Sins of the Fathers

Chapter eleven

After the scene on the roadway, days crawled into weeks with excessive tedium. I sometimes thought daylight stretched into twenty-four hours before night fell. I longed to be alone with my thoughts, to avoid the questions of my family as to why I suffered from malaise, and what had happened to my former lively self. After the required evening hours spent in their company following dinner, I counted the minutes until I could flee to my chamber. Why, I do not know, because sleep eluded me. For hours, I sat by the window gazing at the stars, wondering where Mr. Darcy was, what he was doing, and whether he still thought of me with anger. I was tortured with the possibility that my impulsive response had severed his regard for me. If only I could see him once more and make things right between us. When I did sleep at last, dreams troubled me. I constantly chased after something, but what or who it was I knew not.

After a miserable month had passed, Jane drew me aside one day at Netherfield. At her invitation, I had come for luncheon, along with Mamá and my younger sisters. When my mother began to doze in the parlour following the meal, Jane suggested the girls and I join her for exercise in the park. She deftly steered me down a separate path from Mary and Kitty, thus securing our privacy.

"Now, Lizzy, I insist you tell me what causes this prevailing dark mood to hover about you," she said firmly, linking her arm within mine. "Your countenance is as downcast as it was during the days following Lady Catherine's unfortunate visit. Has something else happened?"

I coloured and turned my attention to the summer daisies. "I do not know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Tell the truth, and face me when you speak. Your eyes have always revealed when you are fibbing."

"Do not be silly, Jane. I have no reason to lie. I am simply bored with life."

"Bored? You? Why, Lizzy, you have always found stimulation in everything around you. Your wit and intelligence have served you perfectly well in the past. Why should you find life boring now? What circumstance has altered? Do I dare say you have changed your mind and now wish you had stayed longer at Pemberley?"

"Perhaps. I do not know. I just feel as though I suffocate at Longbourn. I cannot see one reason to anticipate the future other than the birth of your baby."

"There has been a dearth of social activities this summer, perchance because of the unusual heat. But do not forget, our ball is scheduled for Thursday night. There should be a full moon, and Charles has planned every last detail. He refuses me licence to participate at all for fear of taxing my health."

I smiled. "Your husband is very attentive."

"To a fault! If he had his way, I would lie in bed all day and be waited on hand and foot, but enough about me. You shall not escape my inquiries by changing the subject. Is the lack of suitable admirers in Hertfordshire cause for your dissatisfaction?"

"No, Jane, I told you long ago that I shall most likely remain an old maid and spoil your children excessively. Do not worry so."

"An old maid! Not you, Lizzy, not with your romantic nature. No, I know there is someone out there for you, a man as perfect for you as Charles is for me. And with any luck, he is coming to Netherfield for the ball."

I laughed lightly. "What makes you think that?"

"Charles told me that a stranger is coming, a single man of modest fortune, someone neither you nor I have ever seen."

"Oh? And does he have a name?"

"Mr. Hayden Hurst."

"Hurst? Not..."

"Yes, he is Mr. Hurst's younger brother, and he arrives with Louisa, Caroline, and Mr. Hurst tomorrow."

I could not help it. My mouth dropped open. "Surely you would not marry me off to Mr. Hurst's brother! Why, that would make me sister to Louisa."

"You can bear it if I must. I prefer to imagine him an exceedingly agreeable man, whom you may think highly of in many respects. Besides, he may not resemble his brother at all. With any luck, he will be as handsome as Charles."

"With my luck, he will prefer the reading material of Mr. Collins!" We both dissolved in giggles, which brought Mary and Kitty running around the shrubbery to hear the joke. The afternoon succeeded in lightening my spirit for a while, but I entertained little hope for the Netherfield Ball.

My fears were not unwarranted, for Mr. Hayden Hurst turned out as I expected - a younger version of his brother. Although not yet quite as rotund, his love for food and drink foretold a future in his brother's image. Even had he been handsome enough to tempt me, his disinterest was evident. He danced only two dances, choosing Caroline Bingley for his partner. Afterwards, he sat beside his brother, sharing his attachment to the wine bottle.

Ah well, it mattered not to me. Observation of the younger Mr. Hurst's foibles provided passing amusement. I danced sufficiently with the few eligible men among our company, dined on delicious food, and enjoyed watching Jane bask in the limelight of Hertfordshire society, as well as the loving looks of her husband. All in all, it was a pleasant enough diversion, but nothing more.

The days thereafter provided little variation, and the blackness descended upon my spirit once again. I could not rid myself of thoughts of Mr. Darcy no matter what.

The next week, however, the arrival of the post caused my pulse to quicken. I received a letter postmarked from Bath. My hands trembled as I unfolded it. Had he possibly written to me? How disappointed I was to recognize the feminine script and see Georgiana's signature signed neatly at the bottom. Oh well, at least I would have some news. I flew up the stairs, closed the door to my chamber, and settled myself in the window seat to read in peace.

Dearest Elizabeth,

How I wish you were here with us!

One can never be tired of Bath - the honest relish of balls and plays and every-day sights would fascinate you, my dear cousin. And I must tell you of the Pump Room. The natural spring waters are said to provide excellent medicinal properties. Mrs. Annesley and I visit the place almost every day. I find myself in awe when Lady Dalrymple arrives with her entourage. She deigned to speak to me yesterday and said she recalled my parents from summers she spent in Derbyshire.

Still, I am lonely much of the time. Wills spends the majority of the day cooped up in our uncle's library with our aunt. She is a hawkish sort of woman, spare, and rather dried up but pleasant enough, especially in comparison with Lady Catherine. I have no idea why they search through old journals, ship logs, and records that belonged to my uncle. When I ask Wills, he says he is researching our family history, but he did the same thing at Eden Park. And at Rosings, he questioned Lady Catherine until she became even more peevish than usual. I ask you, how much family history can one search for?

I did make a lovely friend at last night's ball in the Upper Rooms. Her name is Maria Simpson, and she is but two years older than me. Her older sister, Emily, is magnificent, and she was surrounded by beaus the entire evening. I do not think she sat out one single dance. Even Wills asked her to dance more than once, which I found amusing, as he so rarely puts himself out for anyone. I am to meet Maria at the Pump Room this afternoon.

Oh, I must tell you this. Wills and I and Mrs. Annesley, of course, leave Bath for Ireland within a fortnight! It will be my first sea voyage, and I am excited and frightened at the same time. I do wish you were going with us. I should not be nearly so afraid with you beside me.

Do write and tell me the news at Longbourn. Till then, I remain

Your affectionate cousin,

Georgiana

Ireland! Mr. Darcy must have decided to seek his uncle, Peter Darcy. But why? Had he learned something new, something of importance that would cause him to undertake such a journey? And yes, I wished that I could also make the trip - how exciting that would be - but I knew it was out of the question.

I re-read the letter, hoping I had overlooked some message from him. Not one word. He had not even extended his regards to me. Surely, he knew to whom Georgiana wrote, and yet he remained locked in that stony silence my angry words had provoked. Oh, why had I not held my tongue?

Resentment settled upon me when I read the part about Mr. Darcy dancing with Miss Simpson. I could imagine his attentions directed toward her, for I knew how exciting it was to dance with him. Two dances...she must be truly handsome to claim his time to that degree. Now he would surely call upon her, or perhaps he would join Georgiana for tea with the younger sister, and Miss Simpson would attend as well. Suddenly, I became conscious that I was breathing hard.

What are you doing? You have no right to be jealous. He is your brother.

I knew he would find someone eventually and marry. I just always thought it far in the future - that someday we often speak of that never actually arrives. I allowed my mind to wander once more. I could see their marriage in the chapel in Derbyshire, her installation as mistress of Pemberley, even the birth of a son who looked like Mr. Darcy.

I jumped up, jerked open a drawer to my desk, threw the letter therein, and slammed it shut. Grabbing my bonnet, I tripped down the stairs and invited Kitty to walk to Meryton with me. I told her I was in the mood to buy a new bonnet. She scrambled to join me, alive with anticipation at the thought of shopping, and so grateful for my attention that it shamed me. I had neglected her and Mary daily, but at the moment, I craved distraction, company, anything that would erase those dreadful images from my mind.

~ * ~

Two days later, the Gardiners and their children arrived at Longbourn. The entire week before, Mamá had complained because they had written and asked if they might leave my young cousins in our keeping while they travelled onto their destination. Yet, naturally, she agreed to their request.

"My sister has no idea how the noise and confusion tries my nerves," she said repeatedly. I sighed, as I knew full well that my sisters and I would be the ones who cared for the children.

I assumed that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner would stay for a long visit and was surprised to learn they planned to leave within four days.

"Pleasure bent again, I assume," Mamá said with a disapproving eye.

"A bit of pleasure and work, Fanny," my uncle responded. "Madeline is due a holiday, and, since I have business in Bath, we decided to make an expedition of it."

My eyes flew open as well as my mouth! "Bath? You are going to Bath, Uncle?"

"Yes, my dear. It will be an agreeable trip, I am sure. Since your mother has generously agreed to allow the children to remain at Longbourn, it promises to be a true holiday. 'Twill bring back fond memories, for we spent our honeymoon there many years ago." He turned a loving eye upon his wife who turned a delightful shade of pink.

I rose and took a chair closer to them. "I have always longed to see Bath."

"Hmmph," Mamá snorted. "I have never heard you mention Bath, Lizzy. If you wish to visit near the sea, you had much better travel to Brighton where the militia is quartered. You might have a chance at securing a husband there as Lydia did. I cannot see any reason for you to go to Bath."

My aunt gave me a look that we both understood perfectly. "But Fanny," she said, "Bath has many sites of interest to occupy Lizzy's fine mind."

"Yes, Mamá, I should so love to visit the city."

"Lizzy is in need of a husband, not more curiosities with which to clutter her mind. She is of an age to marry, and I fear if she does not settle down and choose someone soon...well, I do not know what shall become of her. We cannot all live off Mr. Bingley when her father dies, and we are thrown out of Longbourn and left to starve in the hedgerows."

My uncle cleared his throat. "I have heard there are excellent families of means who either live in Bath or travel there on holiday. It would not be unusual for at least a goodly portion of them to possess sons of marriageable age. I would say Lizzy's chances for a prosperous marriage bode much better at Bath than Brighton."

Mamá's expression changed instantly. The thought of husband material demanded her immediate attention. Within the hour, she had badgered my father until he agreed I might make the trip. Now, all I had to do was pack and quell the quaking within. Would we arrive before Mr. Darcy left for Ireland, and, if so, might I run into him socially? Even more important, what response would I receive?

~ * ~

It rained steadily the day we rode into Bath, a state of affairs that I soon found occurred frequently. The downpour did not last long, however, and left the air hot and sticky. My aunt and I made frequent use of our fans as we settled into our lodgings in Pulteney Street. Even with the humidity, I felt exhilarated by the bustling sounds of the city as I leaned out the spacious window of my chamber. My eyes went here, there, everywhere. Up and down the avenue passed a constant parade of people, some dressed in ordinary garb, but many clad in fine clothing and expensive bonnets and hats. Evidently, the rich did populate Bath or at least spent their holiday in residence.

We dined in the hotel the first evening, although I longed to go out. My attempts to unobtrusively scan the dining room failed to disclose a familiar face. They did, however, catch the attention of my aunt.

"Lizzy, do you look for someone in particular?"

I immediately issued a denial and turned my attention to my plate.

"Madeline, you and Elizabeth must tour the city tomorrow while I conduct my business," my uncle said.

"Would you not rather we waited for you?"

"No, my dear. I shall join you when I finish. Lizzy is young and cannot be expected to while away the days cooped up inside."

I made the appropriate protests, but not strongly, for I longed not only to see the city but discover a way to meet with Mr. Darcy. As yet, I had not told the Gardiners of his possible presence in Bath, hoping we might happen upon him instead.

As it turned out, we resided in the city three days without chancing to see either Mr. Darcy or Georgiana. Mrs. Gardiner did look up an old acquaintance, a Mrs. Parry, and we spent the afternoon of the third day in her stuffy, hot parlour on Gay Street. A lady of some age, she queried me as to my marriage prospects and then proceeded to discuss possible partners for me with my aunt, as though I no longer sat within their presence. By the end of the visit, my patience had grown as thin as wet parchment. Were the marriage prospects of single women the only topic of conversation available when older ladies convened?

That night, I re-read Georgiana's letter. Noting the date she wrote it, I quickly calculated the time that had passed. Ten days - ten days gone by. Wills and I and Mrs. Annesley, of course, leave for Ireland within a fortnight. They would depart Bath within four days! Desperation seized me, and I determined I would do all in my power to find Mr. Darcy before he left the country.

