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Chapter Twenty-Two

November 27, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

S he ignored the informality; it felt strangely right to hear Mr. Bingley use her given name so freely.

“I have seen that before,” Mr. Bingley said, once he had regained his composure. “Aunt Amelia wore it nearly every day. It was a gift from her mother-in-law, the only Montrose who would speak with her husband after the…their marriage. I understand that, though Viscount Marston kept his distance, he disapproved of his father’s harshness and sought to remain in contact with his Montrose family through his mother.”

“Is it a brooch then?” Elizabeth asked. “I confess, it has puzzled me exceedingly. See the hinges there? And yet there is a clasp on the back.”

“I cannot say. Though I recall Mrs. Montrose wearing it, I do not remember whether she wore it as a brooch or something more. The crest, though, is unmistakable. Mr. Montrose kept a coat of arms in his study—a reminder, he called it, of where he came from, and that being born to privilege did not ensure kindness.” Mr. Bingley smiled faintly.

“And now we come to the crux of the matter,” Papa said, leaning forward. “Mr. Bingley informed Mr. Darcy that you have family living; a grandmother who, from the name I was given, is a member of the peerage. It may be, Lizzy, that your hand is no longer mine to give.”

“The Dowager Countess Lady Maude Montrose, wife of the late Arthur Montrose, Earl of Montrose.” Darcy spoke matter-of-factly, his features devoid of expression. “Bingley says she has been searching for you.”

“The choice is yours, my dear. If you wish to pursue this hidden chapter of your life, I shall stand by your decision. I only ask that you not forget your old papa and the family you have here.” His eyes appeared damp, and he turned away, patting his pocket in search of a handkerchief.

Elizabeth did not know what to say. She remained silent, weighing each thought as she began to tally the advantages and drawbacks of meeting this unknown paternal grandmother. A part of her longed to meet her. Through her, she might learn who she had been before becoming Elizabeth Bennet. “If I were to pursue knowledge,” she began, “how would we proceed?”

“We have not yet settled on a plan,” Mr. Darcy said. “I suppose with Miss Bennet soon to marry, you might accompany her to town to purchase her wedding clothes.”

“That is an idea, her father agreed. You could stay with the Gardiners. They are coming in December for Christmas. I shall write to your uncle Gardiner directly, informing him of our discovery and asking that he make discreet inquiries.” He paused, his eyes meeting his daughter’s. “I should like to have one more Christmas with my girls,” he added quietly.

“Miss Bennet—Jane—and I have not spoken of a date for our wedding, though I imagine it will be March before we say our vows.” Mr. Bingely smiled. No doubt his thoughts had turned to his betrothed, who waited for them in the other room.

“And what of my own betrothal?” she asked. “What does this mean for us?”

Darcy moved to kneel beside her. “As far as I am concerned, we will be man and wife—the only question is timing.” I do not think your grandmother will have any cause to object to our match. Marston Hall lies not far from Pemberley. She will be pleased to have you so near, I am certain. Still, it may be prudent to keep our happy news quiet for now.”

Elizabeth gazed adoringly into his eyes, her heart full. “That sounds delightful,” she murmured.

Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. “I propose we depart before Twelfth Night. Bingley, have you any acquaintance with Lady Montrose?”

“I have never met her, but my father did. I can use that as a pretext to request an audience.” Bingley nodded with resolve. "It is not an easy subject. I can only hope she will."

Darcy nodded and rose. “Then we have our course. We shall depart for London after Christmas. The ladies will stay with the Gardiners, pending their invitation and permission. Bingley will arrange for an introduction between Elizabeth and her grandmother.”

“And once the introduction has been made?” Elizabeth asked. “What if she will not allow me to see anyone I love again?” Her voice trembled, and panic crept in at the thought.

“We shall address that if it ever comes to pass,” Darcy assured her. “From all I have heard, Lady Montrose is known for fairness and good sense.”

Feeling a little of the tightness in her chest ease, she nodded.

“Off with you, now,” Mr. Bennet waved his hand at them dismissively. “No doubt Jane wonders what is keeping you, Bingley. As for you two,” giving the newly engaged couple another pointed look, you may walk out in the garden. I dare say Lizzy is in more need of fresh air to restore her spirits than my delightful company.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth rose and carefully placed her treasures back into the chest. In haste, she carried it to her chambers, secreting it once more beneath the bed frame. Only as she fastened her pelisse did she realize she might show the drawings from her dreams to Mr. Bingley. Perhaps he could say whether they were memories or mere imaginings.

Joining Darcy at the front door, she took his hand and led him outside to the small wilderness that bordered Longbourn’s gardens. They walked to the farthest wall and settled upon an intricately carved bench beneath the wide, bare branches of an old oak tree.

“How do you feel, my love?” Darcy wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into his chest, relishing the sense of security she felt in his embrace. “You have had quite an upheaval today.”

