The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Sixteen

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Chapter Sixteen


Georgiana vibrated with nervous energy across from Darcy as the carriage rolled over the cobbled and crowded streets of London. Darcy found himself having to remember to breathe. For Elizabeth’s sake, he would be careful to betray nothing. Mr. Gardiner had already learned of Darcy’s failed courtship, and Darcy supposed his wife knew as well. However, Elizabeth did not need anyone believing Darcy had any hopes or intentions of pursuing her. He was aware that she would receive pressure to accept him. He often wondered if his mother had felt pushed to take her husband’s hand in marriage even when their temperaments did not match.

Georgiana waved eagerly out the window as the coach approached the shop. Mrs. Gardiner and her nieces were gathered outside looking at the window display. Thankfully, the Bennet ladies would return to Hertfordshire soon. Georgiana could continue her friendship via letters. If he continued to squire her around to each meeting with them, gossip would follow.

Darcy hung back as Georgiana walked around the music shop with her new friends. He could see her confidence growing with each kind word from the Bennet sisters and their aunt. Timidity had never been more than a mask on Georgiana and not who she truly was. Darcy smiled as he considered the freedom his sister must feel now.

He wandered around the store. A memory flickered through his mind. He was only seven years old and in the small Scottish cottage with his mother. She had been reading the London newspapers and had received a letter from a friend about a concert she attended. His mother wept over not being able to attend the hailed genius of Joseph Haydn. She was told The Surprise was sublime and ordered sheet music. There was no pianoforte in the cottage, but the rector had one. Lady Anne diligently practiced so often Darcy could hum the tune. As a child, he had particularly enjoyed the sudden changes in volume. Seeing the others occupied, Darcy found a copy and ran his fingers over it.

He still did not know what to make up his vision of his mother but agreed with her commandment to leave her in the past, except when there were happy memories such as sitting at her feet with his toys while she played. Who was he to judge her? She had made mistakes which cost her much. So had he. She did love him. Perhaps it was not displayed in ways Darcy would have liked—and maybe not as pure as he would want—but he supposed she had her own emotional burdens. Lady Catherine and the Earl certainly appeared to have troubles.

“It has been a very long time since I have heard that one,” Elizabeth said at his side.

Darcy turned to look at her, surprised she had approached him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the other ladies were looking at newer pieces. “It was one of my mother’s favourites.”

From the way Elizabeth sucked in a breath, Darcy knew she had read his letter. Elizabeth knew the truth of his birth. She had greeted Georgiana with openness and without censure. Some tension eased from his body.

“You ought to buy it for Miss Darcy, then,” Elizabeth said. “If you do not mind my recommendation.”

Elizabeth glanced away, and a light blush filled her cheeks. She seemed nearly as uncomfortable as he did.

“A fine suggestion. Thank you,” Darcy smiled at her.

“I hope you understand how much she adores you,” Elizabeth continued. “She has not ceased to praise you.”

Elizabeth appeared confused. Uncertain how to reply, he settled for keeping the focus on their sibling emotions. “I regret we have not had the closeness I would like, but there is nothing I would not do for her.”

“Yes…I understood as much.”

They descended into silence for a long moment, and Darcy held his breath, expecting a pointed barb from Elizabeth at any moment for his stupidity. He scrambled to think of something to say when she lightly cleared her throat.

“I feel like I owe you not only apologies but a secret of my own.”

“I believe the apology is all mine.”

“And so, you have already given yours, and I accept,” Elizabeth said, at last meeting his eyes with a teasing smile on her lips. “My secret is not equal to your own.”


“It is a true secret, however. Even Jane does not know.”

Darcy observed her as the smile disappeared and sadness filled her eyes. “After seeing the unhappiness of my parents’ marriage, I promised myself I would not marry unless I could have a union like my aunt and uncle. I cannot share that with Jane for she will attempt to dissuade me from my understanding of our parents. I could not share my feelings with Charlotte, and it is just as well. She married my ridiculous cousin.”

The corners of Darcy’s lips tugged up. “Yes, it appears she would not understand your views.”

“That was really background to my secret,” she grinned cheekily. “The real secret is that in my case, I would say fifty miles is not near far enough from some family. I begin to dread returning to Longbourn.”

“Ah,” Darcy nodded. “And this you also cannot share with your sister?”

“No, she feels very differently.” Elizabeth looked fondly at Jane. “Thank you for speaking to Mr. Bingley.”

Before Darcy could assure her that he never thought otherwise, the others announced they were ready to continue the excursion. For the remainder of the day, Darcy did not have any more moments to speak with Elizabeth. When he returned home, he discovered a letter from an old friend. Alexander Marshall arrived in Town yesterday after a few years in the country. Eager to see his friend, and preferring a buffer between him and closeness with the Bennets, Darcy invited the gentleman to dinner.


Marshall arrived first. Their friendship extended to school days and the man’s easy manners eased some of Darcy’s anxieties by the time the others arrived. Darcy greeted his guests and tried to hide his feelings of discomfort at Elizabeth in his home. She stole his breath, entering with a smile on her face and greeting Georgiana with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Georgiana said something which made her laugh, the sound pulling on his heart like always. Beside him, he felt his friend turn to be introduced. Darcy heard a quick intake of breath and glanced to see Marshall staring enraptured at the new arrivals.

Jane directed her eyes to Bingley, who stepped forward to kiss her hand. Marshall’s eyes remained fixed on Elizabeth. A black veil descended over Darcy’s eyes. Rage filled him and the desire to pummel his oldest friend coursed through his body.

Marshall elbowed him and whispered. “Introductions, man.”

Darcy blinked twice, forcing his emotions down. He had no claims on Elizabeth and never would. Marshall was ten times the man he had ever been: confident, articulate, and a devoted son. Marshall inherited and ran a profitable estate of about three thousand pounds per annum. Tenants and servants knew him to be generous and fair. If Elizabeth earned his admiration, she would be well-provided for her whole life. Knowing these things did little to silence the beast in Darcy growling to claim his mate and protect what is his. Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows, returning Darcy’s mind to the task at hand. Introductions performed, Marshall ingratiated himself at Elizabeth’s side until they were called to the table.

Fortunately, between Bingley and his equally outgoing friend Marshall, Darcy had no awkward silences to fill. Marshall talked with Elizabeth as much as possible, so much that by the end of the meal, even Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had noted it and frequently glanced between Darcy and the new suitor. Elizabeth conversed with her usual ease, and if she looked at Darcy more than when he made the almost insurmountable effort to talk, he did not see it.

“How long have you and Mr. Darcy been friends?” Elizabeth asked Marshall who sat across from her.

“We met our first year at Eton,” Marshall acknowledged.

“Marshall is my oldest friend,” Darcy said with an attempt at a smile.

Elizabeth raised her brows in surprise. “I had thought Mr. Bingley was your oldest friend.”

“No, we did not meet until after University,” Bingley answered.

“Oh?” Elizabeth smiled, encouraging him to continue with the story.

“We met at a ball,” Bingley chuckled. “It will not surprise you, Miss Elizabeth, that Darcy felt the need to hold a wall up.”

“Come, I was not so bad as that,” Darcy flushed a little at the tease.

“You stood more rigid than a Doric column and scowled as though you wore the weight of the entire roof on your shoulders.”

Darcy glanced down at his plate. It had been only six months after his father died. He had been propositioned by eager widows twice before the opening set. Around the room, people craned their heads and stood on tiptoes for a glimpse of him, fathers and mothers grasped their daughters by the hand and pushed them his way. The scowl, which he had been too late to adopt, was the only thing that prevented more intruders to his solitude.

“I was in ill-humour,” Darcy said neutrally.

“Why would Miss Elizabeth not be surprised by Darcy’s behaviour?” Marshall asked.

“They first met at a ball in Hertfordshire and Darcy refused to dance, saying exactly as he has just explained,” Bingley explained, “he was in ill-humour.”

“Do we not all need practice when in a new situation?” Elizabeth said. “It must say very much about the hosts of the other balls you have been to if after so many years you are still learning to manage discomfort. You must have felt at ease at the other occasions.”

Marshall nodded at Elizabeth’s words. “You are very insightful. Yes, Darcy regularly only attends when he knows the hosts and many of the guests well. He prefers quiet dinners instead.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I would not be surprised if Mr. Darcy behaved better at his next ball.”

“I certainly hope so!” Marshall grinned. “I come bearing an invitation. I am to mark my return to Society with exuberance. Before the Season’s end, I will host the greatest masquerade we have seen in many years.” He turned to Darcy. “There, you may hide behind a mask. No one will know it is you and you do not have to mingle.”

Darcy nodded in appreciation, but inwardly he cringed. If only Marshall understood he always wore a mask.

“How exciting,” Georgiana breathed.

“If your brother allows it, you are certainly invited,” Marshall said. “And of course, Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and the Misses Bennet.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth grinned. “We will be staying in London for several more weeks, and I look forward to some frivolity.”

Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “What Elizabeth means is that her uncle and I do not escort her to near enough outings for her own taste. We typically only go to the theatre once or twice during her visits.”

At first, Darcy was confused as to the change of plans regarding their return to Hertfordshire. Then, he saw the way Bingley’s eyes fell on Jane and her slight blush. Ah, Mrs. Bennet must have been alerted to their reconciliation. Darcy would have to speak with Bingley. He could not continue escorting Georgiana to outings with the other ladies. Gossip would ensue. At least, he told himself that was his reason for desiring another chaperone for his sister.

The others had returned to their conversations, but he caught some of Elizabeth’s words to Marshall.

“You mentioned this ball would be your return to Society?”

“Yes, I have been away from Town for three years. My mother had a long illness and desired me at her side.”

“That must have been quite the sacrifice,” Elizabeth’s eyes shone in admiration. “What a devoted son you were!”

“It was the least I could do for such a mother,” Marshall answered. “As for the true sacrifice of spending little time in Town, I cannot say it was much of a loss. I have no seat in Parliament, and my income is not as substantial as Darcy or Bingley’s.” He shrugged. “I get few invitations and therefore only miss the shops and museums.”

“I can sympathize,” Elizabeth agreed. “But you now mean to entertain and re-join Society?”

“Not so much Society at large as much as friends and acquaintances I have neglected for the last few years.”

“And after that?”

“I will return to Briarwood Manor and enjoy the summer.”

“What a lovely name. In which county is your estate?”

“Buckinghamshire,” a wistful smile crossed Marshall’s face. “I am some ten miles from Bedford near a town too small for you to know by name.”

“Oh, I entirely understand small towns,” Elizabeth grinned. “Longbourn is in Hertfordshire near a town called Meryton. I have it on good authority that some visitors found us exceedingly primitive compared with the grandeur of London.”

Marshall threw his head back to laugh. “Indeed! I am sure they might, but I do know Meryton. A charming town and surely larger than Clophill.”

Elizabeth beamed at Marshall’s reply, and Darcy’s grip on his wine glass tightened. Marshall complimented her home while Darcy had offended everyone and gave insult without speaking a word. Belatedly, he realised the power of first impressions.

Georgiana announced it was time for the ladies to separate so no more could be said, but Marshall’s eyes followed Elizabeth out the door. Darcy assessed his friend. Darcy had always been drawn to others who were lively and more fun-loving than himself. Marshall seemed to have no direction in life. Darcy did not think poorly of him for it, he had been just as lost following the death of his father. While Marshall might have been the master of the estate for several years now, he was not at real liberty until now.

“You met that delightful creature months ago and did not scoop her up?” Marshall whispered to Darcy as Mr. Gardiner and Bingley conversed.

Darcy stiffened. “I would hardly scoop up anyone.”

“I imagine you found fault with her somehow,” Marshall shook his head.

“I had no desire for a wife,” he answered neutrally.

“Well, I do. The house is deuced quiet without Mother. And I had no siblings. I want a houseful of children.”

