Beginning, Previous Section, Section IX, Next Section
Unfortunately, ‘gratitude’ could easily be said to have been the last thing on Thomas Bennet’s mind as he stood in front of Darcy after his speech. Shock, grief, bitterness, disgust and fury would have been more likely. Not unlike most persons when faced with such an amalgam of overwhelming emotions, Mr. Bennet did the only thing which seemed rational at the time: he sat down heavily in the chair beside him, and broke down.
Darcy allowed the man his time alone and retreated behind his desk.
When Mr. Bennet finally seemed composed, he tried to offer his help. “If it brings you any relief, I had the same reaction when I learned of William’s existence,” he said, as he refilled Mr. Bennet’s brandy.
“I find it hard to fathom your ever losing control, Mr. Darcy.”
He contemplated the elder gentleman‘s perception of him for a moment. “Perhaps the Darcy who once silently stalked the edges of your drawing room, Sir. But I gave that man up many years ago. The man who stands before you now happily claims to have feelings of great depth. When I learned of William, I cried like a babe; in my sister’s lap, no less. I have a great sympathy for your own suffering, and I mean to prove it to you every way I can.”
Mr. Bennet looked sceptical, yet still managed, “You certainly do not bandy words about, I will give you that. Very well, Sir; you may begin to state your case.”
Several minutes later, Mr. Bennet had found little relief. He stared silently into the fire, not for the first time that day, while Darcy allowed him to find his composure once more. “Wickham dead. I cannot believe it.”
“My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, can verify all I have said. It was he who informed me of the man’s passing several years ago. The army wishes to hush it up, considering the circumstances.”
The elder man stood up and began pacing. Darcy was surprised to see an imitation of the habit he displayed in time of stress.
“Do you think she had anything to do with Wickham’s…fate?”
“I do not know. I can only tell you I intend to find the truth. Without absolving her of guilt in Wickham‘s death, I have no hope of a future with her.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him a long while, finally venturing, “And if the truth is not to your liking? If it is in any way… dangerous?”
“Wickham’s ending was not so different from what I had often contemplated inflicting upon him. I would also point out it was well deserved.”
“While I cannot argue that merit, it still does not explain what your actions would be.”
“I would try to protect them in every way. If I could, I would advise another… residence, exactly what they are already planning.”
“I see. What if what your quest for all truths should prove to uncover information which was …. less palatable?”
“There is very little I expect to be surprised at,” Darcy answered cautiously.
“But if there were? Are you willing to pursue this? Would you still be willing to aid them, even if you were to discover more … things which might not reflect well upon Elizabeth’s character?”
Darcy resented this posturing. “What do you know, Mr. Bennet?”
“There was another name associated with that time. It now seems it may have been pertinent, though I did not think so then, owing to the gentleman no longer being alive. Of course, I did not know Wickham had been... Perhaps the authorities felt, if this gentleman’s involvement in the activity were proved, his fate would have been the same, therefore, further investigation would yield the same results. As far as they might have been concerned, all parties were now satisfied.”
“In what way do you think this is important?”
“The ‘other party’s’ demise was only a few days after the first party’s departure.”
“Yes?”
“All of this activity took place in mid May.”
“Yes?”
Mr. Bennet grimaced and shook his head. “Blast it, Darcy! He was at the Blakely’s ball the night he died. A night which was witnessed by hundreds, bet upon by many, and scandalously written about in the gossip for weeks, mostly due to the fact that, when he passed into the next world, he was not alone.”
“Please, stop.” Darcy quiet voice pleaded.
Mr. Bennet saw the pain upon his face. “I am not telling you anything you did not already know, am I?”
Darcy shook his head.
Now it was his turn to pace. Realising there was no turning back, he began; “I attended the Blakely’s masked ball, where I met an extraordinary French woman. She had a bevy of admirers around her all night, and I was next to her for most of it. I am not proud to say she captured my interest immediately and I was quickly enamoured of her in an… ungentlemanly manner. We had the opportunity to be alone at one point…”
Mr. Bennet’s face was still as he listened to Darcy’s story. His face betrayed no surprised as the man continued his painful confession.
“Sir, the woman with whom I had this… encounter was Chantal Moreau. She had been spoken of openly as the new mistress of Lord Robert Caldhart.
