Page 29 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

“And that baby is Beth,” Kitty concluded, her voice hushed with the weight of this revelation. “She really is older than Lydia claims, because she was actually conceived from Lydia’s dalliance with Wickham, not after her marriage to Major Wallace.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Beth was born just before Christmas. She was named Elizabeth after me, though I confess I was rather surprised by the gesture.”

“But why is Lydia in London?” Kitty asked, clearly still processing the enormity of what she had learned. “Her letters claim they’re in York. Is that another falsehood?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Darcy replied. “Major Wallace’s regiment was transferred back from York to London earlier than expected, but it is too close to Longbourn and your mother is not aware of the circumstances.

As you yourself observed, Beth is clearly older than she should be, something that will be noticeable for a few more months at least.”

“The story of Beth’s birth date is plausible only if never closely examined,” Elizabeth added. “A chance meeting with someone who knew Lydia before, who might note the child’s apparent age and begin calculating dates...”

“Would risk exposing everything,” Kitty finished, her expression grave. “Poor Lydia. She must feel like a prisoner, always hiding, always afraid of being discovered.”

The compassion in Kitty’s voice touched Elizabeth deeply. There was no judgment, no shocked recrimination, only genuine concern for her sister’s difficult situation. Kitty really had grown beyond the silly, thoughtless girl she had once been.

“It is not the life she imagined for herself,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “But Major Wallace is a kind man who treats her well, and by Lydia’s own accounts she is fond of him. They have a comfortable home, security, and now a beautiful daughter. Many women have made far worse bargains.”

“And Beth will never know?” Kitty asked. “That Wickham was her real father?”

“It would serve no purpose,” Darcy replied firmly. “Wickham is dead. Major Wallace has given the child his name and treats her as his own. That is her reality, and a far better one than the alternative.”

Kitty nodded slowly, clearly still absorbing the magnitude of what she had learned. “And who else knows of this?”

“Father,” Elizabeth said, and Kitty nodded immediately, understanding.

“And you said Sir Richard Fitzwilliam found Major Wallace… does Jane know?”

“She does. And so does Georgiana. Lydia travelled from Longbourn with us after our marriage; we could not keep it from her, but she knows never to speak of it to anyone.”

“And now you know as well,” Darcy said, his expression solemn. “Which places a considerable responsibility upon you, Catherine. This secret must be kept absolutely, for Lydia’s sake, for Beth’s, and for your entire family’s standing.”

Kitty sat very straight in her chair, her expression more serious than Elizabeth had ever seen it. “I understand,” she said quietly. “I won’t betray Lydia’s secret. Not to anyone.”

The conviction in her voice was unmistakable, and Elizabeth felt a surge of pride in her sister’s evident maturity.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said simply. “I believe you understand the gravity of the situation. And I am sorry we kept this from you until now. It seemed the safest course, to limit knowledge of the truth to as few people as possible.”

“Of course I would never tell anyone,” Kitty replied with unexpected gravity. “I understand what it would mean for Lydia if the truth became known. And for Beth as well.” She hesitated, then asked softly, “Is that why her name is Elizabeth? Because of what you’ve done to help her?”

“It was her way of expressing gratitude,” Darcy said. “She knows that without intervention, her situation would have been untenable.”

Elizabeth reached across to take Kitty’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know this is a heavy burden to bear, especially unexpectedly. But I must say, Kitty, I am impressed by how you’ve received this information.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, his usual reserve softening slightly. “You have shown considerable maturity in your response.”

A faint blush coloured Kitty’s cheeks at this praise from her brother-in-law.

“Thank you. I... I’ve been trying to be more thoughtful about things.

Especially since coming to London. But poor Lydia.

I used to envy her so, her confidence and her ability to always get what she wanted.

I never imagined her life would take such a difficult turn. ”

“You’ve grown so much, Kitty,” Elizabeth said softly. “I am truly proud of the young woman you are becoming.”

Kitty’s smile in response held a new confidence, tempered by the gravity of what she had learned but nonetheless genuine. “Thank you for trusting me with the truth. I won’t let you down.”

And Elizabeth believed her completely.

