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Longbourn,
31st of January, 1812.
Elizabeth had not been in the still room for more than half an hour when Mrs. Hill came to her with a missive on a tray. "It came by express, ma'am." The housekeeper explained before bobbing and leaving the room.
Elizabeth took the letter and upon recognising the Darcys' seal on it, she hastily abandoned the dried rose petals, which in vain she had been dealing with - it was not definitely a good day to prepare some rose-water. She then sit down on the bench disposed near the main table, where dried petals and leaves shared their place with all kinds of empty containers. As Jane and Elizabeth, the two Bennet girls who took care of the still room had been out since December, untidiness had replaced the then carefully organised room.
Breaking the seal then, Elizabeth opened the paper and realised rather in frustration that the missive was very short,
Pemberley, 28th of January, 1812.
Dear Mrs. Darcy,I hope the Bennets and you are in good health.
I am writing to inform you that, due to an unexpected engagement, I should not be able to leave Pemberley for another a week. Therefore, my initial plan of picking up Georgiana and you on the 6th of February is called off.
However, I shall send one of the carriages to Hertfordshire, so that you will not have to rely on your father's vehicle, if you do not wish to wait for me and travel to London. I believe I should be in Town not later than the 10th.
Please, give my regards to Georgiana. I am going to write to her as soon as I have settled "all" the matters I have been dealing with.
Yours & etc,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
"Are you very occupied with Pemberley business indeed, or it has been hard to gather the evidence to 'prove me wrong', sir?" Elizabeth folded the paper, put it aside and reposed her elbows on the table. "A very formal missive, Mr. Darcy. Formal and informative - only this. And what was I expecting after all? Was my note to him informing of our safe journey to Hertfordshire not as conventional as this one he sent me?" She slowly nodded her head, "You astonish me, Elizabeth Marie Bennet... Darcy."
She nodded her head anew, "This is becoming serious indeed! I had never been the kind of person accustomed to dwelling upon things I could not easily solve out." Her hand caressed her already slightly swollen stomach - so slightly that only Elizabeth was aware of it. "Listen to me, little one. I swear that I had never dedicated more than a quarter of an hour to apparent difficult problems before. Now, I can not stop revolving words and expressions in my mind - ironically, I am so far from an answer than when I used not to care about some matters very much ."
Smiling a little, Elizabeth continued, "Well, at least it seems you took pity on me and have not 'reminded' me of your existence by 'coercion'." Fortunately, the dizziness that had affected her for some days early January had subsided. Only her appetite and the gradual enlargement of her waist and breasts were indications of her pregnancy.
Putting her head between her hands, she closed her eyes and respired the scent of dry roses, lavender and green herbs - they reminded her of the gay days spent with Jane in the room, when the two young ladies could spend hours there, pretending they were making some scented water, but pleasantly chatting instead.
"Dearest Jane --" She raised her head, picked up a small bottle and rolled it up among her fingers. "She is exultant at her future marriage and I am so happy for her. Yet the information she gave me about howand why Mr. Bingley resolved upon looking for her is still astonishing me." Elizabeth stopped playing with the glass container and put it down on the table. Then, she grabbed Darcy's missive and stared at the broken seal, the image of her husband's signet-ring, the Darcys' coat of arms now torn apart. "To think that you were the means to separate and reunite them... Why did you do it? And why did you not tell me this in that horrible evening?"
"Speaking alone, Lizzy?" A soft and familiar voice interrupted Elizabeth's reverie.
Elizabeth looked up to see Mrs. Gardiner gazing at her and she instinctively sat down straight, drawing a faint but sincere smile in her lips, "Not at all, Auntie. I was only reading a letter sent by my husband."
"I hope it does not contain bad tidings." Mrs. Gardiner walked towards the table and took a seat near her favourite niece.
"Not really. Although he will have to be at Pemberley for another week." Elizabeth was not lying after all.
"And this is the reason for your somewhat unhappy face, I presume." Elizabeth was going to comment something, but the older lady prevented her from doing it so by lifting her hand and proceeding, "Oh, despite all your efforts to look buoyant, it is impossible not to see that there is something behind these sparkling eyes of yours." She twinkled at her niece.
"I --" It was futile to continue pretending. "I guess I miss him, Auntie."
"I see." Mrs. Gardiner knew that there was more than Elizabeth wished to admit. Still, she knew that if she pushed her niece, she would not say a thing - and this was not what Mrs. Gardiner desired, as she felt that Elizabeth could be in need of help. Therefore, she deviated the conversation a little, "I hope he is definitely recovered now, Lizzy. Your uncle and I became so worried about you and your husband, even after your writing to us describing his initial recovery."
"He is quite well now, I thank you."
The silence descended in the room for long minutes. Finally, Mrs. Gardiner decided to talk about her anxiety, "Lizzy, I have observed you since I arrived and I do believe that something is troubling you. However, I do not wish to impose upon you and if you think you had better remain silent about the matter, I will not compel you to speak." Mrs. Gardiner then stood up, planted a kiss in Elizabeth's forehead and moved towards the door.
Elizabeth quickly took a decision, "Would you be willing to listen to everything, Auntie?"
Mrs. Gardiner stopped on her toes and twisted around, "Of course, dear, if you do wish to tell me something."
"Could you take a seat then? Although you are rather well informed, I still believe that it will take some time for me to tell you 'everything'."
And so did Mrs. Gardiner. Although Elizabeth had somewhat described what had happened since that now distant day, when Darcy found Wickham attempting to indecently assault her, she recounted everything - from this first event passing through their short courtship, their marriage, Darcy being shot, his convalescence and the few happy days together, to the letter sent by Miss Hargraves, their quarrel after Elizabeth had heard of his intervention upon Jane and Mr. Bingley's relationship (how he first separated the couple, and later joined them). For almost half an hour, Mrs. Gardiner listened to her niece's accounts without saying anything.
As soon as she finished her narration, Elizabeth rose and commenced to pace in front of the table for a while, waiting for her aunt's comment. Impatience finally dominated her and Elizabeth decided she could not wait any longer, "Well?" She asked after having resumed her pace.
Mrs. Gardiner grinned at her a little and said, "Come and sit down here, Lizzy." Elizabeth acquiesced and sat down anew, but still keeping a somewhat restless countenance. Soon afterward, Mrs. Gardiner delicately took her niece's left hand and eventually spoke, "Well, Lizzy, it is hard to give you an opinion having not met your husband yet."
"I know." Elizabeth agreed.
"Still, knowing you and some of the other parts involved, I think I can try to help you find a way to resolve some of your doubts." Mrs. Gardiner slightly sighed. "I do believe it must not be easy to be caught between the two armies, but--"
"But you blame me for having taken Jane's side so fiercely, do you not?" Elizabeth already knew the answer
"Well, a little." The lady was forced to agree with her niece. "It is understandable though, being aware of how much Jane and you are attached to each other. Besides, I do not approve of the manner which your husband interfered in his friend's affair either. Yet..." Mrs. Gardiner stopped and stared at Elizabeth. "Yet I can also understand Mr. Darcy's motives to have done it so."
"Indeed? I must comprehend so that you concur with my husband's arrogant, contemptuous character." Elizabeth exclaimed somewhat ironically.
"I do not, dear. Mr. Darcy's ideas of one's rank in life and importance may be easily contested and even criticised, although his opinions are not much different from anyone of the same consequence as he is or above. The point is how he acted protectively towards his friend - in the same manner you would have done, were Jane in danger of becoming attached to someone of disputable character, for instance."
Elizabeth considered the matter for a while and saw the truth of it "You may be right about this Aunt Gardiner, but my husband did not know my sister - how could he have stated that she did not care for Mr. Bingley without knowing her well?"
"Exactly, Lizzy. Your husband did not know Jane well enough to see that there was true love under her apparent offer of gentle attention and friendship. It was crystal clear for you because you know your sister's disposition. But what about the others? Could they not see only your mother's interest in marrying well her eldest?"
