Page 45 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)

Chapter forty-five

B y early afternoon, Elizabeth had finally retired to her own room, but she did not try to rest. No, William would need her….

She sat down to her bed and rubbed her eyes until they watered. Her heart ached when she saw the mistrust flashing in his eyes with each new person he encountered, for she knew it for what it was: fear. Perhaps he had genuine reasons to doubt those close to him, or perhaps the shadows from his captivity were truly so dark that he could not see, but she dreaded what would come when he pushed everyone away. Surely, he must understand that he needed to trust someone else, for he would never learn the truth if he did not.

She wished, perhaps foolishly, that she had heard at least some part of what George Wickham would have had to say. Lies, likely, but within the most convincing lie was always a kernel of truth. Would that she could have sifted his words! But after last night, when she had collapsed, broken, to the ground, he had bidden her a foppish adieu and galloped away. She wondered if he ever had desired Colonel Fitzwilliam’s protection, or if it had all been some elaborate tale to draw out her interest and compromise her in Darcy’s eyes. Or perhaps it had been an attempt to access Georgiana directly. She shuddered and tried not to dwell on what might have befallen, had not Darcy arrived when he did, and forgiven her as he had done.

Elizabeth dismissed her maid and dropped to her bed with the old journal. Reading would be a welcome diversion, but she did not feel herself equal to any of the great works in the Pemberley library. Lady Georgina’s ramblings and missives were typically short and colourful—the perfect combination to keep her from falling asleep. Elizabeth thumbed idly through the entries she had already read. Lady Georgina discovering herself to be with child—the child must have been George Darcy, she supposed; her husband leaving for business on the continent, in the aftermath of a tragic earthquake that had threatened some of his commercial interests; receiving the Earl of Matlock and her sister the Countess for the summer holidays—she presumed them to have been the colonel’s grandparents.

Elizabeth smiled drowsily with each deftly phrased quip penned by Lady Georgina. She had possessed a knack for delivering an insult in such a way that the victim was compelled to thank her for her graciousness. If only she herself knew how to be so subtle! She sighed, and despite her best efforts, her fingers fell between the pages and her eyes grew heavy.

A knock brought her instantly to attention, and she swallowed the thick feeling in her mouth before trying to speak. “Yes?”

The answering voice was muffled for the first few words. “Lizzy, you had better—” the door burst open, and Lydia continued loudly as she flounced through it— “come out here at once and set Mr Darcy straight! He is making a dreadful fuss of things, and dear Georgiana cannot stop crying!”

Elizabeth stifled a yawn and stretched, laying aside the journal. “Lydia, what is this all about?”

“Mr Darcy, that’s what! He will not listen to anyone, and it seems that you are the only person he has not cast out of the county. Come make him be reasonable, or I declare, I shall give birth in the drawing room just to spite him! Did you know that he is sending the colonel and me back to London?”

Elizabeth straightened and her feet found the floor. “To London? I knew that he had asked the colonel to leave, but I spoke to him afterward and he promised to reconsider. But you? My own sister?”

Lydia made a face and pointed to her stomach with the hand that bore her wedding ring.

“Ah,” Elizabeth sighed. She rubbed her face, and decided that it would take more than a little pinching of her cheekbones to refresh her visage. Lydia followed as she walked to the water basin.

“I cannot fathom how I almost found him agreeable,” she was complaining. “Perhaps it was only because by comparison, George was so dis agreeable. How did you ever come to put up with the man?”

Elizabeth splashed her face and then dabbed it with a cloth. “Mr Darcy has endured a great deal, Lydia, and I fancy that in the process he was told a number of untruths in an attempt to manipulate him. Can you honestly say that even you would not take some time to recover your usual spirits after such an ordeal?” She slanted a significant brow at her sister.

“Well! If you mean to say that I was as rude as he when I first returned to Longbourn, Lizzy, I shall… well, I do not know what I shall do. Perhaps I will eat your tart,” she threatened, eyeing the tray one of the maids had brought up.

“Help yourself, I am not hungry. Lydia, have you spoken to Georgiana in the last hour or two?”

“Hmmhmmm,” Lydia nodded around a mouthful of tart. She gulped, shielding her mouth with her hand, and swallowed. “Her feathers are all rumpled about you. It doesn’t help that her brother will not listen to anyone else, for now she feels that you are stealing him away.”

“That is not at all true!” Elizabeth protested with red cheeks. “He was speaking with his steward not half an hour ago, learning all he could about events here. Besides, if he truly listened to me, as you claim, he would not be sending the colonel away, and would certainly have consulted me about you.”

“Well, Georgie does not believe that. I suppose either way, something will come of it; if he does listen to you, the colonel and I will stay, and he will have to put up with us as well. If he does not listen to you, then you will be the only one left here to talk to him.” Lydia grinned at her clever deductions and popped the last of the tart in her mouth. “Bonne chance, Lizzy.”

