

She smiled, her complexion turning slightly pink. "No, I just hoped for a quick word. I have news that I wish to tell you. I am with child again."

"With child? How wonderful! Are you certain?"

"All the signs are evident. That is why I have suffered illness so often on the journey. I tell you, Lizzy, I am much relieved, for I feared these aches and pains were a sign of age. Now, I see that I am not so old after all."

"Of course not! I am thrilled. What does Uncle Edward say?"

"He is pleased. He hopes for another boy so that, eventually, when he changes the name of his business to Gardiner and Sons, there will be one more to add to the company. We laughed merrily and discussed the upcoming event no little time before she, at last, rose from the bed to leave. "On another note, Lizzy, I must ask you if you have noticed how abrupt Mr. Darcy has been today with his sister? Is something amiss?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps he simply tires of the voyage."

"Hmm...well, it seems so out of character, for he is the soul of patience with her most days."

"Everyone has a disagreeable day, even Mr. Darcy, it seems."

"Yes, even Mr. Darcy. You are quite certain he has not mentioned anything to you, Lizzy?"

"No," I said honestly, for he truly had not spoken of his ill-humour, although I knew perfectly well its cause.

My response seemed to satisfy Mrs. Gardiner, for she withdrew shortly thereafter, cautioning me not to sit up too late. Thus, I was forced to blow out the candle and remain quiet for some time, awaiting the cessation of sound that signalled her eventual retirement for the night.

I heard the bell tolling the midnight hour when I cautiously opened my door, slipped out and tiptoed up the stairs. My efforts were rewarded with the smile on Mr. Darcy's face as he waited beside the stairway.

"At last," he said. "I began to think you would not come."

"My aunt came calling." We walked to the railing and then crossed to the starboard side of the ship. "I confess I found your note surprising."

"Surprising? And why is that? When a man is as starved as I am for time alone with the woman he loves, why should he not resort to any and all pursuits?"

I laughed lightly. "It has been a long time since we have enjoyed a solitary meeting."

"Long? It has been an eternity. Do you have any idea how I yearn to kiss you and hold you close?"

"We still cannot do so, sir, for we are hardly bereft of company. I feel the eyes of the seamen on us this very moment."

"True, but at least we may speak without restraint."

We had reached the bow and stood at the railing, leaning into the wind. The night was beautiful, filled with stars that seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth. The splash and churn of waves below us muffled our speech so that even if a crewmember walked past, we could not be heard. Mr. Darcy leaned with his elbows against the rail, extending his arms over the water. We stood in silence for some time, simply content to be together.

At last, I decided to speak. "Mrs. Gardiner noticed your short temper with Georgiana today. She wished to know if something was wrong."

"And did you tell her?"

"What should I have told her?"

"That I am in a horrid mood because I cannot take you in my arms. That I find it more and more difficult to pass each day so near and yet so far from you."

"Naturally, sir. That is exactly what I told her."

He smiled. "None of your impertinence, Miss, or I may kiss you right here in front of everyone."

"William!"

"I am in pain, Elizabeth."

"Pain?"

"For want of you."

I looked up at him, wishing I could assuage his yearning. "You simply must not."

"Have no fear, I will not touch you. See, my hands are before me. I do not even brush against you when you stand there as tempting as a goddess. But I can feel you...your warmth, your softness...every lovely bit of you."

I could not speak, for his words of love caused that heat deep within to rise up and flood my senses. The way he looked at me and the ragged tone of his voice were so tender, that he may as well have had his hands upon me.

"Do you wonder how I know what you feel like?"

"I dare not ask."

"Dreams, endless dreams. I have dreamt of you for nigh on to two years."

"William..."

"I knew just how you would fit in my embrace - as though you were made for it - how the warmth of your silky skin would set me on fire, and how the essence of your scent would remind me of everything good in this life. I have known these things since long before I could admit that I loved you, for you have haunted my dreams without mercy."

I swallowed. "When did you first know that you loved me?"

He smiled. "I hardly know. I was in the middle before I had even begun." I could feel his eyes upon me as they moved from my hair, over my face, my lips, and down to my neck like a loving caress.

"How...how do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked, smiling again.

"Make love to me with your eyes?"

"As easily as drawing breath." He groaned and turned his back to the rail. "Oh, why does this blasted ship not give a sudden lurch and throw you into my arms again?"

"I found it very difficult being in your presence when we thought we were brother and sister."

"Difficult! It was a horrid nightmare! And it went on and on and on. I thought I should never find the truth."

"When did you doubt our relationship? What made you persist in this long, endless quest?"

"When did I doubt that I was your brother? Almost from the beginning. Oh, I tried to accept it. I struggled with everything in me, but I found it impossible."

"Because of your father's character."

"Because I knew God could not play such a monstrous trick on us." He indicated that we should walk, and we ambled slowly up and down the deck. "And yes, I refused to accept that my father could have been guilty of such dishonour, but even more, my stubborn will refused to believe I could never have you. My greatest fear was that Fitzwilliam or some other man would win your hand in marriage before I could find the answers."

"So you were jealous?"

"What do you think?" He smiled down at me.

"I feared that you were seeking a wife, first at the Whitby's ball when you danced with Miss Denison and then when I saw Miss Simpson on your arm in Bath."

"Diversions, nothing but diversions."

"Poor Miss Simpson, to be called nothing more than a diversion. I fear you broke her heart."