Despite Marshall’s more open temperament, the two men had many qualities in common which bonded them at a young age and persisted into adulthood. Darcy could well sympathize with his friend. “I would imagine Miss Elizabeth—or any woman—would rather be chosen for her qualities than her ability to be a broodmare and fill your house.”

“Oh, there are many qualities I admire,” Marshall said with a grin. “You allow her to be friends with your sister. Surely you must esteem her.”

“I do,” Darcy answered carefully. “However, I would caution you to not choose too quickly. You have just met the lady, you do not know her family—”

“Aha! That is it,” Marshall murmured to not draw the notice of the others. “You have complaints about her family. I have no lofty relations and do not need to please an earl. There can be no issue for me.”

“I do not need to please the earl,” Darcy frowned. “I am my own man.”

“But the family? You found them wanting.”

“They are livelier than I am accustomed to.”

“Miss Elizabeth said she has three younger sisters and they are all out. They must be very young.”

“Younger, I believe, than Georgiana.”

“My, my. A household of lively young women, without age or maturity and added rivalry for attention? I am sure that did not put them in the best light.”

Blast Marshall for being so insightful. “You are welcome to stay for billiards and supper,” Darcy attempted to change the subject. “Bingley plans to remain, and Georgiana prefers solitude in the evening.”

Marshall looked at Darcy for a long moment. “I see your design, but you will not put me off my intentions.” He held up his hands as Darcy began to open his mouth. “I am not so foolish to plan to propose just now, but I will pursue Miss Elizabeth. I see qualities which will make an outstanding wife and I will not lose her to another.”

Marshall gave Darcy another long look, meeting his gaze squarely. Did he perceive Darcy’s admiration for Elizabeth? Was he calling Darcy to the field of battle over her? What would Marshall say if he knew Darcy had already made his offer and was rejected. There was nothing more Darcy could do but watch his friend pursue the woman he loved.

The remainder of the evening continued as most do. The gentlemen discussed politics and sport then re-joined the ladies. Darcy invited Elizabeth to play and sing, and he saw Marshall fall even deeper under her spell. After Jane and Mrs. Gardiner sang a duet, Georgiana braved the requests and performed as well. Closing his eyes, Darcy allowed the stress of the evening to fall away and familial pride to fill him. Just before they left, plans were made to join the Gardiners and their nieces at the theatre in a few days’ time. Marshall expressed joy at the notion and promised to attend as well. As he readied for bed that evening, Darcy mused that he really did hate London.

The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Fifteen

secrets of pemberley maskPrevious Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven / Twelve / Thirteen / Fourteen


Chapter Fifteen


A few days later, Darcy arrived in Meryton. Merely being in the same town that Elizabeth grew up in built anticipation in his heart. He knew she remained in Kent, however, his eyes greedily sought her around every shop corner. In addition to asking after Wickham’s debts, he would seek out the man himself. As Darcy had suspected, Wickham’s spendthrift ways carried through to the Militia. The bulk of his obligations at the milliners. No doubt, small fripperies bought for ladies to impress them with his charm.

Settling the accounts, Darcy then approached where the Regiment stayed on the outskirts of the town. Staying in the officer’s common room, Wickham was fetched and brought in.

“Well, Darcy,” Wickham drawled. “You seem to ever catch me surprised. What brought this visit?”

“I must speak to you in privacy. Can you send the others away?”

“I am sure they will oblige for a free pint or two.”

“Very well,” Darcy tossed a few coins at Wickham to hand around so the other men might leave. He rolled his eyes when Wickham kept a few for himself.

“What can I do for you, old boy?” Wickham winked as he sprawled on a settee.

“I have heard you enjoy spreading tales of woe and slandering my name.

“That’s nothing new,” Wickham shrugged. “It is not my fault some are eager to find justification for thinking ill of you.”

“And in the past, I have not taken the trouble to correct it,” Darcy said in a warning tone.

“Never say you find yourself actually caring about little Meryton’s opinion of you.” Wickham scrutinised Darcy for a long moment. “Not the whole town, rather just one person, eh? A lady. Well, I don’t see how my lies would keep her from your bed—”

“Shut your mouth,” Darcy growled. “Don’t you dare say another thing in that direction.”

“Oooh,” Wickham rubbed his hands together. “Even better! You don’t just want to bed her! You must love her! Well, who is it?”

“As usual, you have jumped ahead of yourself. I did not come so you might amend your lies. What care I if you lie when I have the means to prove you wrong?”

Wickham furrowed his brow. “Ah, so we come to the real thorn in your side?” He smirked. “Can you not trust me? Gentleman to gentleman, I will not expose you—or dear Georgiana either.”

“She is Miss Darcy to you,” Darcy glared. “And you know all trust and respect I had for you evaporated long ago.”

“Not to mention neither of us are gentlemen,” Wickham laughed.

Darcy chose to not take Wickham’s bait. “Here,” he handed a packet of papers. “I have your debts. Signed by my solicitor in Town and Mr. Philips here. Sign the agreement to never even hint of anything irregular about mine or my sister’s birth, and you need not fear the Fleet.”

Wickham’s mouth jawed. “You really did this?” He perused the papers. “What would Mr. Darcy say? Holding my life in your hands in such a way! He wanted me independent of you!”

“Do not twist the blame for your indiscretions on me,” Darcy said. “You could have had that independence. Sign the paper and keep your vow and I will not use this against you.”

Wickham shook his head. “I need more.”

“You admit that you meant to keep this as an option to use one day!” Darcy had never been a violent man, but now his blood rushed through his veins and the urge to throttle Wickham built in him.

“Only to blackmail,” Wickham rushed to say. “I don’t have a Pemberley to fall back on.”

“And what if I called your bluff?”

“Would you though? For Miss Darcy’s sake…”

Darcy thought for a moment. Will you do nothing for him? He heard in Elizabeth’s voice from that terrible dream. “If I do something for you now, you must prove your seriousness in it.” He dipped a quill in ink and wrote an addendum to a passage. “Return to the law. You are not suited to the church, and I take it you do not wish for the Regulars.”

“Indeed,” Wickham said.

“Meet me tomorrow at Mr. Philips’ office. We will sell your commission and arrange matters for you at Grey’s Inn. You will agree to specific behaviour and monetary constraints. However, I will do all I can to advance your career.”

“You would do this?” Wickham asked in a different tone than he had used moments before. “After everything I have done? I told you two years ago my circumstances were very dire—and they were. I would not have attempted the matter with Georgiana—I never thought it would go so far. I thought all along she would write to you and you would arrive, and then I could argue some blunt from you—”

Darcy held up his hands, not wanting to hear anything else. “This really is the last time, George.” He held out his hand, and Wickham took it. “Tomorrow at Philips’ at one o’clock sharp.”

“Thank you, Darcy,” Wickham said. Darcy walked to the door, and Wickham called after. “I never would have exposed you. Out of regard for Mr. Darcy and because my father was one of the best men in the world and he begat me: a wastrel. Whatever your parentage, you are a good man.”

Although shocked, Darcy merely bowed his head and made his way to the Inn. The following morning, he called upon Sir William Lucas, Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Long before arriving at the solicitor’s office. Every person he had met with expressed surprise to see him which humbled him anew.

Despite his embarrassment, he took the time to listen to each person’s news. Sir William blathered about the joy of meeting Lady Catherine and finding his daughter well set up. Darcy reckoned if he were a father, he might be thankful for a woman like her ladyship in his daughter’s life. Mrs. Long talked at length about how inconvenient she would find it to keep a carriage when she so seldom leaves the house, and her young nieces can walk to town. Darcy entirely agreed with her, and it seemed to put her at ease.

Mr. Bennet teased him in his sly way, reminding Darcy of Elizabeth. He had asked if Bingley came as well and appeared disappointed until Darcy confirmed that he had often seen him at Gracechurch street in the company of Jane. Then, the older man’s lips twitched as though to conceal laughter. When he spoke of keeping it a secret from his wife, his eyes twinkled. As much as Darcy had judged the patriarch as indolent and selfish but perhaps he merely enjoyed a joke more than Darcy did and found it hard to navigate waters needing weightier actions. George Darcy had been similar.

All in all, it was a productive trip to Meryton and one full of startling revelations. Convinced he would never see the place again, Darcy felt wistful as he left. It really had been a charming town and the place he imagined many a lad and lass met their heart’s love to begin their happy lives. If only such had been part of his tale. Sighing, he pressed his horse onward to London.




A few days after Darcy returned from Meryton, he took Georgiana shopping. Making an effort to join in her activities, he confessed he had not considered before how confined ladies’ lives were. Georgiana had lessons with various art and music masters and spent a portion of each day reading. At her pleading, Darcy allowed her to drop sessions of French language study. For most of his life, Britain had been at war with France, and while the day might come when it would be safe to travel again, he hardly supposed she would need to be as conversant as a native. To fill the moments of boredom and dullness, Darcy discovered Georgiana—and judging by the crowds of women on the street most other ladies as well—shopped. It did not matter that she had bought ribbons for a new bonnet yesterday. Today specific thread was needed.

“I truly appreciate you coming with me,” Georgiana smiled up at him as she walked on his arm.

“It is my pleasure,” he returned the smile. “Would you care for any new music? The shop you favour is just around the corner.”

“If I could, I would buy every speck of music I could find and then I would have no money left for all these fripperies,” she laughed.

Darcy joined her as the image of their London house being filled from corner to corner with sheet music filled his head. At least he could discuss music. He had little of use to say regarding ribbons and lace.

“Is that not Mr. Bingley?” Georgiana interrupted Darcy’s musings.

Looking around, Darcy found his friend in the company of Mrs. Gardiner and Jane.

“Who are the ladies he speaks to?” she asked. “They look so elegant but do not have the superior look I often meet with.”

“Would you like to meet them?”

Georgiana shyly nodded, and Darcy lead her to his friend. “Bingley,” he called.

“Darcy,” Bingley turned and grinned. “A pleasure to see you about. Miss Darcy, you are looking well,” he bowed.

“Thank you,” Georgiana curtsied and then turned anxious eyes on Darcy.

“Georgiana, allow me to introduce Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Jane Bennet. Miss Bennet is one of Bingley’s neighbours in Hertfordshire and Mrs. Gardiner is her aunt. Ladies, may I present my sister Miss Darcy.”

After the requisite curtsies, Georgiana smiled at Miss Bennet. “How did you find Rosings?”

“I am afraid that was my sister. Lizzy arrives tomorrow, but from her letters, she…she found much to observe.”

Darcy thought that strange wording, but then he supposed Miss Bennet attempted to soften Elizabeth’s pointed wit.

“Now, I recall,” Georgiana said. “Fitzwilliam wrote to me from Hertfordshire. You have many sisters, do you not?”

“I am the eldest of five,” Jane smiled.

“How I wish I had a sister!”

Darcy chuckled. “I regret that I am not a female.”

“Oh, that is not how I meant it!” Georgiana blushed. “I would never wish you away, but the companionship of a sister would be nice. Perhaps if you ever marry.”

“We must continue our shopping,” Mrs. Gardiner said, “but we would be most pleased to see you again, Miss Darcy. You must come the next time your brother calls.”

Georgiana grinned. “I would love that!”

“Sir, I am surprised we have not seen you in the last week,” Mrs. Gardiner scolded.

“Forgive me, I have had many affairs to tend to. I should not want to call when Miss Elizabeth has just arrived. We will call after that.”

“And then you must all dine with us,” Georgiana offered without hesitation.

“In that case, you had better come tomorrow. The girls are returning to Hertfordshire by Saturday.”

“I would hate to intrude on any family plans,” Darcy said. He nervously glanced at Bingley, hoping his friend could extract him from the awkwardness, but Bingley was speaking with Jane.

“We have no fixed plans,” Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “Except more shopping, that is. Miss Darcy, would you care to join us?”

“Could I, Brother?” she asked with pleading blue eyes.

