Page 2 of Losing Lizzy

To say his cousin’s announcement had left Darcy momentarily thunderstruck would have been an understatement. At length, he moved a chair closer to Georgiana and sat. “Tell me this was your wish,” he said, ignoring his cousin’s very large presence in the room.

Then his sister did what he had never thought to see her do: She comforted him. “I am excessively happy with Edward. And you should know how much our cousin gave up to protect me. His career. His family. How could you ask for more in a husband for me? For more than two years, the colonel staved off each maneuver Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine placed in my path, while still serving our country. We discussed what to do: He and I decided this was best for both of us. We thought you would want both of us to be happy, and we are. Papa would have approved, William. You know he would.”

Tears had filled his eyes and hers. “You are correct. The deed is done, and I could have come home to find a complete stranger installed in my house as your husband.” He reached across the space to pat the back of her hand in reassurance. “It will simply take me a bit of time to adjust my thinking. In my mind, you were still to be my sixteen-year-old younger sister. However, now that I think upon it, you will celebrate your twentieth birthday soon. It grieves me I lost those years where you blossomed into an extraordinary young woman. I am assuming you were not permitted a Come Out.”

Georgiana shook off the idea. “I was never expected to take well anyway. You know how shy I am around new people, and, although Lady Matlock offered to bring me out, I kept telling everyone I could not think of marriage until I knew something of your fate.” Darcy had hoped his marriage to Elizabeth would have aided Georgiana’s Come Out. Elizabeth would have been more than his wife: She would have been Georgiana’s elder sister, a woman who could have guided his sister through the intricacies of Society’s many whims and provided Georgiana the confidence to shine.

Darcy looked again upon his cousin. “I have much to learn of what has occurred in my absence, but it appears I am deeper in your debt, sir.”

Georgiana motioned the colonel to sit beside her. Then she asked what Darcy knew she would. “Please. I must know what happened to you.”

Darcy provided them an accounting of his abduction and his life upon The Lost Sparro w and his escape nearly a month removed. He, naturally, omitted the parts of what he had endured, attempting to spare her the worst of his condition when he was pulled from the icy waters of the Atlantic; however, from the look upon Fitzwilliam’s countenance and the manner in which his cousin studied Darcy, he suspected the colonel had read between the lines to hold a better understanding of what occurred. Darcy did not tell either of them how his back was riddled with scars from the captain’s cat-o’-nine-tails before he gave up fighting his kidnappers and waited for his opportunity to escape. For his insolence, for a long time, he thoroughly expected his captors to kill him, but, then, he had taken a different approach. Realizing he would never be permitted on the deck until he quit “fighting” his abductors, Darcy had settled into ship life. As he had often traveled on his yacht, he knew something of sailing and maneuvering a vessel upon the open sea. Using that knowledge, he had slowly won the respect and the acceptance of many in the crew, but never that of the captain and his first mate. That is when he came to the conclusion that his being taken had been purposeful.

He was just about to ask Georgiana what she knew of Elizabeth, when Mr. Jones announced the Earl of Matlock. His lordship quickly crossed the room to catch Darcy up in a very masculine embrace, which Darcy did not return. Behind him, he heard Fitzwilliam and Georgiana rise to their feet.

“I could not believe my ears when I heard the news of your return,” the earl declared. “Permit me to look at you.” Darcy presented his uncle a look of contempt, but Matlock evidently ignored the warning by design. “You do not appear worse for the wear.”

Darcy said blandly. “I suppose are you correct if one considers I am, at least, fifty pounds lighter, my skin is so tanned from the sun, it will likely remain so for the remainder of my days, and there is not an inch of skin on my back not raised with scars.”

Georgiana gasped, and Darcy instantly regretted he had spoken so plainly before her.

“There is no reason to speak so cruelly,” the earl warned.

“I have lost nearly four years of my life,” Darcy hissed. “I returned home to learn how your and Lady Catherine’s plans for my sister overrode those of my own. You knew I would never have tolerated an alliance with the like of Lindale for Georgiana.”

Matlock shot a look of contempt to his youngest son. “My sister and I only wished to protect the Fitzwilliam family—your family.”

“Do not think I believe your motives based in genuine concern,” Darcy countered. “Your protest has problems with its reasoning: You willfully ignored what George Darcy designed for his son and daughter. Georgiana and I are Darcys,” he declared in anger.

Matlock pulled himself up to his full height. “You and Georgiana are Lady Anne Fitzwilliam’s children. You are part of my family. I take those responsibilities seriously.”