Mr. Bennet’s head dropped, “Elizabeth.”
Darcy nodded. “But there was worse to come. I did not realise it at the time, but she had recognised me. She had not merely attempted an assignation, she had, in fact, sacrificed her virtue to me; the man to whom she later confessed she was in love.
“It was the first night… She had only moved into his Lordship’s protection that day. The ball was his own perverted attempt to show her off, and to make his fellow gentleman envy his newest possession. Consequently, their relationship had not yet been consummated.
“She did not reveal herself until we had…. You cannot know how sorry I was, thinking she was another woman, a woman I did not love, and then have it revealed to me she was the very woman who owned my heart.” Darcy choked upon his confession. “My disgust and shame in myself has been well deserved.”
He then went on to reveal his second proposal to Elizabeth, and her subsequent refusal and the reasons for her doing so. Mr. Bennet’s tears spilled slowly as he heard the tale of his daughter’s trials.
“I believe his fury over finding her sullied later that night resulted in his attempt to bring harm to her, and the subsequent fight, which I believe all of England has read about.
“Apparently, she then refused to go through with their arrangement, and he was unwilling to let her go. In the end, the decision was not left to him.”
Mr. Bennet slowly dried his face. “Caldhart must have found Wickham.”
“He had the means.”
“And the motivation, Mr. Darcy. It seems he had been pursuing my daughter for sometime.” Darcy’s surprise was evident. “At the cigar shop, he deduced who she was and began his seduction weeks, if not months, before. Perhaps she thought she could rebuff him on her own. She cared not for worldly goods, but, in the end, he held the key to the things she wanted most.”
“Revenge and restoration to your family‘s reputation,” Darcy said. “At the ball, she said he could provide the one thing she wanted; to see the man who had made her and her family suffer, dead. No,” he corrected, suddenly remembering clearly. “She said she would have been happy to see him die, not that he was dead. There may be hope.”
“We must believe in the possibility, I think. However, there is still one more unanswered piece to the puzzle. If Caldhart found Wickham, then where is Lydia? Why did she not come back from America with him?”
“I have not been able to ascertain anything about Lydia’s whereabouts, but I have a theory. I am afraid it is not pleasant.”
“Nothing about this day has been pleasant, Mr. Darcy. I think you had better tell me all you know, as well as what you suspect. Perhaps together we can fill in more missing pieces.”
Darcy once again continued the convoluted tale, including his conjecture that Wickham had never married Lydia, and of her being abandoned in America. He held back nothing, and the complete story was finally told.
“Damn Wickham… and Caldhart! And damn you, too!” Mr. Bennet cried. “If I did not blame myself so greatly for having raised such a silly, worthless daughter in Lydia, I would call you out, or shoot you where you stand. “ He shook his head. “I know it would serve no purpose. I know I would never survive a duel with you.” He buried his face in his hands. “I feel as useless as an old woman.”
“I brought you here to give you the opportunity to meet William, and to make my confession. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit to give.”
The only noise in the room was the occasional snap of the fire in the grate as Mr. Bennet was once again thrown into meditation. “I cannot force you to marry her. Your fame in the society makes you an easy target for scandal and investigation. It may as well be a sentence to Newgate. Anyone seeing the two of you together with William would instantly recognise the boy’s parentage, as well. No, I cannot see any way for you to marry her. However, I cannot forgive your actions. You compromised my daughter, and she has suffered as a result.”
“I do not seek your forgiveness. I cannot regret loving her; I cannot regret the extraordinary child we have created. It is only Elizabeth’s forgiveness I someday hope to earn. She is the one who has truly suffered on my account, and I intend to do all I can to make it up to her. My oath to you is that she and your grandson will be taken care of in every way possible.
“However, you seem to have forgotten the other objections; the lady herself wants nothing to do with me, or to involve me in William’s life. Our situation is one bound by the precarious danger surrounding it, but also by the limitations she has set. I bow to her will in this. But I swear to you, despite the separate way we are living, and though it might seem shocking, even blasphemous - to me she is, and always will be, my wife.”
The two elderly gentlemen made their way slowly across the stretch of green. The day was bright and warm, and throngs had gathered in the park to take advantage of the fair spring weather. Eventually they found an unoccupied bench and sat quietly, only occasionally commenting to one another.