Having concluded the major portion of his business obligations for the week, the next morning Mr. Gardiner asked if my aunt and I would enjoy a carriage ride through the city. He wished to show us the port area along the River Avon, as well as the more fashionable portion of Bath. That was exactly what I hoped to see.

"I would love to, Uncle, if my aunt agrees and if you will consent to visit the Pump Room with us sometime during the day. We insist you taste the spring waters."

"Oh yes, my dear," my aunt said. "You must drink some. I have never tasted water like it."

He acquiesced, and we soon left our rooms for the sidewalks without. We entered the Pump Room first, whereupon my uncle was suitably impressed with the quality of the water. We walked up and down, speaking to no one, until Mr. Gardiner happened upon a business acquaintance who engaged him in a lengthy conversation - so lengthy that I despaired of having time to see much of the city by carriage. The man's wife took an interest in my aunt, and they spent no little time getting acquainted. Bored and concerned that we would never leave, I wandered a short distance from them to gaze through the window at various shops across the street. I became engrossed in watching people as they passed by. So intent was my concentration that I failed to notice the gentleman who appeared at my side.

"Miss Bennet?"

I turned in amazement to see Colonel Fitzwilliam beaming down upon me. "Colonel, I...am surprised to meet you here."

"As am I to see you. How did you come to visit Bath?"

"I travelled with my aunt and uncle." I gestured back in their direction, but their attention continued to be held by their acquaintances. "Are you here on duty?"

"No, I had leave available and came with my brother. He is engaged to marry a resident of Bath, Miss Julia Allen. By the bye, did you know that Darcy and Georgiana are also in residence?"

"Why, yes, now that you mention it, I did receive a letter from Georgiana telling me they were to visit their aunt, I believe. Are they still here? I understood they planned to travel on to Ireland."

"Yes to both your questions. They travel to Holyhead to catch a ship within - let me see - less than four days now. You must visit them in Camden Place. I am certain they would not wish to leave without seeing you, and I cannot tell you how enchanted I am to find you here. I was quite disconcerted when you left Pemberley with such haste. You did not even say good-bye."

I heard the chastisement in his voice. "I...left a note, but no matter, I agree that it was rude on my part. I pray you will forgive my lack of manners. A sudden wave of homesickness overtook me without warning."

"I understand the longing to see those we care for." He smiled and drew closer. "Since those days in Derbyshire, I have longed to see you again. Shall you introduce me to your aunt and uncle?"

"Of course." I turned quickly, my heart beginning to race. Time evidently had not lessened his speculation at securing my hand.

We joined the Gardiners and their friends, and I made the appropriate introductions. The colonel charmed both couples with his agreeable nature and asked us to luncheon with him. My uncle's business associate declined, and he and his wife bade their farewells, but my aunt accepted Colonel Fitzwilliam's invitation. As we walked down the street, the colonel repeated his insistence that we contact Mr. Darcy and his sister while we were in town. My aunt and I walked behind the men, and she began to slow her steps until the men could not hear her soft words.

"Lizzy, did you know the Darcys were in Bath?"

"Why, yes, Aunt. I received a letter from Miss Darcy a few days before we left Longbourn."

She looked at me curiously. "I see. Tell me, dear, does Colonel Fitzwilliam know of your true relationship with his cousins?"

"No," I whispered, "and Georgiana does not know either, Aunt, so we must not speak of it. Papá and Mr. Darcy agree that the fewer people who know the truth, the safer my reputation."

"A wise decision. You may depend upon our discretion. Neither your uncle nor I will ever make any revelation."

"That is why I told you, Aunt. I trust you both without question."

During the meal, Mr. Gardiner mentioned our plans to tour Bath by carriage, whereupon the colonel offered not only his carriage, but his services as our guide. I did not relish spending the afternoon in his company, but knew he was the link to seeing Mr. Darcy. I bestowed my brightest smile upon him as he took my elbow and ushered me out into the sunlight.

Since the morning rains had ceased, the colonel ordered an open carriage and proceeded to point out various sites of interest throughout the city. We rode down Bond Street, over to the Circus area, and reached the Royal Crescent at last. The beauty of the architecture and shape of the buildings proved stunning. We surveyed the impressive design no little time. At length, Mr. Gardiner suggested we travel on to the River Avon, but his wife expressed a desire for refreshment.

"I know just the place," Colonel Fitzwilliam announced.

Within a short time, the carriage drew up at Mollands, where we dined with such pleasure that my aunt declared Mollands' marzipan the best she had ever tasted. Sitting by the window, I watched the rain return. The place began to fill with people wishing to avoid the shower. I observed the door's frequent openings with little interest, until suddenly, my pulse beat faster for I recognized a familiar face and figure. Mr. Darcy removed his hat and shook the water from it, before he raised his head and scanned the room. Within moments, his gaze met mine.

If my presence surprised him, he hid it well. Naught but a quick blink of his eyes betrayed him. About the same time, Colonel Fitzwilliam looked up and noticed his cousin. He stood and beckoned to him, "Darcy, over here."

My hands turned to ice, as I wondered what reaction from him my presence would merit. He made his way through the crowd, spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, bowed slightly in my direction, and sat down next to my aunt. His manner was cordial, as he expressed surprise at our visit to Bath. He directed every remark to either my aunt or uncle, but not one to me.

"And how did you happen upon the Gardiners and Miss Bennet, Fitzwilliam?" he asked, turning toward his cousin, who sat beside me.

The colonel explained our chance meeting, and my aunt told him of our joint sightseeing tour. My uncle added that the river would be our next destination. When the colonel asked Mr. Darcy if he might go with us, he declined, stating a former promise to his aunt laid claim to his afternoon. Light conversation ensued for a good half-hour, at the conclusion of which he rose and made his farewells. He still had not directed any question or remark toward me or even allowed his eyes to travel in my direction. Not only did I feel snubbed, I was truly alarmed that he might never speak to me again. I watched him walk to the counter to pay for a package of sweets.

"Pray, excuse me, I will fetch another glass of water," I said, quickly rising. I refused the colonel's offer to get it for me and crossed the room with great haste. Mr. Darcy had just received his change, turned to leave, and halted abruptly when I blocked his path.

"Miss Bennet," he said.

"Sir, I would ask you to extend my regards and apologies to Georgiana. I received her letter a day or so before we departed Longbourn, but I did not have time to reply."

"Very well."

"I wonder...shall you escort your sister to the ball in the Upper Rooms tomorrow night?"

"I had not given it much thought."

"I would love to see her."

"Shall I ask her to call on you? Where did you say you are staying?"

"In Pulteney Street. I shall be at home in the morning, if she is able to come."

"I shall tell her." He bowed slightly and began walking toward the door. I found myself following him, attempting to delay his leave-taking.

"Georgiana wrote to me how much she enjoys watching you dance. With a Miss Simpson, is it not?"

He stopped and turned to face me. "I did not know my sister reported my dancing partners to you."

I shook my head slightly. "Oh, no, sir, she did nothing like that. She simply mentioned it in passing, and I thought you had perhaps at last found someone with whom you enjoyed dancing."

His eyes pierced mine with their intensity. "Good day, Miss Bennet."

With dismay, I watched him walk through the door and down the sidewalk. That did not go well, I thought. You made a fool of yourself, an utter fool!

~ * ~

Georgiana did call the next day, and I was thrilled to see her again. I had not realized how my affection had grown for the girl, until I saw her familiar smile. We spent an hour in conversation, during which I am afraid my aunt did not have a chance to say more than a few words. Once more, she told me how preoccupied Mr. Darcy was in his search through his uncle's old records. She failed to understand why they attracted his interest, but she spent little time considering the matter. We talked of Bath and the various attractions she had visited, how welcome her cousin's company had been on several outings, and the new dresses she had made by a seamstress in the city that she recommended highly.

When I asked her if she would attend the assembly that night, she replied that her brother had agreed to take her and explained how he allowed her to go to the balls if she remained in the background and watched the dancing. I gently prodded her for information on whether the Simpson sisters would be in attendance, and she happily informed me that they would.

"You must meet them, Elizabeth, for I know you shall like them as I do."

I smiled in agreement, all the while biting my tongue. I then steered the subject to their upcoming journey to Ireland. Georgiana explained that the departure had been delayed a week, due to some complications with the passenger ship. When I probed as to the reason for the trip, she said only that Mr. Darcy had important business with someone in the country, and that it must be conducted as soon as possible. I thought it unusual that she should accompany her brother on a business trip, but she said Mr. Darcy thought it would be good for his young sister to see the ancestral home of their grandmother.

"Did you know my grandmother was from County Cork?" she asked.

"I did. Your brother shared a bit of family history with me when I visited Pemberley."

"How odd. He did not tell me until we came to Bath, and he determined to make this trip. I found it somewhat shocking, did you not?"

"When one examines any family's roots, one is bound to uncover revelations."

She smiled and rose to leave, vowing to look for Mrs. Gardiner and me that night at the Upper Rooms.

As I dressed for the evening, I thought of Georgiana's new dresses, and I regretted not paying more attention to the state of my wardrobe. Once again, Mr. Darcy would see me in the same gown I had worn at the Netherfield Ball.

What difference does it make? He will most likely have eyes only for Miss Emily Simpson, I thought. I would be fortunate to warrant a glance from him, much less a civil word. It was obvious that he was still angry with me. I simply had to make an opportunity to speak with him privately and make things right between us. I did not like to imagine him crossing the Irish Sea with its rough currents when he still thought ill of me.

The season was full and the room crowded when we arrived. Mr. Gardiner repaired directly to the card-room, and my aunt and I were left to squeeze through the mob alone. She, eventually, spied the wife of my uncle's business acquaintance, who claimed her attentions. I was left to fend for myself. I scanned the busy room, hoping to see Georgiana, but to no avail. I drew close to the perimeter of the throng to observe the dancers. I was relieved not to find Mr. Darcy among them, an emotion for which I chided myself. I simply must stop caring with whom he danced.

I was about to turn back and rejoin my aunt when I looked up to see Colonel Fitzwilliam by my side. He asked me to dance the next, and I agreed. I preferred dancing any day to sitting on the sidelines. As soon as the music began again, we took our place in the line.

"Did your cousins accompany you, sir?" I asked after the first turn.

"They did. I deposited Georgiana in a suitable position to have a good view of the floor."

"I suppose Mr. Darcy remained by her side."

"For a while, at least. Have you met the Misses Simpson?"

I shook my head.

"The younger, Miss Maria, has become a favourite of Georgiana, and I saw her making her way through the crowd to join her. That will free Darcy from tending his sister."

"You said the Misses Simpson. Thus, I assume there are two?"

"Right you are. My young cousin has the wild idea that her brother is smitten with Miss Emily Simpson. I have yet to meet her, but I hear she is quite the beauty."

"Ah." I could think of nothing further to say, but evidently my feelings were reflected in my expression.

"Why the frown, Miss Bennet? Does this song displease you?"

I instantly placed a smile upon my face. "Oh, no, sir, a momentary twinge. I am quite enjoying myself."

At the conclusion of the reel, Colonel Fitzwilliam introduced me to Captain Allen, a fellow officer from his unit who was brother to Miss Julia Allen, soon to become the colonel's sister-in-law. He promptly asked for my hand, and we spent the next half-hour on the dance floor. When the music ended and we bowed in closing, the captain escorted me to the punch bowl, where he secured a cup for both of us. I had taken but a sip, when I looked up to see Mr. Darcy approaching, and on his arm rested the hand of surely one of the most beautiful women God ever created.

He introduced Miss Emily Simpson, and I, in turn, presented Captain Allen. My former partner immediately asked Miss Simpson for the next, and she smiled sweetly and accepted. We passed a few moments in light conversation until the instruments sounded, and they proceeded to the floor.

"Miss Simpson is a handsome woman," I said.

"She is." Mr. Darcy's eyes followed her movements in the dance.

Of a sudden, the heat in the room became oppressive, and I opened my fan and began to use it. "Pardon me, sir." I curtseyed briefly and turned to make my exit.

"Where do you go?"

"To join my aunt."

"Would you not rather step outside for some fresh air? I find it much too close in here."

"As you wish." I allowed him to steer me through the crowd toward the open doorway. Once we found a quiet spot away from the others enjoying the breeze on the balcony, he turned directly toward me.

"It is time we talked. Do you agree?"

"Yes, sir, I do, I most certainly do."

Silently, I prayed, Oh, God, temper my words with discretion. Do not let us leave this ball tonight, if Mr. Darcy and I remain at cross-purposes.

Chapter Twelve

The moon was but a sliver that night. The stars, however, littered the dark sky in abundance. I closed my fan, basking in the cool air as it gently ruffled my curls. I might have given myself up to the wonder of that beautiful night had not a pressing task beset me. I knew I must swallow my pride and apologize to Mr. Darcy. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face him.

"Sir, when we parted in Hertfordshire, I fear I spoke in anger. I did not mean to cause offence."