“I hardly know what I ought to feel,” she admitted. “I suppose I should be grateful that the mystery surrounding my abandonment has, at least in part, been solved. Yet I have some trepidation, for Mr. Bingley said the culprit was never found. Ought I to fear for my life?”

“It is more likely that the assailant, whoever he was, is long gone.” He ran his hand slowly up and down her arm. “We may never learn his motives, or what drove him to descend to such cruelty.”

“The whole affair is dreadful. Though Mr. Bingley did not linger on the details, I could see that it weighed heavily upon him.”

“He once confided in me…he was the one that found your father. That would be distressing for any man, but Bingley was only twelve-years-old at the time.”

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. “Poor Mr. Bingley,” she whispered. “No wonder he seemed so deeply affected. And yet he spoke of it only with concern for me. I cannot begin to imagine the horror of such a discovery.” She paused, then added quietly, “I hope I shall find a way to express to him what that means to me—that he carried the burden of such a memory, and still welcomed the idea of my return.”

Darcy nodded, pressing his lips to her temple. “He remembers you fondly.”

“I am more eager than ever to meet Miss Bingley,” she said after a moment. “Will she recall me, do you think?”

“Bingley says you and Caroline were the best of friends. Whether she recognizes you remains to be seen, but she is expected to arrive on the first of December, if I am not mistaken.”

“And her brother will waste no time dragging her to Longbourn—just as he did with Mrs. Hurst.”

Darcy laughed, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “I dare say your reception will be warmer this time. Miss Bingley is not so entirely wrapped up in herself.” Darcy tightened his hold on her and placed a kiss upon the side of her head. “I intend to act every bit the besotted betrothed, come what may,” he said with a low growl near her ear. “These weeks of torment must end, and it can only be so if I am permitted the full rights and privileges of a man desperately in love with a beautiful woman.”

“I look forward to it,” she replied saucily, pulling away just enough to meet hiseyes.“Thank you.”

“For what?” He wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“For loving me even in the most uncertain of circumstances. For refusing to be driven away by all that remains unknown.” She beamed and reached up to caress his face. “I love you very much.”

“And I love you, dearest Elizabeth.” The kiss they shared exceeded anything Elizabeth had ever experienced. She knew without a doubt that whatever was to come, everything would turn out right in the end.

We can face anything together, she told herself. Even an uncertain future.

Mr. Bennet

Thomas Bennet sank into his chair once the door to his study had closed behind the three young people. His worst fears were coming to pass, and he could do little but yield to the unforeseen turn of events. Who could have imagined that the new tenant of Netherfield Park would carry the past in his wake?

He and Fanny had often discussed what they might do, should anyone come forward to claim Elizabeth. He knew that she would be devastated to learn that their adopted child’s true identity had at last been discovered. From the very beginning, she had taken Elizabeth under her wing, coaxing her into good humor when shadows disturbed her peace, instructing her carefully in all that a young woman ought to know to become a well-respected woman, a good wife and mother, and more besides.

Fanny had taken it almost as a personal affront that anyone could so mistreat a helpless little girl, and she had made it her duty to ensure Elizabeth never felt deprived of love again. None of the other children suffered from the addition of one more to the nursery. They had welcomed her with open arms, readily accepting their new sister and the account their parents had given of her origins. Elizabeth herself had never bothered to challenge the tale. Even Jane knew nothing of the truth. Thomas had long believed it was because dwelling on the past brought Elizabeth only distress.

And now I must tell Fanny that, after Christmas, Elizabeth’s grandmother may take her away. And if the lady forbids the marriage, we may never see our girl again. He did not believe Lady Montrose would object to Mr. Darcy. Indeed, who could? Though he bore no title, he was, by every account, a wealthy man of excellent character and connections. Someone had once remarked he was the grandson of an earl. That would make him equal to Elizabeth in station.

Sighing, he rose slowly and left his study. He walked to the parlor and paused in the doorway, taking a moment to admire the familiar scene of domestic contentment. Kitty and Lydia sat bent over a game of spillikins, both focused intently. His youngest daughter had ever possessed a competitive spirit and was not above bending the rules in pursuit of victory. By the window, Mary and Collins conversed earnestly over Wordsworth. Jane and her betrothed were nowhere to be seen, and he hoped that his son had accompanied the happy couple as chaperone.

“Mrs. Bennet,” he said quietly, “will you come with me? There is something I must tell you.” His wife looked up from her needlework, blinking owlishly.

“Very well,” she murmured.

He saw the worry settle on her features, and, not for the first time, marveled that he had married a woman who understood him so well. Of course, more than twenty years of marriage had afforded her ample opportunity. She set her work aside and went directly to him.

He took her hand tenderly, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. Without letting go, he led her down the hall and into his study. Holding her hand was such a simple gesture, yet the light brush of their ungloved fingers still sent a thrill through him, even after all these years.