The elder of the two noticed a small boy running across the shorn grass with his nurse following behind, and pointed him out to his younger companion. The younger was immediately on his feet, but, before he could leave, the elder stopped him, and pleaded with his hands and his voice.
“Please, could you… that is, would you bring him to me, and introduce me?” he asked with warbled voice. The younger frowned, but did not answer before hurrying away to intercept the youth.
William had been playing with his ball, attempting to make it touch the sky, when the disobedient toy once again got away from him. This time the errant sphere happened on a man, who picked it up and returned it to him with a mischievous smile on his face.
“I believe this may belong to you, young man,” he said a little roughly.
William’s countenance fell, not sure if the gentleman was offended, or perhaps even injured, due to his neglect.
“I apologise, Sir, if my ball has harmed you.”
The man looked surprised. “Harmed? By a mere ball? I think not. I may be old, my lad, but I certainly can cross swords with your ball and come out unscathed!” he challenged. “If you would allow me, perhaps together we can see just how stern of stuff your ball is made,” he invited.
He then turned to the lady. “With your nurse’s permission, of course.” She smiled and nodded.
“Excellent! May I have the privilege of knowing who my companion is, Sir?”
The move now nearly perfected, William stood straight, brought his feet carefully together, and bowed before him. “William Bennet Cartwright, Sir,” he answered as he grinned happily.
The elder man returned the bow. “I am Benjamin Thompson, Master Cartwright, and very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The two spent the next half hour finding out how much abuse ‘Ball’, as they had decided to name it, could weather. William’s energy seemed to have an endless source, but Mr. Thompson, though laughing heartily throughout, soon lagged, and the nurse suggested the gentleman needed a well deserve rest.
“Thank you, Mademoiselle; I believe you are correct.” He looked up then, finally remembering his companion who sat as a silent sentinel to the entire proceedings on the bench not far off.
“Master Cartwright, I did not come to the park alone today, and would very much enjoy introducing you to my companion. Will you permit me?” William happily agreed.
They walked to the benches, finally allowing the boy and his nurse to see the other gentleman more clearly. He was much older than William’s new playmate. His hands trembled lightly as he leaned heavily on the cane between his legs while he sat. His head sometimes rested upon his folded hands even in the short time it took them to make their way before him. When they finally stood in front of him, Mr. Thompson made the introduction.
“William Bennet Cartwright, please allow me to introduce you to my father, Mr. Will Thompson,” he replied. William bowed once again as the elder Mr. Thompson nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“You must forgive me, Master Cartwright, for not standing to receive you,” he began with shaking voice. “My son insists I walk each day, but it is an arduous task for me, therefore I try not to expend any extra energy when I reach the halfway point, for fear I will never make it to the final destination: home.” William laughed at this amusing man.
“You have provided me with some excellent entertainment today, young man, for it has been many a year, I dare say, since my son has run about like a boy. More than forty years I should think, Benjamin.”
“Yes, Father. Though I believe I still ran about quite a bit even when I was fourteen or fifteen,” he chuckled.
“I am pleased you have had your exercise for the day as well, my son,” said the elder. “Master Cartwright, how do you like this park, then?”
“Very well, Sir. I come here most every day, along with Mademoiselle and Ball.”
“Ball? Who is Ball?”
William held out Ball to the old man and they both shared a laugh.
“Ball seems a very dependable sort of friend. Rarely complains I expect, and never runs away,” the elder Mr. Thompson remarked.
The younger Mr. Thompson coughed conspicuously. “I would not go so far as to say that Ball is above running… er, rolling away every now and then, Father.” Young William suddenly looked guilty. “But, if he did not, I would not have been introduced to Master Cartwright, and that would have been a great shame,” he said with a distinct twinkle in his bright, though lined, eyes.
“Indeed it would have,” said the elder, with significant feeling in his voice and face.
The nurse declared it time to return home, and, with a sad face, William turned to his two new friends to bid them farewell. Both men eagerly held out their hands to shake, and a delighted William was happy to indulge. They promised to try to see one another again sometime if the weather was fair, and the elder Mr. Thompson could manage it.
After the boy and his nurse had departed, the two sat in silence for some time. The elder Mr. Thompson could hear the tiny sniffles of his son next to him and, understanding the sentiment completely, did not comment.