Lost in thought, Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed on some point across the room, but at once she brightened. “How could I not have thought of that? Of course, I know how to persuade him!”

Lydia looked about to see what object had piqued her sister’s interest, but finding none, turned her attention back. “How?”

“Why, it is simple. It may have been decent enough for us both to remain as Georgiana’s guests, but with Mr Darcy here, the matter looks very different. I cannot remain alone, for it would cast my presence into question on a number of fronts. Chaperoned by his sister or not, a single woman staying as the sole guest at the estate of a wealthy man would generate talk. I am certain Mr Darcy will agree, for he is most attentive to such matters.”

“I’d wager he is… attentive,” Lydia giggled.

Elizabeth shifted her eyes to her sister. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, come, Lizzy! You were out for hours last night, alone with him! A handsome, rich man like that, lonely and sad after being locked away for months? You cannot tell me that you did not offer some little comfort.”

“Lydia!”

“I shall think you abominably stupid if you did not. Are you at least engaged?”

“Lydia, Mr Darcy has been presumed dead for over six months now, and returned only last night. Can we not grant the man some peace without pressing him for matrimony?’

“Well?” Lydia tapped her toes and crossed her arms.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I will confess to nothing, for you could not hold your tongue.”

“That settles it!” Lydia crowed in triumph. “Oh, think how Mama will talk!” Then her face darkened and she frowned at her stomach. “I shall depend upon you, Lizzy, to speak to Mr Darcy on my behalf. I should like someone to make George suffer at least a little, or perhaps even challenge him to a duel so I can be free of him. Do you think the colonel would—”

Elizabeth was spared the humiliation of an answer when another knock sounded on the door. Thinking it to be her maid, or perhaps even Georgiana, she signaled Lydia with a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, then in a full voice, “Come in, please.”

The door opened seemingly on its own, but framed within it stood the imposing figure of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She glanced silently between the two sisters, her gaze finally coming to rest on Elizabeth.

Lydia was no fool, and knew when neither she nor her excuses were wanted. She slipped out, cringing back at her sister before she disappeared. Elizabeth drew a brave gasp and curtseyed. Lady Catherine calling upon her in her bedchamber! What had the house come to? “Good afternoon, your ladyship,” she made answer steadily. “To what do I owe this honour?”

Lady Catherine slowly entered the room, a barely contained sneer pulling at her lips as her eyes roved its walls, and at last settled on its occupant. “Miss Bennet,” she pronounced slowly. “I have come to speak with you about a matter of gravest import.”

“Of course, your ladyship. How may I be of assistance?”

Lady Catherine turned about, her arms sweeping her grand shawl as if it were a queen’s train, then she leaned on her cane and assumed the seat that Lydia had just vacated. “I am leaving for London within the hour, Miss Bennet.” She parted her lips again, then paused to draw breath. Her face, Elizabeth noted, seemed suddenly haggard and fatigued. Were it any other woman of her age, Elizabeth would have felt concerned for her health.

Lady Catherine tapped her cane on the floor with a weak sort of resolve. “I wished to discuss the situation with my nephew before I depart.” Her forehead dimpled and she withdrew a handkerchief to press to her lips in the way of an elderly lady troubled by indigestion. Elizabeth waited patiently while the lady composed herself.

“I have long been celebrated for my frankness, Miss Bennet,” she continued. “There are many things I should like to say to you; that you have no place here, no right to presume upon my niece and nephew, that your very presence pollutes Pemberley with the stink of trade and low breeding. I daresay you now aspire to marriage, a marriage that should never be! Darcy’s duty to his name, the interests of his family, even honour itself, all these forbid it! He was formed for my Anne since infancy. We planned their union, my sister and I, from their cradles.”

Elizabeth folded her hands into her lap and stiffly squared her shoulders for combat. Lady Catherine, however, did not seem inclined to carry the battle. Her gaze had drifted about the room once more, glancing over the framed portraits, the gilded accents on the ceiling, the bed and the lamp stand, and then returning to Elizabeth.

“Did you know, Miss Bennet, that this was my sister’s room when we would visit Pemberley, after we had our coming out?”

Elizabeth blinked. “No, your ladyship, I did not.”

“It was also given to George Darcy’s mother—my aunt, Miss Bennet—when she first toured the estate with her betrothed.”

“That… is an interesting coincidence, my lady.”

“Indeed.” Lady Catherine thinned her lips and appeared to heavily contemplate her next words. “Miss Bennet, I would be dishonest if I told you that I was pleased by your presence here. That much I believe you know, so let us not belabour it. It is unfortunate, then, that I find myself in the position of asking your assistance.”

Elizabeth draped one hand gently over the other to prevent herself from fidgeting. “Oh?”

“In four and sixty years, I have never been spoken to as my nephew did last night, and again this morning! Had I known him less well than I do, I should have taken him for a madman or an impostor.”

