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The next morning Darcy was up with the sun and heading out before most people had begun their morning routines. He walked quickly out of his own neighbourhood, taking the rear servants’ entrance to keep prying eyes from perceiving the master of the house, dressed in shabby clothes, skulking off into the city. He hired a hackney cab almost a mile away and began the journey to his destination near Lambeth, Elizabeth’s new address.

When the hack finally stopped and he alighted from the cab, he looked around to view their new neighbourhood. He was satisfied with the quality of the surroundings. They were neither overly fine, nor in disrepair. He suspected most of the community would consist of tradesmen on their way up the social hierarchy and retired naval captains and other such gentlemen and their families.

His first stop was to see the house she had taken. This might be the only time of day he would have to get a good look at it, before the household arose; therefore he hastened to it immediately.

Her street featured the rows of terraced houses popular in the area. As he walked quickly past he dared a covert glance across to see her house, number twelve, and then diverted his view back to the pavement and continued. When he got to the end of her street he turned and, after he had passed the side of the building blocking the view to her house, he stopped and looked about to see if anyone had noticed him. Few were paying attention to the surroundings, as they seemed to be heading off in particular pursuits of their own. He then casually walked to the edge of the building and peeked slowly round the corner. Now, with the shrubbery hiding most of him, he allowed himself the luxury of staring openly at the building that housed his new relations.

He spent the next hours walking nearby and ascertaining which vantage points around Elizabeth’s house would allow him to watch without being noticed. The park Georgie and Patrick had earlier described had proven practical as there were at least two benches he could sit at and, though very far away, still espy her front door. He watched for signs of either of them venturing forth, but he also kept looking for boys he might potentially pay to watch the house.

Much later in the day, he had sought refuge from the spring sun under a fine tree, keeping one eye always on number twelve, when he saw the door open and a flurry of light-coloured skirts standing in the doorway. A maid was affixing a small jacket onto a young boy, and two ladies were raising their parasols to the strong rays. As soon as the mother held out her hand to the young lad, a river of warmth spread over Darcy’s chest for he recognised his lover and son.

They were obviously making their way to the very park he was lounging in and, while sufficiently large enough to hide most persons, his great height and the severe lack of trees and shrubbery for cover made him realise he would have to quickly retreat to a safer spot should he wish to watch them without being discovered. He strode directly opposite from them, to the corner of the park and down the street, until he could find a building which to position himself behind and still spy upon them.

It was exactly as the McNallys had said; they were a lively group, especially with the addition of the French nurse he recognised from the Bingleys’ library. He smiled unconsciously as he watched William play among the two women, racing up and back at full speed, purposely falling into the grass and rolling about. His mother laughed at his antics, while his nurse fussed over his clothes. The ladies eventually made their way to the bench he himself had occupied earlier in the morning, and he gazed as they watched his son frolic around them for the next hour.

At one point William was running around a large tree with his hand trailing around the trunk as he tried to make himself dizzy with his circles, when Darcy heard the boy exclaim loudly and run suddenly to his mother, holding his left hand out. She immediately took him into her arms and onto her lap, kissing his brow and examining the offended digit, which had obviously felt the sting of a splinter from the now horrible tree.

He could see William’s shoulders stifling the cries he wanted to let loose while his mama treated his wound. She reached deftly into the bag they had brought and Darcy momentarily caught the glint of a small metal object in her hand. She seemed to ask the boy’s permission and he nodded slowly while she carefully worked upon his open palm. He saw the boy wince slightly, but kept his composure while Elizabeth finished the dreaded task.

Darcy could not understand the sudden wince he too had experienced, nor the ghostly feel of pain in his hand as it clenched involuntarily while he watched his son suffering. His eyes were strangely pricked while he witnessed this small rite of passage all boys endured. Why he had never been affected before he did not know but, watching now, as mother and son held each other tight, and seeing her kiss William with unending affection, touched his heart more deeply than he would have thought possible. It was at that moment he realised he not only loved Elizabeth, but he had also fallen in love with their son.

That night he sat in his room, pleased with many aspects of how the day had turned out. He could not help the smile which graced his face for the rest of the day after the trio had returned to their little terraced house. He merely had to stop his train of thought for an instant and the vision of Elizabeth kissing William in her lap brought him sweet solace.

He had only stayed for a short while once they had retreated, for it was soon after he found a likely waif to watch over the house. The boy’s name was Oliver, and Darcy promised if he could be given a satisfactory report upon his return the next day, another coin, the same as was given today, would be the boy’s reward. There was little more he could hope for at present, and it gave him some security to know his interests were being attended to, albeit unprofessionally.

Seeing Elizabeth that day had set his blood on fire as well. He had caught glimpses of her at the Bingley’s house but only through the cracks in the draperies in Charles’ study. Today he had the first opportunity to see her plainly, in full sunlight, and relish in her visage once again. She looked as lovely as ever, though perhaps more womanly in her figure and carriage. He would be hard-pressed as to what was different about her, perhaps more confidence, but overall, it was a siren’s call to his lonely heart and body. He had never had a thought for another woman after their ill-fated night together and now, seeing his lover so close, yet untouchable, had been exquisite torture.

He felt ashamed that part of him was envious of his son, who could claim her entire affection, yet part of him was instantly saddened as he realised he could not share their bond. He wanted nothing more than to sweep them both up and carry them away to Pemberley for the rest of their lives.

Elizabeth’s blunt words then came back to haunt him and his pride began to ruffle once again. He could not remember hearing her say being the master of Pemberley was a waste without being wounded.

He attempted to discern: what was wrong with thinking of one’s family, property and place in society? Generations of Darcys before him had done the same. Was his family not one of the oldest, most distinguished, in the country due to their diligence in adhering to these important values? How would that hinder his son? He would have a massive fortune at his disposal. He could study anywhere in the world, travel at his leisure, and never have the worries he and his mother had already encountered.

Just then he looked to his desk. Some of his correspondence which had not been earlier attended to, lay neatly piled; invitations, letters from his steward, drafts from his attorneys. He knew what was contained therein; it had not changed since the day of his father’s death. Downstairs, in his private study, even more papers would be awaiting him.

It made him think how different his own life might have been had his father lived another ten years. It would have been long enough for Darcy to learn the business of running the estate more thoroughly with his father‘s help, instead of having to struggle with his steward to make sense of it all.

He did not begrudge the duties he had to undertake. Yet, thinking back to when he was a young man of four and twenty, and all that he was suddenly master of, he was struck with the truth of Elizabeth’s assessment. William would be encumbered, just as he had been. How many years did he essentially have to excuse himself from the usual pursuits a young man would have been enjoying to attend to his responsibilities? What might William have to sacrifice in order to take his father’s place if he were needed? There was no way to tell when Darcy might die. It might be fifty years, but what if it were fifteen? How would his son, at only eighteen, weather the responsibility?

He did not care for the answer.

Admitting to himself he was hardly going to fall asleep yet, he put on his woollen robe, took up a candle, and headed towards his library. On the way down the grand staircase of his family’s home, he stopped once again in front of the larger than life vision of his great-great grandfather, Harold Darcy. Elizabeth’s stinging words of being another portrait in the gallery came back to him.

“There is nothing wrong with being a good master of your estate,” he thought indignantly. But then he looked to the portrait.

“Were you a good master? I know nothing about you, though your blood runs through my veins. I only know you sired my great grandfather and he my grandfather, and then my father. Who were you? Did you love your wife? Your son? Did you play at cards, like to fish or ride your horses?

“Should I be sorry you did nothing to distinguish yourself, or merely grateful you did not burn the house down, or squander the family fortune?” The picture refused to answer.

“Are you proud of me, your descendant, for being the same?” He truly wondered. He thought of his own fine portrait hanging in the centre of the great gallery of Pemberley. He imagined his own descendents standing before his likeness in a hundred years.

“Will my great-great grandchildren know nothing of me as well?” He then asked the dark question which troubled him most. “Will I be worthy of being missed?”

When he awoke the next day he was determined to solve at least one problem. He made his way to his favourite bookshop and, less than three minutes later, left with his purchase.