Once again Elizabeth could not deny the veracity of what her aunt had spoken. Charlotte Collins nee Lucas had observed the same in the beginning of the Bennets' acquaintance with the Bingleys, that Jane should show more of her affection for Mr. Bingley in order to "secure" him. "I understand your point of view, Auntie. Still we must bear in mind that my husband had other reasons, not as magnificent and benevolent as friendship - perchance he still had some hope of marrying his sister to his best friend."
"For God's sake, Elizabeth! I have not noticed anything but a brother-sister relationship between Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy!" Mrs. Gardiner grew a little impatient.
"Neither have I, yet this would not stop Darcy from expecting that such an alliance could be established between the families." Elizabeth stood up anew, the odour of the dry flowers were beginning to make her feel a little nauseous.
"Listen, my dear. We are deviating from the main detail." Mrs. Gardiner also abandoned her position in the bench and walked around the table. "Mr. Darcy detached his friend from your sister because he believed she did not care for him, was it not?"
"It was." Elizabeth walked towards a window and open it, breathing hard. Then, she returned to the bench and sat down, looking up at her aunt, who was now pacing in front of the table.
"Besides, he did not consider Jane a good match for Mr. Bingley, nor you for him, because of the lack of connections of our family, our station in life and all the things we already know." Mrs. Gardiner was trying to conduct a logical thread now. "Therefore, he advised his friend not to propose marriage to Jane and stay away from her, following the same motto he had chosen to himself, as far as his feelings for you were concerned - according to what he confessed to you in that night you quarreled."
Elizabeth gazed at her aunt, in vain endeavouring to comprehend what she was doing. "Yes, he emphasised very heartily how he struggled before deciding to propose to me. He said he fell in love with me despite himself, because his feelings were against his will and good reason."
"Not a good way to deliver one's feelings, and I do comprehend your being angry at him for his passionate, but very improper 'speech'. Still, it makes me wonder, Lizzy. Pray tell me, had he ever courted you before the day he found you with Mr. Wickham in the woods?"
"Never. He told me that he had come to admire me since the beginning of our acquaintance, yet he had never said a single word at that time that could lead me to think of his interest in me. As a matter of fact, I had the opposite notion - he looked at me a great deal, even my friend Charlotte had noticed it, but I used to think that he did it so in order to find something reprehensible in me " In her mind's eye, Elizabeth saw their encounters at the Lucas' and at Netherfield for example, and there was nothing then that she could consider as "wooing".
"Hence we can assert that he had never given you reason to suspect of his regard for you." Mrs. Gardiner looked at Elizabeth half amusedly.
"We can, Auntie. Had he not met me with Mr. Wickham, he would have left Hertfordshire and I believe I would never ever have known about this. He probably would have married a lady of his 'standing'." Elizabeth shivered a little and decided to close the window.
"And you would not have cared at all at that time, but this hurts you a little now." Mrs. Gardiner said this observing her niece while she closed the window with all her force. Elizabeth then returned to her position in the bench, pretending she had not listened to the lady's last remark. Mrs. Gardiner lightly sighed before proceeding, "Be as it may, do Mr. Darcy's actions towards you not tell you anything about his character?"
"What do you mean? Please do not play games at me now, Auntie!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"I am not, Lizzy. You are playing games at yourself, dear! Your anger at him, and another feeling I would call jealousy (oh, this letter from his "supposed" wife affected you more than you desired) are preventing you from seeing the fact that this gentleman, despite his improper pride and certain airs of pomposity, acted towards you in pure dignity. Were he a perfect rascal, he would have pursued you only to leave you behind as soon as the shooting season was over. He would not have cared at all, he would only have thought of winning your affection - a wonderful way to spend the time in the countryside, and he would have exhorted his friend to do the same with Jane. Oh Lizzy, how many gentlemen of 'good families' have already done this!"
Elizabeth was dumbfound - how could she have never considered this before? Could she be so prejudiced against him once again as not to see things clearly? "Indeed, Jane and I would not have been the first, nor the latter to face this, Auntie."
"As I have already told you, I do not concur with your husband's 'conflicts' at all - you are a spectacular lady and all your qualities overcompensate what Mr. Darcy sees as 'lack of good connections'. Nevertheless, after having observed his proper behaviour, I can not deny that he is a man of character, Lizzy. This fact and your description of all the goodness you could notice in him conflict with the rumours of his seducing a lady some years ago."
"And could 'his goodness' not be only apparent, Auntie? Could he not be virtuous only when his will so dictates, when he wishes to reach a very specific purpose?" Elizabeth's question was the condensation of the opposing ideas about Darcy that had tormented her for the last two weeks.
Mrs. Gardiner walked to the bench and took a seat next to Elizabeth. She grabbed her niece's hands in hers and spoke gently, "This is hard to determine, dear. Unfortunately, I am in a disadvantageous position as I have not met your husband yet, I only know him by the description you have provided me with. I wish I could be sure about the matter, but I am not."
Elizabeth held her aunt's hands tightly. "What do you think I should do, Aunt Gardiner?"
" I can only advise you to attempt to see Mr. Darcy's good side too, Lizzy. You should forget Jane and Mr. Bingley for while - apparently, the gentleman has already forgiven his friend for his interference and good Jane, in her turn, has also forgiven Mr. Bingley for having 'left' her."
"Oh, I wish I could do something rather than staying here waiting for an answer. You know I am not fond of deliberating, but action!"
"Well, if you do wish to 'do something', I think I can help you," said Mrs. Gardiner.
"Indeed?"
"There is a very discreet and trusted servant who has helped your uncle in some investigations when business makes this kind of things necessary. We could send him to this lady's town and start to inquire so that we could find her whereabouts in London now - I mean, if the facts she informed are true and she is not hiding herself behind a false name, for example. Would you be disposed to face her if we found her direction?"
Elizabeth did not hesitate to reply, "Of course I would not. I made a copy of the missive she sent me before giving it to my husband - all the details we need are there. I shall fetch it now." Elizabeth excitedly released her aunt's hands and left the bench.
"Good! I shall send an express to Town instructing your uncle's servant about he will have to do." Mrs. Gardiner then smiled at her. "Just one more thing, Lizzy."
"Yes?"
"Be careful with your health, my dear. You should try to remain calm, as a nervous state can not be good for you... and for the baby."
"How do you know?" Elizabeth could not help bursting out.
"Your strange appetite! Your mother has complained about this, but she has not perceived yet why you have eaten more than the normal. Moreover, you sometimes put your hand tenderly over your stomach - a good indication that there is something important inside."
"Oh, Auntie!" Elizabeth returned to the bench and embraced Mrs. Gardiner. "Thank you for caring so much for me!"
"Shhh, Lizzy! Do not make me cry! Go and fetch that copy of yours." And Elizabeth did so.
A small town in Leicestershire
4th of February, 1812
Darcy looked around the small room of the local inn he had been in for almost a fortnight, as he wanted to be sure that he was not leaving anything behind. Morrisey, his valet, always did this, but Darcy had sent him away to accomplish a last task before their return to London. Moreover, in doing so, Darcy was occupying his mind with something different than the triad of Elizabeth - the letter - the author of the letter.
As a matter of fact, his journey to this town in Leicestershire had proved very useful, although the beginning of it had almost made him abandon his initial plans of investigation. Darcy had chosen to travel in disguise, so that he could avoid any problem that could arise, in case someone could remember that a "Fitzwilliam Darcy" had been to Lord Corbel's estate, Willowside Manor, some years ago and seduced the clergyman's daughter. He thus presented himself as Mr. William Dart, a writer who was travelling from Cambridge to Nottingham.
The occupation would justify his staying at the inn room during most of the day (to write, of course!) while Morrisey could wander around the town and the burnt ruins of Willowside Manor in order to gain the necessary information about Miss Hargraves, her family and her possible direction in London. The first days of investigation proved almost pointless, as Morrisey found that nobody wished to talk about Willowside Manor - there were rumours that Lord Corbel had not actually committed suicide, but that he could have been murdered by one of the persons gathered for one of his debauches, therefore the local people were afraid of committing themselves by saying anything about the matter.