“Certainly.” It tore at his heart to consider Georgiana becoming Elizabeth’s friend. He had imagined a closer relationship between them.

“It is quite settled then. We will see you at Gracechurch street tomorrow and then the next day will be shopping and dinner at Darcy House.”

“Splendid!” Georgiana bounced on her toes and even clapped her hands.

The Gardiner party and Bingley left after settling on a time for tomorrow’s meeting. The two siblings finished their shopping and returned home in very different states of mind.

When Darcy and Georgiana arrived at the Gardiner house the following day, Darcy could barely breathe to contain his anxiety in seeing Elizabeth again. Had she read his letter? In his dream, she had not. The first letter he wrote, the one he later burned before giving her, he had thought it was most important for Elizabeth to know the truth about Wickham and by explaining his failures, it would tell about Darcy as well. He held some pride she might, at least, rue her refusal. After his dream, he wrote her the full truth and did not care in the least about defending himself or puffing himself up. He wrote not to preserve his pride, but to humble himself.

He also believed he would never see her again.

Would she meet him with censure in her eyes? Darcy did not believe she would gossip. Still, she was very close to her sisters and her aunt. Would she tell them? They had not treated him with anything but civility, but perhaps Elizabeth would wait to reveal it them in person. All thought ceased when he was shown to the Gardiner sitting room, and Elizabeth, lovelier than ever, was finally before him again and surrounded by children with enough familial features to tug at his heart.

“Lizzy,” Jane said, “This is Miss Darcy.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” Elizabeth said with a gentle smile for Darcy’s sister.

“And I you,” Georgiana returned the smile. “I recall from my brother’s letters you enjoy music, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I do,” Elizabeth answered. “Children, it is time for you to return upstairs and let us visit. Miss Darcy, you may sit next to me.”

“No!” A little Gardiner through chubby arms around Elizabeth’s neck. “My Lizbef.”

Elizabeth laughed, tossing shiny curls as she shook her head and Darcy’s breath caught. Her eyes twinkled, and the pain in his heart was so acute, he thought he might pass out.

“Come along,” Mrs. Gardiner said as she came to save her niece. “Elizabeth is correct. Pardon our manners, Mr. Darcy. Please seat yourself.”

Her words jolted life back into Darcy. Surely this encounter would be more natural if he were in a chair. The children were taken upstairs and everyone seated as tea was served. Darcy tried to not allow the usual awkward feeling settle in him. Bingley arrived and talked with Jane. Georgiana and Elizabeth conversed about music which left Darcy to speak with Mrs. Gardiner. Elizabeth cast curious looks at them.

“My steward has written to me of an estate which will soon become available that is only five miles from Lambton,” Darcy said to Mrs. Gardiner.

“But five miles!” The woman grinned and pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh, that would be ideal!”

Darcy smiled at her enthusiasm. “I do not know the condition of the estate. The house has been unoccupied for many years and only a steward in charge of the tenants and land.”

“I am not afraid of a bit of hard work and patience. Besides, it is family which makes a house a home.”

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, surprised to see her eyes upon him again. Yes, with no family a house was a mere set of bricks. “There is a difficulty,” Darcy admitted. “They want everything settled by Midsummer day. I believe that is earlier than you and Mr. Gardiner had planned.”

Mrs. Gardiner pursed her lips and looked at Jane and Bingley for a moment before replying. “True, the timing is not perfect, but the location is.”

Her eyes shone, and Darcy believed he saw a smirk before she raised her cup to her lips. “I will be certain to pass the information on to my husband.”

“Perfect,” Darcy said. “He and I can discuss it more at dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, you certainly will!” Mrs. Gardiner grinned, and Darcy felt his lips lifting in response.

“Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana said from the nearby settee, “Elizabeth has suggested a music shop I have not visited before. May we start there tomorrow?”

“Of course. Anything you prefer.”

Georgiana beamed then turned to Elizabeth. “He is the best brother.”

Darcy felt a flush creeping up his neck.

“I am sure it is effortless to be such a wonderful brother to a sister like you,” Elizabeth said and squeezed Georgiana’s hand.

Pain lanced Darcy’s heart again. He had neglected Georgiana so much. She was so vulnerable and fragile, so wanting love from anyone. Here Elizabeth was, offering her friendship as freely as he always knew she would. If he had ruined anything that might have been between him and Elizabeth, at the very least, he could be thankful for this moment. Realizing that Georgiana could find healing and friendship through this eased the pain in Darcy’s heart. Still, he was grateful when the clock struck a quarter after the hour.

“Thank you very much,” Darcy said to Mrs. Gardiner as he stood, “for your hospitality. Shall we gather at eleven tomorrow?”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.

Georgiana rose with reluctance but also made her goodbyes. Darcy remained perfectly polite to Elizabeth and Jane, who betrayed nothing less than the usual civility to him. Once in the carriage returning to his home, Darcy sighed in relief. The first meeting was over. Perhaps now he could be comfortable in Elizabeth’s presence. They would shop together tomorrow as nothing more than indifferent acquaintances, and while his heart still longed for more, he told himself to adapt to it. It was all that would ever be between them.

The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Fourteen

secrets of pemberley maskPrevious Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven / Twelve / Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen


While Georgiana settled at Darcy House, he had another unpleasant errand. He had not told Bingley about Jane Bennet’s feelings because Elizabeth had not empowered him to do so. Darcy would not hint at continued affection if there were the possibility she had moved on. Still, he knew he had wounded Jane, and owed her an apology. Having sent a servant around Cheapside the day he spoke to Bingley, Darcy learned Mr. Gardiner owned a fabric warehouse and resided at Number Nine, Gracechurch Street.

After being shown in by the butler—which Darcy was surprised they had—he was taken to a comfortable and elegant looking drawing room. The outside of the house looked very neat and well-kept, as did the entire street. True, less terrific accommodations were mere streets away, but in London, the poor were everywhere. The city would grow and build new houses, and in a few decades, they became worn-looking and over-crowded. The rich would move on and build in another empty spot. In doing so, each neighbourhood was surrounded by their lessers and their betters.

Miss Bennet looked as complacent as always, but Mrs. Gardiner was a mix of curious and surprised to see him. She rather reminded Darcy of Elizabeth in comportment although there was no blood kinship.

“Darcy?” a familiar voice cried.

He looked over and saw Charles Bingley sitting in a chair next to the ladies.

“What are you doing here?”

Darcy did not hear the disappointment and malice from yesterday, only confusion. “I came to call on Miss Bennet and pass on greetings from her sister.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” Miss Bennet smiled. “Thank you.”

“Forgive me for coming when you already have company. I shall leave you,” Darcy began a hasty bow but was interrupted by Mrs. Gardiner.

“There is no occasion to rush away. Mr. Bingley had just explained how kind you were to inform him of my niece’s presence in town. It seems his sisters did not.”

Bingley flushed a little, and Darcy felt heat creep up his neck as well.

“I know they will be grieved at their oversight,” Bingley said. “You all were very great friends when last we were at Netherfield.”

“That was many months ago,” Mrs. Gardiner said and paused long enough to allow the meaning to sink in. “How have you occupied your time since then?”

She ended with a bright smile. Oh, yes. This was the woman after whom Elizabeth modelled herself. Darcy took a moment to take in more of the room and the lady. Mrs. Gardiner dressed fashionably and was perhaps as little as only ten years older than her niece. While she clearly meant to protect Jane and scold the gentlemen, she did not do so with meanness or in an improper way. She could not be more different than her sister-in-law, Mrs. Bennet. The room had stylish new furnishings as well as a few older pieces proving they had a heritage worth remembering. During Darcy’s silence, Bingley had managed to acquit himself of his unintentional insult rather well, and Miss Bennet seemed to relax.

“And you, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Gardiner now turned her attention to him as Bingley and Jane chatted. “I confess I will admit to jealousy if you have been to Pemberley. Spring is my favourite time of year to be in Derbyshire.”

“You have been to Derbyshire?” Darcy asked. “Have you visited Pemberley?”

“I never had that honour, but I did live in Lambton for many years of my youth.”

“That is but five miles from Pemberley.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Gardiner grinned. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. He was a very great man.”

“He was,” Darcy nodded and twisted his signet ring.

“My husband and I plan on taking a tour of the lakes in the summer and will be spending some time in Derbyshire and Lambton along the way.”

“You must visit Pemberley then. If Mr. Gardiner fishes, I would be pleased to offer him bait and tackle, it is the best time of year for the sport.”

“How generous,” Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “He would enjoy that.”

“Mrs. Reynolds always handles the tours and is particularly delighted when the visitor is known to me.” Darcy shook his head. “She will thrill you with tales of my wayward youth.”

“Oh my,” the woman put a hand to her heart and laughed.

“Yes, I learned the consequences of pilfering biscuits and leading ponies around by the nose quite proficiently.” Darcy chuckled, and Mrs. Gardiner joined him. “If we are in residence then, of course, you must sit with us.”

A twinkle entered Mrs. Gardiner’s eye. “What a kind invitation. I am certain my niece Elizabeth will appreciate it as well.”

At the mention of her name, Darcy attempted to keep his face neutral. “I know Miss Elizabeth greatly enjoys walking. The grounds at Pemberley are beautiful in the summer.”

A shiver went down his spine as he recalled his dream and the visceral emotions which followed at thoughts of her death. He had never held her in his arms and yet, they still ached with the memory of holding her lifeless form.

“Darcy,” Bingley called.

Jolting from his thoughts, Darcy noticed Bingley standing and near the door. “Pardon me.”

“Thank you again for visiting and bringing news of my niece,” Mrs. Gardiner said as Darcy bowed to her. “I expect to see you again when Mr. Bingley calls. We will have you both to dinner sometime. My husband would enjoy meeting you.”

“I would be honoured,” Darcy said as he bowed to Jane. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Miss Bennet. I am happy to see you in good health. I know your sister had worried.”

“Did she?” Jane said in surprise.

“Yes, and I fear I fuelled the cause. I hope there have been no lasting effects?”

“No, I am perfectly well,” she snuck a glance at Bingley and blushed.

“I apologise all the same.” It was as close as he could get to an apology in this setting.

Jane curtsied, and Darcy followed Bingley outside. They walked in silent tandem toward their carriages. Once on the street, Bingley fiddled with his hat.


“I am sorry, Darcy.”

Nodding in sorrow, Darcy turned to his carriage. Bingley could not forgive him.

“I am sorry I would not listen to you,” Bingley called after him and followed his voice with his boots. “You meant well, I know it.” He reached and gripped Darcy’s shoulder.

“I did,” Darcy nodded. “My reasoning was flawed and my methods awful, but my motive was to protect you.” Darcy sighed. “I know you do not need it. However, I love you like a brother and cannot help having a lively interest in your welfare.”

“Me too,” Bingley grinned as Darcy clapped Bingley on the shoulder.

“Care to dine at Darcy House tonight? Georgiana is there, and we could have music afterwards.”

“Is everything well with Miss Darcy?”

“Utterly well,” Darcy reassured his friend. “We merely decided it was time for our family to be together.”

“Speaking of family, my own is quite angry with me. I accept your invitation and beg for more for the foreseeable future.”

Darcy and Bingley shared a laugh then departed for their coaches.




A few days later, Darcy called on the Gardiners with Bingley and was invited to stay for dinner. The ladies talked now and then of Elizabeth, and there he saw enough similarities in Jane and Mrs. Gardiner to have her always on his mind. She had not left his heart in November when he fled from all memories and references of her and Darcy knew she never would. Nor did he seek to remove her. Finding the Gardiners amiable and just the sort of acquaintances he liked only further proved the justness of her reproofs.

“Did my wife tell you the real reason for our tour of the Lakes?” Mr. Gardiner asked Darcy when the ladies had separated.

“No,” Darcy shook his head. “I had no suspicion there was an ulterior motive.”