“Dodds,” said the bookshop owner, “was that Mr. Darcy I saw leaving just now?”

“Yes, Mr. Hardamon, Sir.”

“Was he unable to find what he was looking for? Or did he place an order for some new book?”

“Neither, Sir. He made a purchase.”

“So quickly? What was the book?”

“No book, sir. He purchased a large journal; the large red leather bound one we thought would never sell.”

The owner nodded appreciatively. “Excellent work, Dodd,” then went back to his work.

The next weeks saw a flurry of activity for Darcy. He travelled to Lambeth daily to receive reports from young Oliver, who proved to be attentive enough for his new employer. He also had the opportunity to see Elizabeth and William in the park nearly every day.

A steady stream of new faces had been seen regularly at Elizabeth’s door. Most were gentlemen, dressed well, though not richly and most stayed for longer than a social visit would demand. Darcy had seen some of them too, and suspected they were being interviewed and hired as tutors for William. Soon enough, the variety of men dwindled and there seemed to be only four who came regularly. Oliver kept an excellent watch on them all and soon he had the names of the men. With this information, Darcy was able to assemble a crude schedule that William’s studies seemed to be following. One of the names, however, caught his attention immediately; a Mr. Von Humboldt. The chance that two such men would be living in London, and giving lessons, could not be coincidence. He had been Georgiana’s music master, and he no doubt was now training William. He suspected this connection would be useful someday.

Mr. Awdry had finally written to him, informing him his offer to lease Elizabeth’s house had been accepted at the offered price. Neither he, nor Patrick, had found a tenant yet, however he decided to begin the lease as soon as possible to provide the Cartwrights with the extra income.

Darcy had just returned from one of his excursions to Lambeth to see Elizabeth and William when Patrick arrived to confer with him as how to best handle the paperwork of the lease.

“Give me a month, Darcy. I am sure I can find you a tenant, and a name to put upon the papers. I would not be concerned about the time it might take. She had not expected to let the house, therefore you have no competition for the lease.”

“Quite true. I suppose I am only anxious to get the money to them.”

“Very admirable, but you must be patient. All your tasks will get done, in good time. Now, I have been thinking, how do you plan on watching them here in London? Do you think you can trust the local boy to continue doing so discreetly?”

“Frankly, no. I worry about his ability to keep his new job to himself. Oliver is a good lad, but I also fear this is too much to ask of him. In addition I have no information as to what Elizabeth is doing or planning, other than knowing, or guessing rather, at what their daily lessons schedules are. If she were to hire a coach and travel very far, I would have no way to know where she might go.”

“True, Brother. What you really need is someone in her household reporting to you.”

“Would that it were possible, Patrick. If only it was my house she was letting, I could set up my own staff at her disposal. I would not worry about the quality of the work they would be giving my family, and I could know her every movement.”

Patrick nodded his head in agreement. “Unfortunately, if Elizabeth found out a Darcy owned her house she would no doubt run again. Your owning it would not help your situation.” The two men sadly shook their heads.

“You could buy it, Patrick!” Darcy suddenly exclaimed.

“Me?”

“I would provide the funds of course, but you could purchase the entire row of houses. There are four in all, and in very good repair. Then you would act as the new landlord.” Darcy’s mind was racing. “Good God, I could make improvements to her house, her furnishings and change the staff to suit my purposes.”

“You would have to improve them all, Darcy. It would look suspicious if only one house was upgraded in anyway, you must be equal with all your tenants.”

He looked a small bit discouraged, but not defeated. “You are correct, of course. I could use your excellent input as to how to handle the property, Patrick, beginning with a good manager. I have never been a landlord for a London property”

“Nothing easier, I will have a name for you before week‘s end.”

“You do realise it will mean having to go into Lambeth again and look over the place, you may even meet them officially, though I think it would be better if the manager met with the tenants. We may need you, or you and Georgie together, to meet Elizabeth and William under other circumstances.”

Patrick laughed. “Of course I would happily travel to see the building. But what ‘other’ circumstances are you suggesting?” He wearily asked.

“You and Georgiana are the only family of mine Elizabeth has never met. I may need you both to interact with her in future, though I have no fixed plans or specific ideas. That is all.”

A feminine voice at the doorway startled the two men. “As long as you intend on conferring with us if you do come up with some sort of scheme,” Georgiana reproved.

She then took in her brother’s choice of raiment. “Is this what you wear when you go to see them?”

Darcy looked down, studying his clothes. “Yes, or something similar. Why, do you think it unsuitable?”

Georgiana took her time appraising his garments with a more critical eye. “They are old, but still very fine. Do you find anyone regarding you in particular when you are in Elizabeth’s neighbourhood?”

“I must confess I had not paid close attention. However, I would say I do not draw any pronounced notice. And in another week I should be receiving new clothes I had the tailor in Lambton make for me. They are all very plain, and the material more appropriate to lower classes.”

Georgiana nodded, though her head was obviously still engaged in deep thought. “Good, I think it might help you in your endeavours,” she answered, snapping out of her reverie.

Darcy received a note from his sister the next week and duly appeared at her doorstep in the late morning. He had no sooner been announced in her drawing room than she nearly dragged him back out again.

“Fitzwilliam!” she chattered. “Thank goodness you have arrived at last. We must make haste, for we have an appointment, and I should not wish to be rude by being late.” He found himself donning his hat and gloves and back out the door in moments. In the coach she finally had the chance to explain her rush.

“I know I am acting like a foolish girl, but I am very excited to see the inner workings. I feel as if someone has given us the keys to a jewel vault.” She giggled nervously.

Darcy merely frowned at her. “Georgiana, you are making no sense.”

She regarded him curiously, as if she could not have been plainer. “We are going to the Haymarket Theatre.”

“The theatre? At eleven o’clock in the morning? Whatever for?”

“Training of course. You need to learn how to disguise yourself properly, and, I dare say, are in sore need of some acting lessons.”

Three hours later it would be appropriate to say Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a happy man. Indeed it might be more accurate to say Mr. Darcy was irate and bordering on violent tendencies.

“No, no, Mr. Sheldon,” came the exasperated voice once more. “You must stop thinking like a young society gentleman. If you are going to convince those around you that you are an old man, you must think like one. Surely you have imagination enough to pretend.” Mr. John Liston’s arms flailed out above his head in grand gestures. He too, had thoughts bordering on violent tendencies, however the lady and her brother had paid him good money for his time, therefore he would keep at this, no matter how dreadful his student‘s abilities.

“I am no actor,” Darcy, or rather ‘Mr. Sheldon’, grumbled.

Liston rolled his eyes. “A fact none of us have failed to notice, Sir. However, I do have a reputation to uphold. I expect you to make a greater effort than I have seen thus far. You must allow yourself to be free from this resistance to my suggestions.” Darcy huffed.

Mr. Liston tried another tactic. “Stop for a moment.” Darcy sat down immediately. His back ached from leaning over his walking stick in his attempt to make himself look smaller, more frail.

“I want you to think carefully about what you are doing. I know it must seem embarrassing to you, but think about the circumstances under which you will be… well ….performing. You will not be on a stage. You will not have an audience who knows your real name, where you live, or even what your true face looks like. They will see you as however you present yourself. If you tell them you are an old man, if you look like an old man, and if you act like an old man, then that is what they will believe.

“However, if you show mortification or any embarrassment as you play your role, those around you will sense it, and the game will be up. Do you understand?” Darcy agreed.

“Good! Now, let me see you walk across the room, greet your sister slightly and return. And do it with the confidence you are a poor elderly man.”

Darcy took a deep breath and, ignoring the presence of the two watchful eyes, he stood and told himself he was Mr. Awdry, the vicar from Brampton. He put the vision of the old man in his mind, and proceeded to act just like him as he cautiously walked back and forth across the room. Georgiana clapped in delight as he sat back down.

Mr. Liston raised his head and brows then bowed his head ever so slightly, in approval “Now we are making some progress.”