“A most wonderful lad,” the younger finally managed to say.
“He is.”
“I know I have no right, as I have never had anything to do with his upbringing, but I feel compelled to say I am prodigiously proud of that little boy.”
“As am I,” said the elder. “The only thing I probably have a right to be proud of as well.”
“Now you are too harsh and I cannot agree. You can be proud of everything you have set your mind to. Anyone who has seen what you have done would agree,” said the younger.
“Perhaps,” he sighed. “But those things do not signify, only two things matters to me; that boy and his mother.”
“I will be grateful to you for that until the day I die, Darcy. Elizabeth and William are fortunate to have you watching over them. It is the only reason I can find a modicum of peace in this situation. I hope for all our sakes my daughter and grandson can someday join together with you as a family.”
“As do I, Mr. Bennet; I pray for it daily,” Darcy said sadly. “Now, I could not help but notice how much you exerted yourself playing with my son, Grandfather. Are you as tired as I suspect you may be?”
“Strangely, no. I suspect I will feel the effects of running about like a four-year-old tomorrow. However, at this moment, though sad to say goodbye to my grandson, I am also strangely jubilant. I should have no trouble making our way back to a cab.”
“You could lean on me if you need to. It will look like you are helping me if we place ourselves just so.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “You have entirely too much expertise at this, Darcy. Who would have ever thought you would turn out to be such a fine actor.”
“Certainly no one at the Haymarket,” Darcy retorted without thinking.
“Eh? The Haymarket Theatre?” Mr. Bennet asked.
Darcy groaned. “A very long, painful and embarrassing story.”
“Excellent! He replied with a grin. “I was hoping for some entertainment over brandy tonight.” As they stood up to leave, Mr. Bennet grabbed the elderly looking gentleman’s arm, stopping him.
“Thank you, Darcy. I think you understand how much it has meant to me to meet him. I know the extraordinary courage it took for you to send for me. I am sure I did not profess it that night, but truly, Son, thank you.” Darcy nodded, patting the man’s hand with great tenderness.
They stood once again in his study. Mr. Bennet’s travelling coat lay aside, waiting for him to begin the trip back to Hertfordshire. Darcy was glad for this week he had spent with the man. It had taken several more days of talking, combined with showing all the papers, proving all he had already done to insure the Cartwright’s financial safety and his continual love for them, before there was any sign Mr. Bennet would relinquish his anger and accept the man who had truly earned his respect for his actions, save one.
Together the two had come to terms with the conception of William, and Elizabeth’s role in Lord Caldhart’s life. When they realised they each had separately already forgiven her for her transgressions, they knew they could not be enemies considering the love they both felt for Elizabeth and William. Mr. Bennet, however, had felt the need to threaten that, should Darcy change his mind about accepting Elizabeth’s past actions, he was not above hunting the large man down and making use of his pistol.
Mr. Bennet’s sharp mind and wit had delighted Darcy, as it made him feel closer to his beloved to speak with the man. Now that he had her father’s agreement on his chosen course of action, he felt relieved at not having to carry the burden alone. Together they decided not to mention Mr. Bennet’s trip, or introduction to William to the Bingleys or McNallys. They felt, for now, it would be easier on Jane to not keep more secrets, as she was expecting her first child.
They could hear the sound of the carriage pulling up to the front of the house.
“Darcy,” Mr. Bennet began. “Never in my life have I been so glad to have been so grievously mistaken about a man’s character than I have with you. I hope someday to call you son, just as you wish for me as a father-in-law. I know the path you have chosen is not an easy one. God help you on the day Elizabeth learns all you have done. I would not expect her to be grateful, nor silent on the subject.” he chuckled. “I suspect ‘spectacular’ might do.”
Darcy was continually surprised at the Bennet’s habit of making light during serious conversations, but had come to accept it with this man. “I only hope it will not be revealed until I have cleared her name.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “I expect you to be a faithful correspondent. You are the only line I have to my loved ones. I hope you will not deny me the pleasure of hearing of their exploits. I only wish you could draw, so that you could send me pictures as my grandson grows and changes.”
“Perhaps I may learn. I will be in the heart of the land where great artists are born. Perhaps one will take pity on a very old student and teach me well enough to grant your wish.”
“You are ever attentive, Darcy. We may not be family, but I hope I can now call you friend. I would be privileged if you would think of me as such.”
