Page 4 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man
Netherfield
The Study
Jane carefully closed and locked the door to Charles’ study before speaking. It took great effort to remember not to say anything loud enough that a servant might overhear and have his suspicion raised. According to Mrs. Watkins, there was already plenty of speculation among the servants that Netherfield was haunted. They had spirited Lizzy into the mansion at night, keeping her isolated in rooms on the third floor. When she first escaped her room, she was seen walking about the grounds by one of the maids and with her pale skin, dark hair, and white gown, she certainly looked ethereal, almost ghostlike. The Bingleys were hopeful that talk of apparitions would cover the truth of her existence.
“Charles, I have instructed Mrs. Drury that it is imperative Lizzy stay in her rooms while Mr. Darcy is visiting. I pray she is able to keep her in bed during the night and calm during the day with the herbal potion Mrs. Watkins created. If she sleeps a goodly amount, we may be able to keep him from suspecting anything.”
Charles nodded. “Mrs. Watkins swears by those herbs. Let us hope they work.”
“I pray you are quickly able to ascertain the likelihood of Mr. Darcy’s help. I do not know how long we can keep her hidden with him under our roof.”
Seeing the worry in Jane’s eyes, Charles pulled her into his embrace and rested his head atop hers. “Have faith. I believe Darcy may be the answer to our prayers. Pemberley is very remote, tucked away in the mountains with acres of land comprising the estate. If Lizzy were there, she could be hidden practically forever, both from society and those who would do her harm.”
“As if she were dead.”
The catch in Jane’s voice pierced his heart, and Charles leaned down to kiss her forehead. Lizzy’s situation had taken a great toll on his wife, and he would do anything to find a solution.
“Surely, sweetheart, you know it was best that everyone thought Lizzy died in the fire.”
“My mind knows that.” She began to cry. “But with her present condition, my heart breaks. I feel as though I have lost my sister already.”
“Jane, look at me,” he whispered, tipping her chin up and waiting until her teary blue eyes met his. “You worry that she will never get better, but I believe that she will. Love can make all the difference in the world. We must have faith that love will bring Lizzy back to us. We must believe for her... be strong for her.”
He waited for her to acknowledge his words. “I will try, Charles. Remind me when I falter.”
“I will. Now Darcy will be here shortly, and we cannot have him suspect anything.” He kissed her gently on the nose as one hand played with a tendril of her hair. “How good an actress are you? Are you going to be convincing?”
“I will try for Lizzy.” She took a lace handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes. “There.” She nodded her head sharply. “I am ready.” Charles smiled at her red nose and swollen eyes.
“My brave wife. I want you to know how much I respect your loyalty to Lizzy. It is admirable how you care for our sister.” Jane’s face softened. “It makes me proud to know you are my wife and the mother of my child.”
“Oh, Charles!” She began to weep anew. “Now see what you have done.”
~~~*~~~
William’s coach was late, and it was not until darkness began to fall that it pulled up in front of Netherfield. After being greeted warmly by his hosts, he immediately retreated to his room to prepare for dinner. Bathed and dressed, he made his way back downstairs to find Charles alone in the drawing room. As he entered, Bingley stood to pour two small glasses of brandy and studied his friend’s appearance as he handed one to him. He took note of William’s weight loss, greying hair, and the deep lines around his eyes. Oblivious to his perusal, William asked a question.
“Did my presence keep Mrs. Bingley from coming down for dinner?” His voice sounded teasing, but the look on his face showed true unease. Charles was quick to respond, realising William might think Jane held a grudge for his part in separating them initially.
“Peter was fretful, and she had to attend him. She will be down shortly, and then we shall dine.”
Having seen Charles’ son when he arrived, a smaller version of his father with the same red curls, William said pensively, “You have a fine boy. He looks very much like you.”
At Charles’ pleased nod, he stated quietly, “You seem truly happy and content.”
“I am. Jane made me the happiest of men when she became my wife, and now she has given me Peter.”