“There is, and I confess you might be an excellent source of information. Raising five children in London is quite the expense.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows in silent question, for only four children had been introduced to him. Gardiner grinned in reply.

“It is a man’s blessing to be able to provide for a growing family, is it not?”

“Indeed, sir. My congratulations.” He had thought Mrs. Gardiner an exceptionally pretty woman for having four children, but he had also heard pregnant ladies had a special glow about them.

“Thank you. It will be you two before long.” Gardiner winked at Darcy and Bingley. “I am looking for a country home. Not necessarily an estate with tenants, although I have the funds for a small one. Margaret fancies Derbyshire, of course.”

“And will you be retiring from business or returning to London while your family remains behind? Either way, I would certainly welcome you as a neighbour.”

“Darcy is an excellent neighbour and teacher in the gentleman’s trade if you wish for instruction,” Bingley added.

“I would be pleased to aid you in your search,” Darcy nodded, “and in the transition to estate management if you wish it.”

“I will think on it,” Gardiner said. “If you hear of anything available, even to rent, between now and July, please inform me.”

“I certainly will,” Darcy agreed.

Gardiner’s smile faltered for a moment. “I fear I must owe you an apology, sir.”

“I cannot imagine how.”

“I heard tales about you this past Christmas from some officer in the Militia encamped at Meryton.” Gardiner nodded, “I see you know of whom I speak. My wife and I thought nothing of listening to his complaints, and I condemned you without even knowing you. Forgive me.”

Ice gripped Darcy’s heart. “It is of no consequence. However, do I understand you correctly? This man was speaking openly against me?”

“Indeed. I believe he had told his story to the entire town by then.”

This was far worse than Darcy had expected. He had envisioned Wickham confiding only in Elizabeth. Perhaps her natural curiosity had led her to inquire about their mutual past. Or, if he wished to torment himself, Darcy imagined Wickham offering a story of woe to win her affections. Given her words to Darcy, he had not relinquished fear that she had held the rogue in high regard. Worse than this, if Wickham talked so openly against him the possibility of him one day revealing too much could have catastrophic results.

“May I ask the nature of this communication?”

“I do not remember all of the particulars. You may ask my wife or niece to be certain. I believe Elizabeth well-versed in them, actually.”

Darcy attempted to not fidget under the man’s gaze as he mentioned Elizabeth and referenced Wickham in the same sentence. “Did he mention a specific event or action? I know a well-placed lie has the aura of truth and I would enlighten you if I could.”

“It had something to do with a living and your father’s will, I believe,” Mr. Gardiner shrugged.

“Ah, the usual,” Bingley said. “That rumour has plagued Darcy for many years. Of course, at University it was all manner of things, wasn’t it?”

Darcy nodded. “My father left him an annuity and recommended I give him a living when he came of age. However, he gave it up himself, and I compensated him three thousand pounds. A few years later, when it fell vacant, he came demanding his right to it.”

“I see,” Gardiner nodded. “He’s not much of a gentleman, that’s for sure. You sound entirely blameless.”

“I wish I were,” Darcy said while staring at his hands. “The truth is that my father over-indulged him and I followed likewise for many years. By the time I resolved to cease rewarding his bad ways, it was too late for him to learn the lesson, I fear.”

“You speak as though he has done much worse than merely slander your name.”

“He has but nothing else is pertinent.” Darcy flushed under the curious gazes of both Gardiner and Bingley. “However, he is not known for paying his debts and has left behind many in Lambton and London. I think I should ask the Meryton shopkeepers about his accounts.”

“I am certain no one would expect you to settle his payments,” Gardiner said.

“I ought to have warned them before I left the area.”

Gardiner stared at him for a long moment. “Sir, I told you Lizzy believed Wickham’s lies. Are you always so stubborn? For I can see no other reason for her to have disliked you enough to believe the man.”

Before Darcy could speak, Bingley began to chuckle.

“Oh, he is, but I think it might be the constant arguing he did with her.” Bingley held up a finger. “Or perhaps his incessant staring and lurking.” A second finger joined the first. “However, I would lay a bet it began when he refused to dance with her.”

Gardiner smirked as Bingley raised a third finger. “She does love a dance.”

“I—I asked her to dance several times afterward,” Darcy attempted to defend himself.

“But there is more!” Bingley’s little finger popped up. “He called her not handsome enough to tempt him within her hearing. I know Caroline would never forgive such a remark.”

“She heard that?” Darcy whipped his head from friend to Elizabeth’s uncle.

“Young man,” Gardiner said in a sombre tone. “Either you are blind or intolerably stupid.”

Darcy gulped. “The latter, I assure you. However, I am intelligent enough to recognise my error and live to roost the day.”

“Indeed?” Gardiner raised a brow.

Darcy met the man’s eyes, understanding his unasked question. “She was less than amenable to accepting my apology…or admiration.”

“Admiration?” Bingley asked, furrowed his brow. “I thought you did not like her! I thought you believed her beneath you!”

Darcy’s face heated. “You have heard the phrase “protesteth too much”? I apologise, sir.” He directed his words to Gardiner, who waved it off with a laugh.

“I still do not understand,” Bingley said.

“Allow me to illustrate it for you,” Gardiner smiled. “If a young man is always near a lady and trying to insert himself in her conversation, even if it is to little or no effect, all the while ignoring everyone else, what would you think of him?”

“He must be in love with her,” Bingley shrugged then smiled. “I can barely manage one coherent sentence near Jane. Whenever she is in the room, I see and hear no one else, I am desperate to be near her.” Sitting up, with sudden insight, Bingley’s eyes grew wide. “Did I offend others with all the attention I paid her?”

Darcy and Gardiner enjoyed a laugh at Bingley’s expense.

“Yes, my niece Elizabeth described you, Mr. Bingley, thusly when she told of how you loved Jane. And no, I do not believe any other lady was offended. Now, can you think of anyone else who you say stayed near a lady and had little to say while ignoring others?”

“Darcy?” Bingley rubbed the back of his neck. “Darcy,” he shook his head. “I never saw it, old boy.”

“I meant to conceal it to everyone even myself,” Darcy said with a sheepish smile. “According to her, I achieved it too well for she had no idea.”

“Do not worry overmuch about that,” Gardiner said. “Little is more irresistible to a woman than knowing a man is in love with her.”

“I am afraid I think very differently about Miss Elizabeth’s estimation of her feelings than you,” Darcy said and downed his drink. “She has very definite feelings about me regarding my character and with good reason. She will not be modifying them, and I will not ask her to do so.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Gardiner began, “surely she will see—”

Darcy stood. “Should we not rejoin the ladies?”

Gardiner and Bingley shared a look then stood. After returning to the drawing room, Darcy stayed for only a few minutes more. His nerves were too raw, and a part of his old reserve felt mortified for allowing others to know his pain and rejection. However, he was endeavouring to embrace a more open disposition. Now that both knew, they would understand when he absented himself from visits when Elizabeth arrived.


The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Thirteen

secrets of pemberley maskPrevious Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven / Twelve

Chapter Thirteen


Richard and Darcy arrived in London around noon the following day. Elizabeth had not asked for Darcy to inform Bingley about Jane’s feelings for him. However, Darcy knew he needed to confess his wrong-doing to his friend. He imagined how he would feel if Bingley or Richard had told him that they had found Elizabeth unworthy of him and withheld information about her whereabouts. Of course, Darcy might have thanked them for the effort. He was rather sure that Bingley would not be so grateful.

Dropping Richard off at his Regiment, Darcy returned to his empty London house. No friends or family greeted him; only paid servants. Trustworthy and loyal though they were, he felt the pang of not having others to share his time and space. Even Lady Catherine had her daughter and Mrs. Jenkinson. Even Mr. Collins had found a wife and hosted guests.

When Darcy had retrieved Georgiana from Ramsgate, she came to Darcy house. After a week or two, he hired a companion and set up an establishment for his sister. They had never been close, and he believed it would allow her the freedoms and interests a young lady would have. She would enter Society soon, and friends already arrived to call. Hating the ever-increasing flow of fortune hunters wanting only a glimpse of him, he gave her a residence of her own. It also proved that he trusted her and did not blame her for the Wickham fiasco. Did he ask how she felt?

Bringing her and Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana’s new companion, to Darcy House instantly crossed his mind. However, he realised his first instincts often did not consider the emotions of others. He had thought his decisions perfectly rational and logical, but he had grown so used to shutting off his feelings that it did not occur to him that others felt differently. Still, he hoped Georgiana might be willing to reside with him until she married. Instead of relying on her companion to chaperone after her come out, he would squire her around himself. A selfless task, indeed.

He had too many matters to attend to after being gone for so long to call on Georgiana that day. It required thought and preparation as to what to say. He worried, too, the desire would vanish as instantly as it had occurred and one could not simply boot their younger sister out of a house because they changed their mind.

Retiring early that evening, he determined to seek out Bingley in the morning and then call on his sister after that errand finished.




The April day in London dawned partly sunny. Parliament had returned to session and the Mayfair district Darcy lived in thrummed with activity as lords and ladies welcomed the warmer temperatures. The Season continued until the end of June, but few could afford to spend all of the time in Town. Warming temperatures meant an increase in the city’s population. In turn, the streets were more crowded. All was not perfect, though. Pickpockets came out in an abundance and ragged, dirty children asking for handouts lined many streets. Darcy could not abide to ignore them. He might have been one. George Darcy had every right to cast him and, later, Georgiana aside.

Instead of arriving by coach, he chose to walk to the Hurst Townhouse on Grosvenor Street. With any luck, Bingley would be in and his sisters would not. As he entered the drawing room, his hopes proved wrong.

“Darcy!” Bingley cried with his usual cheerfulness and reached out for a handshake. “What brings you here? I thought you were in Kent!”

“I returned yesterday.”

“And your first thought was to visit us?” Miss Bingley cooed. “How thoughtful!”

“Have a seat,” Bingley said. “We were just ordering refreshments.”

“I am sorry there are no lemon tarts, as I know they are your favourite,” Caroline said.

“As long as there are some crumpets,” Hurst said.

“Of course, there are your crumpets,” his wife glared at him. “You are always here, and we know what you prefer.”

“Do tell us, Mr. Darcy, if you plan on visiting more frequently. We could easily keep your favourites on hand,” Caroline smiled as she poured him a cup.

Darcy held in his sigh as she added three cubes of sugar. He detested overly sweet tea.

“Just as you like,” she beamed.

Handing it to him, she leant down in attempt to display her cleavage. Darcy averted his eyes, as usual, and murmured his thanks.

“How did you find Rosings?” Bingley asked.

“My aunt and cousins are well,” Darcy smiled. “To my surprise, I met with a few of mutual acquaintances of ours.”


“You will recall Mr. Collins,” Darcy said.

Bingley stared blankly at him.

“The parson related to the Bennets? His patroness is my aunt.”

At the mention of the name Bennet, Darcy saw Bingley’s eyes take on a faraway quality.

“Yes, he danced at my ball.”

With Elizabeth, Darcy mentally added.

“Do not get me started with that dreadful ball,” Caroline said. “Such vulgarity! And the Bennets arranged to leave last, I am sure of it!”

“The presumption,” her sister added. “So disgusting.”

“And that Eliza!” Caroline harrumphed. “I tried to steer her away from Mr. Wickham, but she would defend him, no matter how abominably he used you, Mr. Darcy.” Caroline fluttered her lashes and simpered at him.

“What do you expect from such low breeding?” Mrs. Hurst added.

“I expect you to see to my plate,” her husband grumbled.

Darcy watched the scene as though he had never met them before. Had he thought the Bennets improper? Bingley’s family was little better. Nor was his. He cleared his throat. “As it happens, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at the Parsonage as well.”

“I knew it!” Caroline cried in glee. “She did marry her cousin. Her mother crowed that she would.”