Closing the door, he crossed to a large armchair by the fire. Sinking into its deep cushions, he drew his wife into his lap. She nestled against his chest, pulled his arms securely around her.

“What is wrong, Thomas?” she asked at length, after they sat in silence for a time.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale. “We have had an…interesting turn of events.” Waiting for a moment to delay the true subject, he added, “Mr. Darcy has proposed to our Lizzy. She has accepted.”

“Oh, that is wonderful!” She turned to face him, her face alight with joy. “I knew she would do well.”

He smiled, though there was sadness in it, and patted the hand resting on his chest. “Yes, she is as beautiful as Jane and twice as clever as Thomas. But there is more. It seems Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have discovered her identity.”

Mrs. Bennet stilled. “You mean her true identity, do you not?” she asked, her voice suddenly subdued. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! What will happen now?”

He felt her begin to tremble and held her more tightly, pressing a kiss on her cheek. Fanny had always been excitable, but over the years she had learned to temper her natural boisterousness. Having the security of a settled home had done much to soothe her nerves. Her father had not been a wealthy man, and money had too often been a source of worry in her youth.

“It will be well, my love,” he murmured. “We have formed a plan. You see, she has relations who have missed her.” Quickly, he related all that he, the gentlemen—and Elizabeth—had discussed.

“But what if we never see her again?” Mrs. Bennet’s lips trembled, and tears gathered in her eyes. “This relation did not want her then. Why must they take her now?”

“Dearest, we do not yet know what is to come. Bingley says that Lady Montrose has been seeking information about her for some time. Is it right to withhold the truth from someone who may love Elizabeth as dearly as we do?” He kissed her once more, hoping it might calm her rising distress.

It did, and after a moment, she grew quieter. “You are right, of course,” she said sadly. “It is a comfort to know that she was loved before the tragedy. I have often been haunted by thoughts of what might have caused Lizzy to be wandering the road that day. It is a sad tale, but at least she knew love before she came to us.”

“You have raised her beautifully, my dearest Fanny. Her grandmother can have no cause to repine. I am certain she will offer her gratitude rather than grief, and instead of depriving Elizabeth of the family she has known—and depriving us of her— she will wish to preserve the connection. Besides, our Lizzy would be leaving us soon in any case, even without this revelation.”

Fanny groaned. “Yes, and Derbyshire is so far away! I can console myself knowing that Jane will be nearby—for the nonce.” Shifting into a more comfortable position, she turned a stubborn gaze upon her husband. “I shall be going to London,” she declared. “And I shall be part of whatever scheme is afoot to reunite Elizabeth with Lady Montrose.”

“I never once considered leaving you behind. As it stands, you must assist Jane with her wedding clothes. I would be quite useless surrounded by lace, bits, and baubles.” They chuckled and held one another a little closer.

Content to take comfort in each other’s presence, they remained in the study until Elizabeth came in search of them. The gentlemen had taken their leave, promising to return the next morning. Mr. Bingley had intended to go to town on business but resolved to delay his departure until they were all removed to town at the end of December.

Later that same day, Mr. Collins knocked lightly at his cousin’s door. At Mr. Bennet’s call, he entered, shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy. “Cousin,” he began, “the time draws near for my return to Kent. I should like to speak with you regarding the Longbourn living before I depart. I do apologize for the delay.”

“You have been rather distracted.” Mr. Bennet replied with a wry smile. “My Mary appears to enjoy your company well enough.”

Mr. Collins flushed and stared at his shoes. “Yes—and I like her very much indeed. But it is too soon to ask for more than a formal courtship. We are still becoming acquainted.”

“So, tell me then, what is this conversation about, sir? My daughter or the living in my preferment?” Mr. Bennet gestured to a chair, and his cousin took a seat.

“Both, really. I do wish to court Miss Mary, but I also desire the living. Kent has its advantages, to be sure, but I chafe under my patroness's…domineering manner. If I can secure the Longbourn living, I shall hire a curate to tendHunsford, and perhaps remove to Hertfordshire once your current incumbent retires in the summer.”

Mr. Bennet had observed his cousin closely during his visit. Though long-winded, he did not seem to be a fool, and Bennet trusted that the man would make a respectable clergyman. “I see no reason to deny you the living,” he said at length. “As for Mary, let us ask what she wants, hmm?”

Mary was summoned, and when her father inquired whether she would be willing to enter into a formal courtship, she agreed with marked enthusiasm.

“That is settled, then.” The happy couple left the room, and Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I pray that no one else comes to take my Kitty away. I do not think I can bear losing another daughter today.” Though he felt no small measure of joy in seeing his dear girls so well provided for, Mr. Bennet could not deny that the prospect of their leaving—one by one—brought him sadness.