Page 20 of Secrets Across the Sea
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 10
Lady Charmane? There were voices in her study. At last she would be able to speak with her. All she had to do was wait until the person she was with left, then catch her unawares. Passageways or no, she would not be expecting her this time.
“Not everything has to do with your precious Wrotham Park,” the sharp voice of Miss Bingley growled. “That place, however much an eyesore, is hardly worth discussion, not when the very position of our family is at stake!”
“Whatever do you mean?” Mr. Bingley questioned, his tone irritated in the extreme.
Pressing herself to the wall beside the study door, Elizabeth waited, her heart pounding as she listened for any signs of Lady Charmane.
“As much a fool as ever, I see. How you can be friends with Mr. Darcy I do not know. We are trying to raise ourselves, not sink lower! He, and his sisters for that matter, are worse than I can describe with any equanimity. YOU have heard the rumours yourself; his father, and his grandfather, were both traitors! Society may nearly have accepted Mr. Darcy and his sisters last year, but not now. Not with America’s insulting behavior regarding this war. He might as well be in trade! No. If you see him outside of gatherings such as these… if you invite him into our home… then I promise you, I shall go live with our sister and no longer oversee your household!”
“Capital!” Bingley cried. “I shall invite him at once, and see him whenever I damn well please! Honestly, Caroline, I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom. Even if the rumours are true, HE is neither his father nor his grandfather. You DO recall how our father made his fortune?”
“How dare you use such language in my presence!”
“How dare I? You insult my good friend, his sisters, and any other number of his relations. You even insult our own father with your contempt for trade,” he growled. “Live with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst; I admit with full shame, I know not what to do with you.”
Giving the hall a furtive glance, Elizabeth slowly backed away from that portion of the space, choosing instead to compose herself in the nearby library.
Utterly absurd. Mr. Bingley’s sister? Mr. Thomson’s vitriol made sense, the man had a streak of cruelty in him. Miss Bingley? She was sister to one of the kindest men.
True, it had been obvious from the first moments of her arrival that she was nothing akin to her brother… but this? Vicious and… and prepared to tear a man, a gentleman, down. One who ranked above her even with his ties to America. That could not be understood.
Floundering as she turned into the library, Elizabeth gasped at the sight of Mr. Darcy, his own eyes wide as he looked between her and the wall beside him. Had he somehow heard what she had? She dearly hoped not, even though Mr. Bingley had been loyal in his response.
“Have you been here long?” she asked awkwardly as she moved toward him; the voices of the Bingleys suddenly audible once more as she reached his side.
He had heard.
“I have,” he mumbled as he lifted the book he held; the final screech of Miss Bingley fading. “You heard that as well, did you not,” he added several moments after the silence took hold. A statement, not a question. He knew she had heard. Her expression told all.
Nodding, she smiled softly, “Mr. Bingley was a marvel, was he not? I never would have thought he would send his sister packing, did you?”
“Not overly. Not after seeing her throw her slippers at him the other day,” he chuckled uncomfortably.
“She chucked her slippers at him?”
“And one hit its mark. Quite soundly, I must say.” Turning to slide the book into its place, he sighed. “Look, Miss Elizabeth. I can only say how sorry I am that you had to hear that. That you would know the depth of my shame… I speak to you openly, knowing you would do nothing to harm my sisters or I. Knowing you deserve the truth.”
“You do not have to,” she said softly. “As much as I would like to know all about you, it can wait, if you wish. I can wait.”
“I thank you, but it needs to be said.” Leaning heavily against the wall of books, he continued, “My father and grandfather acted much as the rumours say; each actively supported America. For my grandfather, this meant serving as a spy against this nation. For my father, with the war ended, his actions were far less extreme, merely serving that land by being a good steward of what he had. His love of my mother and of their time together here helped ease his leanings. Indeed, their happy days in London and Pemberley, which is the Darcy estate, left a kinder view of this nation; enough to send me to several schools here.” Meeting her eyes, his face softened. “I… as much as I did love America, this nation has been my home for more years than not; after my parents died, I brought my sisters here to enjoy this place and to be near our family. No one believes, or rather, few believe I might live here and be loyal to this nation, but I am. I see both sides of this war, like Lord Brayburn, if you can believe it–me, who has been at war with the Ton after being all but shunned in London, having the same views as an earl. Absurd. It must be.”