Darcy excused himself to attend to some correspondence, and Elizabeth found herself alone with her sister in the comfortable library.

The serious discussion of family secrets had created an unusual intimacy between them, a shared understanding that Elizabeth was reluctant to relinquish.

She studied Kitty’s profile as her sister gazed absently at the fire, noting the thoughtful set of her features that had replaced the petulant expression once so familiar.

Perhaps this new closeness offered an opportunity to broach another subject Elizabeth had been curious about.

“Lord Shandly has been quite attentive these past weeks,” Elizabeth began carefully.

Kitty’s cheeks coloured slightly, though her expression remained composed. “He is very entertaining company.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed with a small smile. “His tales of adventure abroad are certainly most diverting.”

“You think he exaggerates,” Kitty said, not a question but a statement of fact. She turned to face Elizabeth directly, a small smile on her lips. “I know he does, actually. Some of his stories are so absurd they cannot possibly be true.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this frank admission. “Yet you appear to enjoy his company regardless.”

“I do,” Kitty acknowledged, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her skirt.

“There is something... refreshing about his enthusiasm. Even when he is clearly embellishing the truth, he does so with such commitment that one cannot help but be entertained. It is rather like reading a marvellous novel, with a new surprise on every page.”

“And is entertainment all you seek from his company?” Elizabeth asked gently.

Kitty was silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Not entirely,” she admitted finally. “Though I confess it was what first drew me to him. But there is more to Lord Shandly than his theatrical stories and fashionable appearance.”

Elizabeth settled more comfortably in her chair, genuinely curious now. “Tell me about this other side of the viscount that the rest of us rarely see.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Kitty said slowly.

“He presents himself as this grand figure, always performing for an audience, always conscious of how he appears to others. But occasionally, when he does not realise he is being observed, or when something genuinely moves him...” She paused, searching for the right words.

“There is a different person beneath all that careful presentation. Someone more genuine.”

“And you have glimpsed this person?” Elizabeth prompted, when Kitty fell silent.

“Yes,” Kitty nodded, her expression softening with the memory.

“Today, for instance, after we encountered Lydia. He could see I was distressed, though he did not know the cause. Most gentlemen would have continued their prepared conversation or perhaps asked intrusive questions. Lord Shandly did neither. He simply... allowed me my thoughts, offered his assistance if needed, and then resumed his stories when he sensed I preferred distraction to discussion.”

Elizabeth considered this thoughtfully. Such nuanced behaviour suggested a sensitivity she had not previously attributed to the flamboyant viscount. “That does show consideration for your feelings rather than merely his own entertainment.”

“And there was another occasion,” Kitty continued, warming to her subject now that she encountered no judgment from Elizabeth.

“At Lady Ashburton’s ball, when that dreadful Mrs. Pemberton made those cutting remarks about Anne’s lack of accomplishments.

Most of the company pretended not to hear, as people so often do when someone says something unkind in a polite setting. ”

“I remember,” Elizabeth said, recalling her own irritation at the insult. “She said something about Anne being nothing more than ‘an ornament to Rosings’ or some such nonsense. I was astonished at how loudly she spoke, as though she wanted everyone to hear.”

“Exactly,” Kitty said with a nod. “Anne was sitting right there, though she didn’t seem to fully understand the slight. Lady Matlock was across the room; if she had overheard, I am sure Mrs. Pemberton would have been silenced at once. But it was Lord Shandly who stepped in.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Lord Shandly? What did he do?”

“He did something quite clever,” Kitty said, a note of admiration entering her voice.

“He strolled up to Mrs. Pemberton with this air of exaggerated delight, as if she were the most fascinating person in the room. And then he began praising her conversational skills; how she could so effortlessly turn the most mundane topic into a source of ‘riveting insight.’”

Elizabeth frowned slightly, not yet seeing how this constituted defending Anne.

“But then,” Kitty continued, a small smile tugging at her lips, “he started asking her opinion on all manner of accomplishments! Painting, embroidery, poetry, even equestrianism. He insisted that someone with such strong views on what others ought to achieve must surely excel in these areas herself. And he did it all while acting as though he were utterly in awe of her expertise.”