"And I meant no slur upon your mother. You must believe me."

"You used the term 'degradation.' Surely, you know that I am somewhat sensitive because of the circumstances of my birth."

"Of course. I understand, truly I do. But you must perceive that I did not refer to your mother."

"Then to whom?"

"I referred to my father's actions - how a gentleman of his character could take advantage of a young girl - I term his behaviour degrading. Degrading toward my mother, toward your mother, and toward himself. I cannot conceive of the father I knew conducting himself in such a manner." He braced his hands on the railing and lifted his face to the sky as though the answer lay hidden somewhere in the heavens.

"Did you not consider that I would take it as a slight upon my mother, and that you slighted me again by the cold manner of your departure from Hertfordshire?"

His face softened. "You must forgive me, Elizabeth. I acted the selfish bas..." He cleared his throat. "I should not have been so harsh with you. I confess our misunderstanding addled my brain. I began to fear that you would never believe I have your best interests at heart. After all this time, I thought you knew me better than that. Do you not understand that I can deny you nothing?"

The fondness with which he looked upon me made my heart turn over. I feared that we were treading on dangerous ground to speak in such an intimate manner. I searched frantically for another subject on which to converse. "I...have not told you of the visit Miss Eleanor Willoughby paid me."

"Willoughby?" Mr. Darcy took a step closer. "Elizabeth, did she come to abuse you as her brother did?"

I raised my hand in protest. "No, no, nothing of the sort. She was entirely the opposite - compassionate, gentle, and caring. She told me of my mother - the kind of girl she was, her interests, her joys, and..."

"And what?"

"Oh, I do not know...other things. When she left, I felt as though I had a glimpse of my mother's spirit."

"What other things?" he insisted. "Did she tell you of her relationship with my father?"

I met his gaze. He had turned just enough that the starlight revealed the concern in his eyes. "She told me of how they met in the wood, how they spent much time together, and how Miss Willoughby kept watch to warn them if anyone approached."

Mr. Darcy slammed his fist down on the railing, let forth an oath, and then asked my forgiveness for his language. "Are you telling me my father not only seduced a young girl, but he used her even younger sister to shield him from discovery? That is totally reprehensible!"

He began to pace back and forth, possessed by anger. Instead of making things better, I had wounded him even more. At length, he stilled and turned back to me. "Is that all, or is there more you would tell me?"

It was now my turn to look away. I played with the tassel of my fan, stared out into the darkness, up at the moon, anywhere rather than face him. Oh, why had I mentioned Miss Willoughby?

"Elizabeth, tell me now. Delay will only postpone my reaction."

"I cannot, sir."

"Why?"

"To do so will cause you even more pain while it eases mine."

I heard his sudden intake of breath. "He loved her."

I could do nothing more than bow my head.

~ * ~

Sleep eluded me that night. Over and over, I played out the conversation between Mr. Darcy and myself. I hated the suffering that Miss Willoughby's words caused him and that I had been the one to make the revelation. Once again, I saw him return me to the ballroom to Mrs. Gardiner's side, and then make his way to Colonel Fitzwilliam. With only a few words in his ear, which I assumed secured the colonel's agreement to tend Georgiana and return her home at the end of the evening, Mr. Darcy stormed out the door of the Upper Rooms and into the night.

What good had my apology done? I had hoped to alleviate any anguish I had caused him by my previous misunderstanding and our harsh exchange. Now, I had cut him to the core with the truth about our parents. What would he do? Where would he go for comfort?

I did not hear a word from either the Darcys or Colonel Fitzwilliam for three days. Mrs. Gardiner asked me if I had quarrelled with Mr. Darcy at the ball, for she had noticed his swift departure after our return from the balcony. I told her the truth - we had not quarrelled. I refrained, however, from sharing what had transpired between us, although her curiosity was evident.

On the evening of that third day, after my aunt and uncle and I returned from dining, we were surprised by a rather late visit from Mr. Darcy. He apologized for the timing, but I was so relieved to see him seemingly recovered from his ill spirits, that I did not need an apology. Mrs. Gardiner offered him a glass of sherry, and we passed a few moments in idle conversation. Upon the servant's removal from the parlour, Mr. Darcy asked if he might speak to us concerning an important matter. My aunt offered to excuse herself from the discussion, but he asked that she remain. I was surprised and attempted to obtain some clue as to what he was about by searching his expression, but I remained in the dark.

He beckoned us to gather around the library table, whereupon he drew out papers from his coat pocket. He then explained to the Gardiners how he and I had embarked upon a search through old journals, records, and correspondence at Pemberley, seeking further knowledge of my mother's identity. Now that we knew she was Elizabeth Willoughby, he had continued the quest without my aid at the homes of Lady Catherine, the Earl of Matlock, and Mrs. Harriet Darcy in Bath.

"And did you learn anything of interest at Rosings or Eden Park?" I asked.

"I learned to trust my instincts that we do not know the entire story. For some reason, Lady Catherine grew angrier the longer I questioned her and, at last, she refused point-blank to discuss it. At the Earl of Matlock's home, my uncle gave me free reign over correspondence from my father that he had saved through the years, but I found nothing of significance. I feel quite certain that my uncle remains ignorant of the matter. In fact, he is curious as to your exact connection with the family."

Unfolding an obviously aged letter, he laid it on the table for us to examine.

"However, I found this among Henry Darcy's papers. He was my uncle, Mr. Gardiner, my father's youngest brother, and I am residing at his widow's house in Camden Place."

"What is the significance of these papers?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"It is a letter written by my father to his brother in which he mentions the trouble. It is dated but a fortnight before Elizabeth's birth."

"And you think the trouble refers to Lizzy's birth?"

"I do. Here, read it for yourself." He handed the letter to Mr. Gardiner, and his wife urged him to read it aloud.

22 November, 1791

Dear Henry,

I am glad to hear you are making progress in your new undertaking. I feel certain you can make a new life and discover a fine future in the Navy if you will forget the past and apply yourself with all diligence. If you continue in your pursuit of the nearest pretty ankle as you did in Derbyshire, you will find...

"Well, perhaps I should skip that part," my uncle said.

"Yes, yes," Mr. Darcy agreed. "It is nothing more than brotherly advice. Begin with the third paragraph from the bottom, if you will, Mr. Gardiner."

Have you heard any news from Peter? I refuse to believe he has met with foul play, even though the authorities deem it most likely since we have not seen or heard from him since March. Unfortunately, here at Pemberley, hope dwindles as the days pass. Anne, in particular, has taken his disappearance with great affliction. She, along with our mother, always favoured him. I am thankful, now, that Mother has passed on. If the chill had not taken her in January, I fear the loss of Peter would. Even young Fitzwilliam seems to miss him. Of course, having both you and Peter depart within a few months of each other has proved difficult for the boy. He misses the sport with which you entertained him.

As to the urgent matter that presses upon me, Lady Willoughby sent a message last evening. Time is growing short, and I fear I will be unable to keep the trouble from soon becoming evident to all. I must think of some way to conceal it from Anne. How I wish you were here. I miss your cock-eyed assumption that all will turn out well, however misguided it might be, and, of course, Peter - oh, Peter - with his steadfast faith, he could always give me hope and provide the answers, especially in this instance. Do you not recall days gone by when together, the three of us - the Darcy brothers - could solve any problem that beset a one of us? I understand your absence - we agreed it was best - but I, as well as others, suffer Peter's desertion most acutely. The burden of secrecy regarding the trouble weighs upon me, but I shall persevere. Whatever she decides, I shall attempt to do what I think is best.

If you have any word from Peter, alert me immediately, I pray you.

"It is signed, your brother, George Darcy."

"What do you make of it, Mr. Gardiner?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"I hardly know. I agree that the trouble apparently refers to Lizzy's impending birth, but it appears your father did not keep his paternity hidden from his brothers."

"Nor did he keep it secret from Sir Lewis de Bourgh," I added. "Is that all? Did you find any further reference among the captain's papers?"

"I did. Look at this journal entry written in my uncle's hand." He extended a worn, leather-bound book to me. I read it and handed it to Mr. Gardiner, who shared it with my aunt.

"It would seem Captain Darcy is the one who eventually found Peter Darcy," my uncle said. "The entry states he located his brother when he harboured in County Cork, Ireland on 2 June, 1805."

"The port is Co...what is the name?" Mrs. Gardiner said. "I cannot make it out."

"Cobh," Mr. Darcy said. "Elizabeth, I have scoured my uncle's maps and learned that Cobh is not all that far from the town in which our grandmother, Siobhan Darcy, was born and raised."

Mr. Gardiner handed the book to him. "Then, at the time this was written, Mr. Peter Darcy had returned to an area near his mother's home."

"Exactly. This discovery reinforces my decision to travel to Ireland and find Uncle Peter."

I turned from the table and took a few steps toward the settee on which I had previously sat.

"Elizabeth, are you not pleased with my find?"

"Yes, of course. I just fail to understand the necessity of your making an arduous trip to Ireland to visit your uncle. What good will it do to question him after all these years?"

"Where does your uncle live now, Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

"According to a Derbyshire clergyman - well, to be honest, a Catholic priest - who corresponds with a fellow priest in that area of Ireland, Peter Darcy still dwells in County Cork. He lives in my grandmother's birthplace, a small village called Ballymeghan. To answer your question, Elizabeth, this letter from my father to Uncle Henry proves, as we discussed earlier tonight, that he shared knowledge of your birth with him. Surely, by now, Uncle Peter knows as well and can shed further light on the matter."

"Are you certain Mr. Peter Darcy knows?" I asked. "From the date of that entry in the journal, Captain Darcy did not find him until I had reached the age of fourteen. After all those years, do you think the captain would have spent time speaking of your father's disgrace that had been disposed of long before? I do not. I think they would much rather have spoken of legitimate family events, Georgiana's birth, your mother's passing, the captain's own marriage. From all accounts, I think the Darcy family forgot me as easily as one forgets the rubbish tossed out at the end of the day."

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed, rushing to my side. Anxiety descended upon Mr. Darcy's face, and he, too, started toward me.

My uncle, however, detained him. "Mr. Darcy, was there no correspondence from your father to the captain after that journal entry, perhaps seeking an address for his brother in Ireland?"

"I did not find one, sir, but I remember receiving a letter from my father when I was at Cambridge, informing me that Uncle Peter had been found alive and well in Ireland. Unfortunately, my father died the next year, and Uncle Henry's death occurred only three years later." He turned back and crossed the room until he stood before me. "Elizabeth, I do not know why, but I cannot cast off the feeling that we might find the answers we seek in Ireland."

"Sir, you take a severe measure upon yourself in order to satisfy your curiosity. Most likely, it will all come to naught. I pray you will let this go."

"I cannot. And I cannot imagine that my entire family forgot you as you think, but I must know. If there is any more information out there, I shall have it." He walked to the fireplace, placed his arm upon the mantel, and fixed a gaze upon me of such tender concern that I felt my heart beat faster. "And if it turns out that your fears are correct, that the previous Darcy generation did simply put you out of their minds, then I assure you...the present one shall never do so."

"Pray, excuse me," I murmured, turned, and fled above stairs to my bedchamber. I sank down upon the window seat, pushed the panes open, and gulped the night air. My chest ached, and I could not seem to get enough air. I raised my eyes to the heavens. I had to face the truth that my existence caused pain to the person I loved most in the world, and now he would even travel to another country because of me.

Why must Mr. Darcy persist in this endless quest for answers he most likely would never find? When would he not acknowledge that his father was not the man he thought him to be? Why must he spend his days searching for God knows what? George Darcy callously committed adultery with a seventeen-year-old girl, and I was the result. Avoidance of the truth brought nothing but anguish; acceptance of it brought misery. There could be no happy outcome.

I began to weep. I know not how long I sat at the window, until a knock at the door startled me. My aunt entered the room, saw my tears, and hurried to my side. She pulled me into her embrace and laid my head on her shoulder, all the while patting my back and murmuring soothing phrases. At length, I drew back, wiping my eyes.

"Has he gone?" I whispered.

"Yes, Lizzy." She rose, walked to the bed, and straightened the pillow. Beckoning to me, she gestured toward the sofa. We settled ourselves against the cushions before she spoke again. "Now, my dear, I believe a serious talk is long overdue."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what exactly is Mr. Darcy about?"

"I do not understand."

"Do not feign ignorance, Lizzy. We are both too intelligent to fool each other."

"I would never attempt to fool you, Aunt."

She sighed. "Not intentionally, of course, but dearest, we both know Mr. Darcy's search to know the circumstances of your natural father's and mother's relationship has gone too far. He is like a man obsessed."

"I asked him not to do it on my behalf."

"He no longer acts on your behalf, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy seeks to satisfy himself, and I can think of only one reason why he remains steadfast in his pursuit."