“You fool only yourself with your declarations.” Darcy was not intimidated by his uncle because Darcy’s anger and his stubbornness were natural complements derived from both his parents. “Lady Anne agreed with her husband’s estimation of the Fitzwilliam family. I was in her bedroom, at her side while she was dying. My mother begged my father to see that Georgiana and I were protected from the earldom.” He glanced to his sister for permission to continue, and she lifted her chin in a beautiful act of defiance, one he had missed while away at sea. He continued, “Although I have always been grateful for your patronage, I have spent twenty years of my life without my mother’s influence, and Georgiana does not recall one day with Lady Anne. Her memories of our mother are all borrowed from those who knew your younger sister. Therefore, we are Darcys, and my father had distinct plans for both of us.”

“Such as your marrying that woman from Hertfordshire?” the earl accused. “You cannot tell me George Darcy would have approved of that woman or her family.”

Darcy growled, “ That woma n would have been the greatest gift I could ever have known. My parents would have adored her, for the lady made me happy. I would advise you to keep your opinion of Miss Elizabeth Bennet to yourself.”

“Well, I see I am no longer welcomed in my sister’s house.” Matlock glanced about the room as if waiting for someone to deny his assumption, but no one did. Therefore, the earl turned his disapprobation on Fitzwilliam. “I pray you will not deny your mother the pleasure of knowing her first grandchild.”

“The countess will be made aware of when Mrs. Fitzwilliam is to deliver,” Fitzwilliam said evenly. “My wife and I have discussed it. We would wish the countess present.”

“But not the rest of the family?” the earl accused.

“Although my mother would never wish another bride upon me, for she has always adored Georgiana, the countess has readily admitted she had hoped for a different outcome for both of us.” Fitzwilliam reached for Georgiana’s hand, which Darcy’s sister readily provided, a telling sign of Georgiana’s tender feelings for her husband. Darcy’s acceptance of their marriage took root. “I love my wife, but I am grieved that she never had a Season—never knew the time when the world could look upon her and discover her brilliant talents and her kind spirit, and all because of the manipulations of my family.”

Georgiana looked lovingly on her husband and spoke with equal clarity. “From the time I was fifteen, my greatest wish was to be the colonel’s wife,” she said softly, a slight blush marking her cheeks. “Yet, it grieves me he had to abandon his military career to save me in my brother’s absence from those who professed to love me. To save me from the people who should have thought to protect me. From those who should have consulted me on how I viewed my future. My father chose wisely when he named Fitzwilliam, along with Darcy, as my guardians, Perhaps, he suspected what was to come. And although I doubt he thought we would become husband and wife, I like to think he would have approved if we had had the opportunity to ask his permission. Unfortunately, we will never know George Darcy’s thoughts on the matter. I pray he would not know disappointment in his daughter’s choice.”

Darcy smiled at the pair. Though he had not been happy to learn that Georgiana had lost so much while he had been imprisoned on The Lost Sparro w , he said, “In my humble opinion, it was as if George Darcy had anticipated what others would plan for his daughter’s future and chose a man of honor to protect her when I could not.”

Matlock scowled at them all. “Then I will take my leave. I know when I am not welcome in a household. Inform me when you come to your senses, Darcy, and understand I acted to protect the family.” With that, he was gone.

Darcy, his cousin, and Georgiana remained silent until they heard the front door slam into place. As Georgiana turned into her husband’s ready embrace, Darcy crossed to pull the bell cord. “Do you know how to reach Mr. Thacker, Jasper, and Samuels?” he asked without turning to look upon the Fitzwilliams’ intimate pose. He knew it would make him sad to view Georgiana, so like a lady, instead of the young girl he had left behind, and to think it should be he and Elizabeth seeking comfort in each other’s arms.

When Darcy finally turned around, Fitzwilliam appeared confused. “Jasper and Samuels traveled with us from Pemberley. They are below stairs. As to Mr. Thacker, I imagine the information is in your ledger. I understand he took another position, one of less standing. Your secretary handled many of the details in those early days of our searching for you. Why is this so important?”

Darcy did not have an opportunity to explain before Mr. Jones stepped into the room. “You rang, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy turned his full anger upon the man. “Yes, Jones. I want you and the two new footmen out of my house within an hour. Otherwise, I will summon the magistrate and have you forcibly removed.”

“Pardon?” the butler asked in flustered tones.

“I will explain once more so you are not mistaken of my intent: You and the two footmen have been dismissed with no letters of reference, that is, unless you can convince Lord Matlock to provide one, for you are, obviously, more dedicated to his patronage than you are to the Darcys’ interests. I will have no one in my employ who is not loyal to me and my family. There was no means for the earl to learn so quickly of my return without someone within this household sending him word. Whether that person was you or someone you oversee, Darcy business has no place on the lips of Society. Your services are no longer required in my home.”