Darcy had then grown restless. Not only the fruitless investigation was disturbing him, but also the fierce words that Elizabeth had used to describe his character in the night they quarrelled. In the beginning, his wife's words had infuriated him because he could only see how biased she had behaved towards his attempts of explanation. Moreover, a fortnight ago his only desire was to clear his name and proved how Elizabeth was wrong about him.
However, after Elizabeth's departure to Longbourn and his own journey to Leicestershire, loneliness overwhelmed his initial pride and irritation and the truth of her words commenced to haunt his thoughts - could he be in lack of "gentlemanly behaviour"? This could not be possible, it was against everything that he had been taught and that he had believed till this moment. For Darcy, there was nothing that could reproach his bearing among his peers. Quite the contrary indeed.
Still, her words continued to reverberate in his mind, I wonder what you will do if your heir does not behave like a Darcy. If he or she is not conceited, if your heir cares for the feelings of the others - if he or she does anything, but behave unlike Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"I am not conceited! I am proud of my state in life, of my family's name, but conceited?" Darcy had wondered in the lonely afternoons he had spent waiting for Morrisey. "And I do care for 'the feelings of the others' - I guess there is nobody among my servants or tenants who could blame me for having mistreated them."
Darcy's conscience would not leave him alone, though, keeping a constant cant in his mind, Perchance she was referring to your usual manners towards the ones you are not well acquainted with or complete strangers. You know that people do consider you aloof because you are unable to converse easily with the ones you do not hold in high esteem. "It is what I need indeed - a conscience to make me feel even worse!." Darcy had thought then.
Some days later, not even the good news he had obtained when the focus of the investigation was changed from Lord Corbel to Miss Hargraves seemed to erase the besetting effect in which Elizabeth's reproach had impressed him. Slowly, therefore very strongly, Darcy began to allow Elizabeth justice for her words - in retrospect, his behaviour had been worthy of the highest praise while among his family circle. However, when observed outside his acquaintance, Darcy's conduct towards strangers, mainly the ones from the inferior spheres, was filled with contempt, arrogance and even condescension.
Hence, to Darcy's initial desire of proving himself innocent of the charges laid on his door, he now wished to make amends - he wanted Elizabeth to see that he accepted her criticism of him and he would do anything in his power to gain her respect and her esteem, if that was still possible. Oh, I do hope it will be! I can not conceive ourselves having to live as strangers in the years to come, residing in separate houses and meeting only when Society demands. Darcy had thought right after becoming aware of his faults.
Then, tired of remaining in the small room while Morrisey was out investigating, Darcy had decided to go out the inn and inquire about the Hargraves in the local pub, feigning an old acquaintance with the clergyman. His wondering as well as Mr. Morrisey's provided interesting information: it was known that Miss Emily Hargraves had eloped with a rich gentleman who was Lord Corbel's friend, but nobody knew what his name was. The clergyman had considered his daughter dead and had prevented Mrs. Hargraves from having any kind of contact with her.
Despite the scandal, Lord Corbel's family had allowed Mr. Hargraves and his family to stay at a small cottage in the family's estate. They could not keep him in the rectory of the parish, though. Mr. Hargraves died a year and three months later, and the family had moved to Birmingham. Miss Hargraves' story was thus confirmed. Yet the most difficult task was still to come - to find the lady's whereabouts in London. It was Morrisey, after insistently pursuing the Hargraves' old housekeeper, who came to obtain the most important intelligence: Miss Hargraves was being helped by an aunt, Mrs. Hargraves' sister, and was settled in a house in Wellington Fields.
In the possession of the lady's possible direction in London, Darcy had ordered Morrisey to pack his things first and then dispatch a missive to Pemberley - it was in such a way that we came to find the gentleman inspecting the inn room in order to check if anything was missing. His action was interrupted by a servant, who delivered two missives and left as quietly as he had entered.
The letters had been addressed to Pemberley by express and redirected to the inn where Darcy was, since he did not wish anybody to know about his journey to Leicestershire, but his steward. The first one he broke the seal was from Mr. Charles Bingley, dated on the 30th of January. After having "deciphered" Bingley's fast handwriting and the uncountable blots, Darcy could not help smiling, "Engaged to Miss Jane Bennet? Ah, dear friend, you can not conceive how this piece of tidings has made me happy, even happier than you are now. At least of this, of separating you from Miss Bennet, Elizabeth would not be able to accuse me anymore."
The other missive was highly expected, but also greatly dreaded - it was from Elizabeth. After having broken its seal, he stared at the neat handwriting for a while, without reading its contents. It seemed stupid, still he wished to divine her state of mind while writing the letter by observing the pressure she had put in the pen, the manner she had written the lines and folded the paper. Finally, he concentrated on the meaning of the paragraphs.
Longbourn, 31st of January, 1812.
Dear Mr. Darcy,I hope this will find you in good health.
I am writing to inform you that Georgiana and I are going to leave for London on the 2nd of February, being escorted by the Gardiners, who are my uncle and aunt.
My initial intention was to wait for you at my parents' house, sir. However, due to the engagement of my sister Jane to Mr. Charles Bingley and the ball the gentleman will give in my sister's honour on the 15th of February, I felt impelled to travel to Town so that I could help my sister with the necessary preparations for such an event. Georgiana has chosen to invite my sister Mary to go with us out of new but already strong friendship. Consequently, you have already noticed that we will be entertaining two guests at the Town house.
I do wish you to be able to solve the urgent matters before the 15th of February, as Mr. Bingley insists on your presence at the ball at Netherfield.
Yours & etc,
Elizabeth Darcy.
Darcy folded the paper and wondered for some moments. "Have Georgiana and Mary become friends? Well, it is better than being close to that empty-headed Lyvia Bennet. Or would it be Lydia?" Darcy smiled rather evilly, "Hmm, Georgiana could help Miss Mary with her pianoforte practice, but I must say it will be a Herculean task for her. On her turn, I only hope that Georgiana will not learn how to throw moralities at the others." Having said so, Darcy censured himself for the malicious thought about Elizabeth's young sister - he would not gain anything if he did not change, at least a little, his manner of seeing the others who did not belong to his immediate circle.
His contemplation was interrupted by Morrisey, who had just come back. Darcy immediately informed his valet of his plans, "Morrisey, we are going to London, but we are not heading to the Town house. Instead, we shall have to stay either with Col. Fitzwilliam, if his parents are not there, or at a hotel."
"Indeed, sir?" The valet politely inquired.
"Yes. Mrs. Darcy is already in Town and I do not want to meet her before having solved this matter about Miss Hargraves." He had vowed he would only face Elizabeth again when he had a reasonable explanation for the matter, regardless how much he was missing her.
"As you wish, sir." It was the valet's dutiful reply.
"It is not what I wish, but the necessary thing to be done, Morrisey." Darcy and his valet left Leicestershire an hour later.
London, 4th of February, 1812
The Darcys' carriage jolted along the muddy streets of London. Had it not been strictly necessary, the ladies inside the elegant coach would not have ventured outside in such a chilly weather, although they were being transported by a somewhat warm and safe vehicle. The ball to be given by Mr. Bingley in honour of his fiancée Miss Jane Bennet would not be postponed because of the rain that had fallen for the last couple of days, and the ladies actually had few days to prepare themselves for such an important social event.
Elizabeth looked around the interior of the carriage and could not help observing the faces of the other occupants: Jane, very content with her new "engaged lady" status, was sitting on her left side bearing a glow countenance, a mixture of anticipation and rapture that would be contagious even to the most skeptic. Jane's easy disposition had completely dissipated the melancholy that had marred her beautiful face since last December and made her suffer Mr. Bingley's desertion in silence. In order for maintaining her sister's now contented state, Elizabeth had omitted from her the particulars about her argument with Darcy, mainly the ones that were connected to Jane's affair with Mr. Bingley.