He later called for the costume mistress who appeared slightly dishevelled and rather perturbed for being disturbed once more. “It is time for Mr. Sheldon’s next costume change, Martha. Would you bring Marston’s costume from the second act of tonight’s play?” Martha looked surprised, than snorted and shook her head as she went for the costume.

“Mr. Sheldon, your type is difficult to disguise, Sir. Your height makes you a particular challenge and, of course, it does not help you are rather handsome as well. It would be much easier to assume a different character if you were more plain.”

“There is little I can do about it, Mr. Liston.”

“Too true,” he sighed, “would that I were cursed with your bad fortune, young man. But I am a comedian, and more so for my silly face. Now we must do what we can with your pretty one.”

Darcy was quite put out by the actor’s continual comments, which were far too intimate for a new acquaintance, but knew he was also making headway, not to mention gathering valuable information on disguises from the man.

“My suggestion would be to see if you can affect a common accent. If you can, then you can dress significantly poorer. The lower your class, the less others will notice you. Wearing a gentleman’s hat adds nearly a foot to you already, and it makes you stand out even more, if possible. If we can get you into a plain cap, or perhaps a parson’s flat round, it would help. Do I need to write any of this down?” They told him it would not be necessary.

“I will also give you the direction of the shop where you can obtain some of the face paints we used today. The aging lines are simple enough. If you practice and are sparse with your application, I think you will convince most people. Hiding most of your face with your wig was most effective as well, I believe. Do you agree, Mrs. Reynolds?” he asked, looking directly at Georgiana.

The three walked to the mirror in Mr. Liston’s dressing room. Darcy was once again shocked to see himself looking thirty years older. The actor’s talents were very valuable indeed. All three agreed his disguise was well done.

Just then, the costume mistress returned with the wardrobe and laid it across an empty chair before leaving. Georgiana had to stifle her laughter with her entire fist, while Darcy attempted to control his rage, rather unsuccessfully, as his entire face was a burning red.

Mr. Liston stopped him with his hand before he erupted. “Allow me to say two things, Sir. Firstly, you may very well find this particular type of disguise might be your only option at times, therefore you would do well to keep an open mind and allow yourself to be properly trained in its use.

“Secondly, before you even attempt the blatant refusal that is sitting upon your lips, I will add you have an annoying habit of raising your brows each and every time you have lied to me today, Mr. Sheldon,” he emphasised Darcy’s false name shamelessly.

Darcy’s mouth, which had been poised to deliver his outrage, snapped shut, while Georgiana became suddenly interested in the patterns of the carpeting. Deception being new to both of them meant their skills at subterfuge were not well honed. They had little choice but to admit guilt through their silence and continue the lesson.

“Excellent. I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. As you both have assured me your new talents will not be used for nefarious purposes,” here he looked once again for confirmation from the two people sitting across from him who did not hesitate to give it to him, “then I, too, am willing to continue and hopefully complete your education.”

He lifted the costume up and sized it against Darcy’s frame. “Now, shall we put this on?”

Much later that day the siblings travelled back to the McNally residence together.

“You do realise I shall never go to the Haymarket Theatre again?” Darcy, still sulking, groused.

“Why do you think I chose it in the first place? I know you do not like it as well as others. Now you have a perfect excuse to never attend a performance there again.” She looked out the coach window, biting her lip and attempting to curtail the jovial picture she knew her face would betray.

“Indeed I do. How shall I ever thank you?” he replied sarcastically.

“Hmmm,” she said, considering his offer carefully. “Perhaps could you play the part of the beggar woman again?” she asked and then burst into laughter.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Elizabeth tucked William into his bed, eyeing the books he had received earlier. She had been surprised when he told her of meeting Mr. Bingley that day in the library. She was also disappointed she had failed to see her brother-in-law.

“Was he as jolly a fellow as I remember?”

“Yes, I think I would call him jolly; he certainly smiled a great deal. But also, I think he was a little sad.”

“Sad?” Elizabeth asked, concerned.

“Yes, sometimes I thought I saw a little sadness in his eyes, but he was very agreeable. I enjoyed speaking with him.”

“I am glad you are acquainted with him, William,” she said, as she deposited a kiss upon his sleepy brow.

“So am I, Mama.”

Elizabeth sat on the edge of her bed, the envelope Jane had given to her now in her trembling hands. She had carried it all night in her apron pocket, the gentle thumping at her hip reminding her of its presence. Now, with William asleep in his bed, she felt she was prepared to read the only words her father had communicated to her in over four years. Inside, she found two separate, smaller envelopes. One was clearly labelled with her name, and a request to be read first. She opened it and began.

Longbourn, November 14, 1813

Dear Lizzy,

I write to you this evening, hoping someday this missive will reach you. I do not know if it is possible, but my heart wishes it very much, and I am moved to follow the desires of my emotions for a change. I will leave this with your sister Jane, as I feel if you ever contact a member of your family again, she would be the one mostly likely to receive that honour.

It has been more than a year since I have had the pleasure of looking upon your sweet face. I know at the time we did not part under the best of terms, but believe me, my dear girl, I miss you fiercely.

For the past six months your Uncle Gardiner and I have searched for you, to no avail. I do not tell you this to cause you pain; I merely wish for you to know what we have done and have ascertained.

I know now you do not wish to be found. Your Uncle and I speak of it as fact, and the preparations we discovered you had made prior to your disappearance confirm what I write.

The day he discovered you missing was very trying for him. He sent an express immediately to Longbourn, and I arrived later in the afternoon. Speaking with him that day was one of the most difficult conversations I have ever had.

I learned what lengths you had gone to in the winter and spring, and of how you had risked your health and well-being in pursuit of finding your sister. I learned you had suffered through the indignity of seeing your brother-in-law with another woman. I also learned it was your recommendation that kept the shame of that knowledge from your family at Longbourn, and society at large, in an effort to protect the fragile reputation we were just beginning to recover.

He told me of what extraordinary steps you had taken to make his cigar shop a success. Hearing all you had accomplished made my heart soar with pride for you, and curse in ignominy at myself for not helping and, most importantly, not acknowledging your abilities, labours, and results. I learned you essentially had taken on the responsibility of defender of your family. My disgust with myself was well deserved.

However, before I could begin to wallow in my own self-pity, my brother Gardiner insisted it was no time for personal introspection, and we needed to begin our search for you. Thus the hunt began.

Your Aunt Gardiner joined us at your lodgings to search your belongings, hoping for a clue as to what might have happened to you, or where you might be. We interviewed your landlady and the neighbours, but none could provide us with any insight as to your whereabouts.

However, what we did not find was as revealing as any outright clue. When we first inspected your rooms, your Aunt and Uncle were quick to reveal what they had seen the last time they had been there, and the significant change in your, shall we say, décor? The room was too neat and tidy; it was the room of someone who had no plans to return. It was then we first suspected no foul play was responsible for your disappearance; rather, you had in fact been planning to leave.

We next went to your shop, to search for any insights, and to question Toby and Mr. Whitaker if they had any ideas what might have happened to you. There, we found further proof you were planning to flee; the missive you so thoughtfully left behind.

I was very impressed at how explicitly you noted your methods, recipes, and practices. I further marvelled after trying one of your custom blends when Toby offered it to me. I congratulate you, my Dear, on a truly superior product. The existence of the manual, along with the knowledge of your having taken Toby under your wing while teaching him the last valuable skill to running the shop, choosing the leaves, led both your Uncle and I to believe you were planning, with stealthy skill, an escape.

Our interview with the boy also provided us with some very startling facts. I will not recount to you what he told us. You lived through it all, and I am sure are in no doubt of what we learned. Toby was not completely aware of the practices a man bent on pursing a woman might employ, and to this day he believes a secret admirer, who never revealed himself, was your benefactor.

Your aunt and uncle, however, were able to expound a great deal more upon the possible identity of the gentleman in question. We only had speculation, but a large body of circumstantial evidence pointed to one obvious man. This conjecture was, sadly, later confirmed when a pair of attorneys presented themselves to your uncle, searching for a beneficiary of a settlement of two thousand pounds from their lately deceased client.