* * *

Elizabeth Bennet took another sip of her tea. As she had always done, she had risen shortly after sunrise—only now she prepared her own cup of tea and hot rolls on a new wood-burning stove she had yet to master, rather than grabbing two rolls from the work table in Longbourn’s kitchen before she headed outside for a walk about Hertfordshire’s countryside. She sighed heavily: She missed her Longbourn family more than she could express in words. “However, this existence is more than I deserved. Papa.” Tears stung her eyes as she recalled her most devoted parent. “Papa fought for me—stood up to all the naysayers and demanded retribution for Mr. Darcy’s snub.”

Her daily dose of self-pity played out before her closed eyes. She offered up her arguments from long ago on that fateful day and attempted to bolster them with her complete feeling of abandonment. However, a flicker of hope always grew in her chest as she remembered those early days after her being left at the altar.

She and Mr. Darcy were to have married early on Monday morning, and although Mr. Darcy had not returned on Saturday evening as he had promised, she had simply assumed his business had run longer than he expected. Then Sunday, for her, had been a day filled with her mother’s fluttering nerves, as well as details of the wedding breakfast and final fittings of her wedding dress. Realizing Mr. Darcy would not travel on the Sabbath, she assumed he would leave London at the crack of dawn on Monday morning. Their wedding was not scheduled until half past eleven, and he would have had plenty of time to arrive and be at the church before they were to exchange their vows.

Afterwards, she had chastised herself for believing a man of Mr. Darcy’s consequence could truly love a woman of simple tastes and sharp opinions. “Yet, was it necessary for the man to destroy my whole life because of my earlier rebuke?”

As quickly as Elizabeth said the words, she knew them false. Her whole life had not known destruction. In many ways, her current life was superior to anything she had ever anticipated. “Except the man who owned your heart did not love you in return,” she whispered.

Images of the day that changed everything flashed before her eyes. If she were honest with herself, and, generally, she was, she knew when she woke on her wedding day that it would prove to be doomed. She had felt it in her bones; however, she had put her qualms aside, blaming her nerves for her unease, and permitted herself to be carried away by Jane’s and their mother’s enthusiasm, even though she was aware Mr. Darcy had not returned to Netherfield by supper on Sunday evening. Yet, how could she believe he would not come at all, especially after the evening they had spent together only five days prior? How could she believe he would abandon her? Had she not witnessed the love in his eyes when she had submitted to the desire coursing through both of them?

“Lust,” she whispered in contempt, giving herself time to bolster up her pride once again—to place the blame on his shoulders, as well as her own. “Nothing more. Simply lust and deceit.” She sucked in a deep breath, admitting reluctantly, if only to herself, there had been more between her and Mr. Darcy than simple desire. On her part, it had been love, and, deep down, she, despite her wish to despise him, knew he had not been unmoved by what had occurred between them. “Could it be as others have said? Could it be he truly did his best to return to me?”

In those early hours following her being left at the altar, pure chaos had taken over Longbourn and Netherfield. Although Mr. Bingley, obviously, wished a different course, the gentleman, who appeared equally incensed by his friend’s actions, as was her family, performed honorably by offering Elizabeth his hand in marriage, in order to salvage Elizabeth’s reputation. Most assuredly, she could not think to accept a man who adored her sister Jane, simply to save her, a person Society would assuredly reject no matter what course she chose. Even though all her instincts warned her not to make a sacrifice of her life for that of her family—a decision with which her father adamantly disagreed was spoken to Netherfield’s master. She had gratefully thanked Mr. Bingley for his kind gesture, but she refused him and begged him not to turn from Jane because of what had occurred between Mr. Darcy and herself.

Unfortunately, she had been sent away before anything could be resolved regarding Bingley’s proposing to Jane, for his family had known horror when they learned of Bingley’s kindness to her and had whisked the gentleman back to London before he settled with Jane. A little less than three months after the disaster of her wedding, Elizabeth departed Hertfordshire, escorted, ironically, by Mr. Darcy’s valet, Mr. Albert Sheffield .

“Dearest Sheffield,” she murmured with a smile. “How would I ever have survived without him.”

16 January 1813

Two months to the day after she and Mr. Darcy were to have exchanged their vows, Mr. Albert Sheffield had called upon her and her father at Longbourn with a plan of his own. Her father, at first, had been skeptical, but he had listened to the gentleman because, by then, Mr. Bennet had already run the gauntlet of Mr. Darcy’s uncle, the Earl of Matlock, as well as Mr. Darcy’s man of business and solicitor for her sake.