“Must it?” Elizabeth asked as she gazed up at him. “A title does not make a man; not where it matters. It is character. The same is true for those without. You are more than the Ton know. Do not let a few lords and ladies who are as immovable in their opinions as they are wrong, damage how you see yourself.”
“What of the legacy of my father and his father before him?” Mr. Darcy frowned, his head lowered. “My own actions I can shape as integrity and fairness demand; I cannot alter the past, nor the actions of those who have gone before me.”
Hands clenched at her sides before her heart took leave of her head, she laid a hand upon his arm, his face meeting hers as she answered, “Wrong or right, they have lived their lives. It is up to you to live yours. To determine the sort of man you wish to be. I cannot lie to you, there are those whose opinions of you and your family may never waver for good or ill… but I cannot believe that all will be so unchanging.” Huffing, Elizabeth allowed a sad chuckle, “This war cannot go on forever, and when it ends, no matter who wins or loses, in time people may forget. Some did before. And, as with Lord Brayburn, not all see this as we are right and they are wrong, with no room in between for folly on both sides. No one is perfect… a bit of folly is part and parcel for us all.”
“Surely not for you?” Mr. Darcy teased, his hand coming to rest on hers where she had allowed it to linger unrepentantly.
“A small bit of folly makes life interesting,” she smiled, her face warming as she held his gaze. “Without it, I could prove rather dull.”
“Never dull,” he argued, his tone deep as his lips curled. “Not to me. Though a bit of folly, as you say, can be compelling. That fact, given my own follies, is truly welcome.”
“And what follies are those?” Elizabeth laughed.
“Of falling for a woman too far above me,” he answered stoically, his eyes boring into hers.
Did he mean… her? She was no fool, she had noticed his interest; but love? So soon? For that must be what he meant. That he loved her. And she? Oh, what a question. Pathetic really, for the answer had been plain to see to her and her sisters. She loved him already. Not as deep or unending as she might expect as years came and went… but far deeper than she ought to.
Squeezing his arm tighter, she grinned up at him, preparing to bare all her feelings; well, most of them. Worries about deserting her sisters should he, in time, ask her to marry him… sadness at the breaking up of the tight-knit family she had known with them… concern over what Father’s opinion would be… Those concerns could wait.
“Mr. Darcy,” she began, eyes bright as she held his gaze, “I…”
“My, the library is cozy, is it not?” Mr. Thomson asked as he entered the room; Elizabeth’s hand still held between Mr. Darcy’s and his coat sleeve.
“Have you found that book you insist I must read?” Miss Edmund asked from somewhere down the hall. “I cannot endure this dullness a moment longer.”
“No, but I believe I have found something of great interest,” he called out as Mr. Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. “An assignation between the daughter of the landed gentry and a traitorous snake!”
“Traitor? You lay such unfounded claims rather swiftly do you not?” Elizabeth fumed, her shoulders pulled back and head high as she turned to face him. “As to our being in the library, with the door open, well, if you call that an assignation, then you have a rather vivid imagination. There has been no wrong. He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman’s daughter, so far we are equal. If you find either of our presence offensive, you may feel free to leave. I am certain our hostess would not mind.”
“Offensive? No, I could never find your presence offensive, Miss Elizabeth,” he answered, leaning toward her as he glanced over her form before returning to her eyes.
Swallowing as she resisted the urge to back away, Elizabeth met the man’s slimy gaze. She would not be cowed.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy interjected as he moved between her and Mr. Thomson. “Would you care to find your sisters and determine if they might wish to join us on a walk? The freshness of the outdoors would be a welcome change; the air in here is rather foul.”
“Indeed,” she said as Miss Edmund at last entered the room, the woman’s expression wide with confusion as she observed them.
Taking Mr. Darcy’s proffered arm, Elizabeth sought to keep her head held high as they passed Mr. Thomson, the man’s leer causing a great pit in her stomach. That was one man she would never wish to be alone with.
“Are you alright?” Mr. Darcy whispered as they made their way toward the stairs. “I can always engage him in fisticuffs if you like? Believe me, such an activity would bring me a great deal of pleasure.”
A relieved chuckle escaping, she shook her head. “No. Not now in any case; though, I fear my opinion might change before this house party is over.”