He took it upon himself to deceive the attorneys, declaring our Elizabeth Bennet lived in Hertfordshire, had not been to London for months, and had never had contact with their client. He further suggested their lady in question had simply picked an alias to use, which happened to be your name. They were both satisfied with the explanation, and have never attempted to contact us again.

I am deeply grieved to think you may have suffered, Elizabeth. I do not care about the breaking of proprieties and rules, only for your well-being. The scandal surrounding that gentleman’s passing was fodder in the papers for weeks. I understand the need one might feel to escape such a nightmare. It has been more than six months since the incident, and no names that would be familiar to any of our acquaintance have ever been discovered by the press. I believe the gentleman’s heirs are happy to have the interest in their personal family matters no longer at the forefront, and the past shall remain in the past. I hope you will find peace someday, and know I wish it for you with all that I am.

Dearest Lizzy, you are the truest Bennet there ever was; you have shown loyalty, bravery, and sacrifice for your family. You have done it all; restored our good name, restored your sister’s reputation, protected your uncle’s investment and brought no further shame to your family. I swear to you I will not let your efforts be wasted, and I shall endeavour daily to become the father you had hoped I would be. Your sisters will be safe and guided in the ways they always should have been, on that you have my word.

I thank you, my dear daughter, but I cannot help but wonder what price you paid; I hope to God it was not too dear. I pray you are well and wish to assure you, if I ever have the fortunate chance to meet you again, you will never know judgement nor condemnation from me and I will remain forever,

Your loving father

Thomas Bennet

Her hands still shook as she opened the second, smaller envelope, where, delicately wrapped in a fine piece of silk, lay her garnet cross necklace. Before her tears could fall over the return of her precious keepsake, a heartier piece of gold was discovered under it, attached to a small tag which read:

Please, you deserve it most.

Though her uncle and father were clever men, she had not expected them to discover her compromising situation with Lord Caldhart. That her father would then write to her of it, claiming he would not judge her actions or condemn her, left her stunned. It was not a letter from which she would soon recover. She had never expected anyone to forgive her fall into shame, him least of all. Now it seemed he not only gave her his forgiveness, but also granted her the title of defender of their family and still loved her.

Despite the measure of relief that part of her father’s letter brought her, she could not find peace with herself, or reconciliation with her family. There was a boy sleeping in the next room, whose age and looks betrayed her further indiscretions. Perhaps someday, when he was grown and his exact age could not be so easily determined, she might be able to seek out her family. But her meeting with Jane today had proved beyond any doubt that William’s existence must be kept secret at all costs.

No one in her family would believe she had met a man, fallen in love, married and conceived in the space of the month after she left London. Most particularly when her offspring so clearly resembles another gentleman of their acquaintance. She thought of her sister; Jane would not betray William to anyone.

She also knew her involvement with George Wickham’s death would taint her for the rest of her life. She often had time to reflect on those three days. She wondered if any investigation into his death had been launched. Higgins would never betray her confidence, of that she was certain. He had as much to lose by implicating her as she did. The men in the tavern had no idea who she was, nor that she was a woman and not a young man. The only other witness, Lord Robert Caldhart, was now long dead.

She had never seen the papers. Mrs. Thurgood did not take the London papers, and gossip of the ton was hardly a regular topic of conversation in Oak Hill. Therefore, she had no idea the ball and his Lordship’s death had been such fodder. She wondered what people had said about her. What name had been used in the papers, or in the chatter of the elegant salons of London’s high society? Her father had obviously kept a close ear to the news, or he would not have reassured her that her name had not been discovered.

She sighed. The burden of keeping so many secrets weighed heavily upon her. Normally, she did not dwell upon them, yet sometimes the scope of all she had done forced itself to the surface of her consciousness, and she was unable to deny the multitude of sins she had committed. Those days were the hardest for her. She took the solace in the only form of comfort and happiness she knew: William. He was perceptive enough to notice her melancholia and called them ‘Mama’s Sad Days’. He tried to cheer her on those days, and Elizabeth loved her little son all the more for his tender care of her when she suffered.

She folded the letter carefully, and put it in her desk. She was glad to know her father though better of her, yet nothing had really changed. She must continue on as she had been doing, providing for her son and his future as best she could, and trying to conduct herself as the parent she knew she needed to be for him.

The next weeks were a whirlwind for Elizabeth. Her days were filled with settling herself and William into their new home, and beginning the search for proper instructors. She had several sources to draw upon from Mr. Awdry, and in turn more names had come forth for her to investigate. She would soon discover which were the best candidates to tutor her son. In the end, she hired four different men: one for Latin and German, one for history and literature, a mathematics and science tutor, and a music master.

Elizabeth had started teaching William on the tiny pianoforte they had in Brampton, and he had taken to it immediately. His small fingers did not allow him to play the large chords he wanted to, but the scales and arpeggios he tackled eagerly. The repetitive exercises necessary to increase his abilities seem to fascinate and capture him. Elizabeth laughed thinking of how she herself had dreaded practicing, yet William seemed to almost relish in it and found relaxation out of the work. She would often catch him with his eyes closed as his fingers struck the keys over and over.

One day she could not help but interrupt him and he startled as if waking from a dream.

“Where were you just now? Your fingers were playing the scale, but your face seemed as if it was in some far away land.”

He smiled. “I was far away, Mama. I was still in the music, but surrounded by numbers.”

Elizabeth struggled to understand. “How can one be surrounded by numbers?”

“They were there before me, and also behind me and next to me and the music made them move and jump and I saw the equations and their answers and then more equations and more answers farther down there.” He had by now closed his eyes and in his mind was seeing everything before him, for he would point into the air at the places he was obviously looking.

“How long are the equations?” she asked, fascinated. They had just recently delved into the rudimentary principles of the unknowns, a subject she did not much care for, but William had been instantly caught up by it.

He looked to her curiously. “They do not end, Mama.”

Thus the routines of two households were set. William and his tutors met daily for lessons, while Darcy was arranging the financial tasks of leasing Asile in Brampton and purchasing the building of her terraced house in London. He also corresponded daily with his steward at Pemberley, his mail arriving in large pouches, full of the business of running a successful estate.

He still travelled nearly daily to Lambeth to watch for the afternoon respite William took from his lessons. Sometimes the nurse would bring him, but often it was Elizabeth, and Darcy would once again be transported into near heaven to look upon her.

There was one final aspect of Elizabeth’s finances Darcy wished to address, but he would need the Bingley’s help. They arranged to meet one afternoon at his home; the first time they had seen one another face to face since the morning he had made his confession.

Jane smiled sympathetically, while Bingley merely seemed apprehensive, as they were announced. The two men met in the middle of the room, unspeaking and stiff, until Bingley offered out his hand and patted Darcy’s shoulder with the other. He nodded confidently as they shook hands “It is good to see you, Brother.”

Darcy smiled at Bingley’s acceptance of him. “I have missed you a great deal, Charles; and you, Jane. You are both well?” The group confirmed the general good health of one another.

Darcy then began to recount all the tasks he had endeavoured to achieve the past weeks. He had written to them several times; however, this was the first opportunity to speak in person to Elizabeth’s relatives and tell them all he was trying to do.

“Fitzwilliam, I am overwhelmed. To think you have taken all this upon yourself for my dear sister. I must thank you. I know Elizabeth does not know to whom she will owe her good fortune,” Jane exclaimed.

“If you must thank me, let it be for yourself. Elizabeth can never know I was involved. However, if I have given you some peace and assurances for William and his mother’s future, then I shall be happy.” He took up her hand and kissed it.

She smiled sweetly at him. “I do thank you.”

“What further help do you require, Darcy?” Bingley asked.

“There is the matter of her investments, Charles. She mentioned several companies she has put her money into, and I mean to do everything I can to see she enjoys a good return, and can never lose her capital.”

“That is no small order!”

“No, indeed. Nor will it be as easy as I would like, for at the very least I will not be able to invest personally in all of them, as Elizabeth might learn of my involvement.”

“You are speaking of my uncle’s warehouses, Fitzwilliam?” Jane asked.