“That is indeed a wonderful gift.” William added a little wistfully, “Would that I had a son.” Swirling the liquid in his glass, he studied it seriously before adding, “I am exceedingly sorry that I only recently read your letters, Charles.”
William took a deep breath. “I had... I was trying to solve a problem for which I could find no resolution. I decided, quite impulsively, to visit my property in Scotland. From there, it seemed only natural to check on my estate in Ireland before returning home. I never meant to be away so long or neglect my friends.”
Charles responded sympathetically. “I understand, truly I do. Sometimes life brings problems our way that seem insurmountable at the time, and we must do whatever it takes to get through them.”
William studied his friend with new appreciation. “I am thankful for your understanding and insight.” Charles could only nod, very aware that William had no idea how the last few months had led to that epiphany.
“Once I read your letters, I realised how selfish I had been to stay away so long without a word, but at the time I was blind.”
“I believe you,” Charles offered, moving to pat his back. “Do not apologise. You have explained why you were out of touch and why I did not receive a reply from you. We are friends, so all is well.”
“Once again, I have asked forgiveness, and you have been generous in granting it.” William reached to clasp Charles’ hand. “You are a true friend.”
Jane walked into the room to see her husband and William with hands clasped and could not help but smile at the scene. “We are so glad you have come at last, Mr. Darcy.”
“William,” he said softly.
“And you must call me Jane .”
William nodded just as the dinner bell sounded, and Charles moved to offer his arm to his wife.
“Come, Darcy! You must be starved—spending days on the road with only the inns to rely on for meals. Our cook does wonders with pheasant and bakes an apple tart to rival any I have ever eaten!”
~~~*~~~
The last course was being served and the Bingleys and Fitzwilliam Darcy had managed to talk about anything and everything, without touching on the subject of the Bennets. During the entire meal, William had hoped Charles would mention them, so he could learn what had happened to Elizabeth. Instead, his host had rattled on and on about the problems he was having with proper land drainage and the solutions his newly hired steward had suggested.
Whenever William chanced to look at Jane, she was usually watching Charles. She was perfectly amiable when spoken to, but he got the impression she was trying not to say anything amiss.
The dinner was nearing the end, and they were enjoying the apple tart Charles had bragged about earlier, when William ventured to ask after the Bennets. He had no way of anticipating the floodgate of emotions that question would release as he addressed Jane nonchalantly.
“Are your mother and sisters in good health? Do they still reside in Meryton?”
Jane’s fork stopped in midair, and he thought he saw her hand tremble. She glanced to her husband but did not reply, so Charles answered in her stead.
“They are well. Mrs. Bennet purchased a home here. Mary is now married to Mr. Phillips’ law clerk and Lydia and Kitty are... well they are still silly, just older.” William noticed Charles’ smile fade but saw it quickly replaced with a forced one.
As William looked between the couple, he surmised that something was wrong, but he could not help asking, “And Miss Elizabeth? I assume she is married with a child of her own by now.”
A sob escaped from Jane, as she rose and ran from the room. Both men stared at the door through which she disappeared.
“Charles, I am sorry if I said—”
Charles’ hand in mid-air stopped William. “You are not to blame, Darcy. Let us go into my study, and I will explain.” They stood, and William silently followed his friend out of the room, puzzled by what had just transpired.
~~~*~~~
After Charles had poured each of them a full glass of brandy, he motioned for William to have a seat and wearily sank down on the sofa across from him. Their eyes met, but Charles looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. He could relate only what had happened to Lizzy up to a certain point, then he would lie to protect her until he was sure of William’s cooperation.
Taking a deep breath, Charles looked back at his friend. His drink had not been touched, and his eyes were still locked on him. The decisive moment had arrived. Does he still care enough for Lizzy to help her? Charles wondered.
No longer patient, William slid to the edge of his seat, leaning forward. “Where is she, Charles?”