"Save your sympathy for someone else. Miss Simpson has a string of suitors, and she has broken more hearts than any other woman in Bath. She cared little more for me than I did for her, for she had set her cap on a titled conquest. If you wish to feel sorry for someone, you should feel sorry for me. I was forced to do something at those blasted balls other than watch you dance with every man in the house."

That remark made me laugh. "I did not dance with every man, sir, but you certainly selected the most beautiful ladies."

"I beg to differ, for at each ball I desired most ardently to dance with the most beautiful woman there, but it was forbidden." He inclined his head so near, the expression in his eyes was so filled with passion, that it was all I could do not to lift my lips to his.

Suddenly, he placed his hand at my elbow and steered me toward the hatch. "Hang this ship and these seamen. I must kiss you, Elizabeth!"

As we reached the stairs, he told me to go below and step into the dining room. We could not descend at the same time lest it appear unseemly. I started to protest, but the look in his eye silenced me. That night, he was a man who would not be refused.

Inside the dining hall, I wondered at Mr. Darcy's reasoning, for the wall adjoining the passageway contained four large windows. How might we find privacy therein? Some minutes passed before I saw him making his way down the hallway.

"Come," he said, "surely there is some hidden alcove in this room." I watched in wonder as, in the dark, he began to open doors to closets filled with supplies. At last, he pushed a door open, motioned to me, and I joined him in the galley. I marvelled at how the ship's cook managed to prepare meals in such tight quarters. Mr. Darcy bade me wait just inside the door while he scoured the area. I wondered how he could see his way without a candle.

"At last," he said upon his return, "there is no one here. We are quite alone."

Pulling me into his arms, I felt my skin begin to tingle in anticipation. Gently, he kissed my cheek, my ear, and my neck before finding my mouth. Over and over, he stroked my lips in teasing nibbles until I took his face between my hands and stilled him, making him deepen his kiss. I felt engulfed by love for him, filled with passionate desire to somehow meld us together for all time. I understood what he meant when he said he could not hold me close enough, for I clung to him, never wanting his kisses to cease.

They did, however, when we heard a strangled sort of noise within the room. We froze in each other's arms. He placed a finger to his lips, softly stepped away, shielding me with his body. It was nigh impossible to see any movement. Indicating that I should stay put, Mr. Darcy stealthily advanced further into the galley. The noise occurred again before he returned, and something about it sounded familiar. Within moments, he returned, placed his hand at my waist, and hurried us through the door back into the dining area.

"What was there?" I whispered. "It almost sounded like an animal."

"It was. A human animal."

"Someone was there? Did he see us?"

Mr. Darcy shook his head. "He could not see anyone. It was the cook, sound asleep in a hammock at the end of the galley. The noise we heard was his snore."

I began to giggle, not only at the circumstances but at the pained expression I could hear in Mr. Darcy's voice.

"I see nothing amusing about this, Elizabeth."

"I am sorry," I whispered, taking his hand. "It is just that you sound so disgusted."

"Indeed. Shall I tell you how I feel?"

"I think I know. Let us say goodnight, William, before someone discovers us."

He sighed. "You are right, of course. Return to your cabin. I will wait until you have had time before I step into the passageway."

Wistfully, I smiled at him. "I love you," I whispered.

"That is my sole comfort." He kissed my forehead and sent me from the room.

Chapter Seventeen

Upon reaching Holyhead, I thought Mrs. Annesley might kiss the ground beneath her feet. Once more, she had suffered from seasickness almost the entire voyage. Fortunately, my aunt was spared the affliction this time. She told me privately that she suspected her illness on the trip to Dublin had been due to expecting a child all along. Nonetheless, she was more than relieved to reach land.

After securing lodgings for us, Mr. Darcy paid a call upon the office containing the mail packets heading for Ireland. That evening after dinner, he asked Mr. Gardiner and me to join him.

"I have a letter from my aunt in Bath."

"Is something amiss?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"Our former search through her husband's journals and correspondence caused her to undertake a thorough cleaning of the library after my sister and I departed. While directing her servants to clear away stacks of old correspondence and other papers, she discovered a letter written by my father to his brother tucked inside Captain Darcy's prayer book. Mrs. Darcy said she never thought to check there, for her husband was not a religious man, and she rarely saw him open the book." He handed the wrinkled pages to my uncle. "Why not read it for yourself?"

Mr. Gardiner held the letter near the candle and cleared his throat.

15 July, 1805

Dear Henry,

I rejoice that you have found Peter. How I long to see the dear boy and hold him close once again! Of course, he is no longer a boy. Evidently, he has grown away from all of us more than in the geographic sense, especially in light of the calling he has embraced. I cannot say I approve or that the news pleases me. I, however, wish him well. His choice will not lessen my love for him. I am surprised to learn that Mother aided him in going to Ireland by discreetly laying by her own funds for his use.

You must not regret your decision to withhold knowledge of the child from him. I agree that it was for the best. She would be fourteen years old by now, and what would a Catholic priest do with a girl of that age? Besides, it would interrupt his life, calling for copious explanations among his peers, perhaps even cause scandal in his parish, and all for naught, for what could he do for the lass? From what you say, he lives a life of sacrificial poverty - hardly a suitable means by which to offer support.