Sighing lightly, Elizabeth turned to Georgiana, who was in front of Jane and looked as animated as the bride-to-be herself - perchance the life of Darcy's sister had not been as frantic before, nor she had felt so comfortable at other people's company. Moreover, not being out yet, the ball at Netherfield could be considered as a kind of "rehearsal" for Georgiana's "real Season", although she would have to pick a very simple dress and would be allowed to stay no longer than propriety dictated. Yet such details would not steal from the young lady all the excitement that choosing a ball dress and partaking of the preparative for a party provided.
However, it was Mary's veiled enthusiasm that was pleasing Elizabeth the most. She knew that, under the apparent air of normality, Mary was immensely enjoying the journey to London. She could see it in the manner she cheerfully talked to everyone, mainly to Georgiana, and in her new attraction to the Town's hustle and bustle. If she was inquired about, Mary certainly would deny it, still her gazing at the coaches that passed by, at the few street vendors who faced the cold and humidity, singing out their products, and at the multitude of shops aligned in the pavements betrayed her eagerness.
If it had been a pleasant trip from Longbourn to Town for all of them, the same could not be stated about the events that happened before their departure for London - the recollection of the chaos that had descended upon Longbourn on that occasion made Elizabeth grin now, but they were very vexatious at that time. To start with, it had been difficult to persuade Mrs. Bennet that she should stay in Hertfordshire -she by no means wished to miss the opportunity of parading around the shops in London and talking about every single detail of it to Lady Lucas later.
Mrs. Bennet only acquiesced to stay behind when Mr. Bingley himself begged the matron's advice to organize the ball, as he could not rely upon his sisters' assistance, since they were coming to Netherfield on the very day of the reception, as well as a solemn promise from Jane that she would only purchase a new gown for the ball and few items of her trousseau. The other pieces would be bought in a future trip to London with Mrs. Bennet.
Nevertheless, it was the announcement that Mary was also going to London as Georgiana's guest that transformed the house in a pandemonium. Upon hearing about Mary's journey, Lydia had firstly sulked, only to start an hour later a "campaign", supported by Kitty, that almost led all the household to Bedlam - she cried, she stomped her feet on the ground, she described all her "misery" to anyone who unfortunately crossed her path. To make things worse, she followed Elizabeth around the house, threatening her with a long list of absurd "retaliations", such as telling to Mr. Darcy how Lizzy used to be a tomboy as a child, if Elizabeth did not take her (and Kitty) to Town.
A little scared and feeling guilty for the awkward situation, Georgiana had asked Elizabeth if she could not extend the invitation to the young ladies. Elizabeth, wishing to keep all the peace of mind she would be in need, had denied Georgiana's request. Finally, after almost two days of Lydia's wild behaviour, Mr. Bingley and Jane had come to rescue the situation once again - the gentleman, by enlisting the youngest Bennets' help for the ball; the lady, by reminding her sisters of how the officers could be inconstant in their inclination and that they might be without a decent partner for the dances if they stayed more than a day distant from Hertfordshire.
Back to the present, Elizabeth was taken out of her reverie by Georgiana's request, "Could I ask you a favour, Elizabeth?" It also attracted the other two ladies' attention.
"If I can help you, Georgiana." Elizabeth offered.
"As I am going to choose a simple ball gown, I was wondering if I could not be the first one to select a model. My brother ordered some books for me before our departure from Pemberley, and I would like to go to the bookseller's to fetch the package while you select a gown for yourself."
"I am not sure if I should allow such a thing." Elizabeth stated in a worried manner. "Have you ever been there alone?"
"No, all the times I went there I was either with my brother, or with Mrs. Annesley, my companion." Georgiana was unable of lying to her sister. "But it is only four quarters away from the dressmaker's and the carriage can take me there. It will not take more than twenty minutes." She then looked at Mary and said, "Besides, Mary could go with me."
"Oh yes, Lizzy." Mary promptly supported her new friend. "Georgiana has told me that I might find some rare books there - she has even mentioned the possibility of finding some volumes by Fordyce."
Elizabeth frowned in suspicion. Georgiana and Mary must have planned this before they had left Longbourn - should she agree with their apparent plan? What did they really have in mind?
Upon noticing her sister's hesitation, Jane turned to her and said, "I would not mind being the last one to choose, Lizzy. In this way, I can have more time to deliberate about the best gown for the occasion." Then, she approached her sister and murmured, pretending she was arranging something in Elizabeth's hair, "They must be wishing to chat alone, Lizzy. You should remember how many times we grabbed the first opportunity to escape from mother in the past, or even from Aunt Gardiner when we were here. Just think how important it must be for both of them - at least it is the first time Mary is doing something like this."
"Jane, they are under my responsibility." Elizabeth whispered back.
"I do believe that they are unable to do anything improper, Lizzy." Jane stated heartily.
Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana and Mary and considered the matter for a while, before conceding, "Well, if you do not delay yourselves at the bookseller's more than the necessary, you can go. Still, you have to promise that under no circumstance will you leave the place and wander around the streets." Elizabeth warned them.
"We do promise it!" The girls said in unison.
At this moment, the carriage stopped in front of Mme. Avignon's elegant couture house and the ladies prepared themselves to alight with the help of the footman. Inside the establishment, the ladies were welcomed by a lady in her thirties who offered them some refreshment and informed that Mme. Avignon would come to them in few minutes. There were also other ladies chatting or looking at the La Mode pages searching for the new fashions. While they waited for being attended by Madame herself, the group discreetly looked around and assessed the room, which was well-furnished according to the Regency style, although the green velvet drapes looked a little hefty when contrasted to the soft pieces of cloth spread over small tables.
Mme. Avignon did not leave them waiting for long. She entered the room like a gulf of wind, wearing a cream vestment inspired in the Greek tunics. Her soft dark hair was also knotted in the Greek style and she bore her chin high, irradiating class and dignity, as if she had never abandoned such a position. The French lady had been dressing the Ton elegantly and, more importantly, with taste for ages. It was not an address that Elizabeth would have even dreamed of, had she not married a Darcy. Not only because of the money, but also because of the family's name - Mme. Avignon only received a restricted number of ladies, which included the late Lady Anne. Therefore the "couturier", as she liked to be called, would receive Elizabeth and her sister-in-law today because they were Mrs. and Miss Darcy.
"Mrs. Darcy! What a pleasure to meet you!" Mme. Avignon exclaimed upon greeting her new client. The lady then smiled at Elizabeth while discreetly assessing her. Many things had been talked about Mr. Darcy's new wife, from her being a country beauty to a gold-digger. But Mme. Avignon was not accustomed to paying attention to hearsay. And she immediately liked what she saw - Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy seemed to bear very well indeed the curiosity raised in the room after her name had been pronounced.
"The pleasure is mine, ma'am." Elizabeth answered. "May I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?"
"Nice to meet you, Miss Darcy. You look so alike Lady Jane! The same hair colour and the same demeanour." She saw Georgiana blush. The other two ladies were then introduced and the purpose of their visit explained. The French lady invited Mrs. Darcy and her group to follow her to another room where they could choose the gowns in privacy.
As it had been previously settled, Georgiana and Mary were the first ones to pick their gowns. Georgiana, as expected, favoured a very simple white silk evening dress, with a drapery in the bosom and an embroidered boarder at the bottom of the overskirt. Mary, who was thinking more of the books she could find at the bookseller's than the fashions displayed in front of her, ended up electing one that seemed very practical for her - a light green gown with a very high waist and puffed short sleeves. Choices made, the two friends left the couture house with the promise of returning in less than an hour.
Jane and Elizabeth looked at many patterns and after hesitating a little, they ordered the models that looked more suitable for the occasion - Jane, an enthusiastic of the V-necked bodice (as long as the cleavage was not overexposed), selected a white silk satin one, with puffed short sleeves that were arranged quite low in the arms, setting off the slope of the shoulders. The high waist was marked by an imitated thin rope, knotted and left to hang in the right, with small tassels in the ends.