I said not a word, for I feared what she would say next.

"My dear, ever since we met Mr. Darcy at Pemberley last year and witnessed his attentions to you, your uncle and I have suspected he was in love with you. Then, when he took it upon himself to rescue poor Lydia from Mr. Wickham, we felt certain that our suspicions were correct. I even hinted as much in my letter to you at the time. Do I speak the truth? Is he in love with you?"

I looked away, unwilling to face her. "Mr. Darcy has vowed that his affection for me is that of a brother."

"And has he been able to keep that vow?"

I closed my eyes and laid my head against the back of the sofa. "Do not ask me that. Only he can answer that question."

"As I thought," she murmured.

I sat up quickly. "Pray, do not think that he has acted in an untoward manner. Mr. Darcy is every bit a gentleman."

"I never doubted that. What I wonder is how you feel in return."

"What difference does it make how I feel? The situation is immovable. We masquerade as cousins, but, in truth, we are brother and sister. Whatever we may have felt in the past...or even now...must be repressed. To do otherwise is unthinkable."

Mrs. Gardiner rose and closed the window, securing the latch. "I thank you for your honesty. It confirms my decision tonight."

"What decision is that?"

"Mr. Darcy has spent the last half-hour in an attempt to persuade your uncle and me to allow you to accompany Georgiana and him to Ireland. My instincts forbade it, and now I know they were correct. It would be far too dangerous for you to spend that much time in his company."

"I never agreed to go to Ireland. I wonder why he is so insistent."

"He said he wanted you to meet your uncle, Peter Darcy, for he is your father's only living brother. I, however, wonder if he has admitted the true reason to himself."

I looked away again. "You suspect him of some nefarious cause, Aunt?"

"I suspect he would do anything to keep you beside him. I suspect he thinks he acts from only the highest and most noble motives, but I do not believe he knows himself. He is either unwilling or unable to face the truth. One does not banish feelings of love by a simple stroke of will."

"I know that better than anyone," I whispered.

"The sole saving grace for both of you lies in placing distance between you. We must leave Bath. We must return you to Longbourn, or if that will not suffice, you may travel on to London with us. You must find someone else, Lizzy, and so must Mr. Darcy."

~ * ~

The next morning, the rains began in earnest. The weather suited my mood, for it remained as dark as the clouds covering the city. After breakfast, my aunt and I began the task of packing. We directed the maid in her duties, but since we had come prepared for several weeks' visit, too many tasks existed for one person to complete quickly. I sent her to Mrs. Gardiner's chamber and tackled the job myself. It felt good to stay busy. Even though I was weary from a sleepless night, my greatest fear was time to sit idle and think.

When we stopped for tea, I noticed that my aunt had carried her bonnet and shawl into the parlour.

"Are you going out in this weather?" I asked.

"I have exhausted my supply of tonic, Lizzy. I cannot think of enduring that long journey to Hertfordshire without it."

"Why not send the maid?"

"With all she has to do? She cannot spare the time, if we are to depart on the morrow."

"Then, allow me to go for you. I need fresh air even if it is damp, and it is but a short walk to the apothecary."

The rain continued, as I hoisted my umbrella and set off. My skirts were mussed by the time I reached the shop, and I hurried inside, glad to reach shelter. Several people shopped within, and, thus, I was forced to wait on my purchase. I sighed as I thought of our leave-taking. Mrs. Gardiner did not think I should contact Mr. Darcy before we left. I had written a note to Georgiana and instructed the servant to deliver it after we had gone. I felt guilty, as though, once again, I was stealing away, but my good sense agreed it was a prudent decision. Mr. Darcy would have exerted all efforts to change my mind. But, oh, I hated to think of him travelling such a great distance.

At last, my turn at the counter arrived, and I quickly paid for my purchase. Just as I reached the door, who should open it for me but Colonel Fitzwilliam!

Oh no, I thought, not him again.

"Miss Bennet, what a fortunate turn! I was on my way to call upon your aunt, and I hoped to spend time with you. There is something important that I would speak to you about."

"'Tis too bad that you should call today, Colonel."

"And why is that?"

"My aunt is not receiving visitors this afternoon."

"Is she ill? I see that you have been to the apothecary."

"I purchased a remedy for her. Pardon my haste, sir, but I must return to the house directly."

"Well, I hope Mrs. Gardiner recovers quickly. I..."

"I shall relay your greetings. Goodbye, sir." I hurried up the street, leaving him standing alone, his hat in his hand. That was not quite a lie, I told myself, but less than the truth. Aunt Gardiner said I must marry, and perhaps I should reconsider Colonel Fitzwilliam, but not now. I was in no mood to make a choice that day.

Upon entering the house, I heard the voices of my aunt and uncle coming from the parlour. I was surprised that Mr. Gardiner had returned so early, for he declared at the breakfast table that our sudden departure would force him to spend the entire day completing his final business obligations. I handed my bonnet and umbrella to the servant and walked into the room.

"Then, Edward, you must allow Lizzy and me to return to Hertfordshire without you."

"I shall not. You know that I had to return Rufus to London to take over for Sam. We no longer have a man-servant to accompany you, and I cannot have my wife and niece travel without escort."

"Is there not some way you might delay your business trip? Could you not take us home first?"

I cleared my throat. "Should I excuse myself, Uncle? Do I intrude?"

"Of course not, Lizzy, come in," Mr. Gardiner said. "Since you will learn of this soon enough, you may as well hear it now."

I could not imagine of what he spoke, but my aunt wore a crestfallen expression.

"You will never believe this, Lizzy," she said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Believe what? Tell me what has happened."

"An important shipment I expected today has been lost," my uncle said.

"And where - of all places?" my aunt added, shaking her head. "Off the Irish coast!"

"Due to gross incompetence! The entire operation in Ireland must be looked into and corrected, if I am to continue trading with those people."

"That is not all. Your uncle insists he must travel to Ireland to personally rectify the situation. Immediately!"

"Madeline, I have explained repeatedly that I shall lose a great amount of money if I do not take care of the matter. Attempting to certify by mail that business is done correctly obviously does not work. The merchandise is essential. I have promised large orders of fine Irish linen and glass to my best customers. If I do not deliver, my competitors will gobble them up before my eyes. And, in addition, I am sorry to admit that the substantial portion of my business rides on the consignment of wool alone, and the assurance that I receive subsequent shipments from the area in a timely manner. It requires my personal attention. I trust no one else to complete the task."

I sank down upon the settee. "What does this mean, Uncle? Shall Mrs. Gardiner and I remain here in Bath while you make the trip?"

He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. "I cannot feel right about leaving you here alone for that long a time."

"Then, what shall we do?"

My aunt sat down in the chair across from me. "Lizzy, Edward says we must accompany him to Ireland."

My eyes widened. "Uncle, could you not send for your man-servant to return? Surely, my aunt and I might remain here until he arrives from London, and then he could take us to Longbourn."

"Rufus returned to Town this morning to take the place of my steward, Sam. I must have someone I trust in charge of the house while we are gone. I received word from Sam last week that his widowed sister died, leaving orphaned children. There is no one else in his family who can step in and take care of the matter. Since we were travelling and our youngsters are with your parents, I gave him a month's leave to see them settled. I can hardly go back on my word and take him from such an onerous responsibility simply to escort you home. As for your father, well, we all know he hates to travel more than any man I know."

"I doubt that Thomas would put himself out to fetch us," Mrs. Gardiner said, "for Fanny writes that he is gouty again."

"All the more reason for Papá to come to Bath. Are not the hot springs the perfect antidote?"

My aunt shook her head. "Not for your father."

"Yes, I forgot that he considers the baths nothing more than the remedy of charlatans."

"Your mother says his humour is ill, indeed, and you know how he detests travel. He made his yearly trip to Town when he brought you home last month. I cannot see him leaving the comfort of his library so soon to embark on a long trip to and from Bath when he is ailing. Besides, Fanny will be cross if he leaves her at home with a houseful of children, even though we both know he provides little help. Still, she must have someone to whom she may complain."

I sighed, knowing she spoke the truth. "Well, this cannot be an impossible dilemma. Surely, we can discover some solution to the problem, other than a difficult journey across the North Sea. Why, that would take a long time, indeed. May we not sleep on the matter? An answer might come to one of us upon the morrow."

"I cannot put off the trip, Lizzy," Mr. Gardiner said, "for us to bide our time, conjuring up an answer out of nowhere!"

"I did not mean to offend you. I simply..."

"I know, I know, my dear. Forgive my short temper. This entire situation has sorely tried my patience. I simply must reach Ireland without delay!"

None of us said anything for a good quarter-hour. My uncle opened his satchel and began to rummage through his papers. Spreading the purchase orders, bills, and correspondence across the library table, he sighed more than once as he pored over them. The longer he studied the records, the more agitated his expression grew. My aunt freshened his cup of tea, but he waved it away with an air of irritation. She turned a questioning gaze toward me, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders. It appeared that we did not have a choice if Mr. Gardiner was to save his business.

At last, he straightened up, threw his glasses upon the table, and faced us. "There simply is no other answer. I must set off immediately, and both of you must go with me, for I shall not leave you without protection in this large city. I met with Mr. Darcy an hour ago, and he says he can secure passage for us on the ship upon which he will sail."

"Mr. Darcy!" I exclaimed.

My uncle walked across the room, sat down in the chair across from me, and leaned forward. "Now, Lizzy, I know you and your aunt discussed our belief that you should avoid his company, but, in this matter, I am afraid we must avail ourselves of the gentleman's assistance. It is not the ideal solution, but as long as Madeline and I accompany you, we shall lessen your chances of being alone with him."

"I do not like it, Edward," my aunt said.

"If there was any other way, my dear, do you not think I would seize hold of it?"

"Do not alarm yourselves on my account, I pray you," I said, rising. "I have dwelt in Mr. Darcy's presence much of this year. I am not afraid of him. I know he will keep his sentiments under good regulation."

"Of course," Mr. Gardiner agreed. "And with all of us making the journey, along with his sister and her companion, all should go well. Let us put aside our fears and make the best of it. I suggest you both write to Fanny tonight and console her with the happy thought that our children shall be hers for the duration."

~ * ~

Four days later, we boarded Mr. Darcy's carriages for the long trip to Holyhead. It was a tiring journey in itself, taking many days on difficult roads, and by the time we reached our destination, my aunt and Mrs. Annesley both suffered from stiff, sore joints.

We recovered at the inn at Holyhead for several days and, at last, walked onto the deck of The Falcon, a passenger ship embarking for Dublin. I could not help but be excited at the prospect before us. I had little experience with the sea, for I had never been aboard any boat, other than a ferry. The brisk sea breeze seemed to dispel my dark mood. Since childhood, I had possessed a cheerful demeanour, and, by that time, I wearied of the continuous ill temper that had plagued me for so long. If I had to make the trip, I might as well try to enjoy it. Thus, I began to anticipate visiting a different country with some degree of keenness. After all, what did I have to return home to?

Once, during the expedition across Wales, I wondered why I had not suggested that my uncle ask Colonel Fitzwilliam to take us back to Longbourn. He would have provided the perfect escort and saved my aunt and me from the voyage. A truthful argument might be that I did not want to encourage the colonel in his pursuit of my hand. However, if I was honest, I had to admit that I was selfish, for I dreaded the long absence from Mr. Darcy even more than I wished to spare him my company.

I still could not see a favourable outcome to our situation, but simply being in his presence and that of Georgiana made me feel better. He was obviously pleased that I was making the journey, no matter the reason why. At each stop along the way, whenever we had met, his optimism seemed to spill over onto me. I could not see any sensible hope in his quest, but then, hope sometimes has a mind of its own.

Chapter Thirteen

The infamously rough crossing of the Irish Sea meant that seasickness beset some of the men and most of the ladies on board The Falcon, including Mrs. Gardiner, Georgiana, and Mrs. Annesley. Miraculously, I escaped as did my uncle and Mr. Darcy. I kept busy directing the maid in tending my aunt for much of the voyage and prayed for deliverance from the treacherous waves. Our passage had surely proved to be a challenge so far.

At last, however, the storms abated, and we enjoyed smooth sailing. I had been confined below deck for so long that when we were told we might emerge to take the air, I could not wait to climb the stairs. My aunt remained too weak to rise from her bed but for short periods, as did Mrs. Annesley. Georgiana, however, recovered more quickly, and she was as eager as I to distance herself from the detention we had been forced to endure.

The fresh sea air enticed us, and we hastened to the railing to breathe deeply and watch the waves. The ocean appeared much calmer. One found it hard to reconcile the idea that it was the same one that had tossed us about carelessly only the day before, although infrequent wind gusts still occurred, causing me to catch my breath when the ship pitched unexpectedly.

Georgiana exclaimed when we caught glimpses of the creatures beneath the surface of the water. A number of basking sharks lurked within sight, a fearsome spectacle that covered my arms in gooseflesh.