“Yes, exactly. I do not know if Elizabeth could ever learn about my putting money into them, but your Uncle could, and I do not want to draw attention to myself. I must be an anonymous partner, just as she is. That is where the two of you can help me. I propose to put up the money; however you and Charles will be listed as the actual investors. I think the same can be done for Walters and Elliott, and the Bartswith Shipping Company.”

Charles’ eyes rose at the names. “Excellent choices!” he observed.

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. “I own a fair share in Bartswith already. However, I would like to see the percentage increased enough to have complete availability of any information with regards to their profits and, more importantly, any potential losses.”

“You wish to become a part owner?”

“I do.”

“Darcy you might need tens of thousands of pounds.”

“I should be surprised if I could buy a partial ownership for less than a hundred, Bingley.”

Charles coughed and was nearly too frightened to ask, “Walters and Elliott?”

“I plan to purchase them outright. I want nothing to do with the running of the business; their expertise and management is without parallel. I have already spoken to the owners, and told them I wish to own the business in a financial capacity only. They are very interested in my offer.”

“A hundred thousand pounds, plus another business bought and investing in my uncle’s warehouses? Fitzwilliam this is too much.”

“It is not as inconvenient as you might suppose, Jane.”

“Darcy, you are known for your fortune of ten thousand a year. Surely a capital outlay this large will weaken even your financial state.”

“I appreciate your concern, Charles, but…” here he smiled deviously, “…reports of my fortune have been grossly…. miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated?” Charles asked with a frowning smile on his face.

“Misconstrued?” Darcy tried. Charles shook his head.

“Perhaps ‘extraordinarily underestimated’ would be more appropriate,” Darcy offered.

“Define ‘extraordinary‘,” Bingley countered.

Darcy grinned mischievously. “By a factor of three.”

Bingley sputtered. “Thank goodness that fact is not generally known to the matchmaking Mamas. You have been busy these past years.”

“And I hope your sister and nephew will someday reap the benefits. Now will you agree to be the name behind the investment? If Elizabeth found out, you have the perfect excuse, for she told Jane herself about investing in them. You could simply say you wished to help her and William and invested your own funds for their sake. It would not be far off the truth.”

Jane looked to Charles, who read her wishes perfectly. “Allow us a few minutes in the library, Darcy. My wife and I should like to discuss this together before making a decision.”

When they returned nearly a half hour later, Darcy was taken aback by their suggestions.

“We agree to use our names as investors in Walters and Elliott, and the Bartswith Shipping Company. However, Jane I and wish to be the investors in Mr. Gardiners warehouse, both financially and in name.”

“I would provide the money, Charles. You do not need to risk your own.”

“We know we do not need to invest our own funds, Darcy. Jane and I wish to help the Cartwrights as you do. We are all a family now, as we agreed in April, and we would like to help our family. We also believe the risk for us would be less than what you are going to hazard. Jane’s uncle is a shrewd businessman, and clever as anyone I have met. I think we shall do very well by our investment with him.”

Darcy considered briefly, then nodded. “I agree, then. Charles you always were a smart man, but I think with Jane by your side, you have become wise as well. Perhaps in another ten years I might add ‘clever’ to the list.”

Jane giggled, while Bingley shook his head. “Perhaps in another ten years, we might be able to add ‘amusing’ to your accomplishments, Darcy. For the present, you have no hope.”

Darcy then turned solemn. “Thank you both. I cannot tell you how much your support of my undertakings means to me. You both have my deepest regards.”

He then turned to Jane. “I wished to inquire, that is, I wanted to ask you what has been done to inform your father of Elizabeth’s situation, if it is not too difficult of a subject.”

Here Jane hesitated. Bingley moved next to her and took her hand in loving support. “I wrote to my father soon after the day Elizabeth came to see me. I simply told him Elizabeth had come unannounced to see me and reassure me she was in perfect health and well, but could not see any of the family,” she sniffed slightly, “including me.”

“Two days later, Papa arrived at our house. He was not happy with the lack of true facts about how Elizabeth was living. I gave him every reassurance I could that she seemed happy, and well. I told him she claimed to have the means to support herself, and she had specifically asked he stop looking for her.” The tears had started as Jane spoke the last words.

“He was so broken-hearted. I told him she wanted him to remember her as she was at Longbourn so many years ago, out on her walks in the fields and woods. He seemed to understand better, then. But I will never forget the hopelessness in his eyes, when he heard Elizabeth’s request to be left alone. I wished I could give him more reassurances, but there was little knowledge I could impart without betraying so many. He only seemed to rally when I told him Elizabeth now had his letter. Then his face brightened and he said ‘Good, she will at least know.’ though I do not know to what he portended.”

She laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, and he gentle embraced her. Darcy was struck by the resemblance to Georgie and Patrick at that moment; husband and wife drawing strength from each other when needed. A twinge of jealousy ran through him and, for a moment, he would have given anything to share such intimacy with his beloved Elizabeth.

“I am sure it must have been very difficult, Sister. I thank you for you loyalty to all of us. I know asking you to deceive your father has been a strain on you. I would never ask it unless absolutely necessary. Please forgive me for requiring it.”

Jane smiled timidly. “It is difficult, Sir, but not impossible. I assure you I am up to the task of keeping up the ruse.” He thanked her sincerely.

Within the next month, Patrick had found an excellent tenant for Aisle: an artist who was nearing retirement and wanted the chance to create a few more paintings in the pastoral countryside and fine woods that surrounded Brampton. Darcy was delighted the area his son grew up in might be persevered in oil, and asked McNally to purchase any good pieces the man might create as a future present to little William. It was a day of great satisfaction when he finally signed the lease and paid the money to his attorneys. Despite everything he had already undertaken, it was not until this first task was completed that he truly felt he was aiding his new family.

He was invited to the McNallys for dinner to celebrate and was pleased to see the Bingleys in attendance as well. After dinner, the group began to discuss the final parts of the purchase of Elizabeth’s building. He was once again unprepared for the examples his relations would show of their love and generosity.

“Fitzwilliam, Patrick and I have an announcement we wish to make.” Georgiana began. “The building Elizabeth and William are living in has already been purchased. The transaction was completed last week and the papers have been signed and recorded. Patrick and I are now the owners.”

“Why would you do this?” he asked, truly overwhelmed.

“Because you are not the only relation William has, Darcy. Georgiana and I are his aunt and uncle, and we have a right to provide for him as well. You see, we have amended our wills and an entailment now states when we pass from this world, William Bennet Cartwright will be the owner of the building. It is our way of aiding you, and doing our part to help William in future. He need not act as landlord, and may sell the property one day if he wishes, but we wanted to leave something for him, something that would be his alone,” said Patrick.

“I hope you can forgive us this small bit of subterfuge, Brother. We felt you would never agree to allow us to use our own funds to make this purchase, and therefore made the transaction ahead of schedule,” Georgiana pleaded. “If anything should happen to you or Elizabeth, the boy would have something to live upon, and it would not countermand his mother’s wish of not being master of Pemberley.

Darcy was still speechless. He stood shaking his head, a bit bewildered.

“If it will make you feel better, Darcy, you may use your own funds to make the improvements to the property or the furnishings.”

Darcy turned to his brother, still greatly moved. “I … I think I must insist upon it, Patrick.”

Georgiana drew her brother in a tight embrace as her husband patted his shoulder. He looked to Jane and Bingley, who were also caught up in the moment. “I believe you all have once again proven to be excellent friends as well as excellent relations. No man could ask for better. Thank you all.” He was dreadfully close to tears.

Georgiana made to lighten the mood immediately. “I think I feel the urge to play; would anyone like to hear some music?”

Jane immediately jumped to her request and the two ladies made their way to the pianoforte. Bingley moved over to join the two men.

McNally began to chuckle. “I believe we have managed to do something unique tonight, Charles. We have outwitted Fitzwilliam - no small feat.” He slapped his brother heartily on the shoulder this time. ”Come, Darcy; consider it a large repayment for all the dinners I made you buy before I married your sister.” The men laughed heartily and the mood lightened considerably.