Yes, perchance, we do have a moral responsibility to inform him that he is a parent, but, in my opinion, it would serve neither him nor the child well. When he disappeared, he believed his wife was dead, according to Lady Margaret, and, until months later, none of them knew he had left the girl with child. Knowledge that Elizabeth had been, in fact, alive at the time would only grieve him and impose a burden of guilt from which he might never recover. Nine months later, his wife truly was dead, so it is preferable to let things remain as they are, hidden and buried for all time.

I believe the child is better off growing up where she is. She will never know her connection to our house or to a singular priest living in a secluded village in Ireland. And why should she? I cannot fathom any need arising for her to have such knowledge.

Listen to my counsel, and put your mind at ease. You have taken the correct action.

Affectionately, George

"So, the Brothers Darcy acted from noble intentions," Mr. Gardiner said. "Fourteen years after the fact, they could see nothing but harm resulting from their revelation of Elizabeth's birth to Father Peter Darcy."

"I find one sentence chilling," Mr. Darcy said. "I cannot fathom any need arising for her to have such knowledge. If my father had only known the turmoil his decision would cause years later." He turned to me. "Elizabeth, have you nothing to say on the matter?"

I had sat down when my uncle ceased reading. "I hardly know what to say. It is all so strange...hearing people I have never met speak of my life, arranging things that would result in such far-reaching consequences. I feel as though they speak of some other girl, someone I never knew."

"Lizzy, you are not going to be missish now, are you? I am sure neither Mr. Darcy nor I want this information to cause that."

William sat down beside me. "Forgive me. I should have been more considerate. I never meant to cause you greater pain."

I shook my head. "Neither of you must fret over me. It is just that each time we uncover another piece of the puzzle, it..."

"It makes you unhappy," he said softly.

"Not unhappy, simply stunned. Sometimes, this entire situation still seems unreal to me. Can you understand what I mean? I feel as though I stand at a distance watching it happen to someone else. Oh, I do not know how to explain it." I rose and picked up the letter from the table where my uncle had placed it. I ran my hand over the lines on the paper, as though touching the words might make it real.

"I believe you are simply fatigued from the long journey, Lizzy," my uncle said. "I suggest you retire early tonight. Perchance, sleeping on dry ground will give you sounder rest and renew your spirits." He patted my arm and said he thought it time to join the ladies.

Mr. Darcy nodded, assuring him that we would be along in a few moments. As soon as Mr. Gardiner closed the door, William took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips. "Dearest, it grieves me to see you like this. Would you rather that I refrain from sharing any further discovery with you?"

"What more is there to learn?"

"Once I deliver you safely to Longbourn, I plan to visit my barrister in London and then Lady Catherine. I shall also call upon Sir Linton Willoughby again and insist that he see me."

"Oh, no, William! You promised you would not challenge him."

"And I shall keep my word. That does not mean I shall not call him to account for his misdeeds."

"What can that possibly accomplish?"

"It will give me satisfaction, my dear."

"Is that so important? Should we not be grateful for the happiness we have found, and let the past be?"

He led me back to the sofa and bade me sit beside him. "I am grateful. Believe me, no one is more grateful that you are mine and that we are to be married soon, but I shall deal with Willoughby. Do not attempt to dissuade me, for my mind is set on it."

"And Lady Catherine?"

He pressed his lips together and a scowl encompassed his face.

"William, tread carefully. She is your aunt, and I would not have you break close familial bonds on my account."

"If I discover that she knew the truth and purposely deceived us, she will be responsible for any rift it causes in our relationship. Elizabeth, you are everything to me. If my aunt cannot accept that, then she and I shall no longer meet."

~ * ~

At last, we reached Longbourn. I do not know who was happier to see us - the Gardiner children or Mamá. Relief covered my mother's countenance. Mary and Kitty seemed none the worse for the duties I knew she had fobbed off on them, but I doubted either of them would regret giving up their charges in favour of their own pursuits once again.

My parents seemed surprised that Mr. Darcy and Georgiana accepted their invitation for supper that evening before going to Netherfield, but once Mamá was assured that Hill could cover the extra company, she rallied to entertain such prominent guests. Her attitude toward Mr. Darcy had long since softened when she learned he and I were related, and she no longer railed against his proud, arrogant manners. Now, she professed that they were his right as long as there was a chance he might procure a suitable husband for me.

Once dinner was over and the men repaired to Papá's study, I found myself growing uneasy. The three men seemed to tarry much longer than usual over their brandy. At last, they emerged. My uncle and Mr. Darcy smiled at me, and I saw the light in my fiancé's eyes. Papá, however, wore a grim expression, as he beckoned for me to join him.

I dreaded this private conversation between us, but for the fact that it would secure my engagement to the man I loved. As soon as I closed the door, Papá fulfilled my apprehensions.

"Lizzy, are you out of your mind, accepting this man? Oh, I gave him my consent. One does not refuse such a man. We all know him to be a proud, disagreeable fellow, but if you like him, that does not signify. However, if you do not...oh, my dear, let me not bear the burden of seeing you enter into a marriage with a man you cannot respect."

"Is that your only cause for disapproval?"

"Yes, of course. Now that we know the whole of the story, no impediment exists. If you truly like the man, well..."

"I do, I do like him...I love him. Indeed, he has no improper pride. If you only knew how generous he is. He is simply the best man I have ever known."

