Page 19 of Under Such Circumstances (Desperately Seeking Elizabeth #1)

Mr. Bennet, however, was not there that day.

He was spending the day with their uncle, Mr. Gardiner.

There had been quite a fierce argument about it all, her father saying that it was one thing for the girls to gallivant all over on their own in the country, at home, but that they had to take a carriage through London to get from Gracechurch Street to here, and there were all manner of reasons why this might not be safe for women on their own, and that propriety was the least of it.

However, Elizabeth found all of that confusing. She and her sisters did a great deal of traveling on their own, truly, and she was not sure why her father was suddenly so worried about all of it.

She thought it was because of her choice to live here in this house on her own.

Truly, she supposed there might be consequences to the choice.

Would there be whispers about a woman all alone in a house out here?

Perhaps. Maybe there would be assumptions about her reputation, and maybe this would lead to her not being invited to nearby dinners and balls and the like. Maybe she would become very isolated.

But she wasn’t too worried about that. With her aunt and uncle Gardiner nearby, there would always be some chance of social interaction, she thought, and she would not be all alone.

It would likely make it rather difficult to secure any sort of marriage, however, but she was not interested in getting married, anyway, so that was all right.

If she sometimes had rather strange and dreadful dreams, dreams about either Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Darcy urging her hand down inside their trousers, well, she ignored those.

In the dreams, she sometimes didn’t feel quite the way she’d felt with Mr. Wickham, either, and that was always confusing.

She would wake from the dreams feeling soiled but also… sometimes… curious.

It doesn’t have to be like that, the colonel had said, and she thought that must be true, because she knew that it was often spoken of as some kind of pleasurable temptation. So, how could it be different?

Anyway, she was never going to know, so she put those thoughts aside.

And now, she asked the question that was the most important question to her currently. “Who was he? My father? What was his name?”

“Your mother always called him Eddie,” said Mrs. Exley. “That, I’m afraid, is all I know about his identity for sure, but I have a theory.”

“What do you mean?” said Elizabeth.

“Well, I think your father was not of this world, you see? I think he was one of the fair folk, and likely royalty.”

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and blinked at the woman, trying to deduce if this had been said in all seriousness. She knew that sometimes people were superstitious about, well, fairies, but… it was a rare person who took such things seriously.

“You see, your mother would sometimes talk of what it would be like if she could go to your father’s home, and it was always spoken of as if it were impossible.

Sometimes, of course, they would slip into French in these conversations, and I do not speak French, but I could pick up words here and there, such as chateau and la cour . ”

Elizabeth shook her head. “That doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with fairies.”

“Yes, well, he had something about him, something ethereal,” said Mrs. Exley. “And one day he just disappeared, right before your mother was about to give birth, and I think he must have been taken back to Faerie. What else could have happened?”

Elizabeth thought a number of things could have happened! She wasn’t sure if she should say that or not. “Perhaps he simply left her.”

“No, no, that is not the way she acted, I tell you. She acted as if he’d gone away and would be back, and when he never came back, I knew it.

I could see it in her eyes. She had that look, the look of one who has been loved by the folk.

It changes a person. No wonder she could never have loved another, no wonder she pined after him, wasted away, until her last days.

No wonder she could no longer live in this house, where they had been together and so very happy.

No wonder she could not even bear to look at you, for you must have reminded her of him.

And you, my darling, you are a child of the folk, only half-human.

I can see this about you, too, the way you cast a spell on those around you.

I bet every man who claps eyes on you proposes marriage. ”

“Definitely not,” said Elizabeth.

“Well,” said Jane, tilting her head to one side. “No one has ever proposed to me, Lizzy, but you’ve been proposed to twice. And did you say that Colonel person, that he was interested in marrying you?”

“He could not marry me, because I had no dowry,” said Elizabeth.

“And then there is Mr. Wickham, who seems to have thrown over Miss King and come looking for you—”

“No,” said Elizabeth. “I don’t believe in fairies!”

“Hmph,” said Mrs. Exley. “I wouldn’t say that aloud if I were you.

The folk hear things. They can be quite mischievous in that way.

They might prove to you that they are real.