“I suppose, being out of England, you have not heard.” William’s head slowly moved back and forth. “Steel yourself, my friend.”
“Charles!” William sounded more desperate than angry.
“Elizabeth is dead.”
The glass of brandy William was holding hit the floor.
William started to speak, looked about dazed and then stood. Showing no concern for the broken glass, he managed to walk to a window, where he clung to the frame, looking faint. Charles rang for a servant to clean up the spill, and afterward poured another glass of brandy and brought it to him. Without turning, William took it and drank the entire glass, grimacing as it burned his throat.
With much anguish he forced out, “How?”
“It is a long story and not very pretty. You have had a long trip today, my friend. Why do we not get some sleep, and I will explain everything tomorrow?”
“No!”
Charles startled at the ferocity of the outburst. Then he relaxed as, head hanging down in defeat, William pleaded in a defeated whisper, “Please! I must know. I will not sleep until I know.”
Charles squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Then let us sit down. It will take some time to tell everything.” Charles led William, who seemed in a fog, to a chair near the fireplace, taking the one next to it.
“It began right after I left for London. Lizzy went to visit her friend, Charlotte Collins, in Kent.” He saw William’s jaw tighten. “According to Jane, while she was gone a gentleman leased Monteagle, supposedly to use it as a hunting lodge. He was half-English and half-Italian, Count Stefano Gianni Montalvo de Cavour, if I have pronounced his name correctly.”
William said nothing, but his eyes burned into Charles as he continued. “He is about eight and thirty, blond and quite handsome, I am told.” William frowned at the description.
“Jane said that, at first, he appeared very amiable, and after it was bandied about that he was wealthy and unmarried, her mother and every other mother in Meryton set about pushing their single daughters in his path. Count Stefano began to attend the assemblies and danced with many an available lady. He even danced with my Jane, but to Mrs. Bennet’s chagrin, after he spied Lizzy, he singled her out for his attention.”
William stiffened and turned as if to study the flames leaping from the charred logs in the fireplace, but Charles was convinced that he was listening by the white of his knuckles as he gripped the arms of the chair.
“Jane thinks the count was drawn to Lizzy because she wanted no part of him. She told me that when Lizzy came back from Kent, it was with a deep sadness. She was not the impertinent, teasing girl who had left. She had no tolerance for flattery, his least of all. She saw right through his easy manner and was quick to point out his inconsistencies. It seems the more she resisted the man, however, the more Count Stefano pursued her. When he could get no satisfaction with his attentions, he asked Mr. Bennet’s permission to court her, even without Lizzy’s consent.”
“Mrs. Bennet, of course, was eager to force the match, but Mr. Bennet would not make Lizzy agree to a courtship. Jane said Mr. Bennet did not trust the man; thus, he was thwarted. With Mr. Bennet’s untimely death, however, Mrs. Bennet went absolutely mad. She fretted and cried over Mr. Collins’ taking possession of Longbourn. You remember him, do you not?”
William nodded, recalling the simpering idiot his aunt had named as her rector.
“I suppose she was right in that regard. That worm barely waited until Mr. Bennet was cold in his grave before he appeared to claim his inheritance. He said Lady Catherine de Bourgh encouraged him to immediately take what was rightfully his.”
William stood and began to pace, clenching and unclenching his fists, livid that his aunt had interfered so cruelly. “Vicious woman!”
Witnessing William’s ire, Charles swallowed a large lump in his throat to continue. “After that, Mrs. Bennet would not cease lamenting that if Lizzy had performed her duty and married Mr. Collins, they would not have found themselves in such a quandary. Jane tried to point out that she, too, could have married Collins, but Mrs. Bennet would not hear of it. She said Jane was too beautiful for him, and that she was destined for a rich man, but that Lizzy should have been sensible.”