“I have left Mr. Darcy’s employment,” Mr. Sheffield announced at the beginning of their conversation.

Her father sarcastically remarked, “You have come to your senses then. You no longer wish to work for a man of no character. I am certain Mr. Darcy is pleased with how he has ruined our family.”

Mr. Sheffield frowned then. “Mr. Darcy would never purposely have exacted harm on Miss Elizabeth. Whatever else you may believe of the man, Mr. Darcy loves your daughter with all his heart. I served the man from the time of his mother’s passing, first as his tutor and then as his valet when he left for formal schooling, until two months prior.”

Despite her continual misery, Elizabeth’s bruised heart had cherished Mr. Sheffield’s evaluation of the Derbyshire gentleman’s true feelings for her, especially as her opinions of the man had never proved so accurate as at the moment. Even so, she had wondered why, if Mr. Sheffield still admired the man, why he left Mr. Darcy’s employment. None of what occurred since that fateful day had made any sense, and she had begun again to question both her feelings for the man who had betrayed her and the reason for said betrayal.

“If Darcy loves Elizabeth,” her father had accused, drawing her from her musing, “why did he not appear at the church to exchange vows with my daughter? And why has he not personally addressed the issue of what he owes to Elizabeth, instead turning my negotiations over to his uncle? If Darcy thinks the Earl of Matlock will intimidate me, the man has made a mistake. I have known plenty of men of Matlock’s ilk in my life, and despite being only a country squire, I have never stepped aside nor permitted those full of self-pride a path through me.”

Mr. Sheffield shifted uncomfortably and appeared pained by what her father had disclosed. “I cannot say for certain what arrangements Mr. Darcy has made with Lord Matlock regarding this matter. In truth, I have not spoken to Mr. Darcy since he sent me forward to Hertfordshire in preparation for his wedding. I traveled with the party, which included Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy.”

“Was not the man at Darcy House when you three returned to London?” her father demanded.

“No, sir.”

“I believe you must provide an explanation of what occurred,” her father instructed. “This is the first I have heard of this situation. I was led to believe Mr. Darcy refused to speak to me himself.”

Mr. Sheffield pulled himself up stiffly, as if delivering a message to the King. “When the colonel, Miss Darcy, and I arrived at Darcy House, an absolute hue and cry reigned. Evidently, Mr. Darcy had not been seen for three days. In the master’s absence, Lord Matlock had released Mr. Thacker, the Darcy butler of some twenty years, for lodging objections on how the earl had conducted a search for the master. When I, too, expressed my concerns, I was ordered to leave Darcy House without a reference. Such would have been my fate if Miss Darcy and the Countess of Matlock had not intervened. However, I knew I would pay for my impertinence; therefore, I tendered my resignation.”

Unable to stifle her question, Elizabeth asked, “Do you believe Mr. Darcy met a tragic end?”

Surprisingly, Mr. Sheffield’s eyes filled with tears, triggering her own quick remorse. “I know the honor with which Mr. Darcy has always operated.” A slight blush marked his cheeks when he explained. “Although I was not intended to know of your rebukes of Mr. Darcy’s hand in Kent, the master’s many drafts of the letter he must have presented you before our departure were left to me to dispose of. I had never before thought to read any of the master’s correspondence, but I did on that occasion because I viewed the pain upon his face as he left Rosings in search of you and the great sense of loss in his stance when I encountered him that morning. I feared for him, for I had only viewed that expression two times prior with the passing of each of his parents.

“I must tell you, Miss Elizabeth, in all honesty, although I am certain such was not your intent at the time, you performed a great service to Mr. Darcy that evening. You presented my master’s world a good shake, one he had required for some time. He had become too comfortable with his consequence and was traveling down a road I had feared he would soon regret. You made him a better man, and I can say, without a doubt, if he had had to crawl on his hands and knees to stand between you and the world, he would have gladly done so.” Elizabeth instantly thought of how Mr. Darcy had arranged for Lydia’s marriage to Mr. Wickham in order to save her family’s ruination. Surely, he would not have exacted his revenge later. “Mr. Darcy would not have deserted you as long as he breathed the breath of life.”

A shudder of dread had raced down her spine. Despite the Derbyshire gentleman’s previous rejection, Elizabeth had always thought, if Mr. Darcy could be reached and informed of her current condition, he would have acted honorably. Yet, if he were dead, as Mr. Sheffield insinuated, likely, she would be truly on her own. The bottom fell out of her world, realizing, belatedly, she had always held hope Mr. Darcy would act the gentleman and make her whole again. How could she continue on without that hope? She doubted she was strong enough to face the world she would know as her future.

Her father asked, “I return to my previous question: Why have you sought us out today?”