“Have you considered how you get your servant into her household?” Patrick asked.

“I think the more difficult question is who should be placed there,” Bingley suggested. “Anyone on your staff would see the resemblance betwixt you and William, Darcy. And, unfortunately, many of my staff have met the boy before.”

“I may have a solution,” said Patrick. “My housekeeper at Branmoor, my mother’s home, has a widowed daughter who would delight in coming to London, especially for a temporary position which would allow her to return to her mother in a year or so. She has been working as cook with her mother these past ten years and could easily handle the position as both housekeeper and cook for Elizabeth. I have known both women since I was a boy, and she and her mother are devoted, reliable people. More importantly, I think she would be willing to pass along information to me. The McNally name would not be used in her references, only my mother’s family name: Ferguson.”

“Would she spy for you?” Darcy asked.

“I hesitate to use that term. I believe as long as your requests were reasonable she would be willing to keep us updated on the goings on in the house.”

Georgiana and Jane had stopped speaking, and Patrick now looked over to his wife for support. She nodded her head in encouragement.

“I must caution you though, Darcy, no person should be made to spy upon another. You will need to curb your curiosity where your son and his mother are concerned. I think it will be hard not to want to hear every minute detail of their lives; however, they deserve their privacy. Should she learn of your imposing on her do you not think she would feel violated?”

“I had not thought on it, Patrick.”

“How would you feel if someone were telling her your daily movements? What sort of trust would you feel towards Elizabeth under those circumstances?”

Darcy nodded, deep in thought. “I would feel hunted; like prey.”

“I think you would as well.”

“You need to decide what you would need to know from your informant, Darcy. Not merely what you would like to know,” said Bingley.

“These are excellent suggestions, brothers. Most of the things I wished to provide to them are being accomplished. Now I must decide what the future holds for the three of us, what role I will fulfill in their lives.”

“And your brothers and sisters as well, Darcy. We will all be affected by whatever your plans are.”

“Indeed. I have much to consider.”

And so it was that Elizabeth’s house had a new landlord. She liked the new manager who introduced himself to the families occupying the four homes in the building. The man was extremely thorough in examining the interiors of each home, taking notes on anything that needed repairing or updating.

Her new housekeeper was a competent, jovial lady who quickly became very attached to her new mistress and the young master. Mrs. Cartwright did not know the woman was also telling the new owners pertinent information with regards to any plans she was making for herself and William. The housekeeper only had one afternoon each week free, and Elizabeth never suspected she spent those afternoons with Mr. or Mrs. McNally, divulging the household goings on.

Darcy had taken his brother’s advice, and only asked for information with regards to any new acquaintances they had made, if Mrs. Cartwright’s finances seemed to be in order, or if any travel plans were being made. The new housekeeper did not consider her mistress’ privacy or safety were being compromised, especially when the McNally’s continually reassured her of their concern for the Cartwrights welfare alone. All parties were happy, with peaceful existence that pervaded for many months.

Elizabeth was continually astonished at the excellent care the new owner was putting into his investment. She knew the quality of the new furnishings, and the painting and repairs that had been done to the place, had rendered it worth much more than the current money she was paying. However, as the landlord had no inclinations to raise the rents on hers, nor her neighbour’s homes, she was very happy and grateful indeed.

Posted on Monday, 16 January 2006

Chapter Thirty

His good fortune came in the form of a superior officer, General Tippington, who had a penchant for fine liquors, jovial conversation and cards. Tippington was also cursed with very bad luck when he imbibed in all three. Richard was well aware that this particular General’s offices were the ones who had the responsibility to look into the errant officer’s disappearance and then subsequent demise. His evening proved to be both lucrative and informative. He wrote to Darcy to expect him soon with new information.

London, July 1817

When the two cousins finally met up, they wasted little time in getting to the business at hand.

“I am afraid I have little new information, Darcy. Most of what I had heard before was the extent of the army’s knowledge of the affair, save one fact: I now know the name of the tavern where he was last seen alive.” Darcy’s spirits lifted immediately. “I have no doubt you will wish to go as soon as you may, but I strongly suggest you and I change clothing before venturing into that part of town if we wish to make it safely back home.” The two were off soon after dressing themselves appropriately.

Neither felt comfortable in the place. They settled in at a table, observing quietly for some time. The rough customers paid them no mind. Eventually the two decided the only person who might provide any information worthwhile would be the barman. They waited until closing when nearly all the patrons had left, then made their way to the man.

He seemed chary of being approached by two men who were clearly not drunk. Darcy realised there were few reasons for someone to ever come to this tavern, and if a man did not drink, he probably was not to be trusted, therefore they proceeded cautiously.

“We’re closing. You two need to find yer ways out.”

“We should like to speak with you first,” Richard began. “Then we shall be on our way.”

The barman eyed them warily. “It’s my place, and talk’s not free here.”

“Undoubtedly,” Darcy answered calmly, while laying his coin upon the bar. The man picked it up and pocketed it immediately. He then stood still, waiting for them to play their hand.

Richard began first. “We seek information. Specifically, anything which has not already been… shared with certain authorities about an incident which happened in this area in May of 1813.”

The landlord stood unmoving, silent as the grave.

“The incident in which a certain former officer was last seen in this tavern alive, yet was not so the next day,” Darcy added.

The man did not budge.

“We are interested to know whether you might have recognised any of your patrons that evening,” Richard asked.

“I rarely know the men who come in here for a drink, exceptin’ for a few regulars. But my regulars aren’t always around every night, and maybe on the night you are thinking, they weren’t here at all,” he finally said.

Darcy looked to Richard, who replied, “What would keep your regulars out of your establishment for an evening?”

The man looked expectantly at the two for some time, until the rules of this game finally dawned upon Darcy. He brought another coin out and laid it upon the counter. The man looked insulted, until a second coin joined the first. Both were quickly swept up by the barkeeper’s battered hand.

“If someone was to pay enough money for the place to be closed to all but certain of his friends, we would turn the regulars away.”

“Would the man have a name?” Richard asked.

“No.”

“Would the man happen to have been…. not at all young?” Darcy offered a more convoluted way to get his information.

The man stared with his now familiar ‘expectant’ face. Darcy laid three coins upon the bar.

“Not young at all.”

“Did you know any of his friends who came that night?” Richard asked, placing his coins upon the bar.

The man snorted. “Hardly; none of them were from ‘round here, nor even London, I’d wager.”

“Strangers?” Darcy asked, laying more coins out.

“They might not have known each other, but there was one man they all knew.”

Darcy paled at the thought.

“Caught in his own web,” murmured Richard.

The barkeeper nodded.

Richard jingled his coin purse “Is there anything else you can add, or I should say earn?”

He shook his head sadly. “But I will tell you what I told the rest, the man was alive when he left my tavern, on that I swear.”

Darcy and the Colonel nodded, satisfied. They had almost reached the door when Darcy hurried back to the bar.

“The elderly gentleman: he did not have a woman with him, did he?” Darcy uttered emotionally, before he could contain himself. From the door Richard’s head whipped around as he discerned the word ’woman’

Before the barman could make his request a pound note was slapped upon the wood; it disappeared instantly.

“No women there at all, just two men with him. Well, a man and a youth.”

He swallowed hard. “The youth, can you describe him?”

The barman’s face betrayed he was considering bargaining further.

“The note covers the rest of our conversation,” Darcy added with finality.

“I never did see his face. He was a small lad, but I’d still say sixteen or seventeen as he didn’t walk like no little boy.

“And what did you see him do?” Darcy demanded.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Darcy began to fume.

“I pour drinks and don’t see, understand? Just like I didn’t see you two dandies walk in here tonight and I didn’t answer any of your questions. I only was willing to talk to you ‘cause I knew you wasn’t trouble the second I laid eyes on you. I told you all I’m going to. The rest you can figure yourselves. Now, we’re closed, Gents. Get out.”

As the coach pulled away, Richard began to speak, but Darcy stayed him with his hand.

“Not until we are home, Richard. I wish for as much privacy as possible, if you would.” His cousin conceded with a nod.