Papá blinked several times and patted my shoulder. "Well, then, my dear, I am glad I was wrong. I could not bear to part with you to anyone less." He walked around the desk and sat down, sighing deeply. I rose to leave when he called me back.

"Mr. Darcy informed me that you found your father."

"Yes." I waited to see what else he might say.

"I trust he is a good man."

I looked him straight in the eye. "A very good man."

"I am glad, Lizzy."

"Is that all?"

He nodded and waved his hand to dismiss me. I turned to leave but not before I saw the sadness descend upon his countenance. I should comfort him, I thought, but I did not. I walked out the door without another word.

Why did I persist in that stony resistance to forgive him? My head told me that Papá had acted in all good conscience, that he had rescued me from an unknown future, and given me the home and name of a gentleman. Still, my heart remained bitter.

I thought of how close we had once been. I had known his thoughts before he spoke, for our minds were much alike. Our shared amusement at the foibles of others, our proclivity for the same books, and our like sense of humour had set us apart from Mamá and my sisters. Even the bond between Jane and me had never been the same as the one I had enjoyed with Papá. Perhaps, that is why his silence resonated in my heart as betrayal. I had thought he would never keep the truth from me, especially about a matter as important as my birth.

Within a matter of moments, Papá emerged from his study and followed me into the drawing room, where he shocked my mother with the announcement that Mr. Darcy and I were to be married. I shall not bore you with a recital of how she was stricken mute for at least a full five minutes and then proceeded to gush with enthusiasm over such a union. If one dismissed the merits of memory, one might have believed that she had favoured Mr. Darcy above all other men from the first night he appeared at the assembly ball in Meryton.

My sisters were alive with excitement and pressed us to name a wedding date.

"At least, allow me leave to tell Jane first," I cried.

"Yes, yes, you must tell Jane!" Mamá said. "Oh, think of it! Three daughters married! I am the happiest mother in all of England."

~ * ~

The Gardiners departed for Town the next day, but not before Jane and Mr. Bingley arrived at Longbourn along with the Darcys. My sister and I embraced and clung to each other, or as well as anyone could cling to a woman six months into her confinement. I marvelled at her size, but the bloom on her cheeks assured me that all was well. We had so much to tell each other, and I longed for some time alone with her.

At length, we all followed my aunt and uncle and their children to the carriage, whereupon we bade our farewells, securing their promise to return for my wedding.

"Shall we take some air?" I asked Jane as the others returned to the house. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy remained to escort us to the side yard where we seated Jane on a stone bench. Mr. Darcy and I had agreed earlier to share the news of Father Darcy with my sister and brother. The night before, he had told them we were to be married, an announcement that gave them much satisfaction.

Relating our find in Ireland, naturally, shocked both of them. Telling them of the lie that had separated my parents before my birth rendered them almost speechless.

"How could one do that to a sister?" Jane asked, at last.

"I know little of Sir Linton," Mr. Bingley said, "and none of it good."

"That is why I leave for London on the morrow," Mr. Darcy said. "I shall have it out with Willoughby and get to the bottom of this. I know my father. He would never have forsaken his brother's child without cause."

"But, Mr. Darcy, if he had not, I should never have had Lizzy for a sister, so it is not all so bad, is it?"

"Trust dear Jane to find some good in any situation." Sitting beside her, I patted her hand and was rewarded with a smile.

"Shall I come with you, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley asked. "I shall be glad to lend a hand."

"No, your place is here with your wife. I would not take you from her." He turned his eyes upon me. "I regret having to leave Elizabeth for any length of time. Once this is behind us, I shall never let her out of my sight."

We all smiled at his declaration, but I regretted that he was to go at all.

That evening, Mr. Darcy and I slipped out of the parlour, leaving Georgiana at the pianoforte and the others enjoying her performance. He led me back into the yard out of view from the parlour windows. There, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently.

"I must hold you as long as I can," he said, "long enough so that I can still feel your softness and retain your sweet scent within my senses all the days we are parted."

"Must you go?"

"We have spoken of this, my love. You know the answer."

"Yes, but I do not care for it at all."

He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "That shall spur my return."

~ * ~

I had anticipated Mr. Darcy's absence lasting but a week or less. As it happened, I did not hear from him for almost a fortnight. A short letter arrived then, a poor excuse for his return, but one I was thrilled to receive all the same. Therein, he stated that he had deposited Georgiana with the Earl of Matlock at Eden Park, met with Sir Linton, and then with Mr. Darcy's attorneys.

I found the missing pages from my father's diary.

He promised to share them with me upon his return, which I hoped would prove imminent. Instead, he wrote that he would leave for Kent the next day. I was disappointed that I would not see him as soon as I wished. However, the remainder of his letter was filled with tender words that filled me with delight. My future husband certainly knew how to write a love letter.

I made valiant efforts to fill the days we were forced to be apart. Frequent visits to Netherfield occupied much of my time. Lady Lucas invited us to tea, and Mamá was pleased to see most of the Hertfordshire ladies in attendance, thus allowing her opportunity to crow over my successful alliance. We attended a card party at Mrs. Phillips' house, and my aunt called at Longbourn every other day. Mamá carted me to the dressmaker several times. Not only was I fitted for my wedding gown, but I also ordered three more new dresses. Papá had agreed to fund whatever I needed for my trousseau, and, naturally, Mamá wished me to select only the finest of materials.