Charles shook his head in wonder. “It could have been my Jane forced into a loveless marriage with either of those... I should never have left.” Unspoken was the fact that William was largely responsible for the departure that left the Bennets so vulnerable. Lost in unpleasant memories for the moment, Charles rose and walked over to stare into the darkness outside, trying to compose himself.
“Jane says it was right after Lizzy turned down the count a second time that she disappeared.”
At this, William stopped pacing. “Disappeared?”
“Yes. Lizzy just disappeared, and suddenly Mrs. Bennet was rich, five thousand pounds richer, if her bragging is to be believed. She even began shopping for a house. Knowing all of this, Jane was almost hysterical... fearful of what might have happened to her sister.”
Charles shuddered in remembrance. “Her mother was totally unconcerned for Lizzy. It was only after Jane threatened to go in search of her, that Mrs. Bennet admitted she had given her permission for the count to marry her. She claims Lizzy consented, and they left immediately for Gretna Green. Jane says it is impossible for Lizzy to have consented, as she loathed him.”
William scowled and his face became even more sombre at the revelation that Elizabeth had been taken away against her will. It was not lost on Charles.
“I promised Jane I would do everything in my power to locate Lizzy. Right after we married, I hired a retired investigator from the Bow Street Runners, but he could find no trace of either of them. If the count was still in England, he was not in London. I had my investigator look throughout the surrounding counties, but I simply did not know where else to begin searching.” He shook his head as if remembering. Then Charles’ face hardened, and he barely resembled the amiable man William knew.
“We had just about given up, when it happened.”
William’s voice was rough with emotion. “What?”
“A man appeared at our door, carrying a letter for Jane. It happened that his aunt had worked as a housekeeper for the count.” William tried to brace himself as Charles turned away, not willing to look William in the eyes, while he lied to protect his sister.
“She informed us that Lizzy had been living near Sheffield, at an estate owned by Count Stefano—Northgate, it is called. There was some type of altercation, Lizzy was harmed and the mansion set afire. Lizzy died either from her injuries or the fire.”
William groaned and sank down onto a sofa, head in hands. “Oh, God!”
Charles moved to him, squeezing his shoulder as William continued to cradle his head in his hands, shaking visibly.
“We retrieved the body and buried Lizzy here in the churchyard, next to her father.” William barely nodded, still hiding his face in his hands.
“I... I will leave you to your grief.” Charles walked over to the door and looked back to see him in the same position.
Time will reveal the truth of the situation. Did Darcy love Lizzy? Does he still? Not sure he was doing the right thing, Charles left William alone.
That night William finished the rest of the bottle of brandy and finally fell into a fitful sleep, lying on the sofa. Nightmares of Lizzy raced through his troubled mind, and he awoke frequently with tears in his eyes. Finding himself wide awake just before dawn, he struggled to his room to change clothes. He had to see her grave, or he would never accept she was gone.
Thus, the first rays of daylight found him walking through the mist hovering near the ground as he made his way to the stables.
~~~*~~~
John Williamson resided in a cottage behind the Meryton church he had served as vicar for forty years before his retirement. The present vicar, Mr. Clary, had a large family and needed a bigger house, so he lived in town. Mr. Williamson, in addition to filling in for Mr. Clary when the need arose, kept watch over the building and grounds in exchange for being allowed to stay in the smaller house. He dearly loved living near the church where he preached his first sermon and where his dear wife, sister and parents rested in the cemetery beyond.
As was his habit, he rose before dawn to go into the church to pray. He found he was disturbed in his morning prayers less often at that hour, since so many of his parishioners still stopped by the cottage to talk with him if they had a need or were just in the neighbourhood. Mr. Clary was not jealous of his relationship with the parishioners, and frankly, was glad for his assistance. With the growing number of people in the parish, his help was gratefully accepted.