Elizabeth's bosom also favoured the V-necked dresses, still she preferred a cream one with a square neckline and puffed sleeves, which were rimmed by a gold rope trim. The delicate rope also bordered the edges of the overskirt, forming a charming belt - simple, but very classic. Mme. Avignon was pleased (and relieved) to see that good taste will continue as the Darcys' characteristic at least for another generation. It was then settled that the ladies should return on the 7th so that they could have the first fitting of their gowns.
Meanwhile, at the bookseller's
Mr. Hogan's establishment was quite empty, there were only two ladies and two gentlemen wandered around. As soon as Mary and Georgiana entered, they directed themselves towards a large counter and were attended by the owner, a short, middle-aged man that smiled largely when Georgiana explained her errand. While Mr. Hogan fetched Mr. Darcy's order for his sister, Mary ventured herself through the bookshelves towards the back of the store. Her eyes examined the bookbinders, looking for something that would hold her interest. Finally, the gold letters of a book that was not strung out in a bookshelf, but seemed to have been put aside in purpose, caught her eye,
"Odyssey, by Homer." She read out loud. Mary flipped the book highly enticed. It was a rare edition, with the initial letter of each chapter printed in gold and many illustrations. She caressed the volume - she still remembered the time she sneaked into her father's library at late hours to read the two Homer's masterpieces. Mrs. Bennet did not approve of her daughters reading such "violent and absolutely improper for ladies" books.
Still, Mary knew that Jane and Lizzy had read them with Mr. Bennet's compliance, which he did not extend to her - he thought that Mary was not clever enough and this had somewhat hurt her in the beginning. She had thus found a manner to satisfy her curiosity by secretly reading the books, even if it meant that she had to sleep only three or 4 hours a night.
All of a sudden, a movement in a side aisle caught her attention and she looked over the lines of books to see what had happened. Mary then saw a tall gentleman in a dark blue attire staring intensely at her. Her cheeks immediately burnt and she lowered her head, attempting to concentrate on an illustration of Penelope weaving a tapestry, that she undid at night.
Slowly, Mary looked up to see if the gentleman had already left the aisle. Her surprise was great indeed, because not only was he still there, but also smiling at her. She felt her heart skip a beat and she defensively raised the book in front of her face. "How impertinent!" She grumbled. Upon hearing his steps on the ground indicating that he was striding towards her, Mary froze and dived even more her face into the book. It did not work, though, because the sounds stopped next to her.
"I-I beg your pardon, Miss." His voice was soft.
Mary glance up to see a pair of small green eyes, hidden behind spectacles, gazing at her. She quickly closed the book and held it in front of her as a shield. "Y-Yes?"
"I... I think.." The gentleman tried. He was unsure of how he should continue. "I was wondering - I mean, I have been observing you, and it seems you like Homer." He arranged his spectacles over his nose before pointing out at the book between Mary's hands.
"Umm... This one?" She gripped the book tight. Of course it is 'this one', Mary! What else are you holding? "Yes! Yes, I do."
"Oh, good!" He exclaimed. "Although it is a little unusual for ladies, is it not?"
"I do not do what ladies usually do, sir." Mary immediately regretted what she had just stated. Lord, what he can deduce from my sentence! "I mean, I do not employ my time with futile things (such as caring about fashion) as many ladies do, I do not need salts - I do not even faint, sir."
"Indeed? I do not like ladies who only talk about fashion either. But I do like Homer, like you." He smiled anew and showed her the volume he was holding, the Iliad.
"Oh, what a coincidence!" Mary said gazing at the book in his hand and realising that it must have made a pair with "hers".
"And who is your favourite character in Odyssey?" The gentleman asked, his eyes observing her with interest.
"Oh, certainly Penelope. I admire her strength and sense of loyalty." Mary was baffled - she had never found a gentleman disposed to discuss books with her. Well, Mr. Collins had, but perhaps it had been more her interest than his and she became ashamed of how stupidly she had pursued him at that time. Now she perceived that she deserved someone better, or no-one at all. Recomposing herself, Mary focused her attention on the gentleman in front of her, "How about yours, sir?"
"Hector, in the Iliad, for his courage and honour." He wished he could say "Odysseus", but it would be too obvious and the implication of his fancy for her could embarrass both of them. How could he not admire a lady that liked to read Homer? He had seen how her eyes had sparkled upon leafing the pages and how she caressed the book, as if it were the hand of her lover. He did not even know how he had gathered enough courage to approach her, as he had been observing her since he had noticed her holding the book he had separated to buy. Finally, feeling divided between the desire of buying the book and the desire of pleasing the lady (if she wanted to buy the Odyssey), he then decided to ask, "Are you going to buy it?"
"The Odyssey? It is a splendid edition, still I think your initial intention was to buy the two books, sir." She divined. Mary looked back at the counter and saw that Georgiana was ready to leave. Turning to the gentleman, she gave the book to him and said, "You arrived first, sir. I hope you will have pleasant hours with them. Goodbye."
"Wait a minute, miss. I do not even know your name." How could he look for her if he did not know whom he should ask for?
"Penelope, sir. Goodbye, Hector." Mary span around and walked towards the front door to meet Georgiana, who was waiting for her.
"Goodbye." It was the only thing that "Hector" managed to say.
London, 10th of February, 1812.
Mary had never been a dreamy girl. Being the third child and always having to put up with the comparisons to her elder and younger sisters, she knew that she would have to face the world with her eyes wide open - Mary was aware that she was neither a beauty, nor lively enough to attract a gentleman only interested in such attributes. Somewhat naïvely, she had then hoped that there might have been a gentleman who would see beyond her lack of those features and notice her other qualities, such as her passion for music and books.
She was already nineteen, still such a man, if he really existed, had not crossed her path. Mary had thought that Mr. Collins could have been the one. Now she thanked Lord that he had preferred Lizzy, and later Charlotte, or she would have made the biggest mistake of her life - the clergyman, contrary to what she had first thought of him, was not intelligent, and was too pompous and inclined to patronize, "qualities" that she could not stand in a human being.
As a matter of fact, after the disastrous pursue of Mr. Collins, Mary had started to agree with her mother's idea that "she would never marry" and was already preparing herself to be a spinster. She did so until she found a friend in Georgiana and was invited to come to Town. Until she went to that bookseller's and, upon finding a rare book, encountered a rare gentleman too.
After their first meeting on the 4th, Mary had thought that she would never see him again. Fate had decided the opposite though. Georgiana had caught a cold and Mary had returned alone to the bookseller's on two other occasions when "Hector" was also there, as if waiting for her. Using their aliases, they had spent hours talking about everything - their favourite composers (he liked Mozart, she preferred Bach), books, his experience in the Army fighting the Frenchmen (ah, if only Kitty and Lydia knew), their childhood. It looked like they had known each other for ever.
In the third time they had met, he had invited her to go to a coffee house nearby and she had almost forgotten herself - what would she have explained to Lizzy, if she had arrived home later than the expected? Her sister was already growing suspicious of her "trips to the bookstore", and had her mind not been occupied by something else, Mary was sure that she would not escape an inquiry from Lizzy.
Mary was unsure about the nature of her feelings towards the gentleman she had met in the bookstore. She felt so delighted while talking and listening to him, laughing at the funny stories he told. Could one fall in love after some hours of conversation? She did not know. She only knew that she had difficulty to fall asleep last night because today she would meet "Hector" in the park next to the Darcys' house.
Excitement had prevented her from enjoying breakfast this morning and after paying a visit to a still ill Georgiana, Mary had fetched her reticule in her chamber and went downstairs, quickly going to the parlour where she pulled on the coat offered by a footman. She was already leaving when Lizzy, coming out from the morning room, inquired, "Are you going out, Mary?"
"Yes, I am a little tired of staying indoors, Lizzy. Jane and you have things to do and Georgiana is still asleep. I thought I could go and take a stroll in _________ Park." Mary explained.
"With such a weather? It is going to rain, Mary. Besides, you have never been very fond of walking." Elizabeth felt that she was missing something, although she could not define exactly what. Mary had been very different lately - she had stop moralising, she seemed to be more communicative. She was even more careful with her appearance.