Mr. Sheffield smiled tenderly upon her. “If Mr. Darcy has passed, Miss Elizabeth is never likely to earn true retribution from his estate. I have experienced Lord Matlock’s means of solidifying his family, and, although I realize you have done the best you can for your daughter, I am certain whatever terms you were presented are not enough to keep Miss Elizabeth from a life of penury. Mr. Darcy would not have wanted your daughter to suffer.” The gentleman cleared his throat from the emotions filling his words. “I am more fortunate than many men who choose to serve fine gentlemen, for I have been privy to many conversations between Mr. Darcy and his various men of business. Therefore, when the master thought to invest in a project, so did I, but on a lesser level. When he sold his investments, so did I. Although not of his consequence, I am a wealthy man. It would be my wish, if your daughter is willing, sir, to accept Miss Elizabeth in my household in whatever capacity she feels comfortable in assuming.”

“You are offering Elizabeth marriage?” her father asked in obvious suspicion.

Mr. Sheffield blushed in what only could be called surprise. However, he said, “If such is Miss Elizabeth’s wish, I am willing to speak my vows and live by them.”

At that point, Elizabeth had lodged her objection. “I am thankful you wish to continue your duty to Mr. Darcy by saving my reputation, but I cannot allow you to sacrifice so much. You deserve a better life than that. If you are now free to marry, it should be someone you affect.”

Seizing a rare opportunity, her father ignored her posturing. “I have negotiated a contract with Darcy’s man of business for two hundred pounds a year for the remainder of Elizabeth’s days, which is reasonable, but not enough to live on. What do you have to offer her?”

“Father!”

“Shush, Elizabeth,” Mr. Bennet had warned. “I am not speaking of marriage, if such is not your wish, but I cannot send you off to make your way into the world alone, especially if Mr. Sheffield is willing to offer you his protection. A woman on her own is too vulnerable, and our Scottish cousins have refused you under your present condition. If I cannot be there to protect you, I would wish another to do so. Your world, in its pompousness, insists I must send you away soon, so your sisters have an opportunity to someday know marriage.”

The stiffness in Mr. Sheffield’s shoulders lessened when the idea of marriage had been removed. He glanced about the book-filled room serving as her father’s study. “Much of my free time over the years has been spent with a book in my hand. If Mr. Darcy were here, he would tell you I remained in his family’s employ simply so I could have access to Pemberley’s library.” At this point, he chuckled. “The master likely had the right of it.” He folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the edge of her father’s desk. “With books and the pleasure of reading as my impetus, I have made a bid to purchase a bookshop in a seaside town of some importance. The shop does not provide a separate cottage, as I had hoped it would, but there are rooms both above the shop for sleeping and socializing with a kitchen below, as well as another room for sleeping in the rear of the building. It is not what you are accustomed to, but I am willing to offer you a home with me for as long as you require one.” He paused to smile upon her. “You may do so as my wife or as a cherished daughter who is a war widow or any other tale we wish to offer the world. I would consider it my honor to provide for you.”

Elizabeth’s tears flowed easily then. The man had been her answer to a prayer, but she could not accept his offer until he knew the full truth of her situation. “Before I agree to your kind overture, you should be made aware, sir, I am likely breeding.”

Instead of the horror she had expected upon the man’s countenance with her declaration of her condition, Mr. Sheffield’s gentle smile widened. “Mr. Darcy’s child?”

She nodded her affirmation.

“The master would have been beside himself with happiness with this news. You and the child will have the rooms above the shop for sleeping. I am accustomed to a small private room at both Darcy House and at Pemberley, and so it would be no hardship for me to remain in the lower one. You will be safer above the shop if trouble was ever to know our doors.”

It had been mid-September, 1813, before they had actually taken possession of the bookshop, for other arrangements had to be made before she could appear at Mr. Sheffield’s side as his niece.

“Uncle Albert,” Elizabeth whispered when she heard him stirring about in the extra room at the back of the store that they had converted into his bed chambers. He would join her for breakfast in a matter of minutes once he was dressed properly for the day, a special day for all of them. “My guardian angel. I would never have survived those first two years after what all the world declared to be Mr. Darcy’s death without Albert Sheffield. To everyone in town he was “Sheff,” her late mother’s younger brother, and she was Mrs. Elizabeth Dartmore, the widow of Lieutenant William Dartmore, late of the British Royal Navy.

“Mornin’, Mama,” a still-sleepy child said as she rubbed her eyes. Elizabeth quickly wiped away her tears with the heels of her hands, to set aside her maudlin until another day, when it might have full rein.

“Good morning, Lizzy. How is my birthday girl?”