"Those predators are an awesome sight," Mr. Darcy said, having joined us without my notice.

"Oh, Wills, would it not be dreadful to fall into the sea?"

"All the more reason to take care and not venture too near the edge. Shall you and Elizabeth join me in a promenade? I could do with the exercise."

"An excellent suggestion," I said, "for I have been longing for a walk to restore my energy."

"As well as your spirit, I would wager." He smiled and offered one arm to his younger sister and one to me.

Several times, we walked the length of the deck as far as passengers were allowed. Before making the final return trek, we stopped to watch the busy seamen executing their various duties, alternating sails and stowing ropes. I craned my neck and shaded my eyes with my hand in order to follow a sailor as he scrambled up the rigging to the mast and climbed into the crow's nest. What a view he must have had from that lofty perch!

At that moment, the man cupped his hand to his mouth and cried, "Land ho!"

Immediately, all eyes turned westwards where he was pointing. We hurried toward the bow and searched the horizon. Neither my sister nor I could see it, but Mr. Darcy spotted a faint outline. Georgiana declared she must share the news with Mrs. Annesley, for she felt certain it would aid her companion's recovery to know our deliverance was nigh. She hastened toward the hatch and soon disappeared below stairs.

Aware that Mr. Darcy and I were alone, I started to withdraw my hand from his arm when the ship lurched upward and then immediately downward, having encountered a particularly large swell. I felt myself sway and lose my balance. I could not refrain from falling against Mr. Darcy. Instinctively, his arms encircled me. Within moments, he had steadied us both, but not before we had been thrust against each other. The scent of his skin enveloped me, I could feel the powerful strength in his arms, and I began to tremble.

"Do not fear, Elizabeth, you are safe with me," he said into my ear.

I stepped back, knowing that I was not. Yes, he might protect me from the elements, but who would shield me from the forbidden emotions he unleashed within my heart?

"I...should return to my aunt and see to her needs."

"If you wish. Allow me to escort you to the stairs."

"No, I am fine now, sir. I can make my way unaided." Without meeting his gaze, I turned and fled below. Hearing steps behind me, I turned to see that Mr. Gardiner had followed from above deck. He wore a decided frown. "Uncle, is something wrong?"

"A moment with you, Lizzy, if you please." He led me into the empty dining hall. "My dear, I question the wisdom of the scene I just witnessed."

"What scene do you speak of, sir?"

"Finding you within Mr. Darcy's embrace."

I felt the heat of the blush that crept up from my neck to burn my cheeks. "It...happened in all innocence, sir. The sudden movement of the ship almost caused me to slip, and it forced me against the gentleman. He meant no untoward behaviour. He simply attempted to aid me in securing my balance."

"Yes, I saw it all, Lizzy. He, however, did not release you as quickly as he might have. As we discussed before, I think it best if you avoid his presence as much as possible."

"That will prove difficult in these confined spaces."

"Still, I counsel you not to be alone with him." He patted my shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "I do not accuse Mr. Darcy of impropriety. I simply remind you of the concern your aunt and I expressed in Bath. You must not encourage nor tempt the gentleman in any manner." ,P. Tempt him! I bit my tongue to refrain from making a sharp retort. He said no more and indicated that we should return to our cabins. Once my door closed behind me, I sank down upon the narrow bed. For some time, I fumed at the suggestion that I had purposely led Mr. Darcy astray or that he had done anything amiss. Eventually, after I calmed myself and took time to examine the situation, I could see the wisdom in my uncle's words. If Mr. Darcy had not truly renounced his romantic feelings toward me, and if I were honest, I doubted that he had, I should do all in my power to help him accomplish the feat. The question remained: Who would assist me in conquering my own love for him? Oh, why had Mr. Gardiner insisted that I make this trip? We would be thrown together constantly, and I trembled anew at the thrill I had felt when held within Mr. Darcy's warm embrace. My aunt and uncle were correct. No matter how I would miss him, 'twas more prudent for us to be apart.

The sensible side of me acknowledged that things would be easier once we left the ship, for after we reached Dublin, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana would travel on to Cork.

~ * ~

As I have come to learn, what I expected did not happen.

Although Mr. Gardiner met with several of his business contacts in Dublin, it turned out that the majority of the goods my uncle had ordered were actually manufactured in County Cork, and the entire shipment had set sail from the nearby harbour at Cobh. From what he was told, if negligence had occurred, it would have happened in Cork City. Thus, we would be forced to travel south in a hired carriage to the same county where my grandmother had been born, and very near the place to which Mr. Darcy journeyed. The moment I heard the name of our destination, my mouth fell open.

"Impossible," I murmured when Mr. Gardiner told me. Were Mr. Darcy and I destined to be thrown together?

"We have been invited to dine with Mr. Darcy and his sister tonight, Lizzy," my aunt said, "but I fear I do not feel well enough to go out." She had not regained her strength from the sea voyage and had remained inside our lodgings the entire week we had been in Dublin.

"Then I shall stay with you."

"Oh, no, my dear, for you have been inside these rooms far too long. You must accompany your uncle this evening."

"I have been out now and then. Do you not recall that I took a long walk this morning? I watched the traffic on the River Liffey."

"That is not the same as good conversation with someone other than me, Lizzy. I insist that you go along with Edward and visit with Miss Darcy. I am certain she longs for your company. She seems to come alive in your presence."

"As does her brother," my uncle added.

"That is why I shall remain here, sir," I announced. "I shall not have you fretting over my being in Mr. Darcy's company all evening."

He smiled. "I shall not fret, Lizzy. Mr. Darcy and I have travel plans to discuss. You will not be alone together, so I see no reason for you to decline the invitation."

Thus, a few hours later, I changed my gown, fussed with my hair, pinched my cheeks, and bade Aunt Gardiner goodnight, for she said that she would be abed by the time we returned. The carriage carried us from the Norfolk Hotel on the north side of the city into the centre of town. The Darcys were in residence at the exclusive Gresham Hotel on Sackville Street, Dublin's main thoroughfare.

Inside, candles glowed throughout, casting a luminous glow over the sumptuous room, emphasizing its modern splendour. Crystal, fine bone china, and well-polished silver sparkled on every table. I was surprised to find the accommodations rivalled any I had seen in London, for I possessed the English prejudice that Ireland remained a poor, backward nation. Perhaps we would find that to be true in the countryside, but certainly not in that area of the capital city.

Mr. Darcy and Georgiana descended the sweeping staircase, and her eyes lit up when she saw us approach from across the room. After greetings were exchanged, we were immediately shown to our table in the main dining room. Mr. Gardiner explained his wife's absence, and Georgiana sympathized, saying that Mrs. Annesley also still suffered the effects of the trip. The evening passed pleasantly enough, and I noticed that Mr. Darcy seemed in exceptionally good spirits. He was completely at ease with my uncle, and oft times when I looked up, he bestowed a smile upon me.

"Is this not good fortune that we shall travel to Cork together?" he said.

"It will prove beneficial for us," Mr. Gardiner said, "for now I shall not have to navigate the route alone. I confess I sometimes feel that the Irish do not speak English as I do. Their brogue garbles the language something fierce, and they appear to use an excessive amount of words to convey a single thought. I often feel as if they speak to me in riddles."

"They do speak their own version of our mother tongue," Mr. Darcy agreed with a smile. Just then, a hotel porter appeared with a note for him, which he read quickly. "Have the package delivered to my apartment." The porter bowed and disappeared. Our meal was drawing to a close, when Mr. Darcy asked if my uncle and I might visit with him in his private rooms above stairs.

"Well, sir, the hour grows late," Mr. Gardiner answered.

"It will not take long, and I wish to show you something that I consider important."

"Splendid!" Georgiana said. "Elizabeth and I shall not yet be forced to part."

Mr. Darcy, however, thwarted his young sister's plans. "You, my dear, must retire for the evening. You have kept far too late hours ever since we arrived. I insist that you rest up for the journey ahead." Even though she complained, he remained firm in his decision, and so it was that Mr. Gardiner and I joined Mr. Darcy in the parlour of his lodgings while Georgiana went to her chambers.

After my uncle accepted his offer of sherry and I declined, Mr. Darcy had the servant retrieve a thick packet that had obviously just arrived by post. Opening it upon the library table, he exclaimed, "Perfect! My steward sent exactly what I requested."

I turned to Mr. Gardiner, who sat beside me on the sofa, with a questioning look, but he appeared no more knowledgeable than I.

Mr. Darcy took several bound books from the packet and brought them with him as he sat down on the chair nearest the sofa. "This is what I wished to show you both."

My uncle put his glass down. "Atlases we may use in our travels?

"No, nothing like that. These, sir, are several of my father's diaries."

"Diaries!" I said. "I thought our search at Pemberley proved fruitless, sir."

"We found no additional books that I had not previously canvassed. I did not show you these, Elizabeth, because I did not think they held anything of note concerning your birth. However..."

"You have had second thoughts, sir?" my uncle prodded.

"I have. I read these books for the first time in the year following my father's funeral. My mood was dark with grief for months after I lost him, and I found solace reading the mundane jottings my father had made note of through the years. Most entries pertain to management of the estate and his other holdings, but now and then I was delighted to find lengthy, personal notations about my mother and myself, and in later volumes, he wrote of Georgiana as she grew up. He did not write on a daily basis - he often went weeks between recordings - but if one reads carefully, one finds a consistent testimony of his life contained therein."

"And yet, you say that he never mentioned my birth. Then, why, sir, have you now changed your mind? Why should these books be of interest to us?"

"Before we left Bath, I began to ponder that question. Why had my father never marked such an important occurrence?"

"Well, naturally, because he wished to keep it hidden."

"A pertinent conclusion and one I shared, until I remembered..."

"Remembered what, sir?"

"Pages are missing from these books."

"Missing? How do you know?"

"See for yourself." He held an open book up for us to see. "Look closely. Can you not see that pages have been torn out? And not just in this book. In several volumes there are remnants of torn pages left behind."

Mr. Gardiner took the book from his outstretched hand and examined it closely. "Why should that signify anything of importance, Mr. Darcy? Perchance your father simply made an ink blot and wished to begin anew."

"A possibility, sir, but as I considered making this journey to Ireland, I also wondered why my father had not told me more about finding his brother after all those years. For that matter, why had he not written more about it in the diaries? Here, examine this one." He rummaged through the stack until he found a volume marked 1805. "There is but one entry made about Peter Darcy this entire year. Pray, read it aloud, Elizabeth."

I smoothed the page open and followed his finger to the appointed place.

14 July, 1805

Received letter from Henry this date. Peter is alive! He has found him near, of all places, Mother's birthplace in Ireland. Says he is well. After all these years, I rejoice. My brother, who was dead, is alive. If only he could return to Pemberley, we would kill the fatted calf, put a ring upon his finger, invite the neighbours, and hold a feast. Alas...

"And that is where the next page is removed," Mr. Darcy interrupted. "See!"

"I do," I answered. "But what significance does it hold?"

"From then on, my father never makes mention of Peter again. Not anywhere, not in a single one of the diaries he wrote thereafter. Does that not seem strange?"

"And it appears he either did not finish his thoughts in this entry," Mr. Gardiner added, "or..."

"Or, for some reason he thought it best to remove what he had written," Mr. Darcy finished. "And that is not all." He picked up another book. "The year of your birth, Elizabeth, Father writes about Peter's disappearance in March. He tells of his distress, the anguish it causes my mother. Here, listen to this.

24 March, 1791

Returned to Pemberley from London this night. What Wickham (Mr. Wickham, Sr., was his steward at the time) wrote in his letter to me is true - Peter is nowhere to be found and has been missing ten days. Anne is growing ill with worry. Tomorrow I will begin the search with visits to the neighbours, and I pray I must not call in the detectives. Oh, merciful God, let this be some foolish prank he is playing. If it is, however, I shall have his hide!

"That year, over and over again from March until the middle of June, my father writes of his futile search for his brother and then...evidence of discarded pages begin. Throughout the book, pages have been removed"

Mr. Gardiner rose and refilled his glass from the decanter of sherry. "I think a simple explanation may exist for the volume written in 1791. By the time the summer months arrived, your father's despair over finding your uncle gave way to the dilemma facing him over Lizzy's birth. He could have noted her expected arrival, but then discarded his observations so that no evidence remained to link him to her in any way."

"Except that Sir Lewis de Bourgh failed to destroy the one letter Mr. George Darcy wrote about my birth," I said.

"One would draw those conclusions," Mr. Darcy said, "if our suppositions are correct."

I sighed and leaned back against the sofa. "How are we to ever discover any other answer, sir?"

Mr. Darcy rose and returned the diaries to the library table. "That is precisely why I have come to Ireland. If Peter Darcy does not hold the key, then I have nowhere else to turn."