"I am only a little bored, Lizzy. It will not take too long, and you can observe me from one of the windows of your chamber, if you choose so."
"I shall not, Mary." Elizabeth sighed. "Go and watch out the weather."
"I shall, Lizzy. Goodbye." At this moment, the butler came with a missive to Elizabeth and Mary grabbed the opportunity to leave before her sister could continue objecting to her stroll. She quickly covered the distance from the house to the park, and crossed its gate shivering a little. It was a cold day indeed, but meeting him would compensate anything.
"Hector" was already waiting for her next to a bench. They cheerfully greeted each other and seated on the bench. The couple did not chat for long, though. Soon, the silence descended upon them and Mary noticed that something must be wrong - the gentleman looked very distraught and he could not stop shaking his legs. Besides, he kept holding his right hand over his coat, as if hiding something under the cloth, and his eyes seemed to be dominated by a strange fervour.
Finally, he stood up and paced in front of the bench for a while. In seconds, he resumed his pace and came back to the bench, grabbing Mary's hand tight. He had never touched her before and this, plus his strange behaviour, startled her. Suddenly, horrible stories that she had heard of ladies who had been attacked in deserted places came to her mind. Here she was alone with someone she did not even know the name and there was not a single soul around. She panicked and, freeing herself from his grip, ran out of the park as fast as her trembling legs allowed, unaware of the gentleman crying her "name".
In vain "Hector" attempted to find where "Penelope" had headed to. Desolated, he came back to his father's house wondering about what he had done wrong. He had been so glad before their meeting in the park - he had planned to give her the two books by Homer she liked the most and ask her permission to talk to her father. He knew that it could look too early, after all, they had not known each other for a week. Still, she was the lady he had waited for.
Or he thought that she was. Perchance she had realised his fancy for her and, unable to correspond and desiring to avoid an awkward situation, she had escaped. Wars are much easier to deal with than a woman! He sadly concluded.
Elizabeth did not perceive when Mary came back home. The letter she had received before her young sister left the house for a stroll in the park was the one she had been waiting since her arrival in Town.
London, 10th of February, 1812.Dear Lizzy,
Mr. Gardiner's servant has gathered all the information we were expecting to. Unfortunately, Miss Emily Hargraves really exists and her father was the vicar in the rectory near Willowside Manor, the late Lord Corbel's estate. It is also known that she eloped with a gentleman who was his Lordship's friend more than five years ago, although nobody knew her lover's name.
The servant also came to find this lady whereabouts in London - she lives in Wellington Fields. It is a relatively poor neighbourhood, but safe enough for us to pay the lady a visit. When would you like to go there? The messenger will wait for your reply.
Yours & etc,
Madeleine Gardiner
A cold sensation ran through Elizabeth's spine - Miss Hargraves was real, as well as her story. She went to the Mistress' room and hurriedly wrote that she would like to go this afternoon, if this suited Mrs. Gardiner's plans too. Her aunt's reply came when luncheon was being served - she would be waiting for Elizabeth at 1:00pm.
Fortunately, Jane had some letters to write and Mary was not feeling well, they thus would not be able to go out with Elizabeth. While riding in the Darcys' carriage towards the Gardiner's direction, Elizabeth was wondering about Mary's sudden change this luncheon - she could swear that her sister had been crying, but Mary alleged that perhaps she had only caught a cold, like Georgiana. Even so, Elizabeth decided that she would talk to her tonight.
Elizabeth did not alight at the Gardiners', as her aunt was already waiting for her. The two of them spoke little during the half an hour journey to Wellington Fields, but for settling that Elizabeth should not disclose her identity and talking about the details of Lord Corbel's apparent suicide. Slowly, the streets they passed through started to look poorer, with small houses, some of them in a very distressing situation. However, most of them still held some dignity, as the people who inhabited them - ordinary clerks, small traders and their families.
The carriage came to a halt in a narrow street with small houses. The coachman then informed Mrs. Darcy that this was the address she had asked for. Elizabeth informed that they would get off and Tom should ride around the quarter and come back in thirty minutes to fetch them.
The house was narrow fronted and did not even have a small garden. The door was answered by a woman in her early forties, probably a maid who was paid with great effort, as having servants were not the kind of thing that the inhabitants of Wellington Fields could afford, "Yes?"
"I am Miss Bennet and this is Mrs. Gardiner. We are looking for Miss Emily Hargraves." Elizabeth said.
The maid immediately noticed that she was dealing with ladies of quality, still she asked, "To wot, ma'am?"
"Tell her that it is about an event that took place in Willowside Manor some years ago." Elizabeth held her breath.
The maid did not hesitate and completely open the door, "If ya could wait, I'll tell Miss Hargraves ya wish to talk to 'er."
Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner entered a small drawing room and seated in a worn couch. Everything seemed very clean and tidy, a decent manner of keeping a house scarcely furnished. As far as they could see, Miss Hargraves was able to maintain a servant, but nothing else than this.
Some light steps were heard in the corridor and all of a sudden a fragile lady entered the room - she had dark eyes and hair, and she must not be older than five and twenty. Her skin was very clear and she had long, dark eyelashes - were not for the purple gown she was wearing (probably in mourning), she would look like a porcelain doll. She was very pretty and, a little envious, Elizabeth could see why Darcy had liked her, if he was involved in this matter at all. The lady stopped in front of them and politely observed them, before saying, "Good afternoon. I am Emily Hargraves."
"Good afternoon. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet and this is my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner." Elizabeth pointed out at her aunt and the ladies bowed.
After exchanging some pleasantries, Miss Hargraves took a seat in an armchair and went right to the point, "My maid informed that you would like to see me about something that happened some years ago." She was a little suspicious, as she had never heard of a Miss Bennet and a Mrs. Gardiner before. Who could they be?
"We are here on behalf of Mrs. Darcy." Elizabeth did not beat around the bush either, she was too nervous to do it anyway
"Mrs. Darcy?" Miss Hargraves raised her right eyebrow and paled a little.
"Yes. She has heard that you were acquainted with her husband, Mr. Darcy and--"
Miss Hargraves immediately stood up and exclaimed, visibly disturbed, "I do not have anything to do with Mr. Darcy anymore."
Elizabeth was coldly sweating, as Miss Hargraves had confirmed her relationship with Darcy. She attempted to say something, but she felt her throat dry. Perceiving her niece's predicament, Mrs. Gardiner came to her help, "She does know it. Still, Mrs. Darcy also knows that there is a child involved."
"There is nothing here that would interest either Mrs. Darcy or her husband." She then pointed out the door. "If this is all you had to tell me, I beg you now to leave."
Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner raised, both of them looking for something to say that could help them to stay a little longer so that they could obtain more details. As though he had listened to the ladies, a boy entered the room and held to Miss Hargraves' skirt.
"Mama!" The boy exclaimed.
"Go to your room, Richard." His mother ordered.
Elizabeth gazed at the boy, still hidden by his mother's skirt. Looking at his constitution, she thought he must be five years old. The boy then moved his head a little and stared at her. Elizabeth felt her blood freeze, His hair, his eyes! And the features! Oh, Lord, they are alike! Her knees became suddenly too weak to support her and she would have fallen if Mrs. Gardiner had not noticed her dizziness.
"Lizzy! Lizzy!" Mrs. Gardiner laid Elizabeth down on the couch and tried to reanimate her niece.
Miss Hargraves immediately sent the boy to his room and called her maid to help. The woman brought the salts, but Elizabeth did not need them, as she had not fainted. Elizabeth even attempted to sit down, but was not allowed to do so by Mrs. Gardiner, who made her repose her head in a cushion. Miss Hargraves was very pale and seemed unsure of what to do next - she could not ask the ladies to leave now. To make things worse, someone knocked on the door.
The maid motioned to answer the door, but Miss Hargraves stated, "I shall do it, Mrs. Finn. It must be a vendor. Help the ladies instead." She strode towards the door and opened it a little.
"I am looking for Miss Emily Hargraves." A strong voice resounded through the room.