"She must go to Mr. Darcy in gowns befitting her new position," she declared. "Oh, think of all our Lizzy shall have, married to a man with ten thousand a year!"

"I wager he will not spend the entire sum on Lizzy's clothes," Papá answered, a statement that made me smile, for I had just entertained the same thought.

I made time to assist Kitty with her latest addition to an old bonnet, and I even practiced the pianoforte enough to play a duet with Mary. It seemed that I wished to share my newfound happiness with almost everyone. Such attentions were welcomed, and I realized how much I would miss my sisters, for soon, I would leave them for a new life. I hoped with all my heart that each of them, eventually, made happy unions with good men of their own.

Still, I found myself missing William more and more each day. I rambled through the Hertfordshire countryside, wishing I might happen upon him. Each time the post arrived I raced to meet it. And every night, I sat at the window of my chamber, reliving each moment he had held me in his arms.

At last - at long last - the day came when Hill announced his name, and Mr. Darcy walked into the parlour. It was all that I could do to keep from running into his embrace. We bowed as he kissed my hand, while Mamá welcomed him with excessive effusions. He spoke to her in a cordial manner, but his eyes never left mine. Papá joined us and they spent no little time in general pleasantries. All the while, my arms ached to hold him, and my lips longed to be kissed.

We suffered through dinner, sitting across the table from one another. I was not surprised to find that at the end of the meal, I had scarce touched the food on my plate. After having a drink with Papá and spending sufficient time thereafter within the company of my family, Mr. Darcy rose and bade us goodnight. I read the message in his eyes to follow him from the room.

"I shall see you to the door, sir," I said.

"Oh, yes, let us all see you off, Mr. Darcy," Mamá said.

"No, ma'am, there is no need," he protested. "I know the way perfectly well, but Elizabeth, I would speak to you a moment." He bowed in my mother's direction. "With your leave, of course, ma'am."

She nodded, still in awe of her new son-in-law to be, and I saw Papá smile. At the door, I took William's hat from the servant and dismissed him.

We closed the door behind us, walked out into the dark and into each other's arms. His mouth covered mine before a word was said. How could a man taste so sweet? I gave myself up to him in willing surrender. Again and again, he took my lips while his arms bound me closer to his warm body, his hands roaming up and down my back.

"Oh, how I have missed you," he whispered, "your lips, your skin, the scent of your hair, the way you feel in my arms."

"No more than I have missed you." I snuggled into his neck.

"Oh, yes, more, much more. No one could ever miss anyone as I have missed you. Dearest, I found it hard to breathe when I could not see you. Tell me you will marry me without delay."

"I will, I will," I said, laughing. "But when?"

"By the end of the week?"

"This week?"

"Yes," he said, nodding vigorously. "I have the licence. Why should we wait?"

"Why, indeed?" I responded, laughing again.

"Shall you come to Netherfield tomorrow? Bingley will allow us time alone, and I have much to tell you."

"What happened at Kent?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight. I shall tell you all on the morrow. Tonight, just let me hold you."

~ * ~

In the Bingleys' drawing room the next day, I visited with Jane for what seemed an impossible length of time. Most days, I should have welcomed a long span of time to talk to my sister, but that morning, my eyes kept straying to the doorway, hoping that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley would soon return from shooting.

At length, they came. William strode to my side immediately and kissed my hand, his lips lingering, and his hand pressing mine. Jane asked them how they had fared in their sport, and her husband was only too willing to expound on each and every shot. Even when we walked into luncheon, Charles continued on and on. I learned more about the exercise that day than I ever wished to know.

We tarried over the meal for some time, and I had to admit it was most pleasant. There, with my favourite sister and brother, and my own dear love beside me, I could not have asked for more - other than the fact I was anxious to be alone with William and hear what he had learned on his journey.

"Shall we retire to the parlour?" Jane asked at last. "Or, perhaps you would enjoy a walk in the garden, Lizzy."

I saw a knowing look pass between William and Charles. "My dear, I must insist that you rest," Mr. Bingley said. "Come along, now. Our guests will understand."

"But Charles, I do not wish to forsake Lizzy."

"Go, Jane," I said. "You should keep up your strength."

"Besides that," her husband said, "I am sure Darcy is more than willing to keep our sister company."

"Oh, of course." Jane blushed and allowed Mr. Bingley to help her from her chair.

"I shall go along to make certain the drapes are drawn so that you will not be disturbed." Charles turned and glanced over his shoulder, giving William another sly look as he escorted his wife from the room.

Mr. Darcy led me into the library, closed the doors behind us, and proceeded to kiss me as any man sick with love would do. And I certainly did not protest, but responded to his lovemaking as I did each time his lips met mine, filled with wonder at how his mere touch could provoke such delicious ripples of desire in me.

Eventually, however, we reluctantly drew apart so that he might share news of what he had learned while in London and Kent. He bade me be seated at the library table, where he had placed a packet containing the missing pages from his father's journals.

"Where and how did you find these?" I asked.

"As planned, I called upon my barristers. They were acquainted with my quest for information about your birth, for I had engaged them to begin the search on the same day last year that Lady Catherine produced the note my father had written to Sir Lewis. For most of these past months, their efforts have been in vain. However, while we were in Ireland, Mr. Bonner called upon his grandfather, who had been my father's attorney for many years. He retired to the country and is quite aged, but he is always interested in his grandson's cases. When Mr. Bonner began to discuss his fruitless labours on my behalf, the old gentleman produced this packet of papers."