"Key to what, sir?" I said, irritation in my voice. "Surely, you do not hope to have your father's name cleared, do you? Have we not seen proof enough of his participation in the deed?"

"What proof have we seen? Lady Catherine has produced a letter..."

"Written by Mr. George Darcy," Mr. Gardiner said.

"True, but examine it again, if you will." He withdrew the letter from his coat pocket and handed it to my uncle. I rose and stood beside him, looking on while he read. "Not once does my father say that the child in question is his."

"But Lady Catherine said..."

"Yes, yes, I know," he waved his hand as though to dismiss my words, "my aunt most definitely had her say."

My uncle looked up from his reading, "Are you saying that you doubt the veracity of Lady Catherine?"

"No...no, I would not disparage her in that... Oh, I do not know what I am saying, except for one thing."

I held my breath, wondering what he could mean and what he might say next.

"Lady Catherine is hiding something. She would brook no questions concerning the details of what Sir Lewis told her about the night he carried Elizabeth to Longbourn. She kept telling me that it was none of my affair." His voice rose in volume. "None of my affair! I ask you, if it is none of my affair, then whose?"

Mr. Gardiner and I exchanged looks, and I could see the concern on my uncle's face. "Mr. Darcy," he said, "the hour does grow late. I believe we must depart."

"I apologize for keeping you," he replied, looking somewhat surprised that we should wish to leave. We made our farewells, and the two men agreed to meet on the morrow to discuss the final details of our travel plans. Mr. Darcy appeared preoccupied and proved quite hasty in his final remarks. I descended the stairs, my mind in a muddle.

In the carriage, my uncle remained silent for some time. I wondered what he was thinking, but in some ways, I did not care to know.

"Lizzy," he said at last, "do you think that you are George Darcy's daughter?"

What? "I...well, yes, of course. Lady Catherine said I was, and I have not seen any evidence to dispute her word. Why do you ask me that?"

"Because I strongly suspect that Mr. Darcy no longer believes you are his sister."

~ * ~

That night I slept little. My uncle's statement whirled around and around in my head. Could it possibly be? Might I be the daughter of someone other than George Darcy? No, I had not seen one thing to make me think that and much that did. Lady Catherine stated it as fact most assuredly, the letter that George Darcy wrote to Sir Lewis would certainly lead one to believe that I was his child, Mr. Fawcett said I was the natural child of a gentleman from the north country, Eleanor Willoughby said my father was called Darcy, and I bore a distinct resemblance to George Darcy's mother, Siobhan.

If George Darcy was not my father, who could it be? I allowed my mind to wander freely. What if Lady Catherine had tried to mask her husband's infidelity? Perchance, while visiting Derbyshire long ago, he met my mother and lied, telling her his name was Darcy. He evidently had relied upon George Darcy for help in the past. Was it because he had been faithless in his marriage vows? Could I have been his mistake? I shuddered at the thought. I had never met Sir Lewis, but I could not imagine that young girl I had seen in the portrait attaching herself to a man married to Lady Catherine. If so, why would George Darcy have worded his letter in the manner that he did - Tonight, I must beg leave to call in all favours you owe me? No, that did not make sense, and Eleanor Willoughby never mentioned that her sister even knew Sir Lewis. It could not be him.

Siobhan had two other sons besides George - Henry and Peter. I knew nothing really of Peter, other than he converted to the Catholic religion, and he wished to live in his mother's homeland, so much so that he ran away rather than risk his brother's disapproval. I doubted that he was responsible for my birth, for it appeared that he cared little for anyone in Derbyshire. He did not even write to his family once he settled himself in his new home. I had the impression that he must have been a serious-minded, solitary man, not one who would trifle with a neighbour's young daughter.

Henry, however, was handsome, headstrong, and had a reputation as a lady's man. Could he have been the Darcy my mother met secretly in the woods of Pemberley? And if so, did his widow know of my existence? Perhaps, she feared that if she revealed the truth, I would attempt a claim upon his estate. Had she encouraged her nephew to travel to Ireland on an endless chase only to thwart his discovery of the truth in Bath?

My head ached at the possibilities, and I punched my pillow with all the frustration that possessed me. Oh, what good would come from hoping for what could never be? Why dare to contemplate the idea that George Darcy was not my father, only to have it snatched from me? The girl I had been a year ago might have dreamed such a dream, but I no longer possessed that girl's faith. It had died in the garden at Longbourn when Lady Catherine came to call.

~ * ~

We departed Dublin three days later. Mrs. Gardiner had regained a bit of her vitality by that time, and I hoped that the subsequent journey would not assign her to bed once again. Our carriage followed behind that of Mr. Darcy, but oft times Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley exchanged places with Mr. Gardiner. It proved a merry exchange when four women travelled without men to overhear the conversation. I was surprised, but not displeased, that Mrs. Annesley entered into the dialogue much more freely at those times.

"And how do you like Ireland?" my aunt asked her.

"Much more than that sea voyage. I was never so glad to feel firm ground beneath my feet in all my days!"

That provoked a spirited discussion between the two older women of the ills they had experienced aboard ship. Georgiana took the opportunity to speak to me, waxing on and on about how she found the country charming. I marvelled at the changes I had seen come over her since first we met last year. That shy, quiet young girl had blossomed, becoming much more confident and vivacious. She spoke of her future debut the next spring and insisted that I go to Town and accompany her to teas, balls, and other social outings.

"Would you not rather have someone by your side who is more accustomed to such events? What about Miss Bingley? She is well acquainted with the social life of London, and I know that she craves your company, for I have heard her remark upon it more than once."

"Miss Bingley craves my company for one reason only, Elizabeth - she wishes to marry my brother."

"Georgiana!" Miss Annesley exclaimed, interrupting her discussion of lumbago with Mrs. Gardiner, even breaking off in mid-sentence to admonish her young charge.

"Well, she does, Annie. You know it as well as I!"

"One must not disparage an older lady, my dear. She may not be your equal in some matters, but she is an accomplished lady."

"Yes," I added, lifting my chin, "it cannot be denied. Miss Bingley does possess a certain air."

Georgiana began to giggle, and Miss Annesley's attempts to calm her failed utterly. Her laughter was infectious, and I could not suppress my own amusement. It was obvious that we behaved in an unseemly manner, but it was not long before both older ladies could not refrain from bursting forth in jollity as well. We laughed until we were forced to hold our sides in pain, and Mrs. Gardiner begged us to desist, for she was quite uncomfortable. I wondered if the shepherd in the fields that we passed could actually see our carriage shake from the hilarity within.

It was good to laugh. It reminded me of growing up in a house filled with five girls. Suddenly, I longed to see all of them once again. I missed Jane in particular, and I knew that my aunt yearned to hold her children. Ireland seemed like the other side of the world from Longbourn. And yet, I did enjoy Georgiana's company. Sweet and unassuming, she brought joy to my life, and I thought how much I would miss her when we returned to England and resumed our separate lives. For that matter, I would miss her when we separated in Cork.

"Georgiana, has Mr. Darcy told you much of the city to which you travel?" I asked.

"Wills says Ballymeghan is more of a village than a city. I learned only recently that my grandmother was born there. I wish I had known her, but she died long before I was born. My brother remembers her but not well. Evidently, she had been in poor health for some years and she kept to her chambers most of the time."

"Do you remember this uncle whom you plan to visit?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.

"Oh, no. He left Pemberley as a young man and has never returned. I do recall visits from Uncle Henry, the one who lived in Bath."

That statement aroused my interest. "What was he like?"

"Tall and handsome in his uniform and always happy. His beard tickled when he kissed my cheek, and he was forever taking sweets from the kitchen and sneaking them to me. I thought him absolutely wonderful!"

"I have only seen his portrait at Pemberley, and I agree that he was handsome," I said. "I did not see much resemblance between Mr. Henry Darcy and your father."

"They might have looked more alike if Uncle Henry had shaved his beard. I do remember that his eyes were different from Father's." She leaned forward and peered closely at me. "In truth, Elizabeth, your eyes are much like my uncle's. Perhaps it was a family trait that both of you inherited even though you are not closely related."

I straightened and turned my attention to the window.

"I wonder if Wills ever determined the exact connection between our family and that of Elizabeth."

"He has certainly devoted himself to the quest," Mrs. Annesley said. "He spent countless hours upon the task at Rosings, Eden Park, and especially Bath. Do you share his curiosity, Miss Bennet?"

"I..."

"Lizzy has never been one to shut herself up inside for too long, no matter the pursuit," my aunt interjected. "Give her a good, long tramp in the woods, though, and she considers it a perfect day." I exhaled with relief as my aunt's statement renewed Mrs. Annesley's discussion of her various ailments occasioned by the last long walk she had attempted.

An expression of boredom settled upon Georgiana's countenance, and she devoted herself to the passing scenery for a while. We remarked on the many shades of green that coloured the island, but eventually, she grew drowsy, removed her bonnet, and leaned back against the seat. I, too, wearied of the long journey and hoped we would stop soon to spend the night. The carriage rocked on as consistently as the ladies' conversation. I was left to allow my mind to wander at will. Without fail, it returned to questions of my paternity.

I thought of Henry Darcy and the physical similarity we shared. Had Mr. Darcy ever noticed it and if so, had he shared the news with the captain's widow? I wondered what kind of man Peter Darcy would turn out to be, if my presumptions of his character rang true. The only portrait I had seen of him was with his brothers, and he was but a very young child at the time. Mr. Darcy had said he was ill. Oh, I hoped we did not arrive too late for Peter Darcy to answer his nephew's questions.

At length, the carriage pulled into the small village of Cashel, and we clambered out, ready to stretch our limbs from the forced confinement. My uncle informed us that we would spend the night there at an inn. We followed him into the whitewashed, thatched house that bore the name Fitzgerald's above the door. Our lodgings were somewhat primitive but clean and tidy. Neither Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner nor I found the accommodations unsuitable, but I wondered how Mr. Darcy and his sister would react. I doubted that either of them had ever stayed the night in such a humble dwelling.

My aunt wished to lie down before supper, and Mr. Gardiner sought a drink in the local pub. After making certain that I was not needed, I slipped outdoors for a short walk. The few shops across the street had closed, but I did not need to make a purchase. I simply yearned for exercise, so I ambled several blocks without any destination in mind. Suddenly, I heard someone call my name, and when I turned, I saw Mr. Darcy advancing upon me.

"Elizabeth, where do you go?"

"Nowhere, sir. I am simply walking."

"The sun goes down soon. You must not wander about alone. After all, this is not Hertfordshire. Shall I keep you company?"

I nodded, and he smiled as we fell into step. After asking about my aunt's health, we remained silent for a block or two. He then pointed out the Catholic church around the corner, and we watched as the black-robed priest hurried inside. The man had not acknowledged us in any manner.

"Do we trespass, sir? The priest does not appear friendly."

"He may fear our notice since we are clearly strangers in these parts, and the Papist Church is no longer the religion of the ruling class. Besides that, we are English." He spoke as though we had committed a crime.

"I do not understand. Ireland is now united with England, is it not? Are not both countries under one Parliament?"

"They are in name, but this country has little representation in London. Besides, the conflict between our nations goes back centuries, and the Irish people's struggle continues. I have been told that the place to which we travel, County Cork, is a stronghold of resistance to the English. In fact, it is known as the Rebel County with no small amount of pride among the natives."

"Do you think Mr. Peter Darcy will welcome your visit?"

"Yes. No matter the years past, the difference in religion, politics, or country, we are the same blood, and in Ireland, blood relations trump all else. He is my uncle, and I cannot imagine him refusing to see me."

"Is he accepted here?"

We had crossed the footpath and begun to retrace our steps back to the inn. "I would surely think so, else why should he stay all this time?"

I took a deep breath. "Sir, if Peter Darcy knows nothing of me or the circumstances surrounding my birth, will you put this search of yours to rest at last?"

He turned and looked directly at me. "I think he does, Elizabeth. I feel in my heart that Uncle Peter will answer my questions."

"But why?"

"I cannot explain it. Do you recall that I once told you how Bridesgate, the Willoughby house, seemed to call out to me as a boy?"

I nodded. "Even though your father instructed you to stay away from it."

"Exactly. I have that same feeling about this country and about Peter Darcy. I think he knows the circumstances surrounding your birth."

"But if he does not, sir, what then?"

We had reached the inn, and he stopped short before entering. "Do not say that."

"But you must consider it."

"No, I must not!" Although he had not raised his voice, his tone was as unyielding as though he had done so. We stared into each other's eyes until, at last, I turned and walked into the house.

Chapter Fourteen

After spending yet another night in another inn and a long, hard day of travel on country roads, we reached our destination at last. Although not as large as Dublin, Cork was a fine, bustling city, exceedingly more populous than any of the villages we had encountered along the way.