“Given his character, I fear half the household wish to see him humbled. Staff included I should not wonder.” Frowning as they took the stairs, he added, “Though I doubt they wish it as greatly as I.”
“Or I, if truth be told,” she admitted. “That man is akin to a villain in those gothic novels my sister Lydia is always reading–hateful, vain, and overconfident. Though I admit it is unlikely he has committed all of the foul deeds of those wretched characters.”
“Though some he surely has,” Mr. Darcy said as they came to stand on the landing. “Moral crimes if no others.”
Eyes drifting in the direction of the library below, she frowned. “Unfortunately, you may be correct. One can only hope some hidden kindness resides in him; Jane would be disappointed otherwise, for she dearly loves to find goodness in all. Well, I suppose I ought to find my sisters and see if they are inclined for that walk you spoke of.”
“Shall I ask my cousin and… and Bingley then?” he asked, a painful attempt at a smile forming at the mention of Bingley’s name.
Nodding she laid a hand on his arm once more. “Remember, that he stood by you. Even in face of his sister! Such a loyal friend would not wish to see you distressed at her words–words which he did not share.” Smirking, she gave his arm a light squeeze before letting go. “Besides which, Mr. Bingley and my sister would be disappointed should they not have another excuse to be in each other's company.”
“That they would,” he chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as they moved down the hall in search of them.
Chin dipping, Elizabeth felt her cheeks warming as she considered the man beside her. Intelligent. Handsome. Kind. Witty. He… he appeared as perfect as any man might. Or rather, as perfect for her as any man might; those flaws she had witnessed now understood. Easily forgivable.
Thoughts returning to those moments before Mr. Thomson’s arrival, a small smile formed. He had all but admitted he loved her. ‘Of falling for a woman too far above me.’ The way his eyes had fixed on her as he said it, there could be no doubt.
She had not had a moment to answer him though. Perhaps she ought to now?
Gaze turning to Mr. Darcy, she let out a small sigh as he began to speak, “We have the answer to your puzzle regarding Lady Charmane, it would seem.”
Horrid timing.
Stilling in front of the guest rooms he knocked before facing her in full. “You and your sisters must have been correct about there being a hidden space or passage; how else did the voices of Bingley and his sister travel between the two rooms? It explains everything with Lady Charmane as well.”
Her eyes widening as she recalled the strangeness of the sound, she gave a murmur of agreement. How had she forgotten that? Very easily, it would seem. What with Miss Bingley’s horrid words regarding Mr. Darcy, his tale of his family and of what had happened in London… not to mention his declaration of affection and Mr. Thomson’s unwelcomed arrival. It was no wonder she had forgotten.
Mr. Darcy’s declaration would have been enough to turn her head. Very much enough.
“Darcy?” Colonel Fitzwilliam questioned as he opened the door in his stockinged feet. “Miss Elizabeth? Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” Mr. Darcy said quickly. “We thought you, Bingley, and Miss Elizabeth’s sisters might wish to join us on a walk?”
Face brightening, the Colonel turned, a pair of boots in hand before Elizabeth could even blink.
“Of course,” he answered as he shoved a boot on. “Give me but a minute and I shall be ready.”
“It is no rush,” Mr. Darcy said, a soft snigger hidden as he observed his cousin. “We have not even asked the others yet.”
Lips thinning, the Colonel studied Mr. Darcy seriously.
“I see. Well, I shall be ready in a minute all the same. Meet you in the hall, shall I?” And with that he closed his door, Mr. Darcy’s laughter growing as they went to ask the others.
In no more than ten minutes each of their party had donned their winter garb and, as one delighted group, hurried down the long hall, stairs, another hall, and through the front door.
The crisp chill invigorating, they made their way around the house at a leisurely pace, the staff having kept the paths nearest the house well cleared of snow. Out in front of their small group, the Colonel and Mary spoke softly and often, sweet looks and laughter the welcome result. Behind them strolled another couple–though as attentive to Jane as ever, Mr. Bingley remained unnaturally quiet and subdued, his gaze, when not fixed on her, making its way to Mr. Darcy, until, after some few minutes, Mr. Darcy would bear the scrutiny no longer.
“I take it your sister will be leaving?” Mr. Darcy questioned as he and Elizabeth drew alongside.
“How could you?”