Thank God, I do not have to live through that misery, Darcy thought as Anne’s words echoed in his head.

“You see, Charles,” Mrs. Hurst said. “They are all out for as much as they can get. Anyone who would marry such a fool is.”

“I do not feel qualified to speculate on the heart of his wife. However,” Darcy paused for dramatic effect, “the former Miss Charlotte Lucas married Mr. Collins. Elizabeth Bennet was there as a guest, as was Mrs. Collins’ sister.”

“Did she mention her sisters? Are they all still at Longbourn?”

Bingley nearly dumped his plate of biscuits over and sloshed his tea in excitement. It told Darcy all he needed about his friend’s continued feelings. Each mentioning of Elizabeth’s name, each reference of her family, Darcy recalled his terrible proposal, feeling a fresh slice to his heart. Still, for Bingley, he would bear this. He had wronged the man.


“Mr. Darcy, have you seen Georgiana yet?” Caroline interrupted. “How I dote on her! I am due to call on her. Perhaps you could escort my sister and me there tomorrow as my brothers have need of the carriage.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped at Caroline’s forwardness. A part of him wanted to think that if she had not been scrambling to redirect the conversation, then she would have behaved better but there was delight and security behind her eyes mixed with her panic.

“I have no definite plans but allow me to answer your brother’s question.”

“It hardly matters—”

“Caroline!” Bingley called in a tone Darcy had never heard him use before. “Let the man speak!”

Miss Bingley blushed a little, and even Mrs. Hurst looked away and did not come to the support of her sister. Darcy took a breath to quell his courage.

“All but one are at Longbourn,” Darcy said and glanced at Miss Bingley who fiddled with her skirt. “The eldest Miss Bennet is in London and has been for many weeks.”

“We must call on her!” Bingley sprang from his chair. “Do you know the address?”

“I…I do not but perhaps your sisters might?” Again, Darcy glanced at Caroline, giving her every opportunity to disclose her involvement in the matter.

“Of course!” Bingley continued, unaware of the mounting tension. He turned to his younger sister. “You must write her directly. I believe it was somewhere near Cheapside.”

“Bingley,” Darcy said in solemn tones. “I need to speak with you alone.”

“A splendid idea,” Caroline agreed rapidly. She hastened to her brother and kissed him on the cheek. “You are so fortunate to have such a great friend in Mr. Darcy. We are all so dependent on him for advice.”

She was going to pin this all on him? She and Mrs. Hurst scurried away. Hurst had fallen asleep and remained.

“What time do you think I should call tomorrow?” Bingley said as he walked around the room full of nervous energy.

“Bingley—you may want to sit down for this,” Darcy said, and his friend slowly wheeled toward him and cocked his head.

“I have done you a disservice.”

“Oh, God. No, don’t do it, Darcy. Even you can’t be that thick-headed.”

“Do what?”

“Ask me for Caroline’s hand. You just avoided your cousin, but it does not mean you need her.”

“Good God!” Darcy cried, and he was the one who stumbled backward into a chair. “Have I made you or her think I would? Do others believe it?” He pulled on his cravat feeling like a noose squeezed around his neck.

“Nothing beyond her grasping wishes and my knowing you would deny your heart for Society’s approval.”

Darcy shook his head. “I would never…but you are a good friend. You tried to stop me.”

“Of course,” Bingley said. “Caroline is my sister, but she is not for you. We do not need to be directly related.”

“Indeed,” Darcy said as he gathered his thoughts again on how to ask the most faithful friend he ever had to forgive him of cunningness and deceit.

“Well, if you are not here to ask for my sister’s hand then what has you looking so awful?”

Darcy met Bingley’s eyes. “I have known Miss Bennet was in Town since January. I should have told you. My interference was officious.”

A vein near Bingley’s left eye ticked. It was the only sign that he had even heard the damning words Darcy said. After several moments of strained silence, Bingley spoke.

“Why didn’t you?”

Darcy shrugged. “At the time it seemed well-reasoned. I did not lie when I told you my observations in November. I did not believe Miss Bennet cared for you as you did for her. When I heard she was in Town, I worried you had not been parted long enough to loosen her pull on your heart.”

“Who told you she was here?” Bingley asked, but his face showed security. He already knew.

“That is unimportant,” Darcy said as he leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I knew you relied on my opinion. Nor did I even put the information to you. I decided for you.”

“You were very wrong,” Bingley’s voice shook.

“I was,” Darcy said.

“Do you think so little of me?” Bingley glanced away.

“No,” Darcy said truthfully. “I failed to reason that you would feel differently than me. Or that you would trust my judgement.”

“You expect me to believe that you did not trust yourself?” Bingley scoffed. “You are the most arrogant man I have ever known.”

Darcy gulped. “That is true, and I do not expect your forgiveness.”

“Why do you tell me now?” Darcy opened his mouth, but Bingley shook his head and held up his hands. “No, I no longer care. Get out.”

Bingley had barely moved a muscle from his position in the chair, but Darcy felt as though he had been punched in the gut. In truth, he would rather face his friend’s fists than his solemn and determined silence. “If you wish.”

Darcy bowed, but Bingley did not look up. As Darcy walked to Mrs. Annesley’s residence on Park Lane, he reflected that being denied his heart’s greatest wish and then losing his greatest friend in one week was just one more cruel fates destiny handed him.

“Fitzwilliam, I did not expect you,” Georgiana said as she invited him to sit in the modest drawing room.

Darcy looked at his sister, seeing more than a hint at the woman who bore them. He ought to have done this years ago.

“I returned from Rosings yesterday. Lady Catherine and Anne are well.”

Georgiana tensed. “Did they ask after me… do they suspect?”

If he answered as callously as he felt, it would be, Of course, no one suspects you planned to elope with the steward’s son! Ladies of Society rarely do so. However, even before Elizabeth’s chastisement, Georgiana was one person with whom he could be nothing but gentle. “Nothing is known, and there is no reason for alarm or worry.”

Sighing, Georgiana sagged in relief against her chair. “Then why do you visit?”

“I am your brother.” Did family usually need reasons for visiting? In the Darcy family that had been the case.

“Yes, I know. My brother and my guardian, in charge of everything about me until I marry.”

Darcy shook his head. “I do not wish for our relationship to be as cold as you say. I would not wish to encroach on your freedoms.”

“I am told you give me more freedoms than most brothers in addition to your unending kindness and forgiveness.”


Georgiana stood and walked to a window. Some might assume it an inherent Darcy trait yet it must have been Lady Anne who did so when troubled. Darcy had no reason to believe they shared a paternal bloodline.

“Georgiana, I wish for your happiness.” Darcy walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is it too late to ask you to confide in me?”

“Should I?” She asked, sounding like a fragile child.

“I wish to be your friend and confidant.”

“Is that not unusual and improper? I should conceal my feelings—”

“No, you should not,” Darcy said adamantly. “I have recently learned the very high cost of hiding one’s emotions.”

“In that case,” Georgiana whirled around and threw herself into his arms, sobbing on his chest. “I am so very tired of being alone.”

Slowly, Darcy’s arms tightened around her. Since George Darcy’s death, he had often felt over-extended and like he held too much responsibility. Too many people relied upon him. However, Georgiana never felt like a mere responsibility and never should.

I love her, Darcy realised suddenly. Having not grown up together and then merely being her guardian, he had not considered that sentiment. He had loved his mother yet when he knew the truth of what she did, he also hated her. He respected George Darcy but having so little affection from the man, he could not say it was real love. Darcy’s feelings to accept and protect Georgiana were love of the most profound sort. Family.

“You are not alone,” he said as he rubbed her back. “Would you like to return to Darcy House? To live there?” Georgiana stilled and pulled back her head. Her blue eyes looked more vibrant than usual against the red rims, but the sorrow in them struck him to his core.

“Could I? You would not resent the weakness?”

Darcy hugged her closer. “You are my sister, and we are family. I wish I had understood all of what that meant earlier, but I think I begin to understand.” Loosening his hold, he offered his handkerchief. “It is what I had come to propose.”


“Yes. I no longer care about Society’s suggestions on how to raise you. You need family, and you need love. That you shall have.”

“Thank you so much, Fitzwilliam,” she stretched on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I will begin packing right away.”

Georgiana scampered off, leaving Darcy alone in his thoughts. Jane’s pain had become Elizabeth’s because she loved her. Indeed, insulting her family hurt Elizabeth because of her love for them. What a dunderhead he had been! What a lesson he was learning about love, acceptance, and family. How had he lived nearly eight and twenty years without knowing it?

Georgiana returned a few minutes later saying her maid was packing. As Darcy had walked instead of bringing a coach, the maid and her things would follow later. They walked arm in arm to Darcy House. Along the way, a few acquaintances stopped to talk with them. Georgiana blushed under the appreciative gazes of a few gentlemen and Darcy’s arm flexed beneath his coat. I have just discovered her and will not give her up quickly. If Georgiana’s reaction was any indication, she also had no intention of marrying young and leaving him. Perhaps they would be two old siblings together. No. Darcy shook his head. He would not wish that on her. He would hold onto her for a little while longer, but he would not deprive her love and children.

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana gave him another kiss as he brought her to the chamber she had used before. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Darcy said quietly and earned a small smile and another kiss on the cheek from his sister. The more he said it, the more he liked saying it.


The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Twelve

secrets of pemberley maskPrevious chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven

Chapter Twelve


The light eased, and Darcy’s eyes focused on a familiar figure he had not seen in nearly fifty years. “Mother?”

“Yes, my darling, Fitzwilliam.” She glowed in a gown of white and bathed in light.

“Where is Elizabeth?” He ought to panic at not knowing where she was; at yet another separation but he felt only calm. “Am I dead?”

His mother approached, as beautiful as he remembered and as if she had never aged. She placed a hand on her son’s cheek.

“Your heart is broken, my son.”

“Is this Heaven? Where is Elizabeth? Surely others…?” Darcy tried to peer around her, but his movements were slow.

Lady Anne shook her head. “It is not time for your life to end. I broke your heart all those years ago.”

“No, I do not blame you—”

“You have been afraid of love and being loved. And you have craved it more than anything else. My actions took those opportunities away from you.”

Darcy remained silent. In his youth, he had longed to hear these words from his mother. Now, they mattered little compared with reuniting with Elizabeth.

“Did you find what you sought? Did you find love and peace?”

“No,” Darcy shook his head. “No, one impulsive action destroyed an innocent woman’s life.”

“Elizabeth loved you,” Lady Anne insisted.

“I never knew…I never said it to her. We could have had so much more.” He needed to see Elizabeth again more than he needed air in his lungs.

“Then return, my son,” Lady Anne held her arm out and a doorway filled with light shined a few feet away.

“Can I? How is this possible?” More than anything he desired another chance with Elizabeth.

“Yes, only let go of me,” his mother said. “Let go of the past.”

Looking down, Darcy saw that he held his mother’s other hand. When had he taken it? He did not recall and judging by the sensation, he may have always held it. A part of her had resided in his heart since he was eight years old. He had clung to it, embracing the fear and hurt rather than the unknown of life at Pemberley. Now, he was ready to let go. He needed peace. He needed Elizabeth.

“Go to her,” Lady Anne encouraged.

Through the doorway, Darcy heard Elizabeth’s familiar laughter. He turned to kiss his mother on the cheek. “I love you, Mother but I must leave you behind.”

“I will be well,” she smiled. “You see? I am well.”

Darcy nodded as he accepted the truth of her words. His mother did not need him. Her happiness did not rest in him but Elizabeth… He had seen a world where Elizabeth did love him but lacked the mirth she should have known because of the barriers he erected. Darcy had also seen life for him without Elizabeth. He did not know if Elizabeth needed him in her life, but he knew he needed her.

Determination filled him, and he walked through the doorway without casting a backward glance.