As we drove through the streets to the Imperial Hotel on the South Mall, we admired the sunset reflected off the handsome limestone buildings lining the banks of the River Lee. Seagulls greeted us with their screeching cries, as they accompanied the ferryboats carrying passengers upriver from the town of Cobh to Merchants Quay. The air was rich with sounds and smells from the nearby Grand Parade Fish Market and the local brewery, famous for its dark stout. The odours permeated my senses, but I, unlike Mrs. Annesley, did not find them unpleasant.

"Oh, Georgiana, I fear your appetite will suffer if we remain outdoors. Come, we must hurry and escape these dreadful smells," she said.

"They are not so very bad. May we not watch the sun go down?" Her companion would not be deterred, however, so the young girl reluctantly followed her inside.

Our apartment was the best by far since we arrived in Ireland. My uncle's time would be much occupied by business, including travelling down to Cobh at the mouth of Cork Harbour. Thus, he expended the extra money necessary to secure our lodgings in the same venue as that of the Darcys so that my aunt and I would not be left alone during the day. During the course of our meal together that evening, however, Mr. Darcy announced that he would depart on the morrow for an overnight visit with the Earl of Killaine at Castelaine and wished to leave Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley in Mr. Gardiner's care while he was gone. Both gentlemen then stressed that we were not to venture far from the hotel until my uncle returned in the evening.

"Oh, Wills, must you go so soon?"

"It is only right that I call upon the earl, as his family has known ours for many years. I have written to him of our coming, and he has secured a cottage for us in Ballymeghan. I must see that all is in order for our arrival."

"I do not understand the connection between our family and this Irish earl you call upon. I do not recall hearing of him before."

"He is the son of our grandfather's friend from Cambridge. It is due to his father that our grandparents met. If he had not invited James Darcy to visit during that summer, we would not be alive today."

When she asked where he lived, Mr. Darcy said it was about three miles just outside the village of Ballymeghan.

"And is that where you hope to find your uncle?" Mr. Gardiner asked.

He nodded. "My source in Derbyshire corresponds with a priest in Ardfield, which I understand lies but a short distance from there. He is the one who says that Peter Darcy has made his home in the village. It is only right that I call upon Lord Killaine before I begin my search. He, most likely, can tell me exactly where Uncle Peter dwells."

"I wish you good luck, Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner said, and my uncle echoed her sentiments.

I felt his eyes upon me. "And you, Elizabeth? Do you not wish me luck?"

I raised my eyes to meet his. "Of course, sir, and, even more, I hope that what you find will grant you peace."

~ * ~

The next night, my aunt and I had joined Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley in their parlour after dinner. Attempting to teach me a simpler method in which I might master a difficult embroidery stitch, the older ladies had erupted in laughter at my pitiful struggles and subsequent display of temper when I succeeded in repeatedly knotting my thread. I made such a shambles of it that they were forced to take turns trying to work it loose, all in vain. At last, when hope was gone, Georgiana solved the matter by cutting the thread.

"Elizabeth, you had better begin all over again."

"I think I should give up," I said, laughing with the others, "and admit that my fingers were not created for sewing. Look at the bloodstains I have left on this scarf."

"Perhaps you might dye it a soft rose colour when the task is completed," Mrs. Annesley offered.

Just then, we heard the outer door open and slam shut, subsequent, rapid footsteps into a bedchamber, followed by another slammed door. We looked at each other in wonder.

"Goodness, could that be Wills?"

"If it is, something must be amiss," Mrs. Annesley said.

"Perhaps we should go," my aunt said.

Georgiana rose. "No, it is still early. I shall see what is wrong." We all prevailed upon her to remain with us and give her brother time to recover from his trip. She had just sat down again and picked up her needlework when we heard doors slam again and the same rapid footsteps depart the apartment.

I looked at Mrs. Gardiner, and we both folded our work and put it away. "I really do believe we should make our departure," she said. "It has been a lovely evening."

We made our farewells and returned down the hall to our quarters. My uncle sat snoring in his chair, his book lying open upon his chest. My aunt woke him, and, shortly thereafter, they retired to their chambers for the night. I walked about the room, picked at the daisies in the pitcher upon the table, and looked through a small stack of books lying beside my uncle's chair. I saw nothing that interested me. Spying the full moon through the window, I pulled the curtain aside. Below in the moonlight, I saw Mr. Darcy pacing back and forth on the footpath outside the hotel. He carried his hat in his hand, and several times he raked his hand through his hair.

Something is terribly wrong, I feared.

Turning back to the room, I tiptoed near the door of the Gardiners' room, from which I heard nothing but silence. Quietly, I gathered my shawl around my shoulders and slipped out the door. I made it down the stairs to the lobby without meeting anyone, but just as I reached the outer door, the alarmed porter asked if he could help me. I could not think of a reason to explain my actions, for I knew that a single woman would not normally leave the hotel alone at that late hour. So, I simply lifted my head, assumed my best imitation of Miss Bingley, and waved him away.

I hurried out the door, whereupon I found Mr. Darcy still pacing frantically.

"Elizabeth!"

"I...saw you from the window above."

"You should not be out here."

"I must know what ails you, sir. You are obviously angry, upset...what is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing you can make right."

"What do you mean?"

He made a helpless gesture, hitting his hat against the side of his leg.

"Tell me what has happened! Is it your uncle? Are you too late?"

He took my elbow. "Come, I must return you to Mr. Gardiner."

"He and my aunt have retired. Will you not take but a moment and tell me?"

A man walking by stared at us.

"Not here. Let us cross the street." He led me out of sight of the hotel to where we had a clear view of the river. We strolled in silence, the moon glistening on the rippling surface. The water lapped against the pier, and I knew I should have loved being there in that setting, if not for the anguish on Mr. Darcy's face.

We sat down on a bench looking out towards the mouth of the harbour and remained silent for several moments before I spoke. "Did your visit with Lord Killaine not go well? Is that what troubles you?"

"The earl was cordial. He said his father had often told him of his friendship with my grandfather and what a scandal it caused when Siobhan MacAnally sailed off to England with James Darcy."

"Did he seem angry?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. His father actually aided their escape. Of course, he was a young man back then. He had no idea how dangerous their decision truly was or what serious consequences it would yield."

"If the past does not anger Lord Killaine, then what causes you distress?"

Mr. Darcy rose and stared up at the sky. I stood up and gently touched his arm. "Sir, may I not share your troubles as you have often shared mine?"

When he turned to me, I held my breath at the pain I saw reflected in his eyes. "Elizabeth, I have made this trip in vain. Peter Darcy will not give me the answers I wish for."

"Why not?"

"Because he cannot."

"He has died?"

"No."

"Then, what is it?"

He lowered his head and took a step toward the wharf, but I walked with him, refusing to let up. He gave a great sigh. "I began this search with you for your mother, and once we discovered Elizabeth Willoughby, I should have been content, but I could not."

"You want to know why."

"I want more than that." He turned and faced me. "I want...oh, my dearest girl, I need someone...anyone...to tell me that my father is not your father."

My heart rose into my throat. I swallowed and looked away, then walked back and sank down on the bench. What had he done? Had he actually spoken aloud between us the very hope that lived deep inside me, the same dream I attempted to bury daily but which refused to remain hidden?

I was conscious of his return and that he sat beside me, but I could not face him.

"I know I promised that I would look upon you as my sister, and I intend to keep that promise. But I must be honest and confess that is not my heart's desire. I want..."

"No, do not say it! You must not say it, sir." I jumped up to return to the Imperial.

"Wait," he said, catching my hand. "Wait...forgive me. You are right. I...do not know what possessed me. It is just that I have received such disappointing news this day."

"If it concerns me, do I not have a right to know?"

He sighed again. "I have searched everywhere for a hint, a clue, some revelation that you were fathered by someone other than George Darcy. I have combed through every document I could find at Pemberley. I sought out the vicar at the church for a record of your birth. There is none. Your mother's death is recorded, but that is all. I have told you how Lady Catherine provided no answers. Eden Park was the same. I even called upon Sir Linton Willoughby again, but he refused to see me. And Bath...I thought surely I would find more than I did among Uncle Henry's many journals and correspondence. I even dared to insult my aunt by asking if her husband could possibly be your father. Her answer is what drove me to Ireland."

"Her answer? What do you mean?"

"Aunt Harriet said Captain Darcy was close-mouthed about your birth and spoke of the incident only once. He said that his brother had chosen to forsake a woman and child in Derbyshire and that after the woman died, the child had been taken to a far county to be fostered by an unknown family. She assumed the brother was George, for he was the sole brother she had met. For years they thought that Peter was dead. I could not accept her assumption, and that is why I am here. I hoped to find Uncle Peter and confront him. I had this insupportable notion that he might...well, I had determined to force him to take responsibility for your birth...until today."

I sank down upon the bench once again. "What happened today?"

He sat down beside me, leaned forward, and held his hat between his legs. "I learned from Lord Killaine that Peter Darcy could not be your father, for he is a Catholic priest."

"A priest!"

"That is why he ran off without telling his family. He travelled straight to this country and began his studies to join the priesthood. He had always been meant for the church, but not that of the Papists. Evidently, his mother's influence truly shaped his life. After her death, there was nothing to keep him at Pemberley. Lord Killaine said he has served the poorest parishes in Ireland, devoting his life to good works. That hardly sounds like a man who would desert a woman and child, does it?"

"No," I whispered.

We said nothing more for a long while. The sadness rose up between us like a deep chasm over which no one crosses. Rising at last, he said, "Come, I must return you to your rooms."

As we crossed the street, I felt as though heavy weights pulled at my legs. My shoulders drooped, and weariness settled upon me. When we reached the door to the hotel, I stopped. "What will you do now? Shall you return to England without seeing your uncle?"

"No, I shall see him. The earl confirmed the fact - he has not long to live. It is only right that I visit him, and I wish to introduce Georgiana to him."

I nodded.

"I still would like for you to meet him."

"Why? Would it not be shameful for a man of God to witness the result of his brother's sin?"

"If Peter Darcy is the same man I remember as a boy, he will not hold you responsible for another's misdeeds. I hope you will go with me to Ballymeghan."

~ * ~

Four days later, my aunt and I departed Cork City with the Darcys for Siobhan Darcy's birthplace. Business concerns forced Mr. Gardiner to remain behind. He would make numerous trips between the city and the harbour at Cobh either by ferry, or hiring one of the local jingles, little horse-drawn cabs that provided transport each day. Since his wife had rallied from the stresses of travel, he allowed us to go to Ballymeghan without him. I saw little of Mr. Darcy during those four days before we left, and when I did, he kept his distance. Depressed and brooding, he had said little to any of us. I noticed that he did accompany my uncle to the local pub down the street every evening, and they often stayed until closing time. I prayed fervently that my brother visited the establishment for Mr. Gardiner's company alone and did not seek refuge from his sorrows in a bottle of Irish whisky. If Mr. Darcy drank to excess, my uncle never made mention of it, but then, he had always possessed a modest affinity for spirits himself.

Ballymeghan was situated about forty miles from Cork City, and the day's journey proved excessively diverting, for it took us along the picturesque coastline with its magnificent views. I was content to stare out the windows the entire trip. The only sights that marred the scene were the obviously poverty-stricken tenant farmers attempting to scrape out a living in the fields. Many of their dwellings were little more than hovels with numerous children in the yards, while the fine houses of the landowners contrasted sharply in their affluence. Mr. Darcy had told us that with English occupation, native owners who formerly owned much of the land now made up little more than five percent. Most had been reduced to the status of tenant farmers working the land for the benefit of the oft-absent English landlord.

As we drove into Ballymeghan village, I noted its tranquil setting. The white-washed, thatched cottages were well tended, and, set against the lush, green hills in the background, they made a charming, typically Irish scene. I was pleased to see the fine, spacious house that Mr. Darcy had rented for all of us to share. Bringing his own servants, and, having sent one ahead to secure local help, we were ushered into a lovely, limestone house with more than adequate furnishings.

"What a charming little place," Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed. She was relieved to be free from the bumps and jolts of the carriage ride but did not protest when I urged her to rest in her chamber. I supervised the maid unpacking my aunt's belongings before seeking my own room.

"That will do, Lizzy. Go along and arrange your things as you like. I shall lie down for a bit before dinner."

After setting my possessions in their proper places, I returned to the parlour, where I found Mr. Darcy pouring a glass of brandy. He offered me a sherry, which I declined.

"Do you find the lodgings to your liking, sir?"

He shrugged. "As long as Georgiana is content, they will do. And, of course, I trust that you and Mrs. Gardiner are satisfied."

"Very much so." I noticed that his voice had not the slightest inflection. It was as though a man devoid of emotion - of life - had spoken. I walked to the window covered in fine Irish lace and pulled the curtain aside. "What a beautiful little village this is. I have not seen its equal during our entire journey. I wonder whose fine mansion that is far up on the hill." I hoped to prick Mr. Darcy's interest and lift his dark mood.