"But why should they be in his possession?"

"My father had given them to him for safekeeping years ago. His orders had been to secure them in a place where no one else would find them. He had been told to relinquish them to no one other than my father's brothers or me. Unfortunately, when he departed the firm, the elder Mr. Bonner neglected to instruct his grandson to call upon him if there were any inquiries regarding George Darcy. Consequently, the pages from my father's diaries had been locked away in the old man's personal safe within his house for years, their existence known only to him. Just think, if he had not lived to such an advanced age, I might never have found them."

William opened the packet and began placing page after page before me. They began, as we had suspected, in June of the year in which I was born. Sir Linton Willoughby had returned his sister to Bridesgate, once he learned that she was with child. Since that knowledge had destroyed his plans to annul the marriage and marry his sister to Lord Haversham, his temper had flared out of control. He stormed into Pemberley, demanding that George Darcy inform him as to Peter's whereabouts. That was the first time George learned that his brother had secretly married Elizabeth Willoughby and that she was to bear his child. He was shocked to also discover that Peter's influence had also persuaded Elizabeth to convert to Catholicism.

Over and over, I read of the anguish George endured because of his brother. He spent an inordinate amount of that year searching for Peter and dealing with Sir Linton's rage over the matter. George offered to take Elizabeth into his family, promising that she and her child would always have a home at Pemberley, but Willoughby refused. He was adamant that no one ever learn that his sister's husband had deserted her or that she had embraced the Catholic religion. He would not tolerate Papist connections tarnishing his reputation or deflecting his ambitions.

Once Sir Linton saw that Peter Darcy was not returning and was perhaps dead, he determined to rid his family of any evidence that Peter and Elizabeth's union had existed. He threatened the vicar of the local church with the loss of his living if he or his family ever revealed that a wedding had taken place, for he would not brook the scandal caused by talk that his sister was with child and deserted by her husband. He would rather send her out of the country. Willoughby stood over the vicar, forcing him to expunge the record of their marriage from the church annals. At first the clergyman balked, but when Sir Linton saw that there were no other entries on the page, he tore the page out himself.

Neither George nor Sir Linton possessed knowledge that Peter and Elizabeth had also married in a Catholic ceremony, for no one existed to bear record to the fact. Unfortunately, Father Ayden, who had married the couple, was killed in an accident not long after Peter disappeared and before George returned to Pemberley from Town. Willoughby made certain his grandmother kept his sister locked in her chamber at Bridesgate during her entire confinement, refusing her leave to see anyone. All of George's efforts to speak with Elizabeth were denied, and Willoughby told him that if he did not keep silent about the matter, he should fear for the safety of his family.

William picked up one of the pages and began to read aloud.

11 September, 1791

Normally, I would disregard Sir Linton's threats, but Fitzwilliam is young and freely roams the woods between Bridesgate and Pemberley, although I have instructed him to stay away from the Willoughby house. The baronet's rage is not only beyond reason, it is demented. So far, I have kept Anne unaware of this wretched dilemma, but I shall be forced to tell her and curtail both her and Fitzwilliam's activities if I do not go along with Willoughby's demands. I fear for Anne's health. She is so delicate that the least distress puts her in bed and the doctor must be fetched.

What am I to do? And why, oh why, did Peter desert his young wife?

"The man dared to threaten my mother!" William said, balling his hand into a fist. "Here is another entry little more than a month later."

22 October, 1791

I called upon Willoughby during my trip to Town. He remains in his stubborn, insupportable mood. He refuses to claim the child if it lives, and he is adamant that it shall not be reared at Pemberley. He insists that once delivered, his sister and her child must take up residence at a house he has secured in an obscure village in Scotland, far from either Derbyshire or London. I fear Willoughby plans to cast his sister from the family, for Lady Willoughby says they have no relations in that country. She said it was all she could do to insist that her granddaughter be allowed to remain at Bridesgate until her confinement is over. If Sir Linton had done as he originally planned, he would have banished her to Scotland upon first knowledge that she was with child.

I shall do whatever I can for Peter's poor wife, but oh, how I wish my brother would return!

"Elizabeth, what if you had been born in Scotland? I should never have known you!" The torment in William's eyes caused me to rise from my chair. I held out my arms, and he stepped into them, allowing me to comfort him for no little time.

When we returned to the writings, I picked up a page.

28 November, 1791

Lewis has been here ten days. Once again, Catherine has learned of his misdeeds, this time with an actress in Town. I have written to her, attempting to intervene, but, thus far, she refuses to relent.

"So, now we know why your father prevailed upon Lady Catherine's husband for assistance. He truly could call in the favours he had performed for Sir Lewis."

"As a lad, I wondered why my uncle oft times visited Pemberley or our house in London without Aunt Catherine," William said, a bemused expression upon his face.

I cut my eyes at him. "Shall you have an actress in Town after we are married?"

"Only if you take to the stage," he answered, bending over to kiss me. Pulling out a chair, he seated himself beside me. "Let us continue."

7 December, 1791

Peter's child was born last night - a girl - apparently healthy. She has her mother's colouring, but I can see my brother's imprint upon her face. Elizabeth Willoughby succumbed an hour after giving birth. Poor girl! I suspect that despair robbed her of the will to live. Her brother should be shot!