I am sure, with your blood, that you are surrounded rather constantly by magical beings, and we likely don’t see them, but I think they are with you constantly. ”

Elizabeth drew in a breath, trying to compose herself.

She must humor this old woman, she supposed.

“Well, perhaps I am being too hasty. I know not. I have no reason to believe in such things, but if it were proved to me, I suppose I should have no choice.” She sighed.

“At any rate, perhaps we could go back to anything else you could tell me about my father?”

“He was handsome, ever so handsome,” said Mrs. Exley. “And devoted to your mother. They were always touching, always laughing together, always gazing into each other’s eyes. I never saw two people more in love. I don’t think he chose to leave, if you take my meaning.”

“And they spoke in French sometimes,” said Elizabeth.

“Well, people of your class do that.”

“Yes, true,” said Elizabeth. “Any other languages besides French?”

Mrs. Exley thought about it. “I don’t think so. But perhaps, sometimes, they did. It was a long time ago. It would make sense that they might speak Spanish perhaps? Or Italian, even?”

“Yes,” said Jane. “Portuguese, also, is a language often learned.”

“Mmm,” said Mrs. Exley.

“My mother never called him by a surname?” said Elizabeth. “Or… a title?”

“No, nothing specific,” said Mrs. Exley. “I am not sure if the folk have titles in the way we do, of course.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

They spoke for a little longer, but Mrs. Exley had no other observations or memories to pass along. She was frustratingly vague, and she seemed very attached to her ludicrous theory.

After she was gone, Elizabeth spoke to Jane about what she thought it all might mean. “I wonder if my father was a French ex-patriot,” she said to Jane.

“Oh,” said Jane, tilting her head to one side. “Oh, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“Certainly,” said Elizabeth. “He might have been nearly penniless, having fled from the continent in the first flush of the Revolution, and it would have been around the right time for my birth, and he might have left my mother what money he had, which may not have been much.”

“You asked that thing about a title? You think your father was French royalty?” Jane smiled broadly at her. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“Well, perhaps not royalty, but if he had to escape France, he probably had some land or money or something,” said Elizabeth. “They wouldn’t have been after him otherwise.”

“I see what you’re saying,” said Jane. “How exciting.”

“The only thing that doesn’t make sense,” said Elizabeth, “is why he wouldn’t marry my mother.”

“Oh,” said Jane. “Well… likely, he was already married.”

Elizabeth nodded, sighing to herself. “Oh, yes, I think you must be right. But how could Aunt Matilda let herself get into such a situation?” Even as she said it, she knew that it was perhaps rather easy to get into situations like that.

She sighed again. “I suppose being the beloved mistress of a married French nobleman has its charms.”

“It’s entirely disreputable, however,” said Jane. “She gave you up because she did not wish that for you, Lizzy. She sacrificed being with you for your own good.”

Elizabeth hadn’t looked at it that way before, but she realized Jane must be right. “Yes, I suppose I should thank her.”

Jane eyed her, hesitant.

“I see you wish to say something,” said Elizabeth, glaring at her sister. “Well, out with it.”

“I only wonder, Lizzy, if you shouldn’t consider that she might not wish you to hole up all alone in this house.

If she might not wish that you would take the money and seek a good marriage.

She sacrificed for you, and you are throwing all of that away to live here alone, as if you have resigned yourself to being an old maid. ”

Well, Elizabeth was ruined anyway. Mr. Wickham had seen to that.

Of course, no one knew that. Elizabeth didn’t have to live as if she were ruined.

Jane’s voice was gentle. “You might think about it, that’s all, Lizzy. I am not saying you must change course this very instant, but—”

There was a knock at the front door, loud, insistent.

Jane started, and Elizabeth got up from her chair at once. She wrung out her hands. “We have a visitor, but no servants to answer the door? We are going to have to answer it ourselves, I suppose, as wretched as that must be.”

Jane shrugged. “I suppose we must.”

Together, the two made their way to the front door. Just as they arrived, the knock came again, and then the door was thrust open and a voice came, “Miss Bennet?”

It was Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Elizabeth yanked the door the rest of the way open. “Colonel?”

“Oh, you have heard me knocking,” he said, smiling at her lopsidedly. “And this is?”

“My sister,” said Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet.”