He joined me at the window. "That is Castelaine."

"Where the Earl of Killaine lives?"

He nodded. "His presence affords this village more prosperity than most we have seen, for it enjoys his protection."

"Tell me, sir, why was he able to retain ownership of Castelaine when so many landowners have been disenfranchised?"

"He is a clever man and enjoys the benefits of his connections." Mr. Darcy returned to the brandy decanter, and I frowned, not only at his words but his actions.

"I do not understand," I said, crossing the room to the nearest chair.

"Lord Killaine's younger brother, Pádraig, married Maíra McKenna, a wealthy widow who possesses a treasure even more valuable than riches."

"Whatever do you mean, sir?"

"She is Anglican. Not particular about his religion, it was a simple thing for Pádraig Killaine to renounce Catholicism and become Anglican in order to secure her hand. Lord Killaine's wife also has a prominent Anglican cousin, the Bishop of Shrewsbury, in fact. He is a close colleague and friend to the Bishop of Canterbury and, hence, the Crown. Such family associations have assured the earl's continued retention of Castlelaine."

"A fortunate man."

He looked disinterested. "A prudent man. Maintaining goodwill toward his Anglican relations provides him the power to protect his community, and, doubtless, my uncle as well."

"Why should your uncle need protection?"

"According to Lord Killaine, Father Peter Darcy does not always play inside the law. He scorns the dictates designed to squash the Catholic faith, and he has done whatever was needed to assist his parishioners to practice their true faith."

"And does that distress you, sir?"

"It means little to me. He chose this life. What he does with it is up to him."

Another resigned response, I thought. "All the same, though, he sounds like an interesting man, but then, I have yet to meet an uninteresting Darcy."

My impertinent remark failed to provoke any rejoinder from him, as it would in the past. A chill raised gooseflesh on my arms when I examined his face. Expressionless, the light had vanished from his eyes as surely as if one had doused a candle.

~ * ~ The next morning I awoke to what promised to be a day of perfect weather. A gentle breeze wafted in through the open window of my chamber, stirring the starched, linen curtains. Although white clouds littered the blue sky, the sun shone through in abundance. We had encountered rain almost every day we had visited the country, and I welcomed a brighter interval.

Smelling the delightful aroma of rashers and sausages from below, I hastened to dress, unwilling to await the maid's assistance. When I entered the dining room, I was surprised to see Georgiana and Mr. Darcy finishing their meal. Their well-dressed appearance gave every sign that they were obviously going out.

"I see that you do not delay in meeting your uncle," I said after morning greetings were exchanged, and I sat down across from Georgiana.

"We do not go to meet Uncle Peter," she announced. "Wills is taking me to meet Lord Killaine at Castelaine."

"Oh?" I looked in his direction.

"Lady Killaine expressed a desire to know my sister, and we made arrangements to meet at one o'clock."

"Tell me, have you learned whether your grandmother's relations yet dwell in these parts?"

"She has two nephews and their families living in the area."

"And shall you visit them while you are in Ballymeghan?"

"I do not see the need or have the inclination." He rose from the table and strode from the room without another word.

~ * ~ My spirits had dampened upon seeing that Mr. Darcy's mood had not lifted. He appeared much like a man uninterested in anything or anyone. I knew only too well that severe disappointment ruled his outlook. He was drowning in final acceptance of what could never be changed.

After the Darcys left the cottage, I visited with Aunt Gardiner at her bedside for some time. Once again, yesterday's journey had robbed her strength, but she assured me that a day in bed would put her to rights soon enough. I told her of our companions' outing for the day, never hinting that anything was wrong. Fortunately, she was too tired to see through my cheerful performance, as she would have, had she been herself.

When she had finished her breakfast and the maid had taken the tray below stairs, she was ready for a nap. "Why not take a stroll, Lizzy? The village seems safe enough, and I know that you are yearning to free yourself from walls. Do not stray too far, though. None of your three-mile hikes, mind you."

I smiled and agreed, promising to return within an hour or so. Although I remained worried about Mr. Darcy, once I stepped out into the sunshine, the quaint little village lifted my spirits, and I looked forward to discovering its charms. Not much larger than Meryton, it contained a small public house with a store on one side. A limited collection of bonnets had been placed behind the glass, and I noticed several women entering the shop, while two men loitered outside the pub. As I passed by, I stopped short when the bartender swept dirt out the entryway. He bobbed his head and begged my pardon, but I gave him a smile to indicate no harm had occurred.

I walked down to the end of the street, having seen most of what there was to offer in the village other than the church sitting prominently at the opposite end of the main road. The bridge we had crossed upon reaching Ballymeghan lay in the other direction, and I set off to examine the River Bandon below. I was delighted to find the water as clear as any I had ever seen in Hertfordshire and, even more splendid, a well-worn path that ran alongside for some distance.

I scampered across the bridge and down the bank. On the path, I stopped to watch the trout jump. Perhaps my uncle and Mr. Darcy might enjoy fishing there once Mr. Gardiner concluded his business and joined us. The thought of Mr. Darcy's dark temper flashed across my mind, and I feared that it would take more than fishing to brighten his outlook. I shall not think about him, I told myself and continued to follow the path.

Around the bend, the walk widened. A part of it veered off, leading up an incline to a small cottage. I smiled, thinking how lovely it would be to live there and awaken to the mist rising on the river as the morn dawned over the mountains. I spied a patch of wild primroses and bluebells a short distance ahead, closer to the river's edge, and spent no little time choosing yellow and lavender blooms to make a bouquet I might take back to my aunt. At length, I sat down in the soft, green grass and felt content to watch the reflection of the clouds on the surface of the water.

I allowed my mind to drift, oblivious to time passing or to how the sky began to darken. Taken by surprise when the heavy Irish rain began to fall, I jumped up and looked for the nearest shelter. There was nothing under which to hide, for the trees had been cleared well back from the river. I shaded my eyes from the merciless downpour and saw the small overhang of the thatched roof on the cottage I had passed. Within moments, I ran up the slope and huddled beneath the tiny bit of protection, extending my shawl over my bonnet to shield my face. With dismay, I watched the rain increase and drops collect on the ends of the straw before splashing down onto my person.

"Good morning."

I startled at the voice behind me and turned quickly to see an older man dressed in black, standing at the door he had opened. Obviously frail, he leaned on a rough cane. I blinked when I realized he was a priest.

"I...beg your pardon, Father."

"You had best come in, lass, before you catch your death." He opened the door wider and took a few steps back into the room. I hesitated, but he urged me to enter with a welcoming gesture. "Sure, these summer showers catch us all out, even those that have lived here all their lives, much less a stranger in our midst. I am correct, am I not? You are not from around here at all."

"I was picking blossoms down by the water."

"Ah, yes, the flowers never fail to entice us away from the path we are on, as well they should. Well, come in and sit down until the damp chill dispels." He walked slowly to a chair beside the large fireplace in which a turf fire burned, warming the whole parlour. In truth, it could not be called a proper parlour, more like a single, large room with a bed at one end and a small table and chairs next to the window. Although sparsely furnished, it was neat and clean, and I saw that the furnishings were worn but comfortable.

"Forgive the place, my child," he said as he watched me look around his home. "I do little these days, but Father Rafferty will come along later to tidy up a bit and cook me a meal." He eased himself down upon the chair, and I saw that the bed had not been made, as though he had just risen.

"I am sorry to intrude. I simply wished to escape the brunt of the rain."

"Of course, my dear, but the stoop offers slight protection. You had much better sit in here and tell me all about yourself. From your speech, I take it you have travelled a long way."

"I have, from England."

"England? My, my, that is a great distance. I was born in England, you know."

"Oh? In what part, Father?"

"What part? Why, the prettiest part, of course - Derbyshire. Oh, forgive me, for I have not introduced myself - Father Darcy."

Darcy? Had I stumbled upon my uncle all on my own? Amazement rendered me unable to observe the slightest civility and tell him my name.

With the black clouds blocking the sun and dimming the already scarce light coming through the tiny windows, he rose to stoke the turf fire and to light a candle on the table next to his chair.

"Pray, sir, could you be Father Peter Darcy?"

"Why, yes. Has someone told you of me? Step closer, child, into the light."

I removed my bonnet and straightened my frock before crossing the room. The priest held up the candle as though his sight had dimmed. He squinted at me, blinked several times, shook his head, and peered closer.

"Ah, my eyes are playing tricks again, or is it me feeble mind? I never know these days." He inclined his head in my direction, and then his mouth gaped open. He clutched his chest and sank down upon the chair. "Eliz...Elizabeth? Is it you? No! She is dead. Do I see a vision?"

"I...am Elizabeth, Father. How did you know my name?"

"You cannot be! Child, who are you?" His hand shook with such violence that I stepped forward and took the candle from him. "But it is you, my...my own Elizabeth."

His words frightened me. His ill health evident, I wondered if the priest might collapse before me. What should I do? Whom could I call upon for assistance?

"Sir, I am Elizabeth Bennet."

"No, not Bennet...Willoughby. You are Elizabeth Willoughby...Darcy."

Elizabeth Willoughby Darcy!

I took a step backwards. "I...I fear that you are confused, Father. My name is Elizabeth Bennet."

He shook his head and a tear slid down his cheek. "You are my Elizabeth, returned to me after all these years. You are come back from the grave."

"Sir, you do not know what you say. You must be ill. May I fetch something for your distress?" I scanned the room wondering where he might keep medicine.

"No, stay before me, I beg of you. Do not leave. I must know from where you have come."

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping the rain had ceased. I had the strongest urge to flee the cottage. "I...I..."

"Lass, tell me!"

He had evidently known Elizabeth Willoughby in the past, but I had to make him understand that he was mistaken. Did I dare tell him I was her daughter? Oh, why was Mr. Darcy not with me at that moment? I took a deep breath. "Father, pray listen carefully. I am not Elizabeth Willoughby, for you spoke the truth. She died long ago."

He leaned forward and tugged at my hand until I knelt before him. Reaching for the candle once again, he searched my face. "You have her face, her smile, her beautiful hair...but the eyes...no, the eyes are not hers. The eyes are those of my mother."

I swallowed. "I have been told that I am the natural daughter of your neighbour in Derbyshire, Elizabeth Willoughby."

"Natural dau...what are you saying? That is not possible. You are mistaken, for Elizabeth had no child. And, yet...your every expression is hers. I cannot fathom it! This could not have happened as you say."

Shame washed over me, and I felt the heat of a blush overtaking my countenance. "It grieves me to cause you alarm, sir. I assumed that you knew of your brother's liaison with my mother and of her death in childbirth."

At my words, he sank back against the chair, his face turned deadly white. "What are you saying? My brother? Which brother? I do not understand."

"Your oldest brother, Father, George Darcy."

"George? Preposterous! What would make you dream up such a falsehood?"

Now, my mouth gaped, and I felt the room begin to spin. "George...George Darcy is my natural father. Lady Catherine said...she gave me his note...why should you doubt it, Father?"

"Catherine? Catherine presumed to say that you are George's daughter! I cannot take it in. Why? It defies all reason."

I sat back on my heels. "What are you saying, sir? Am I not George Darcy's daughter?"

"Of course not! Some monstrous trick has been played. You must be Eleanor's daughter and...perhaps, Henry's. Did he return to Pemberley when little Eleanor grew up?" His voice quavered. "Tell me, child, when were you born? The date...the year...when?"

"1791 - the sixth of December."

He looked away as if he was counting. "The same year. Nine months later." His face turned ashen, and his breathing grew shallow. "No, no, it cannot be. Oh, dear God, she must have been with child when I left Pemberley...with child when I was told she was dead!"

I began to tremble. "Father, what are you saying? Forgive me, but I care not when you left Pemberley. Have mercy and tell me, who is my natural father? Could it be Henry Darcy?"

He lifted his clouded, green eyes from the floor to meet mine, and I felt a chill of recognition. "No, not Henry...no, it can only be me. You must be my daughter, Elizabeth. And I am not your natural father. I am your father. I married Elizabeth Willoughby before you were conceived."

My stomach lurched violently, and I feared that I would be ill. Frantic that I would disgrace myself, I jumped to my feet and looked for an escape. Without another word, without explanation, reason, regard for either manners or the priest, I bolted from the room and out into the rain.

I cannot tell you what happened thereafter, for all sense left me. I must have run down the path along the river a great distance. Hours later, I came to myself sitting beneath a tree, staring out at the rippling stream, not knowing where I was, or how I came to be there.

Two phrases echoed round and round my head. I am not a bastard! I am not his sister!

Continue reading Jan H's story here

---

Authors love feedback. Please show your appreciation for Jan H's story here