Elizabeth released a breath. “I believe these last months have been a severe trial for him, my lady.”

Lady Catherine tucked her chin, almost hating to agree while looking Elizabeth in the eye. “He places no credit in my assurances, Miss Bennet. In fact, he seems determined to sever every tie with his family. He thinks, perhaps, to wall himself in here and shut out all his relations. Miss Bennet, that would be the most grievous error he could commit.”

“I think you are not entirely wrong,” Elizabeth answered cautiously. Lady Catherine’s gaze became hawkish at the perceived slight, so she hastened to explain. “Mr Darcy has reason to doubt at least some member of his family, but he does not know which, nor even if it is more than one person.”

“Am I to be accused with the guilty? I, a lady by birth and an old woman by nature? Miss Bennet, my nephew is a stubborn man! This much ought not to surprise you, for it is no secret that I have prevailed upon him since his majority to do his duty by Anne.” She sniffed and picked the lace of the skirt in her lap in annoyance. “He refused me for years, then he was dead to us all, and my disappointment had no relief. I have almost despaired now of ever seeing him acquiesce to the wishes of his mother, but he is my nephew still, Miss Bennet. It is foolish—nay, wicked of him to cast off his entire family as a lot of villains!”

“My lady, was there some way in particular that I might be of service?”

The woman’s scowl deepened, and Elizabeth thought for certain that she was tasting bile. “Darcy seems to listen to you,” she replied with a sour expression. “What foolishness may come of it, I shall forever abhor, but you are not a stupid woman, after all.”

Elizabeth’s brow lifted. “Thank you.”

“You must not permit him to listen to false advisers who would separate him from the influences and support of the Fitzwilliam family. We have the means to aid him, but Darcy has ever been headstrong in the management of his own affairs. He is quite blinded by anger, and I fear he may now grow to be foolhardy. If my nephew and niece possess an enemy, Miss Bennet, he would be unwise to forego all his noble connections and try to manage on his own.”

“Lady Catherine, I appreciate your concern, but Mr Darcy will do precisely as he determines. As you have said, he has long taken his own affairs in hand, and I do not expect him to heed my advice.”

One silver brow quirked. “Miss Bennet, I had nearly accustomed myself to think of you as disinterested, perhaps even sincere. Have you, as you claim, any true regard for my niece and nephew? For if you do, you would do well to persuade Darcy to heed the advice of his relations. If, on the other hand, you do not, and you allow or even encourage him to isolate himself,” she put out her cane and rose unsteadily to her feet, “I shall view you with the same suspicion with which you claim to view me.”

Elizabeth bristled. So, now she was to control Darcy at Lady Catherine’s pleasure, else fall under the glass of scepticism herself? As if she could sway Darcy from his determined course! Was that not one of the qualities she had first noticed about his character?

“Lady Catherine,” she replied crisply, “I shall certainly relay your concerns to Mr Darcy, if he should ask my opinion. Naturally, I wish for him to learn the truth, but if he judges it best to set aside certain associations for the present, it would not be my place to dispute him.”

The lady fixed Elizabeth with a long, withering look, as if trying to decide whether she might obtain a more certain promise from the woman whom she expected Darcy to make his wife. Elizabeth met the grey eyes with a defiant look of her own, and when they at last broke contact, it was Lady Catherine who looked down. She sighed, and the hand on her cane trembled just a little. She gave a stately nod, and began to turn away, when she seemed to be taken aback.

“Miss Bennet, is that journal from Pemberley’s library?”

Elizabeth glanced at the book on her bed. “Yes, your ladyship. I have found it a most diverting read.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes glazed in an expression Elizabeth could not read. “I ordered that book burned. It is not fit for a maiden’s eyes, Miss Bennet. I am surprised at you.”

“I have read many things that you might find alarming, my lady. I assure you, I am still a faithful churchgoer and a loyal Englishwoman, despite the scandalous nature of my reading material.”

Lady Catherine looked aghast, but only briefly. “I ought to have expected little better from a woman brought up with no governess! I advise you, Miss Bennet, to give little credence to my aunt’s assertions as set forth in her journal. Some were, undoubtedly, utter fabrications.”

Elizabeth smiled. If they were fabrications, they were rather entertaining ones. “And the rest?”

“Outright scandal.” Lady Catherine flicked a dismissive hand as she turned away in finality. “And if some of it leaked out to the parties involved, even two generations later, the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families might never recover.”

Elizabeth was staring at the journal now, wondering what shocking entries she had yet to read. Curiosity burned at her, making her fingers itch to reach for its worn leather cover, when Lady Catherine spoke again from the outer hall.

“Think on what I have said, Miss Bennet. My influence with my nephew has come to an end, and more is the pity. You may find it difficult to believe, but I am fond of my sister’s children, and would not see them come to ruin. Counsel him, if you will, that he may yet depend upon the Fitzwilliam family… and burn that journal, Miss Bennet.”