“Ah,” said the colonel. “Lovely to meet you.”

Elizabeth realized that the colonel would not know that Jane was the one that Mr. Darcy had separated from Mr. Bingley, even though it had been he who had told her the tale of it.

He had not known the young lady’s name, however.

Elizabeth had put it together who it was he was speaking of.

There was no way to clue him in to all of this, now, however, not without telling Jane of it at all.

She realized she hadn’t told Jane, and that Jane did not know that Bingley had been convinced to leave her, that it had not been his own idea.

She also realized she was standing here and being frightfully rude. “You must come in, of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

He did come in, looking about. “For some reason, I had thought you’d be alone, Miss Bennet.

” He laughed. “Erm, Miss Elizabeth, I mean. Apologies, Miss Bennet. When you are not around, of course, there’s no confusion with there being a number of Miss Bennets, so I am used to…

” He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, you are not alone, Miss Elizabeth, which is… quite a good thing.”

“How did you know where I was, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth put her hands on her hips.

“Yes, that’s, erm, yes.” The colonel eyed Jane. “I suppose you haven’t spoken a great deal to your sister about, uh, everything.”

“No, she does tell me quite everything,” said Jane, smiling at him. “We are close.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his eyebrows at Elizabeth.

She spoke carefully. “Yes, I’m very close with Jane, and so you needn’t bore her by going over and over all manner of things that she would already know about. You needn’t speak of that, sir.”

He gave her a careful nod, quite quick, which told her that he understood.

“I am ever so pleased to meet you, though,” said Jane. “But I suppose it is odd to have you here as a guest. I would not think knowledge of Weythorn or of Elizabeth’s owning it to be common knowledge.”

“No, that is, erm, my own fault. I have been…” His cheeks turned pink. “Watching you, Miss Ben—Elizabeth.”

Oh, dear. Watching her? Her eyes widened. This was concerning. Was the colonel still interested in her, even though he could not marry her? Had he changed his mind? He was asking about her being alone, which could indicate he wished to propose.

“Yes, and I know that reflects rather badly on me,” he said. “As does coming here and hoping to find you on your own. You, Miss Bennet,” he said to Jane, “must be thinking a number of things about me and getting the impression I am terribly untoward and not a little scandalous.”

Jane smiled. “Well, is this the case, sir? Are you untoward?”

“Well, if I have been untoward, it’s a fault,” he said. “One I should likely correct, I imagine.”

“And will you?” said Jane, smiling at him.

“I shall do my best, shall I?” The colonel smirked. He glanced at Elizabeth, and then back to Jane. “This is all very irregular. We must begin again, I think. How are you both? Is your family in good health? What do you think of the weather we’ve been having lately?”

Jane laughed.

Elizabeth could not help but laugh, too.

They spent upwards of twenty minutes engaged in pleasant conversation about trifles. The colonel was as easy to speak with as ever, quick with a diverting story or a little joke. He took his leave of them with ease and they were left there together.

Jane commented that it was exceedingly odd for the man to have come to see them, but that she could not be sorry about having met him, that there was something about him that tended to put a person at ease.

Elizabeth agreed. She changed the subject back to Mrs. Exley, saying that they must take into account that the woman might be entirely unreliable.

“Why would you say that?” said Jane. “She didn’t seem to be lying to us.”

“Only with her fanciful convictions about fairies and the like,” said Elizabeth. “She obviously is given to thinking preposterous things and to interpreting things entirely incorrectly. We might need to take everything she has with a grain of salt.”

“Perhaps,” said Jane. “Or perhaps your father was a fae prince, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam is in love with you, is he not? He says he’s been watching you, and he knew all about this place?”

Elizabeth sighed heavily. “That is not because I am part fairy, Jane!”

“But you don’t deny he is in love with you.”

“I think he fancies himself in love with me,” said Elizabeth. “But I don’t know if that means he truly is. He doesn’t seem to be a very serious person.”

“Yes, perhaps I can see that,” said Jane.

When Elizabeth got back to Gracechurch Street, she was given a sealed letter from a servant. It was not signed, but she knew it was from Colonel Fitzwilliam. It simply said that she ought to find an excuse to get out of dinner and retire to her room so that they could speak alone.