Gasping for air, Darcy bolted upright in his bed. As his breath calmed and his heart slowed, he recognised his surroundings. Rosings. Stumbling from the bed, he checked his reflection in the looking glass in his dressing room. Gone were the grey curls and deep lines of an older gentleman. Inspecting the dark circles under his eyes, he recognised signs of a miserable night’s sleep.

It had only been a dream. A more vivid nightmare he had never had, but as he often relived moments of terror in his dreams, he did not find it impossible that he could conjure such possibilities. Returning to his chamber, he noticed his piles of crumpled paper and broken pens. His letter!

Tossing it all in the fire grate, Darcy began again. He no longer searched for four syllable words, as Bingley had teased him so long ago. He no longer carefully protected himself and put himself in the best light. Nor did he care about scratched out words or ink blots. He broke every rule of correct penmanship, but he did not care. The sun rose swiftly, and soon Elizabeth would be walking in the grove. He must share the truth with her. As he poured out his secrets, he was surprised to note that the burdens he had expected to feel heavier felt halved when shared. True, Elizabeth did not ask to shoulder his admissions, and she likely never would, but something about the honesty of it all freed Darcy.

When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair and reviewed his work.


Dear Miss Bennet,

Do not fear that I will renew my sentiments which have offended you. I would never wish to pain you in such a way again. Instead, allow me to offer my most humble apologies. My mode and tone of address were disgusting, and you would not be the worthy woman you are if you had accepted my address under such circumstances.

As to the weightier arguments you have against me, of my selfishness and pride, I confess it is true. Again, I seek your forgiveness. I see now I should perhaps make amends to the whole of the world, but I will begin with you. My thoughtless words and actions have made you feel inferior and hurt you. The entire time I thought I courted you and showed my admiration, you believed I mocked and criticised. Memories of our every interaction are now inexpressibly painful because I see now the wounds I gave. Hurting you was the last thing I had ever desired to do.

Due to my actions, you believe that I have separated two young people who loved each other for nothing but selfish motivations and material gain. In my conceit, I did not see Miss Bennet’s affection for my friend. I believed his feelings ran deeper than hers. In suggesting he terminate the relationship, I never dreamed that I became the source of anguish. I had thought her heart not likely to be touched. The irony is, I can now see how it would be for her despite her serene demeanour. I have spent a lifetime hiding behind an aloof mask, veiling many deep and troubled emotions. The very woman I loved believed I hated her. Who am I to judge? If you care to give a suggestion if I should pass the information I have learned regarding your sister onto my friend you may speak to me or Colonel Fitzwilliam if the thought of conversing with me is too uncomfortable.

I must now address a subject infinitely more painful to me. You have believed Mr. Wickham’s lies and accused me of ruining all his chances for material comfort in this life. Such actions go beyond the tragedy of lost love but speak to an inexpressible and deliberate evil in a man’s heart. To explain Wickham’s relationship with my family, I must start at the beginning.

I am a bastard.

George Darcy never exposed the truth of my birth. My mother was not happy with her marriage, and after she bore an heir, she wandered. Caught in the act, she was sent away and bore me in Scotland. There I was raised until I was eight years old. One night, the man I called Father showed up at our cottage. His son had died, and he needed a new heir for Pemberley. His wife’s son would do as he deemed divorce impossible. With little more than an embrace and a farewell kiss, I was ripped from everything I ever knew or loved.

At the time, I did not understand why Father treated me so indifferently. He was never mean or cruel. He mourned the child he raised and loved and had to look at the proof of his wife’s adultery daily. Still, he wanted me to bear the Darcy legacy. In time, I learned the truth of my birth and understood what it must have cost him to be so committed to duty and honour. He may not be my father by blood, but I have attempted to emulate him.

George Wickham is the son of a very good man. His father was a steward to mine. Before I arrived at Pemberley, he was a source of joy to my father. When I moved there, not only could I not fill the void Father felt at the loss of his son, I could not compete with Wickham’s manners. I had not been raised in a large household or with the best of everything in addition to being naturally shy. As we aged, however, I noted duplicity in the younger Wickham. He would preen before the adults but coerce and trick behind their backs.

My father supported him in school and at Cambridge — something that would have been impossible from his own father. In those years, I lost all respect for the boy I once called a friend. His deeds are unfit for a maiden’s eyes. Forgive me if I pain you writing this of a man you called a friend. However, I would not have you unawares, and he take advantage of your kindness.

I never exposed him to my father, and upon his death, Wickham was bequeathed one thousand pounds. He was also meant to have a valuable living the family held. However, Wickham renounced any interest in the position and asked for a cash settlement instead. I did not fight him as I believed him ill-suited to the office. Wickham mentioned he might study law. For the next three years, I know not how he lived.

Imagine my surprise when the living fell open, and Wickham approached me for it. He claimed his situation very bad, and I had no trouble believing it. However, I did what I felt right in the interests of others. Angry, he abused me to my face and no doubt abroad. Can you think on what subject he found most pleasing to discuss as it would cause me the most pain? Hearing the occasional rumour about my birth — which thus far no one had any proof beyond hearsay on — was nothing in comparison to our next encounter.

You have heard of my sister discussed in affectionate terms by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. They do not present the truth. They have only met Georgiana a handful of times. Extreme shyness afflicts her. I wish I could say after I came to Pemberley my parents reconciled, but they never did. Georgiana, too, is a bastard. Mother died upon her birth. She was raised in Lambton with a wet nurse and occasionally visited Pemberley. Father packed her off to schools when she was too old for her nurse. I had seen Georgiana only a handful of times before Father passed and I became her guardian. Since then, I have attempted to create a friendship between us, but I kept her at school, as I believed best for our situation. It is the source of my most significant regret that she did not rely on me more or feel confident in our relationship.

Around a year ago, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I removed Georgiana from the school she attended and put her in the care of a woman whose character I was gravely misinformed. Mrs. Younge suggested a holiday in Ramsgate for her charge, and we consented. Once there, Wickham also arrived and after courting Georgiana for weeks had convinced my sister to consent to an elopement. Mrs. Younge, we later learned, had a previous connection to Wickham and encouraged the situation. I arrived, by merest chance, a day before their intended departure. Once there, Georgiana felt she could not grieve the man she looked up to almost as a father.

Wickham left immediately, and I had not seen or heard from him again until we encountered one another on the streets of Meryton. What he has specifically accused me of, I cannot know. However, I do know that he has means for blackmail at his disposal, or at the very least to ruin both of our reputations. If I seem to hate the man, it is because I have been taunted much of my life. I shudder to think what cruelty he is capable of if he will misuse a fifteen-year-old girl’s tender heart and would not wish to see you or your family hurt.

If you cannot trust my words on these matters, then you may apply to Colonel Fitzwilliam who was an executor of my father’s estate and as fellow-guardian to Georgiana knows of all her particulars. Having divulged my secrets to you, I have no doubt that you will keep them.

I will only add that although it might disgust you, I will love you until my last breath on this Earth. God bless you,

Fitzwilliam Darcy


It was now nearing half past eight. Darcy sealed his letter and called for his valet. Then, like his disastrous nightmare the night before, he walked the grove awaiting Elizabeth. Just like before, she attempted to turn away from him, but he called after her.

Elizabeth approached with a wary look in her eye. When she came close enough for him to hand the letter over, she gasped. “Forgive me, sir, but you look as though you have been to the devil!”

Struggling to not return to his usual aloof expression, Darcy nodded in agreement. “I did not sleep well.”

Elizabeth blushed and looked away.

“Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?” He held out the envelope, but she hesitated. “It is neither a renewal of my addresses nor a defence, madam.”

Elizabeth looked at him curiously but took the envelope. “Pardon me, then.” She gave him a tight smile. “I will continue my walk.” She began to stalk off at a fast pace.

“Eliza—” Darcy winced when she whirled to face him, hands on hips and glared. “Miss Bennet, take care whilst you exercise. The rocks may be hidden. I would not wish for you to injure yourself.”

She furrowed her brow. “Thank you for the concern, but I am not afraid of a sprained ankle nor is it much cause for concern on such a path.”

Unable to explain the feelings of fear and panic which still lingered in his heart, he merely nodded and allowed her to continue. Feeling as though his heart was walking ever further away, he watched until she went around a bend. Then, he called on Mr. and Mrs. Collins. On his return to Rosings, Darcy saw Richard and informed him of his letter to Elizabeth.

“What have you done?” Richard cried.

“I could not live with myself if she were hurt by him,” Darcy said.

“But why tell her everything? Why tell her the full truth?”

“I will live with secrets no more.”

Richard stared dumbfounded at him, and Darcy extended his arm to squeeze his cousin’s shoulder.

“What is more, I am through keeping words in my heart. You are like a brother to me, Richard. I love you.”

Surprise lit his cousin’s eyes, and he laughed then pulled Darcy in for a great embrace, beating on his back. “It’s about time! So your bark is worse than your bite? I love you too.”

Released from Richard’s grip, Darcy’s neck heated. Expressing himself in this way was still new, but he could admit to enjoying the freedom. Perhaps if he had said it to Georgiana things would have been vastly different. Talk with her would have to wait for him to confess his errors to Bingley.

“Go on to the Parsonage,” Darcy said. “I will make the final arrangements for us to leave on the morrow.”

“You are certain?”

“I will not force my company on her.”

“No, but perhaps stay and show her who you really are? A lady wishes to be wooed.”

“I cannot go, in one night, from inept and arrogant to a charming lover, no matter how great the revelation.”

“Revelation?” Richard cocked his head to one side.

“Maybe I will tell you some other time.” Darcy expelled a breath. “I need to return to London. There are affairs I must look after and Georgiana deserves to have her brother.”

“Is there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?”

“No. Allow a man to quit the field of defeat with some dignity.” Darcy shook his head. “You go on.”

Richard nodded and proceeded down the path, allowing Darcy to return to Rosings. A memory of Anne’s reaction in his dream to the news that Darcy must marry Elizabeth ran through his mind. When he had arrived at Rosings, he feared Anne had forgotten their agreement and wished to marry him. He had not planned on discussing it with her and hoped to avoid the conversation. Now, understanding that he needed to consider the feelings of others more, he sought her out and found her in her private sitting room.

“Anne, may I sit with you?” he asked from the open doorway.

She put aside her book and looked up at him. “Certainly.” When he had sat, she observed, “I have not had any time to visit with you in the morning during your stay. You were always busy with Mother’s accounts or visiting the Parsonage.”

“I was,” he nodded, “and I am sorry if you felt slighted.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I did not feel slighted. I have accepted our situation.”

“And what is that?” he asked, surprising himself with how much he genuinely wanted to know her feelings.

“Well, Mother wishes you to marry me, and you do not want to. Naturally, you must avoid me to not give her false expectations.”

“What do you want, Anne?”

“Are you asking if I want to marry you?”

“Yes. I realise I have never asked what you thought on the matter.”

“What has changed? Why are you asking me now?” She looked at him warily.

“I have seen that I am selfish and arrogant. Years ago, when we spoke about your mother’s plans, I laid out that I had no intention to marry you. I never allowed you to speak.”

“Did she say that to you?” Anne asked softly and stared at her hands. “Miss Bennet is wrong, Fitzwilliam. You are not selfish or arrogant, but I will not be your consolation prize.”

Anne’s words surprised Darcy, and he looked at her as though he had never seen her before. “I would not demean you so but how did you know?”

“I know what longing and love looks like. I know the face of rejection.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

“Anne,” Darcy sighed. “I never meant to hurt you. Did I mistreat you? Did I raise your expectations?”

“No, do not blame yourself,” she said as she wiped away her tears with a handkerchief. “I knew you did not want me, you told me so, but it could not stop my heart from yearning.”

“Perhaps you only wish to be away from your mother. Perhaps if you were in more company…”

“I know my mind and my heart,” she snarled. “There is Richard. There is Mr. Montague-Churchill. There are other gentlemen I have met. It is you I loved.”