They arrived to a sleepy butler and footman, who did not grumble, but were clearly not happy to have been required to attend at such a time. Darcy dismissed both to their beds and asked his valet be sent to bed as well. He and his cousin would attend to their own needs when they retired.

They then repaired to Darcy’s private study, which was smaller and more intimate a setting for a conversation that needed to be discreet above all else. Richard poured himself a brandy, while Darcy lit up a Johnson’s cigar.

Richard, the commanding soldier in him taking over, did not hesitate to engage. “I believe you know much more of the story of Wickham’s death than you have previously led me to understand.”

Darcy drew a great breath. “Sit down, Richard. I did not lie to you when I told you I was not involved in Wickham’s death in any way. I did not even know it had occurred until you told me at Pemberley. However, I find I now wish to know the truth of his end for many reasons.”

Darcy started pacing the rug.

“The woman I love so very dearly…” He paced once more. “I have never mentioned her name because you are acquainted with the lady, and I could not bear the thought of you teasing me after she refused me.” Richard nodded, remembering the conversation they had outside Pemberley that cold November day.

“Before you think less of her, I must tell you my declaration was probably the single most haughty, cruel and thoughtless set of words which have ever passed my lips. I do not exaggerate. Not only did the lady rightly refuse me, but, in my arrogance, I demanded she tell me her reasons for turning me down, and received the soundest thrashing of my life.”

He then went on to briefly explain more of his history with the lady, the same as he had once explained to his sister and brother-in-law. At last he came to the dreaded revelation of the lady’s departure from Lambton because of her youngest sister Lydia’s elopement with George Wickham. Richard, having made the connection with surprising alacrity, had to grasp his legs to keep from bounding out of his seat.

“You were in love with Elizabeth Bennet?”

“No, Richard. I am in love, and will always be in love, with Elizabeth Bennet.”

“She is Wickham’s sister-in-law!”

“Was his sister-in-law.”

Richard’s mind was reeling. “Tonight at the inn, you asked if the man who paid to have the tavern closed was elderly; do you know who it was?”

“No.” Darcy answered easily, for he did not know for certain if it was Lord Caldhart.

“But you have an idea who it may be?”

Darcy stared unfazed at his cousin, and would not answer. Richard tried to read his face, unsuccessfully.

“Do you think Elizabeth Bennet had anything to do with Wickham’s death?”

Darcy flinched. “I do not know,” he answered carefully.

Richard studied him again. “No you do not, but are you frightened she might somehow have been involved?”

“There is much more at stake.” He looked longingly at Richard’s brandy, wishing he could feel the heat of the liquid down his throat to spare him the anxiety of telling all he needed to impart. Instead, he was forced to once more, slowly and painfully, reveal meeting Elizabeth again at the masked ball and their secret tryst.

“That night, she gave herself to the man she loved, while I took a woman I thought worldly; a virtual stranger.”

Richard frowned, a startled dawning creeping across his face. “Darcy, surely you do not mean she was a… that she had never…”

He nodded.

“When I discovered who she was, I begged her to run away with me, but she would not agree. We spoke such harsh words to one another, but only later did I realise she was merely trying to get me to give her up, and all for my own good. She was protecting me from the scandal of her sister’s elopement, which had sullied the family’s reputation.”

Richard was confused. “Surely there might be some gossip from an elopement, but not enough scandal to ruin you, Darcy.”

“The marriage was not discovered until many months later; almost a year. The family was ostracized and shunned because of it. I did not know of any of their scandal. Therefore, I could only think she was once again refusing me.

“The very next day I ran away again, this time to Pemberley, and a never-ending parade of bottles. She ran away the same day, to live I do not know how, but once again I was not there to help her. I had failed her again.

“She had never been heard from until the day, three months ago, when fate bid me sit and wait for Bingley in his study overlooking the garden, and I heard her sweet voice, and then her tiny sobs, as my heart wrenched in silent witness to all her confessions and sufferings to her sister, Jane.”

He leaned heavily against the mantle at the fire, “We have a son, Richard.”

For once Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was speechless. Eventually the question Darcy knew Richard would ask formed on his face. He was cut off by his cousin before he could ask it.

“I have met my son, and believe me when I tell you, not a soul on this earth would doubt the boy is a Darcy. Jane Bingley saw him and immediately recognized him as mine, without ever having known Elizabeth and I had been together. He also revealed his birthday, which is almost exactly nine months after our assignation. I do not doubt his parentage, and neither will you, Cousin.”

Richard numbly nodded. Darcy went on to explain Elizabeth’s new name, her rise in fortune, and her current address.

“You said you learned of your son’s existence three months ago, but you did not say you are in contact with Miss Benn… Mrs. Cartwright. Is this fear of Wickham’s murder foreshadowing your ability to reconcile with her?”

“It is one of many reasons. I must find out if she played a part in the actions.”

“And you feel responsible for not revealing the scoundrel’s character so many years ago, and protecting the ladies he encountered from him, including her sister?”

“I am responsible; it has nothing to do with my damned feelings! I sought to protect my sister, without regard for the greater good of the rest. In essence, I lied to protect Georgiana, as though I had no responsibility to the other women in the world, as if I had no duty to them!

“I did not feel he would bother the Bennets, as they have no fortune, conveniently forgetting a man can steal more than a woman’s money. Am I right in thinking Lydia was not the first girl without money he might have ruined? What of shopkeepers’ daughters and the like?”

Richard nodded.

“My prideful ways helped him. My silence may as well have been permission. The money I gave him enabled him to travel to places to find new victims, and my silence gave him no opposition.

“Elizabeth’s admonitions have never rung more true; if this is not proof I have behaved with the selfish disdain of the feelings of others, then what is? I considered the actions of that viper were beneath my notice or interference because his victims were beneath my notice. If this is not the actions of a guilty man, then I do not understand its meaning.”

“I see.” Richard answered carefully.

The two sat thinking for a long while. “Do you at least know why she might have been involved?” Richard finally asked.

“I can only conjecture; I have no proof. I believe our dear childhood friend had not married her sister. I suspect the marriage was false. I suspect Elizabeth had been moved to revenge. I know, had it been me, I would have done the same. Georgiana was almost forced into the identical position.”

“Not quite. Wickham would have been sure to marry her, to get at her money. But where is Mrs. Wickham? How is she living without a husband to support her?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps she did sail to America. If she had passage only one way, she could never return to be a burden to him.”

“What do the Bennets know?”

“The same as you did three years ago; Miss Lydia and Wickham sailed to America together, and were married on the ship. Jane Bingley speaks as if both are still in America, and mentioned they never write to their family here.”

“We know why Wickham does not write. I wonder what has become of the girl?”

“We may never know. If he did not marry her, and she sailed without him, she would hardly write to her family, for they would learn of her shame. Perhaps she is living the lie of being his wife in America. We can only hope she does not return.”

“What do you wish to tell the Bingleys and the Bennets with regards to Wickham’s death?”

“I feel we should not reveal it. Do you agree?”

“I do. I can see no good coming from telling them. Too many secrets are dependent upon his death being unknown. This is a bad business, Darcy. I do not like the idea of Mrs. Cartwright’s or your son’s freedom being jeopardized by a loose tongue.”

“You and I are the only ones who know, Richard. Can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“Because you have not only me to answer to, but your new cousin as well.”

“Yes, I have a new cousin. What is the boy’s name?”

“She named him William.”

“Darcy, while I can not completely agree with your assessment of your accomplice in all that has happened, I can certainly understand it. But now I think the more important question is: what are you going to do about it?

“Everything.”

“A rather large order, even for you.”

“I agree. Luckily, I do not go through my life alone.”

“Sorry?”

“We are not always happy with ourselves, not proud of our actions, or our feelings, but what never will change is that we do not go through our lives alone. We, each of us, have someone, somewhere, to answer to.”

“Who said that?”

“Two very wise women. Richard, I am going to need your help.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “How did I fail to see you were going to ask me for something more?”

“Because you have lived as though you were alone too often. Will you help me?

“You know I will.”

