Page 15 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
“Yes,” Elizabeth confirmed, her heart racing. “He left the inn on the morning of December third to secure a coach for London. He never returned.”
Lady Eleanor’s gaze fixed on Elizabeth, as if deciding her veracity. “Darcy was traveling by horseback and had no need for a coach. Although…”
Elizabeth could feel her cheeks heat. “He had graciously offered me transportation to my Uncle Gardiner’s house.”
“Ah, yes, I have heard of Edward Gardiner.” Lady Eleanor’s expression was neutral. “He called several times. I suppose he had an item of business.”
Elizabeth could wait no longer. She leaned forward, imploringly. “ Your ladyship, will you let me know how Mr. Darcy fares? How he was found?”
The woman was perceptive enough to recognize her desperation. She allowed Elizabeth to look away without holding her gaze.
“Darcy’s valet and steward returned with his carriage, reporting he had gone ahead on horseback. When he failed to arrive, a search was organized. He was eventually found at the home of a country surgeon, grievously injured.”
“Is he… well?” Elizabeth’s breath hitched, and she valiantly blinked back tears. “Was he in a lot of pain?”
“I see that you are deeply concerned. May I inquire the nature of your… acquaintance?” Eleanor’s voice was gentle.
Elizabeth swallowed through her tight throat and breathed a tiny prayer for grace. If Lady Eleanor reacted the way Lady Catherine was sure to react, she and her sister, and perhaps even Bingley, would find themselves unwelcome in Darcy’s company.
“Lady Eleanor, I believe you deserve the full truth, however improbable it may sound.”
“By all means, Miss Elizabeth. I am listening.”
“Mr. Darcy is my husband. We were married by special license on the morning of December third. It was a necessity brought about by my abandonment at the Red Lion Inn. He rescued me from ruffians and…”
“I see.” Lady Eleanor’s face remained impressively composed, though her eyes betrayed her shock. “That is indeed an extraordinary claim.”
“Yes, but do you not see why I am concerned about Darcy’s health?” Elizabeth entreated this kinder aunt. “That he know that I am well? Another coach, a respectable elderly couple, conveyed me to Gracechurch Street, but I have not heard a word from my husband.”
“That is because he is not awake,” Lady Eleanor’s voice was so low Elizabeth wasn’t sure she heard her right. “He has not been able to wake at all. Not this morning, not since he was found. ”
Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth as Lady Eleanor’s words sank in. “Not… awake?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “All this time?”
The room tilted alarmingly, colors blurring before her eyes. She reached blindly for something to steady herself, but found only air as darkness crowded the edges of her vision. The last thing she heard was Lady Eleanor’s alarmed voice calling her name.
When consciousness returned, Elizabeth felt cool dampness on her face. She blinked, disoriented, to find Lady Eleanor leaning over her, an empty glass in one hand and a handkerchief in the other.
“There you are,” Lady Eleanor said quietly, helping Elizabeth to sit up. “Take slow breaths, my dear.”
Elizabeth realized she was lying on a small settee, her bonnet removed and collar loosened. Mortification rushed through her, hot on the heels of the crushing revelation about Darcy’s condition.
“Forgive me,” she managed, her voice unsteady. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Lady Eleanor interrupted gently. She sat beside Elizabeth, her manner calm but watchful. “I should have been more careful in my disclosure.”
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her forehead, still damp from the water Lady Eleanor had evidently splashed on her face. “He has truly been unconscious since December? All this time?”
Lady Eleanor nodded gravely. “The physicians call it a coma. The blow to his head was severe.” She studied Elizabeth with keen eyes. “You understand why I have not summoned assistance? Your… claim is of a highly sensitive nature.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered, grateful for the discretion. “Thank you.”
“You truly believe yourself married to my nephew,” Lady Eleanor observed. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I know I am his wife,” Elizabeth replied, strength returning to her voice. “We spoke our vows before God and witnesses. He gave me his ring as proof of our union. ”
She withdrew the signet ring she wore on a ribbon beneath her chemise.
Lady Eleanor’s eyes widened at the sight of the heavy gold band with its distinctive crest.
“Fitzwilliam’s ring,” she breathed. “He never removes it. Never.”
“He put it on my thumb,” Elizabeth said, blinking back tears at the memory. “Told me he would give me Lady Anne’s ring once we reached Darcy House.”