Lady Willoughby summoned me right after the birth. Her daughter and grandson remain in Town unaware that it has taken place. She pleaded with me to take the babe before Sir Linton comes and sends her to Scotland. I have sent the child to Rosings with Wickham and Sarah, as I trust them both without question. I pray that Lewis can find a suitable home for her, and that he keeps news of the birth from Catherine, so that she never tells my dearest Anne.

What a sad ending to this tale! I fear I shall suffer guilt the rest of my days for the part I have played. If only I could find Peter, but I fear he must be dead, for he is not the kind of man who would leave his wife and child.

William laid the journal entry down and sat back in his chair, his face troubled. "I thought my father a stronger man than that. If he had possessed more courage, you might have enjoyed a much altered life."

"At least he kept me in England. That must have required a great deal of fortitude to resist Sir Linton's certain anger when he became privy to your father's interference."

"Why could he not have stood up to Sir Linton and insisted upon rearing you at Pemberley?"

"You must not judge him harshly. He had your mother and you to think of before all else. It was a difficult situation, and he had great responsibilities, but he did what he thought best."

He gazed into my eyes. "You are generous with my father, and yet you cling to a grudge against the man who nurtured you."

I swallowed and turned away. "That is different. Papá should have told me long ago."

"Still, he, too, did what he thought best, did he not?"

Unease settled upon me, and I did not like the feeling. Had I treated Papá less than fairly when he did so much for me? I rose and freshened my cup of tea. I determined not to think on the matter, for I found it painful. I poured another cup for William and changed the subject.

"Shall you ever learn why your father removed those pages from his journals?"

"Mr. Bonner provided the answer. He said that Father summoned his grandfather to Pemberley the year before he died. He had been told by the doctor to put his affairs in order, because he did not have long to live. Father trusted the senior Mr. Bonner more than any other attorney, as he had used him since inheriting Pemberley as a young man. He was the one whom Father had instructed to send support for your care all those years. Together, they went through my father's papers, and the barrister suggested that Father either dispose of anything that linked him to Peter's child or allow Mr. Bonner to provide safekeeping for the evidence. My father gave him correspondence from Henry and Sir Lewis before recalling that he had written about the birth in his journals. A thorough perusal of the volumes from the year 1791 onward caused him to remove the pages from the diaries. In doing so, he also decided to take out anything he had written about Peter becoming a priest."

"But why did Mr. Darcy not destroy his writings?"

"The elder Mr. Bonner stated that was Father's original intent, but something caused him to reconsider. He said perhaps he had been in error to keep all of it hidden, and that someday someone might need to know the truth. The attorney thought his client referred to Peter Darcy, thinking he might eventually return to Pemberley."

I reached out and took William's hand. "Who would have thought your father's information essential for his son to know?"

He brought my hand to his lips. "Strange how life turns out."

"Did you call upon Sir Linton while in Town?"

He frowned and looked away. "I did. He refused to see me, but when I told the servant that I would not leave the premises until his master granted me an audience, Willoughby eventually consented."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"I shall say only this. Sir Linton knows precisely what I think of him. He has been told that not only do you and I know the truth, but Peter Darcy does as well. He knows that but for the unbelievable leniency my uncle urged me to consider, I should have called him out then and there, and that I should have prevailed. And finally, he knows that he shall never prevent his sister from seeing you whenever and wherever she chooses, or he will have me to contend with, and mercy on my part shall no longer exist."

"Excellent!" I clapped my hands together. "I wish I could have witnessed that meeting."

"I would not have had you there, for the language used would not have been fitting in the presence of a lady. Indeed, Elizabeth, I do not ever want you to see that man again." He had risen by that time and crossed the room to the window. "I see that your sister has left her chamber, for she walks in the garden with Bingley." He glanced at the clock on the mantel. "I suppose we should join them, for we have spent a long time in seclusion."

I joined him at the window. "Not before you tell me what happened at Kent. Jane and Charles seem content enough in their stroll."

William slipped his arms around my waist. "What a determined little thing you are, for you must have it all."

I smiled as he nuzzled my neck. "Do not attempt to distract me. I wish to hear everything, and then let that be an end to all things unpleasant, for we have a wedding to plan."

"Very well, if you insist." He took my hand and led me back to the sofa facing the fireplace. There, he described his meeting with his aunt and all that he had learned.

As we had gleaned from George Darcy's journal, Lady Catherine had long been aware of her husband's attraction to other women. Shortly after I was born, she learned from the servants that he had taken a baby out of Kent, and she assumed it was his child. Like many wives, she preferred to know as little as possible about her husband's indiscretions. But, on Sir Lewis' deathbed, when he began confessing his sins, she brought up the baby and insisted he tell the truth, fearing that he was financially maintaining the child.

Sir Lewis told Lady Catherine that the baby was the daughter of Peter Darcy and his wife, Elizabeth Willoughby, that Peter, as she already knew, had disappeared, and that Elizabeth was dead. He told her of Sir Linton's demands, and, since George thought Peter had either died or deserted his young wife for some unknown reason, he had sent the babe to Sir Lewis to secure a proper home, agreeing to furnish her support. George had sworn him to secrecy, so Sir Lewis took the child to Hertfordshire where he told Mr. Fawcett the child was simply the natural daughter of a gentleman from the north country.