“Thank you, Richard. With your help, and the McNallys and the Bingleys, I may just be able to accomplish all I wish. They know everything about Elizabeth and William, though no one knows of what I have told you about the Wickhams.”

“And do you know what you wish to accomplish?”

“Not completely. I will need a great deal more time to think, but, for now, knowing my family can support my endeavours gives me great faith that all will end well.”

“You will not reveal your plans?”

“They are still being assembled, Richard, I assure you. But I will tell you what I have accomplished so far.” He explained all he had undertaken that spring and summer. By the end, Richard was amazed at his cousin’s fortitude and determination to help William and his mother.

“What do you wish me to do?”

“I was wondering if there was any way you could make discreet inquiries as to whether the army or the London authorities are still investigating the …incident. And…I need to find a witness to that fateful evening’s events.”

“Anything else?” the colonel asked, clearly daunted.

“I know it is a great deal to ask. Any success you have will be appreciated… and thank you, Richard.”

“You already have enough tasks to take on, Darcy. I am glad to relieve you of some of the burden.”

Chapter Thirty-One

The routine set the previous summer continued through the autumn and following winter in the Cartwright and Darcy households. William continued to excel in his studies, while his mother began her search for ideal situations and contacts on the continent to continue his education.

Darcy was also searching for information on the educational institutions of Europe. He had written to several of his Cambridge professors, and had made the journey three times to consult with his old masters as to the best course of action for the ‘friend’ he had described to them. Eventually, a list of possibilities and contacts was made, and he now pondered how to get the information to Elizabeth.

It was his clever sister who came up with the idea. She had re-acquainted herself with her old music master, Mr. Von Humboldt, after learning he had taken on William as a student, and quickly engaged him to begin lessons for Patrick, enabling her to see him each week.

Patrick was game to allow the lessons, and eventually began to enjoy his new skills. Georgiana had secretly hoped her husband would come to love playing. The thought of someday indulging in duets together might have spurred her to exaggerate her praise to her husband a tiny bit; however, it was in the name of a good cause.

Mr. Von Humboldt was pleased Mrs. McNally took such an interest in his work, his other students, and even went so far as to offer to sponsor those he deemed worthy. The two often sat after her husband’s lessons talking of music and eventually other things.

Many months later, he would not think it at all strange to be discussing the educational systems of his motherland versus the surrounding countries. Mr. Von Humboldt had a preference for his beloved Viennese institutions, as their superiority in music and the arts were well known. The McNally’s were just as adamant the Universities of Greifswald or Rostock were also excellent choices, as were Padua or Pisa. They further suggested that even Bonn, where the Prussian king was rumoured to be setting up a new university, would be appropriate, if one was not bent on a purely musical education. The three deliberated the merits of all, many times, and Mr. Von Humboldt was indeed impressed with his new patron’s extensive knowledge of European universities.

The McNallys later showed no signs of surprise when Mr. Von Humboldt asked if they would be willing to share the information and contacts they had spoken of with his young protégé, a Mr. Cartwright. They generously acquiesced.

The Cartwright’s housekeeper later confirmed several letters had been written to, and received from, the continent. By the end of winter, it seemed the boy’s future had been decided. Elizabeth and William would be moving to the newly established kingdom of Lombardy and Venetia, ruled by the nephew of the late Marie Antoinette, Austrian Emperor Franz I. The University of Padua was to be his new home.

London, April 1818

Little more than a month remained until the journey to Padua was to commence. Darcy had been busy making the arrangements with all his business interests, attorneys and steward as to how he was going to keep in contact. The McNally’s would act in his stead if a situation arose which required personal attendance, and all other decisions would be made via post whenever possible.

He had found a villa to lease on the banks of the Brenta canal, and could only hope it was not one of the monstrosities which he had seen on the riverbanks near Venice years ago. It would not do to be talked of; he wished to slip into the city quietly, without notice.

His Italian lessons continued daily, and he was pleased with his progress in the language. He had picked it up when on his tour four years earlier, as they had spent a great deal of their time in the southern part of the country. Now, he was grateful to have at least some working knowledge of speaking it, and was learning to read and write it as well. His German was excellent, and he felt he would have no trouble with any Austrians he might encounter in the city.

He planned to return to England regularly, for the thought of not seeing his beloved sister and brother-in-law, the Bingleys or Pemberley for years was not an option he was willing to entertain. Though giving up Elizabeth and William, and this half-life they shared, was something he could not do either. He decided he would be able to arrange a system to watch over the Cartwrights within a year after they had settled, enabling him to make the trip back soon. Georgiana and Patrick promised to make the trip to see him someday as well.

As he thought of what he was leaving behind, Darcy began to dwell upon what Elizabeth and William were giving up. As well as their home and their language, more important was the fact that, with William's education likely to last as long as fifteen years, they were, in a way, also giving up their loved ones.

It had been the portrait of his ancestor in the grand staircase of his town home that convinced Darcy. Great-Great Grandfather Harold had made him realise his family and loved ones were the single most important thing in his world. He knew if William had disappeared and had a child… he could not finish the thought. It was right; all his convictions told him so. Now, with the imminent departure to the continent, and no return date considered, he felt Mr. Bennet was due what might be his only opportunity to meet his grandson.

The butler had ushered the new houseguest into Fitzwilliam Darcy’s private study. The air was ripe with nervousness as Mr. Bennet regarded the usually stoic man’s now obvious lack of composure.

“Mr. Bennet I thank you for accepting my invitation. I know it was no small favour to ask, and I appreciate your willingness to come to town.”

“Mr. Darcy, I do appreciate the hospitality you have offered me this week. However, your purpose for bringing me to London eludes me. As I am no longer a young man, I would appreciate it if you would speak openly, frankly, and, if at all possible, expeditiously.

“As you wish, Sir. I would, however, strongly recommend a brandy and my sofa. What I have to impart is not of short duration, nor joyful.”

“Now you have me worried, young man. Please do not make me suffer needlessly.”

“I apologise, Sir. I do not mean to say I have specific ill tidings to impart, but that I have a very long, pertinent story to tell you, regarding myself, your family, and your daughter Elizabeth.”

Mr. Bennet paled. “You have seen my Lizzy? Has any harm come to her? Is she well?”

“I have not spoken to her, Sir. However, I have often seen her, and I can assure you she is in perfect health, and finds happiness in her life. It is my history, our history, of which I wish to speak. And I wish to consult with you about the future of many.”

Mr. Bennet regarded this man before him. He had not seen Darcy for many years, but from the times he had, he discerned the edge had come off of him; he had softened a bit. Not friendly of course, but not the disdainful man that he, and so many others, had thought him so many years ago.

“Very well, Mr. Darcy, tell your story.”

“Thank you, Sir. I believe I should begin in Meryton, in the autumn of 1811.”

Mr. Bennet groaned. “Not the night you slighted Lizzy? There simply cannot be anyone on this earth who does not know you said she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you.”

Darcy’s face lost all colour so quickly, Mr. Bennet thought the great man might actually faint. “She heard me?” he whispered.

“Good God, Man. Can you really be so thick? Yes, she heard you, and told everyone in the town of your appallingly bad manners.” Mr. Bennet chuckled slightly. Darcy was not amused. “I apologise for taking delight in another’s misfortune, Mr. Darcy, but you brought it upon yourself. Luckily Elizabeth laughed over your ill chosen words, but I know it jaded her opinion of you from that point; she did not care for you one jot.”

“I never knew. She never told me.” Darcy shook his head. He admired her all the more knowing now she had never brought up his shockingly bad behaviour or berated him directly for it. He felt like a fool now, but would go on.

“Despite my utter stupidity of saying such a thing about your daughter, Sir, much less within her hearing, no sooner had the words left my mouth, when I realised her face was actually very appealing to me. I can honestly say that, by the time Bingley and I had left Hertfordshire after the Netherfield ball, I had fallen utterly and completely in love with her.

Mr Bennet’s shock was clearly visible. “I believe you offered me a brandy earlier, young man. I should be very grateful if you now would renew the offer.”

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