“I am sorry,” Darcy said quietly but meaning it with all of his heart. When he first made contact with the Fitzwilliams and de Bourghs, they filled a hole in his heart. “I never knew.”

“I did not wish for you to know,” she shrugged. “Mother told me I could gain your interest. However, I always saw we would not suit. I admired and loved you but would be an abominable wife to you, and you are not the sort of man that would make me happy.”

Darcy furrowed his brow. Thinking of being with Elizabeth made him happier than he had ever been. In his mind, that happiness equated love but what Anne talked about was dark and depressing. How could you love someone who could not complete you or be your equal? How was it love if it could only bring pain?

“You asked me what I wanted,” Anne interrupted his thoughts.

“I did.”

“I wish for your happiness. I hope Miss Bennet will see her error and if she does not, that your heart will be stirred by another.”

Darcy felt the lines between his brow deepen.

“You do not understand?” Anne asked and gently touched his hand. “I wish for that because I love you.”

That sentiment Darcy understood entirely. Of course, he desired for Elizabeth to love him but having no hope of that now, he wished for her happiness. No matter how painful it was to consider, she would find it with another man. “I understand. I would do nearly anything for you.” He covered her hand with his other one. “You are family.”

“Find someone to love and marry her. Do not return Rosings unwed.”

Darcy hung his head. “I do not know that I will find another.”

“Please,” Anne pleaded. “You do not know how my mother’s constant hints and nagging torment me.”

“I did not know, forgive me.”

“I will not,” Anne said and raised her chin. “You have no reason to reproach yourself.”

Darcy pulled his hand from hers and paced around the room. “I am a flawed man. I have wounded people—”

“Did you mean to?”

Darcy ceased walking and stared at her. “Pardon?”

“Did you mean to hurt anyone?”

“No, but my mere existence in this world has created pain.”

“It is not your fault,” she insisted. “Accidents may happen, over-sensitivities occur. But I will not forgive you for my silence and secrecy.”

Darcy remained rooted, hearing Anne’s words and the clemency she offered but wishing it was another woman before him. The things he wanted to share about himself, the deepest parts of his heart, he could not say to his cousin. Given her feelings for him, expressing them would only hurt her further. One thought stood out to him, however. She must feel similar to Jane Bennet. Loving a man from afar and with a mother who cannot keep silent about it. He castigated himself anew.

“I will leave you now,” Darcy said.

“I will not see you off tomorrow,” Anne said. “I meant what I said.”

Darcy nodded and bowed to her then made his way to his chamber.


The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Eleven

secrets of pemberley maskEnding your misery! Hang in there we’re only half way through!

Previous Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten


Chapter Eleven

May 1, 1841

Five years later


“Your tea has gone cold,” Betsy sighed as she poured Darcy a new cup. At her side, a baby gurgled.

After passing the cup to her father, Betsy stood and gathered the child in her arms. Patting the babe as she inspected the room she hummed a tune. An old lullaby her mother had sung to her.

“At least the maids keep it clean. Will and Emily visit often?”

“Yes and so do the children,” Darcy said.

Once the baby was asleep, Betsy returned to her seat across from her father. “Why do you not return to home? The Dower House is nicely laid out, but you should be master. You are not in your dotage yet.”

“You know why I cannot stay there. I am just down the lane should Will need me.”

Betsy frowned, and Darcy knew she would attempt, again, to convince him to return to his ancestral home. She had made her case weekly, unless she was in Town, for five years now. He cut her off as she opened her mouth. “Why do you not leave Beth with me? The nursery maids have enough to worry about with your nephews.”

Betsy looked shocked but pleased. Still, a hand went to her throat and troubled a necklace there. “You are certain you will be well? I shan’t be gone long.”

“Of course,” Darcy said and held out his arms.

“She should sleep for much of the time,” Betsy said as she placed her baby in her father’s arms. “You look so good with a baby, Papa,” she kissed his cheek. “Mama often said it to me. Did she ever say it to you?”

Darcy shook his head. His hair prematurely white but still slightly curled.

“I will be right back,” she said and tiptoed away.

Darcy sat in quiet memories. Shortly after burying Elizabeth, he had removed to the dower house. Will did not return to London and began overseeing Pemberley’s affairs. Thankfully, the boy could lean on the steward for his father was no help at all for many months.

In time, Darcy emerged from his shell, but he was far different for the experience. Never given to mirth, he had not smiled since Elizabeth died. He was honestly astonished he still lived. He would never take his life but was amazed his heart still beat.

He could not live in the house so full of memories of Elizabeth, nor could he see his daughter-in-law, Emily, become the mistress, no matter how much he loved her. Betsy’s coming out was delayed a year for mourning and Darcy had never been so struck with his selfishness than the day he realized that he got his way. He was correct, she received three offers her first year but fortunately, Elizabeth had counseled her wisely, and it was another two years before she married, only for the deepest love. Now she was at Pemberley, going through her old trunks to retrieve items for her daughter. As Darcy held his newest grandchild, called Beth, pain gripped his heart. She had Elizabeth’s eyes.

The little angel remained asleep in his arms, and he sat quietly, lost in memories. He searched his mind once more, an obsessive habit now, attempting to determine if it had all been wishful thinking. How had he missed that Elizabeth still disliked him?  It was true that hope for her love vanished before Will was even born, but he had believed Elizabeth cared for him some, and not just as the father of her children. Her words did not lie though.

Lost in such melancholy thoughts, he did not hear Betsy enter. She touched his shoulder and called out, “Father?”

He startled and looked up at the intruder quickly before glancing away to hide his glassy eyes. Once composed he turned his attention back to his daughter.

“Yes, Betsy?  You can see we are fine.”

He attempted to smile. Before Elizabeth, he seldom smiled, and now, years without her, it was the same.

“I see. You are always wonderful with children. Mama loved that about you.”

Darcy’s countenance darkened, “I hardly believe there was much your mother loved about me.”

Betsy shook her head and emphatically stated, “I know she did.”

“Elizabeth Jane, you know this subject is out of the question. Desist.”

She spoke with a tone very reminiscent of her mother, “You can no longer order me about, Father. Will you not ask me the cause for my assuredness?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You are sometimes too much like your Aunt Jane, always reasoning things out to see the good in everybody and everything. The fact remains that I am a selfish man, no matter how you may try to explain it differently.”

The combined strength of the Darcy, Fitzwilliam and Bennet stubbornness became apparent on Betsy’s face in a flash. “I am not so kind-hearted as that, and you know it!  But I have proof. I have her own words.”

Darcy looked at her in confusion, and she removed several journals from a basket she had brought in. She laid them on the table next to her father. His eyes darted to them and looked at them in a mixture of longing and fear. Gathering up baby Beth, she kissed her father on the cheek and whispered, “Read them.”




Darcy sat staring at Elizabeth’s journals arguing with himself until brought out of his reverie by the chill in the air. The fire had long ago grown low. He quickly added several more logs and then focussed on the growing blaze. For a moment, he thought about simply burning them all. Glancing at them again, he decided he would read some—if only to look at her beautiful penmanship again.

Darcy started with the earliest one. He winced at reading the first few entries, full of anger directed at himself for their marriage and blushed to think his daughter might know of his ungentlemanly behaviour. Elizabeth did not write daily, or even monthly. Before many pages, there was an entry that caught his attention. She had redecorated the mistress’s apartments in preparation for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s visit and had come across some old things of hers brought from Longbourn.

Elizabeth had found his letter. After his kiss, she had never bothered to read it, but somehow did not burn it either. Its effect on her was significant. As Darcy looked at the date on the entry again, he realized it was near the time he had sensed an improvement in her feelings for him.

Many weeks later, there was another entry. Lydia had eloped with Wickham While visiting at Longbourn when Elizabeth was there, Lydia had mentioned Darcy was at her wedding. Elizabeth applied to her Aunt Gardiner directly and was quickly informed of the whole of Darcy’s role in the matter. Another look at the date, and it occurred to him that this must have been the cause for her declaration of love. He hated to think it was elicited out of gratitude of any kind, but this was much worse than out of her falling with child.

Bravely, and against his better instincts, he turned the page and read:

I love him!  My whole heart wants to scream it loudly!  And I know not when it happened, but I believe I have loved him for a very long time now. Possibly since he first pulled me into his arms and showed me I was too precious to him to let me go. I must confess this here, for I fear to utter the words aloud. I have been so wrong, I misjudged him so badly. He does not speak of love, though his every look confirms it. I am a muddled mess!  Surely, I should not say it if he does not?

Darcy stared at the page for nearly an eternity. Elizabeth loved him?  Even a bit, even if he starved it away, she had loved him. He turned the page again.

I must tell him, he deserves to know. My happiness is only made more complete by the fact that I felt the first flutterings of our babe today. I had long suspected but was not sure.

The next page was dated only days later.

I told him. Last night I confessed my love while in his arms. He said nothing but held me tighter. I fell asleep to the sound of his heart and felt like the most cherished thing in the world.

Darcy now read compulsively, his eyes greedy for every word.

I shared the news of the babe with darling Fitzwilliam today. He smiled broadly and even twirled me around and laughed. As the day went on though, he seemed concerned and withdrew into himself. Perhaps he is concerned for my health?  Mrs. Reynolds explained his mother did not do well in her confinements, finally passing after Georgiana’s birth.

Months passed before another entry, the page bore evidence of tear stains.

Why does he not say it again?  I was such a fool!  Did I drive it away with my cruel refusal?  But he must still love me. Or is it only vain wishes?  Will the only time I ever hear those cherished words from his lips have been during his wretchedly worded proposal I so shamefully spurned?

Darcy felt tears sting his own face and they fell on the parchment in his hands, mingling with her long-dried ones. “Oh, Elizabeth!  I love you, I’ve always loved you, If only I had known!”

His heart contracted, and his head throbbed with anguish. “I had thought you did not wish to hear of my affections!  I feared you would not welcome the words; that you would refuse the sentiment. But for my horrible pride!  I should have whispered them in your ear hourly!”

He turned page after page but found no more mentions of love. Instead, her entries were directed on being a new mother and their expanding family. In the journal dated several years after the birth of their youngest daughter, Darcy caught his breath and read.

We have been married 15 years today, and my love for Fitzwilliam is stronger than I ever thought possible. He is a silent man, not given to mirth or much sentiment. Years ago, as I first learned my own heart, I was uncertain of his, but I have learned a truer, more constant heart has never beat. He still does not tell me with words, but we have an unspoken union. And I daresay he is just as besotted with me as ever.

I have accepted Betsy will be my last child. I fear my husband worries too much when I am with child. However much I enjoy his attentions, he does not wish for me to fall with child frequently. But four children, two of each sex, is a good brood. Even my mother cannot complain, for not only do I have the heir and a spare, but Fitzwilliam so generously named our eldest daughter after my mother as well as his. And he honoured my father by naming our youngest son Bennet instead of using his family name.

God has been very good to me, I am so very happy.

For hours and hours, Darcy read until at last, he reached the final pages.

Fitzwilliam is such a vexing man!  I know he is anxious to keep Betsy home, that he cannot bear to part with his dearest daughter, but she is grown now. In five and twenty years, I still have not learned how to move on his stubbornness, but I am hoping soon we will make him see reason. He cannot have his way in this for no reason than his selfishness.

It hurt to read Elizabeth’s words of admonishment about his behaviour and tears stung his eyes again. Knowing the next page contained her final entry, Darcy held his breath. At long last, he turned the final page and read her last entry, dated the day of her death.

How have I been so blind all these years?  I thought he knew!  But it seems he does not, my refusal must have hurt him deeper than I ever believed. Oh!  I was so awful just now, I declared he had a selfish disdain for the feelings of others, and no matter how much I love him I do believe he has a selfish streak. But I had entirely forgotten the words I said in my dreadful refusal until I saw his face darken, just as it did that day. I had spoken those very words. And now I learn they have haunted him for five and twenty years and he never believed I loved him.