On this particular morning, the sky was still quite dark. Streaks of orange, red and purple were just beginning to appear on the horizon, and Mr. Williamson shivered a little in the chilly air. As happened every morning, the mist rose like a fog from the ground, hiding his shoes as he came down his front steps. Swiftly making his way around to the front of the chapel, he could barely discern the outline of a horse tethered to a tree on the opposite side, near the cemetery. Unused to anyone being about at this hour, he walked toward the animal, hoping to find the rider. As he drew nearer, he heard an anguished cry coming from somewhere in the cemetery. It sounded so distraught that he wondered if he could be of help and thus moved in that direction.
Daylight now began to illuminate the headstones, and he carefully picked his way back to the corner where someone knelt near one of the newer graves. Just recently a stone had been set, engraved with a name that he knew well.
Ah, he is visiting Lizzybet ! Immediately the image of a dark-haired imp with laughing eyes made his eyes glisten with tears. How well I remember you, my sweet girl.
In his grief, the young man did not hear Mr. Williamson approach, so the old vicar stopped to observe, trying to determine when or if to intervene.
Suddenly the younger man cried out, “Oh Elizabeth! Why could you not have accepted me? I would never have let anyone harm you!”
Then he lowered his head into his hands, crying, and new tears appeared in the old vicar’s eyes as well.
He ventured softy, “She was my favourite, too.”
William jerked his head around at the sound. A tall, lanky, white-haired man with kindly brown eyes stood behind him. Turning back around swiftly, he began wiping his eyes self-consciously.
“Do not mind me, son. Cry all you want—she is worthy of your tears. I have cried for months, ever since I was notified of her death. Lizzybet was a great pal of mine.”
William got to his feet, brushed the dirt from his knees and turned to face the man. His voice was barely audible. “Lizzybet?”
“That was how she pronounced her name when she was just beginning to talk.” He chuckled. “I never called her by any other.”
William whispered hoarsely, his voice quivering and tears threatening again. “You knew her well then?”
The vicar stared past him then into the darkness. “She was like my own child.” Then looking back to the man who now needed his comfort, he forced himself to continue in spite of his own pain.
“I was vicar here when she was born. I christened her. She had the prettiest chocolate curls even then. I watched her grow into a precocious child who sat in my lap and tried to read from the Bible.” Shaking his head in awe, he continued, “Later, she became quite the fearless adventurer, leading the likes of my son, John Lucas, and David Watts into battle with sticks for swords, and God forbid one of them should try to be the leader.” This elicited a small smile from William.
Then his face softened. “Before I realised, she had become a beautiful young woman. She would talk with me quite often. She asked about everything—how to sketch a man’s character, how to know you were in love. She had begun to garner attention from some of the young men, and I think she wanted a man’s perspective. She could not talk to her mother, and her father would make a joke of her concerns.” He glanced at William and saw the face of someone deeply mourning a woman.
Looking back to her grave, the vicar sighed. “I looked forward to marrying her to a man worthy of her.” They both stood silent for some time, each with his own regrets.
“After her father died, those who should have loved my Lizzybet failed her. It broke my heart when I was asked to conduct her funeral.” He shook his head as his own tears flowed unchecked. “Such a waste of a precious, delightful life.”
He looked up then to see an expression of unadulterated pain on the gentleman’s face. This man surely loved her.
“Would you care to have a cup of tea? If you do, I could tell you how she talked Charlotte and Jane into helping her to christen a cat and ended up wrecking the altar right before Easter.”
William could not hold back a little chuckle, though tears still slid down his face.
The elderly man put an arm around the younger man’s shoulder, and they walked together towards the cottage. “Perhaps you would like to hear about the time the green snake she caught just that morning, waited until my sermon to crawl out of her pocket and onto Frances Bennet’s lap? I thought quickly and asked her to bring the snake up front—not lying, mind you—but letting everyone assume I asked her to bring it to church as an illustration for my message. I promptly changed my sermon to expound on that deceitful snake, Satan.”
The vicar laughed wholeheartedly now and felt William take a shaky breath, then shudder as it was released. Morning prayers could wait. Ministering to the suffering took precedence this morning.
~~~*~~~