"When my aunt called at Longbourn, she knew very well who your parents were," William said, "and she knew that you were legitimate. Sifting through Sir Lewis' papers last year, she came upon the note my father wrote when he had you transported to Kent. She deduced that you were that baby, and all she had to do was travel to Hertfordshire and confirm it with Mr. Fawcett. Then, she used the ambiguity of my father's letter for her own purposes."

"Does she hate me to the extent that she would disrupt our lives in such an unbearable manner?"

"As you know, Elizabeth, Lady Catherine is not a person to be crossed. When she confronted me with her demands that I officially engage myself to Anne, and I declined, she would not tolerate having her wishes scorned. She would destroy your reputation rather than see us marry."

When I asked William how he persuaded her to finally make that confession, he told me it was not as difficult as he anticipated. At first, of course, Lady Catherine professed ignorance of the truth. Shown the stack of evidence William had accumulated, however, she could not deny who I was or who my parents were. She then attempted to claim that she had acted in good faith when she made her revelations to William and me.

"'Darcy,' she said to me, 'you know I want only what is best for you, and my Anne is by far the most suitable wife you could possibly have. For that matter, I wish the best for Elizabeth Bennet. It is a disservice to suggest that she rise above her station in life. Your father's decision was correct and should be honoured. After all, Miss Bennet is much better off as the daughter of an obscure country gentleman than she would have been had Sir Linton carried through on his threat to send her to Scotland.'

"That is where my aunt made her error," William said, "for I had made no mention of Sir Linton's threat during our visit. I knew then that she was not telling me the truth.

"I told Lady Catherine that all connection between her house and mine, including any contact with Georgiana, would be irrevocably severed if she did not tell me the truth immediately. When I received nothing more than indignation in response, I rose from my chair, left the room, and walked down the hallway directly to my waiting carriage. Before the footman closed the door behind me, a servant came running from the house, entreating me to return.

"I inquired if that was Lady Catherine's only message," William said, "and the servant replied that she wished to speak further on the matter. I said, 'And this is my message in return. Tell Lady Catherine that I have said all I have to say and that I shall not discuss the matter with a servant.' I dismissed the man who hurried back to his mistress. Her outraged roar resounded with such strength that I could even hear it standing beside the carriage! However, within a few moments, the lady herself emerged from the house and walked down the stone steps.

"'Shall we walk?' she asked, inclining her head in a direction away from the carriage. I nodded and fell into step with her, and we walked into the garden out of sight or hearing of the servants before she spoke again.

"'Darcy, you impose heavily upon my affection for you with this high-handed treatment,' she said. 'Take care that you do not trample underfoot my inherent good nature.'

"I did not reply but met her stare with one of my own. Both of us refusing to flinch, we glared at each other for some time, but I would not give over. Finally, I turned to leave. I took but a few steps before Lady Catherine threw up her hands and agreed to tell the truth. Acknowledging that she had actively sought to prevent our engagement by using my father's note in the manner that she did, she declared once more, 'I did it for your good, Fitzwilliam. Surely, you must see that.'

"'I see nothing of the kind, Aunt,' I said. 'You maliciously attempted to ruin Miss Bennet's reputation and destroy all chance for my happiness.'

"She disputed that statement by saying some sort of nonsense, such as 'You will never be happy with her, just as your mother was never happy with George.'

"I was dumbfounded by that statement, for my parents were devoted to each other. When I refuted her words, she began a tirade. 'George Darcy and his Papist Irish mother! But for his wealth, my father should never have agreed to his marriage to my sister. I even offered to marry George in her place, for I knew that I was a much better match for him. Anne was too delicate, too soft. George needed a strong woman like me, a woman of great passion, yet great dignity. Together, he and I could have...'"

That part of the tale made me sit up straighter, and I placed my hand on William's arm to interrupt him. "Could it be that Lady Catherine was in love with your father?"

He rolled his eyes. "Heaven help him if she was! I cannot tell you with what fortitude I attempted to suppress the horror I felt listening to her words. Fortunately, she came to herself before revealing more than I should ever wish to hear."

"What did she say?"

"She resumed the same tired old argument she has harped on since the beginning. 'Miss Bennet is an upstart. Your place is with Anne. It was decided long ago by your mother and me.' I told her that I did not believe her, for Mother never made the slightest suggestion that I should marry Anne, and neither did my father. I said that it had been Lady Catherine's doing from the beginning, and unless she admitted that she was in the wrong, all connection between her house and mine would be broken.

"She continued her attempts to convince me otherwise, but when I remained silent, she relented at last and reluctantly offered a brief, bitter apology."

William shook his head. "That is the sole occasion upon which I have heard my aunt admit that she has done wrong or apologize. It should be recorded in the annals of history, for I doubt that anyone shall ever bear witness to such an event again."

I gave a sigh of relief, and we both remained silent for a while, attempting to absorb all that had transpired. At length, I leaned over to kiss William's cheek. "You, sir, are a true proficient in the art of persuasion."

"Am I, now?" He pulled me close and began to kiss my ear, his lips trailing down to my neck. "Does that mean you shall do whatever I say?"

I laughed. "Perchance...with the proper inducement."

He pulled me onto his lap and continued to kiss my neck, my ear, my cheek, coming ever closer to my lips. "Is this proper inducement?"

"This, sir, is improper seduction."

But I allowed him to continue all the same.

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