“Miss Elizabeth and I happened to hear–the library and study are… connected. As the ladies suggested, there is likely a passageway tucked away; if one stands in just the right place, all manner of sounds can pass through.”
“I,” Mr. Bingley gulped, his forehead pinched as he viewed his friend sadly. “I can only say how sorry I am, truly, for her foolish words. I promise, she shall be gone tonight if possible, tomorrow at the latest.”
“Think nothing of it; your sister is her own person, no one could form her otherwise.” Shaking his head, he smiled incredulously. “One peculiarity I have noticed is that tendency to connect the misconduct of one to near and even distant relations… not that views of that nature have not found root the world over–even America–still, this nation of ours, at times, gives that stance far too great a standing.”
“It does not affect men too greatly,” Jane remarked, her gaze turning up to Mr. Bingley tenderly, “In this instance, I suspect that is a thing to be grateful for–I, for one, would not wish anything your sister has, or may yet do, to be a burden to you more than it has to. Still, I know I am equally grateful for my own family of well-behaved sisters. I cannot imagine the ruin of one being the ruin of all.”
Frowning, she viewed Elizabeth, “Remember that family just north of Meryton; three sisters from a respectable family, until the eldest faced that scandal and ran off? Those two who remained at home were all but shunned, though they had done no wrong. A sad thing, that was, that the hopes of all were dashed. Only the younger has since married–to a farmer in Scotland. I fear the other might not be as fortunate, though she ought to have been. Her young man should have stood by her.”
“That he should have,” Elizabeth agreed, her sister’s face turned down to the path and the snow. “I find such unsteadiness of character difficult to pardon. For months he courted her, then when the scandal surrounding her sister became public knowledge, he fled to London one night–much as a thief–with no word even left.”
Breath pooling in the air around him, Mr. Bingley let out a near growl. “Gentlemen like that–if they can even be called gentlemen–are a disgrace. To raise the hopes of a young woman, then to dash them for any reason other than infidelity or some dark design on her part… well, it is insupportable. Nay, unfeeling, for duty and honour bind them. Were such a thing to happen, even to my sister, I do not know quite what I would do. What say you, Darcy?”
Lifting her chin to observe him, Elizabeth’s heart leapt at what she saw. Outrage. A bit of fire within his eyes. Yes. Her belief in his being a man of true honour and consistency continued to prove valid.
“I say that if it is honour which is said to be one of the highest traits a gentleman might hold, then such a man could no longer be considered a gentleman–whatever his pretense may be to the contrary. As you say, Bingley, duty and honour would bind a couple so long courting; to grovel to society when society has acted in error shows his weakness of character and ultimate cowardice. Sadly, this young man we are speaking of is far from the worst offender, for men exist who do not even claim society as an excuse for their treachery–running due to belated reappraisals, or worse still, mere selfish pleasure. Would that society might judge them harsher.”
“Too true,” Elizabeth admitted unhappily. “If society did judge such behavior more harshly, then perhaps men would be less apt to leave disappointed ladies in their wake… or at least prove a trifle more circumspect in actively courting.”
“I agree,” Jane said as they neared Mary and the Colonel. “Only a man certain he is prepared to see courtship through to its likely end ought to engage in it. For though not all courtships should end in marriage, that is the hope.”
“What is the hope?” Mary asked, a broad smile upon her face as she and the Colonel forced their attention from each other.
“Never mind,” Jane laughed. “I doubt it matters in your case.”
Resisting the urge to wrap her sisters in a hug, Elizabeth instead observed them with a smile. This trip, as with Kitty’s upcoming marriage, would upend their lives… but could that not be a good thing? If they enjoyed the bond of sisters AND the joys of courtship, marriage, and a life beyond their childhood home?
The true worry now was Lydia. Whatever would they do if they all married before she did, or before Father came home?
At least they could find a steward for Longbourn. That was easy enough, as long as they each worked to visit once or twice a year. Their sister required greater care, and a vast deal more love. She…
Whatever was she doing? Elizabeth laughed to herself, the conversation moving on in spite of her distraction. None of them save Kitty had plans to marry. Likely or not, the rest of them lacked even a proposal. It was far too soon to worry.
Her cheeks warming as she met the soft gaze of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth took in a deep, cool breath. Perhaps not too soon, come to think of it? Not at all.