I cannot think now, I must be away to calm my thoughts, but when I return, I will do what I should have done when I first knew my heart. My stupid pride, I did not wish to repeat the words if he seemed unwilling to say them!  I will tell him and tell him and tell him until my final day on this Earth. I will tell him:  I love you, my dearest Fitzwilliam.

Darcy wept joyful tears before falling into a heavy slumber in his chair before the fire. He awoke hours later to a room unusually warm and bright, and after his eyes had adjusted, he saw Elizabeth standing before him.

She stretched forward her hand and said, “Come, my love. We will have no more misunderstandings between us now.”  Without hesitation, he reached for her hand and pulled her into an embrace, feeling the light all around him.



The Secrets of Pemberley- Chapter Ten

I haven’t really put any comments before the chapters on my blog but I will on this one. Things get very angsty and seem hopeless. Hang on.

Previous Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine

Chapter Ten

March 15, 1837


Darcy left his study in search of his family. There were matters to arrange before they journeyed to London for the Season. Now that their eldest daughter had married, they should not need to spend so long a time in Town. Will did not need them and Ben would be busy with Cambridge much of the time. Their younger daughter, Betsy, would not be coming out until next year.

“Now, practice like this,” Elizabeth said, and laughter ensued.

“Did you really have to do this, Ellie?” Darcy heard Betsy ask her cousin as he stood outside the door.

Jane and some of her daughters were visiting. The Bingleys had moved to an estate only thirty miles from Pemberley within a year of their marriage. Darcy smiled as he knew the joy the cousins found in each other.

“No, silly, watch again,” Ellie said with oohs and ahhs following. “You had better learn fast for you only have a few weeks.”

Darcy opened the door with a scowl on his face. The occupants of the room immediately froze, clearly caught in the act. “Betsy will not be presented at court until next year.”

Jane quickly looked between husband and wife and stood. “My dears, let us take a walk after spending all morning in here with these dusty garments.” She curtsied to Darcy. “Come, you too, Betsy.”

Darcy did not watch them leave as his eyes remained locked with Elizabeth’s. Hearing the door close, he raised a brow.

“We have discussed this,” he folded his arms across his chest. “You know I want her to wait. Anne did not enter Society until she was nearly nineteen.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “They have very different dispositions and Anne’s birthday is in the summer. It was either enter at seventeen or wait until nearly nineteen.”

“Georgiana chose the same.”

“Again, you are not considering the difference in their personalities,” Elizabeth said and began shaking out the old court dress she had unpacked to practice curtseys with.

“She loves it too much,” Darcy said. “She loves frivolity and London.”

“That is not a crime,” Elizabeth sighed.

Darcy closed his eyes. After all these years, he still had not explained about his mother. He saw that same liveliness in Betsy. Between her beauty and her fortune, she would capture the eye of many suitors and probably make an impulsive choice. In her blood were the errors of a grandmother and two aunts.

“She will be eighteen next week,” Elizabeth said. “You cannot keep her a child forever. If we do not allow her these freedoms, she will take them anyway.”

“Why will you not bow to me in this, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked and took a step forward. “I had thought you, at least, respected me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked and lifted her chin defiantly. “Do not turn this around on me. I have been a good wife, but I will not sit by as you attempt to impose your selfish disdain for the feelings of others! Think beyond your arrogance and conceit and see that you may be wrong.”

Darcy stepped backward. Where had such a thing come from? This was the Elizabeth from his Hunsford proposal. Her eyes flashed in the same anger, which he had only seen glimpses of in their marriage. She had thought that of him, had she? All these years while he thought she cared for him, she had been concealing her implacable hate.

Grasping for his anger, just as he had lo those many years ago, he took a step forward. Elizabeth gasped and looked away, but he would not allow it.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and she obeyed. “I know you have never loved me. I know you never could in all these years, but I will not tolerate public mockery. Now, say you will tell Betsy to wait. We must be united in this no matter how much you hate me.”

A sob came from Elizabeth’s mouth, and she pulled a hand up to cover it while doubling over. Darcy stepped forward in concern, but she held her other hand up to keep him away. Straightening, she exhaled, but pain and regret lingered in her eyes.

“I cannot speak of this at present, Fitzwilliam. I am going for a walk.”

Before Darcy could say anything else, she darted from the room.

Believing it just another argument, he returned to his study and did not emerge when Jane and her daughters left. He had assumed Elizabeth returned inside with them. At tea time, she did not join him. Despite a desire to seek her out, he did not move. They did not argue frequently, but when they did, he had learned Elizabeth needed time to overcome her anger. Often, she would not intend to join him, but he would find her and apologise, earning one from her as well. Not this time. No, this time he would remain firm. He was right, and he knew it. She would come to him with her apologies first.

As he attempted to enjoy his tea and biscuits without her by his side for the first time in five and twenty years, he mulled over the services he had done her and her family. Kitty had married a Derbyshire gentleman with a small estate and Mary wed the vicar of Kympton. Only Lydia lived far away, and she visited once or twice a year. He could not stand to see Wickham, but the man had had held true to his contract. In return, Darcy assisted him in his career. Believing it better to have the man employed and in something as rigid as the army than free to make his own fortune, Darcy secured Wickham a position as adjutant to a general. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet often visited Pemberley before they passed.

Was it too much to ask that she do one thing for him? Just allow him one more year with his little girl. Scowling at the thought which proved her point, he returned to his desk. After another hour or two, his work was completed, and he rang for the butler to take the stack of letters. Half went in the mail and the other half to the land steward.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” young Reynolds, who had taken over for his father a few years before, said, “but Mrs. Darcy has not returned from her walk, and the sun will set soon.”

Darcy’s eyes slid to the clock. She had been gone six hours! It was no secret she was their favourite and no secret she was an exemplary mistress. Despite her humble origins, she managed the estate with more grace, generosity and good sense than the ladies in most of London’s oldest families. Mrs. Bennet had taught her to be an excellent hostess, and Mr. Bennet taught her insight and wisdom. Darcy knew that now, but learning to value her relations came too late in their marriage to make a difference. Elizabeth remained forever sensitive over their positions in life.

Belatedly, he realised that she must have been hurt when he insisted Betsy not come out. She must have thought he believed her as inept as her own mother was on the subject. However, it was his mother he had worried about. Shaking his head, he realised the long overdue conversation with Elizabeth could be put off no longer. He stood, pulling on his coat and forming an apology in his mind.

“I will find her. If I do not return in an hour, send others,” Darcy said as he exited the house.

After an hour, dread filled his heart. It was unlike Elizabeth to stay out after dark. He was just beginning to convince himself that she must have returned a different route when he heard a gardener calling for Mrs. Darcy and the gleam of a lantern. He jogged over.

Hearing that she had not come to the house felt like a knife in his heart. “I have not yet checked this path. Over here,” he motioned to the gardener, and they walked for several minutes before making out a figure of something in the road.

Darcy inhaled sharply as he considered it too big to be a sheep or deer. The gardener did likewise but said nothing.

“I will go,” Darcy said and held out his hand for the lantern.

A cloud rolled by, bathing the path in moonlight and Darcy screamed, then ran.


A woman’s lifeless figure laid before him. He reached her in seconds and set the lantern down.

“Lizzy, Elizabeth, where are you hurt?”

He touched her shoulder, and her head rolled. Lifeless eyes stared up at him.

“Oh God!” Darcy sobbed and scooped her into his arms. “No, anything but this. No!”

He pressed his ear to her chest, hoping to hear a beat or feel respiration. Instead, he felt the stickiness where her blood had trickled down her head from a gash.

Tears flew from his eyes as an anguished sob roared from his throat. “Lizzy, wake up, love. Just wake up,” he cried over and over again rocking her as he clutched her tightly.

“Sir,” the gardener placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Darcy to jump and return from something near insanity.

Turning his head, he saw others slowly approach with their lanterns at their side and hats covering their chest.

“May I?” Jack, the strongest footman asked and held out his arms.

“No!” Darcy yelled and held Elizabeth closer. “No, I will take her.”

“Sir, it is some distance,” Jack said.

“She will be returned to her—” Darcy paused as his voice broke, “her home, to her bed, by me and me alone.”

He managed to stand without letting go of his precious cargo. He and the entourage walked slowly, there was no hurry to rush her into the house or seek medical attention. She was well past that. From time to time, others asked to share his load, but he refused. His arms felt no pain. His entire being was numb.

As he laid Elizabeth on her bed, he fleetingly registered Betsy screaming from the doorway where others worked to hold her back. A good man, a good father, would have strength to offer his daughter in such a situation. He was neither. He was selfish and a bastard. And while Betsy had need of him and Elizabeth could no longer draw comfort from his attention, he refused to leave her bedside. It gave him comfort.

In the morning, the housekeeper ordered him from his wife’s chamber. Jack and another footman, forcibly removed him and delivered him into the hands of his valet who shoved wine mixed with laudanum into his hands. Against his will, he slept. Charging to Elizabeth’s room, relief flooded him when her bed was empty. She lived! It had been naught but a nightmare. But no, items were covered in white linen, protected from dust until he could bear the thought of discarding them.

Never, he vowed.

He crumpled to the ground, sitting in her doorway and wept like a child. Tears he had suppressed since he was removed from his mother at the age of eight sprang forward. What had life given him but grief? Unloved by the man he called father, abandoned by the real one, rejected by the woman he had built his life with, they had all seen him for what he was. Nothing. A fraud. Not worth existing.

If he had never been born everyone’s life would have been better. Lady Anne might have learned to love the country or George Darcy to abide the city. The elder brother Darcy never knew would have lived. Georgiana would never have nearly eloped with Wickham—a fact that cost her everything. Although it remained a secret, she never trusted another man and remained unwed. She established her own home in Town. Elizabeth’s life would have been infinitely better. She would have lived.

There had been excessive amounts of rain that washed the road away some, leaving the occasional unexpected rock. Had she been walking she would have seen them, but Darcy surmised she must have been running. She clearly tripped over one rock and as she fell, struck her head on another larger one. He could not forget her lifeless eyes. Her mesmerizing eyes that always held so much emotion, all the light snuffed out. He had done this. He had driven her to vexation, pushed her to need the exercise in what she must have already viewed as more a prison sentence than a life worth living. Had she felt pain?  Had she suffered?

He was confident it was the last time he would feel anything again. As the day wore on, he was proven wrong. Servants came to him asking about funeral arrangements. Betsy pleaded with him to eat and sleep. Jane and Bingley arrived to take over decisions. Elizabeth’s other sisters and their families filled the house. Still, he remained to stare at her empty bed.

The day of the funeral, he was guided to a bath and groomed. He looked the perfect gentleman, with new mourning arm band, but in his heart he knew the truth. He was a murderer. The day he married Elizabeth he sealed her fate. Nay, the day he had kissed her.

And what did he expect? He took the name Darcy and acted like lord of the manor. In truth, he was probably nothing more than the son of a footman who might have had questionable paternity himself. Jack grew up in Newgate, where his father had been sentenced before he was even born. All the years Darcy had hated Wickham when he had done far worse.

Brought to Elizabeth’s grave, he remained rooted in front of it. The sun blinded him so he could not make out the words. What would be said? That her husband drove her to her death? That his arrogance and false conceit ruined her?

“I am sorry I was never the man you deserved,” Darcy said.

His throat aching after days of unused and parched from lack of hydration. He welcomed the sting. Would that it was a noose around his throat as he deserved.

The sun shifted, and Darcy was reminded of a day when he was still a young man and admiring Elizabeth walking in the grove at Rosings. Perhaps now she was at peace as she had been that day.

His name was called, and before turning away, he cast one long glance at the marker as he was uncertain he could ever look upon again and read it:

Elizabeth Darcy


Beloved wife and mother.