This voice... Elizabeth raised her head and made an effort to see who was in the door, but Miss Hargraves was blocking her sight.
"I AM Miss Hargraves!" The lady said somewhat annoyed. There had been too many people looking for her today.
"Could I talk to you inside, miss?" The gentleman attempted to force his passage, still the lady did not move. "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy?" Miss Hargraves was appalled and, in confusion, completely opened the door.
Darcy then entered the room and saw Elizabeth lying down on the couch. "Elizabeth? What happened?" He anxiously inquired. "What are you doing here?"
After having seen Elizabeth's colourless face, Darcy strode through the room towards the couch where his wife reposed. Apart from his initial surprise at seeing Elizabeth at Miss Hargraves' house, he was also anxious for her being unwell. Therefore, forgetting himself at a stranger's house, he took her hands between his and exclaimed, "Good God! You look very ill. I shall fetch a doctor."
On her turn, Elizabeth was as astonished as Darcy was. Her mind was still assessing all the information that had befallen in a matter of minutes: Miss Hargraves' indirect acknowledge of her acquaintance with Darcy; her son's impressive resemblance to the person that could only be his father; her own sudden dizziness; Darcy's arrival and the lady's apparent, and very strange, unfamiliarity to him. Even so, Elizabeth forced herself to say something and calm down her husband a little, "I thank you, but I am quite better, sir. There is no need for calling a doctor."
"Are you sure?" He studied her white face and looked up at the lady who was standing behind the couch. Darcy had never seen her before, but judging for her countenance, she could only be a well-bred person. Still, who could she be?
Elizabeth followed her husband's gaze and made the introductions, "May I present my aunt Mrs. Gardiner? My sister Jane spent some time at her house in Cheapside last January." She had purposely emphasised the older lady's relationship to her as well as her address in London so that there would not be doubts concerning Mrs. Gardiner's standing. She attentively observed her husband to see how he bore it, expecting to see him go away from her aunt as fast as possible. For Elizabeth's surprise, she could only notice that he was somewhat amazed at the connection. He sustained it with fortitude though, and respectfully bowed,
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, ma'am." Darcy had taken for granted that all of Elizabeth's relatives should be alike Mrs. Bennet and her sister, Mrs. Philips. Fortunately, it did not seem to be the case here, even if the lady was from Cheapside. His wondering was interrupted by a voice coming from the door.
"I beg your pardon, but I would like to know what is happening in my house."
Darcy spun around and, following the other two ladies' gaze, looked at a confused and not less upset Miss Hargraves, who was still holding the door open. In their confusion, Darcy and Elizabeth had forgotten about their initial purpose to pay a visit to this house in Wellington Fields. Quite aware of his misbehaviour towards the owner of the house, Darcy took two steps ahead and gravely apologised, "I beg you to forgive, ma'am, but anxiety over my wife's welfare was the cause for my being remiss."
Miss Hargraves stared at him, at Elizabeth and then glanced at the gentleman anew, "Your wife, sir? The lady presented herself as Miss Bennet no longer than a quarter an hour ago." Miss Hargraves increased the tight of her small hand in the doorknob. "I believe you have come here determined to play games at me, for reasons that I am unaware of."
"Did she?" Darcy half turned to Elizabeth, catching her eyes. She moved as though she would say something, but Darcy slightly nodded his head, indicating that he would like to take the matter in his hands thenceforth. Elizabeth did not like to be spoken for. Due to the circumstances though, she thought it better remain quiet and concur with Darcy's apparent plan. His wife's silence being thus a sign of her approval, Darcy felt confident to continue, "Well, she was until last December, ma'am."
"I thus presume that neither the lady is now Miss Bennet, nor have you ever been Mr. Darcy, sir." Miss Hargraves said ironically.
"I am!" Darcy stiffened his back.
"You can not be!" The lady retorted. "I had the misfortune of being acquainted with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and I am absolutely sure that there is no likeness between you and that gentleman, sir."
Upon hearing Miss Hargraves' statement, Elizabeth sat down straight - could it be true? If so, could there be two Fitzwilliam Darcys? Elizabeth thought it very unlike. Were Darcy and Miss Hargraves simulating being unacquainted with each other? But Miss Hargraves' child is -- Elizabeth's reverie was interrupted by Mrs. Gardiner supportively holding her hand and she decided to listen to her husband and the young lady's exchange for the time being.
At the same time, Darcy replied to Miss Hargraves, "As I am absolutely sure that I am Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy, from Pemberley, Derbyshire. And I have got all the necessary proof of it, ma'am."
The young lady was startled. The gentleman did not seem to be lying at all. She hesitated, "I... I do not..."
Darcy moved towards Miss Hargraves and gently touched her elbow, in an attempt to lead her and finally have her removed from the door - not only was it inappropriate to hold such a discussion with the door open, allowing the meddlesome an easy display of private affairs, but also to stop the cold wind that threatened to extinguish the already little flames in the fireplace. His touch made the lady flinch, yet she consented to Darcy's silent suggestion by moving away from the door. As Darcy eventually closed the door, she took a seat across from Elizabeth.
A few minutes ticked by before Miss Hargraves murmured, more wondering aloud than talking to the three strangers who had unburied certain events from her past which she already considered as a turned page in her life, "How silly of me! Naturally his name was also false, as everything that came from him."
Elizabeth was at a loss for words, as any commentary now could sound either indifferent or inadequate and effortless. In her turn, Mrs. Gardiner was as quiet as a grave not wishing to intrude, since she had come with Elizabeth only to support her niece and help her if necessary.
Finally, Miss Hargraves left her inner world and inquired, "How have you found out about me?"
"My wife received this missive three weeks ago and I have undertaken an investigation so as to attest the veracity of the facts as well as find your location." Darcy took out some papers from his coat and passed them to the lady. As it seemed, Darcy's inquisition about the matter had run parallel to another, led by his wife. How she had accomplished it so well was a mystery to him, and in spite of his natural distaste for his wife having involved herself with such an unladylike task, part of him was glad that she had done so.
As Darcy conjectured, it took Miss Hargraves no longer than a couple of minutes to cover the content of the missive. After having folded the letter, she handed it in to Darcy and said, "This is a true narrative of what happened in Leicestershire almost six years ago. Still, it was not written by me, let alone sent it to your wife by my hands, sir. My interest in this person ceased completely when I came to know about the false marriage. Since then, I have only lived to provide a decent life for my son."
As though listening to his mother's words, the young child came to the room anew and ran to Miss Hargraves' lap, holding his small arms around her neck. "You should have stayed in your room, Richard." The lady said to the young boy.
Even having had a glimpse of the boy's features, Darcy was astounded at the child's resemblance to another boy he had known many years ago. He then looked at Elizabeth and she nodded affirmatively to him - she had also noticed the similarity of looks to the same person. A little unsure of what to do next, Darcy approached Miss Hargraves' chair and stated, "It is amazing how-"
"How he takes after his father." The lady completed. "I assume that you are acquainted with 'him', sir. Oh, of course you are - how could 'that person' know how much of you if you were not acquainted after all?" She sadly smiled.
"Yes, I unfortunately was. What is your son's name, ma'am?
"The gentleman is asking your name, dear." Miss Hargraves whispered to her son.
The boy then stared at Darcy, "I am Richard Hargraves, sir."
"Pleased to meet you. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy." Darcy offered his hand to the boy, who timidly accepted it. Indeed, the same straight dark hair, the same rebel lock falling over the forehead, the same pleasant features - the nose, the outline of his lips, the symmetry of his face. Were it not for the sweetness that his eyes hold and I would swear I returned to the past and was in front of 'him'.
Master Richard hid his face anew and his mother told him to return to his room, which he ended up doing after having bidding his adieu quickly. Darcy then took out another item from his coat and offered it to Miss Hargraves' appreciation. "I am sorry to cause you pain once again, but I need to be sure of the real identity of the man who passed himself off as me. Only you can confirm or deny it, ma'am."