Lady Eleanor reached for the ring, examining it closely. “This is genuine. But Miss Bennet, surely you must understand that a ring, however significant, is not legal proof of marriage. Anyone might claim?—”
“Anyone might claim many things,” Elizabeth interrupted, her desperation finally overriding her politeness.
“But would anyone carry the ring for months, suffering in silence while her husband lies unconscious floors above where she sits? Would anyone endure the humiliation of being dismissed as a fortune hunter when she wants nothing more than to sit by his bedside and will him back to health?”
Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and she made no attempt to stop them.
“I suppose you have a marriage license?” the lady asked, comforting. “Surely, you could produce proof.”
Elizabeth crumpled into her hands, gasping in between sobs. “My uncle failed to find the reverend. The registry page was missing, and… and it seems someone wanted to remove all evidence.”
“Who would have tampered with the parish books?” Lady Eleanor asked in amazement. “Perhaps the reverend neglected to record it, or he was called away…”
“I know how this sounds,” Elizabeth pleaded. “But please believe me. God help me, it happened, and I have been living in hell ever since he disappeared.”
Lady Eleanor handed Elizabeth a delicate lace handkerchief. “You ask me to believe you, and yet, I have never met you. There’s been talk of your family. How is it you ended up alone at a coaching inn?”
“Your nephew is the most honorable of all men. He saw a lady abandoned by her maid and footman. Alone. The innkeeper wanted me removed. A storm had come in. My reticule was taken. The hired coach gone.”
“Say no more.” Lady Eleanor sighed deeply. “Fitzwilliam, indeed, would have come to your aid. He is a true gentleman, and given the circumstances, he would have done his duty and married you. However…”
“I understand if you cannot acknowledge me,” Elizabeth said, waiting with her eyes closed, begging God that this one woman, Darcy’s mother’s twin, would have compassion. “But there might be a child.”
“I gathered as much.” Lady Eleanor rose and moved to the window, looking out at the busy street beyond. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful.
“We must be discreet. I have not yet heard rumors about your family. Other than general censure from my sister. A hubbub about a daughter who removed herself to London to escape marriage to a clergyman. I suppose I have just met that daughter.”
“Yes, I am sorry. I don’t ask for consideration or acknowledgment. I only wanted news of Mr. Darcy’s condition, and perhaps… perhaps someday, when he recovers, you might tell him that Elizabeth Bennet asked after his health.”
“Elizabeth Bennet,” Lady Eleanor repeated slowly. “Or Elizabeth Darcy?”
“I shall always be Elizabeth Darcy in my heart, whatever name the world chooses to give me.”
Eleanor returned from the window, her expression gentle. “When you spoke of my nephew, your first plea was not for your rights, nor your fortune, but for his health. That tells me more of your heart than any license or document ever could.”
“I truly care for him,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “As for his things, I have his traveling writing desk, correspondence and bills, a silk handkerchief with his initials, his shaving brush, and…”
“Incidental items,” Lady Eleanor cut her off.
“What’s important now is to maintain your reputation absent official documents.
With Darcy incapacitated and unable to defend you, you and his child will be subject to scandal.
I shall make arrangements, however, you are to repeat nothing of our conversation to anyone. ”
“I promise.”
“Very good. There is a place,” she said slowly, “in Yorkshire. A sheep farm called Bellfield Grange. It belongs to me and my twin sister. No one else, and it is managed by dear friends of my mother’s, the Dowager Matlock.”
Elizabeth waited while Eleanor’s eyes misted. After she recomposed herself, she continued, “Albert and Beatrice Honywood. I believe they are staying nearby through the coldest months. Getting on in years…”
“I’ve met them,” Elizabeth said, her heart leaping. “They were the respectable couple who brought me safely to London. How extraordinary that they should be connected to your family.”
“Indeed.” Lady Eleanor turned back to face her, and Elizabeth saw something like decision in her expression. “It appears Providence has already intervened twice in your story, Miss Bennet, or Mrs. Darcy. Perhaps it is time for a third intervention.”
“I do not understand.”
“You are clearly in delicate health,” Lady Eleanor said gently, her eyes taking in Elizabeth’s pale complexion and the way she held herself. “The winter air of London cannot be beneficial to your recovery. A stay in the Yorkshire countryside might be just what you require.”
Elizabeth stared at her, hardly daring to hope. “You would offer me sanctuary?”
“I would offer you a place to recover your strength, away from the gossips and speculation of London society. The Honywoods are excellent people who ask few questions and offer unconditional kindness. And Bellfield Grange is large enough to accommodate companions, should any of your sisters wish to join you.”