Miss Hargraves studied the small portrait in her hands and give it back to Darcy with trembling hands. Afterwards, as she had finally understood why the gentleman was so desperate to know the truth, she looked at Elizabeth and affirmed, "The man in this picture is the one who presented himself to me as Fitzwilliam Darcy, the one who I eloped with and entered in a false marriage to five years ago. He is also the father of my son, Mrs. Darcy."
Darcy passed the portrait to Elizabeth, who promptly recognised the likeness of George Wickham on it. She discreetly sighed in relief - she had not been wrong then when she had first noticed George Wickham's traces in the boy's sweet face. Dominating her own feelings of relief and a strange but increasing joy, she said, "Mr. George Wickham - this was his name, Miss Hargraves."
"George Wickham... Was?" Miss Hargraves could not help asking.
"I am afraid he passed away last December." Elizabeth said gravely.
Miss Hargraves closed her eyes and attempted to control herself. "I only hope it was in a dignifying manner."
Elizabeth gazed at Darcy inquisitively and he immediately took control of the situation again. "Hmm, we actually do not know the particulars, Miss Hargraves." He thought better change the subject, "Did you not talk to him after your son was born?"
Miss Hargraves noticed Darcy's manoeuvre, but decided not to impose her curiosity upon the gentleman - after all what benefit could come from being aware or not of the manner "he" had died? She thus restrained herself and replied to the gentleman, "No, the last time we met was after his 'disappearance' - I had not heard from him for three months. We met by chance while he was leaving a gambling house and escorting a 'lady'." She frowned at her hands as the unpleasant images of that day were forming in her mind's eye. "And why should I, sir? This person acted on that day exactly as described in the letter - he laughed at me and denied any responsibility concerning the child I was expecting. He had no qualms about doing it."
"I see." Darcy was beginning to feel suffocated, although the room itself was poorly heated. The whole affair was disturbing him the most, as everything seemed worse than he had expected. As a matter of fact, he had firstly thought, and even hoped, that it was only an ambush used to obtain money from him. Later, after having discovered that Miss Hargraves really existed, he had inferred that she might have been in connivance to Wickham in the past or even now after his death, again with the sole purpose of earning some monetary advantage.
However, upon meeting Miss Hargraves in person and testifying the lady's tribulations, Darcy had come to realise the real dimension of what Wickham had done. To make the matters worse, he had previously been informed of Wickham's reasons to forge a marriage and seduce the lady - much as Miss Hargraves and very likely the other ladies present could conceive Wickham's actions as pure lust, Darcy had found out that it was much more than this. He was unsure yet whether it was true, but he could not help feeling revolted by the idea.
Darcy was only waiting for the right moment to tactfully inquire Miss Hargraves about the piece of intelligence he had uncovered. Still, if she confirmed what he needed to know, should he reveal the infamy to her? Should he add to Miss Hargraves' misfortunes the notion that she had certainly been used by Wickham, but for different reasons from the ones dictated by desire? His momentary silence allowed Elizabeth to continue with her inquiry,
"I am still wondering though - if the letter was not written by you, who did it then? If you do not mind my asking, who else had such a knowledge as to write in details about your private life?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Darcy. As far as I am concerned, apart from Mr. Wickham and I, only my parents, my aunt Mrs. Dubble (who gently has helped me) and her maid, that now works for me, Mrs. Finn know about this. Therefore, only Mr. Wickham or someone paid by him could have sent you the missive."
"Has anyone else come to you asking about this matter, Miss Hargraves?" Darcy decided to inquire - it seemed now the right moment to do so and obtain the corroboration of what he feared.
Miss Hargraves did not hesitate, "A Mrs. Young, who used to be a companion to Lord Corbel's sister, called on me in the first week of December."
"Did she know about your elopement?" Darcy was holding his breath, in an attempt to cover his anxiety.
"Yes, as she was still at Willowside Manor at that time. She said she had seen me at the market and had followed me until here, wishing to know about my well-being." Miss Hargraves raised her left eyebrow in a sign that she had not believed in her old acquaintance at all. "The nerve of her! This lady used to treat my family and I with contempt. Surely she is not in a comfortable position either, so I believe she came here only to exult at someone else's affliction."
"I bore her intrusive visit as long as I could and fortunately it did not last longer than half an hour. But I believe that she knows about my life as much as the other people around Willowside Manor do, I mean, only about the elopement, which means that she could not have written the letter." She took a breath before continuing, "As a matter of fact, I can not conceive what the purpose of this letter was - it does not seem that the person meant to blackmail either of you. And another thing, why did Mr. Wickham disguise himself as Mr. Darcy? If his intention was only to deceive me, he could have assumed any other identity."
If you knew how much you are mistaken about Mrs. Young, Miss Hargraves. And strangely, how near you are to the truth. The confirmation of the acquaintance between the two ladies made Darcy very unhappy, as now he was assuredly aware of how low Wickham had stooped as to reach his ambition. And the lady's wondering was increasing his unpleasantness. He shifted his position twice before replying, "I am afraid we shall never be sure about his intentions, ma'am."
He knew he was lying and that made him feel more miserable. "I guess he was... he was very captivated by you and did not wish to reveal his situation, perchance thinking of a possible rejection from you. Mr. Wickham was the son of my father's steward but he had never accepted it, preferring to act as a man of possession as much as he could."
Miss Hargraves coloured a little upon the mention of Mr. Wickham's fancy for her. Then, leaving her feelings behind, she reflected on the gentleman's words for a while. Finally, she firmly looked at Darcy and asserted, "I thank you for your kind explanation, Mr. Darcy, but I can not agree with such a notion. My father was a clergyman, therefore Mr. Wickham could never be considered inferior to my family's position."
Elizabeth eyed Darcy in wonder, wishing to understand why her husband was apparently attempting to "justify" Wickham's conduct as a consequence of his passions. Darcy pretended he did not understand his wife's look and insisted, even aware of how ingenuous he could sound, "Mr. Wickham was rather pretentious and as I said, he was not content with his situation at all, even if it was infinitely better than his peers, mainly because he had my father's admiration and support. My father paid his studies at Cambridge, for example."
"Perhaps, sir. Yet I do not wish to think of him in such a manner. I do not wish to cover his blame and my mistake with some fanciful notions." She sounded extremely realistic, despite the dreamy countenance she still held, visible to anyone who observed her face better.
"Perchance you should be not so harsh on herself, Miss Hargraves. I also knew Mr. Wickham and I am aware of how good he was at charming people and giving them the illusion that he was dependable." Elizabeth stated, afraid of having sounded a little patronising.
"No, Mrs. Darcy, I am not. I already knew how much I had been foolish in which concerned that 'gentleman' before you coming here. Now, the things you have told me about his identity only confirm what I had found out by myself."
"Much as I am conscious of his deception, I can not easily forget that I, even if in naïveté, agreed to elope with him. I knew that my father would never forgive me, nor would he allow my family to do so. I knew that I would mar my family's name, that my father would have to leave his position in the Church, still I allowed myself to be selfish enough as to believe that love would solve anything and I could risk everything because of my love for a man."
Miss Hargraves was on the verge of tears, yet she would not grant herself to cry. At least not now, in front of strangers. She gripped the folds of her skirt tight until she felt the cloth hurting her fingers. Then, she stood up and raised her head as high as she could. "I guess this is all I have to say about these past events."
Darcy, Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner understood it was time to leave. Darcy silently moved to the couch and offered his hand to his wife, helping her to stand. Afterwards, he took possession of her arm and would not release it while they bid their adieu to miss Hargraves, nor before Elizabeth was safe and sound installed inside the Darcys' carriage.
Upon the coachman's command, the horses rode on pulling the carriage through the narrow street in Wellington Fields. Both Darcy and Elizabeth were silent, mortified by the events of the afternoon. In their own way, the more they wish, the less they can forget Miss Hargraves' misfortune. Without doubt, neither of them had been so damaged by Wickham's actions, not even Georgiana had. Even more than Elizabeth, Darcy was feeling the weight of if upon his shoulders. He would have to do something about it.