“Fitzwilliam,” Darcy answered with a genuine smile and an outstretched hand.
Mr. Bennet nodded back. “Thomas,” he replied and, taking the offered hand, pulled it to him and embraced the man.
“God bless you, Fitzwilliam, and all the best of luck to you.”
Posted on Thursday, 26 January 2006
Colonel Fitzwilliam sauntered slowly along the path near the water in Hyde Park. His mother leaned lightly on his arm as they enjoyed the unusually warm spring day. He was happy for the moments of peace after recently having spent two weeks at Rosings. His month’s leave was nearly up, and he wished to have some pleasurable memories to tide him over when he returned to his regiment.
“Our dear Anne’s health is failing even more?” his mother asked.
“Yes, I fear it is so. She must be carried down to receive visitors with her mother and often drifts off to sleep in the middle of the day.”
“How awful for Catherine to watch her child slip away,” Lady Matlock reflected with tenderness.
“I am sorry to say I do not believe my aunt is aware how precarious my cousin’s situation is. She still talks of the marriage between Anne and Darcy as if it were to happen anytime now. She even had the audacity to mention how she was looking forward to seeing her grandchildren someday.”
“Heavens! How sad to be so disillusioned. Darcy will never offer for her; everyone knows it.”
“Indeed, though I do not believe her mother’s constant effusions of weddings bothers Anne. She seemed to pay her no mind. We did have many opportunities to talk. I wish circumstances were different and she was more often in company with us here in town.”
“She could hardly endure the travelling, Richard.”
“Oh… I only meant if she lived here in London permanently. It would afford her more society than what she has in Kent. I enjoy Anne’s company, but would prefer to see her without my aunt in constant attendance. She is, I suspect, rather lonely at Rosings.”
“She has her mother.”
“She is two and thirty years old, Mother. I hardly think she wants her mama with her at all times. I am speaking of younger people with whom to converse. Despite the circumstances of her health, she does not deserve to live in the tomb of a home my Aunt runs, listening to talk of organizing pantries and the proper raising of pigs. I had to keep from nodding off myself. The situation is barely tolerable for her.”
“And if Anne were to come and stay with your father and I for an extended time? What are you hinting at Richard?”
“Please stop where those thoughts are going, Mother. I only meant I would wish to give Anne some happiness in what may very well be her last days.”
“There are many forms of happiness. Are you sure you are aware of them all?” his mother hinted with a smirk.
“And I thought only Darcy had to put up with matchmaking mamas. I never believed I would have to duel one in my own family.”
“Very well, Son. I shall sheath my foil for now. But be warned: if you ever show any inclination to speak of serious paths for yourself again, I will be forced to draw it out, and I will show you no mercy.”
They both laughed heartily when, suddenly, Richard heard another laugh seemingly joining theirs from a bench not far from them. He turned, automatically drawn to the sound, while something tugged at his memory. A couple sat on a bench behind some shrubbery near them, and it was the lady whose laughter had drawn his attention. His mother turned to sit upon a bench, and Richard placed himself standing in front of her where he could watch the couple in the distance.
Lady Matlock was commenting upon the variety of people in the park when he saw the lady and gentleman rise. He heard her laughter once again and suddenly was aware of who he might be looking at. The height was correct; even her form would be about right. He struggled to catch a glimpse of her hair colour under her lace cap and bonnet. At last she turned sharply around, her attention caught by a boisterous group of children off to his right and he could finally get a good look at her face.
“Clever girl, the lace and bonnet certainly hide a good deal, and the spectacles even more, but I recognise you now, Elizabeth Bennet,” he thought before quickly averting his face lest she see him.
They spoke a few more minutes, when Richard saw Elizabeth bow her head and shake it adamantly. The man stepped very close to her and Richard felt a brief panic set in as he saw the man reach out and tip up Elizabeth’s chin. Her face showed a sadness he had never seen in her before. The man stroked her cheek, briefly speaking to her once more, and she nodded to him. Then he saw the man raise her hand to his lips, kiss it and depart. Elizabeth watched his departure a long while. Then he saw her heave a great sigh and head off in the opposite direction.
“Hardly your type, Richard.” His mother’s voice woke him from his reverie.
“I …I thought I recognised someone.”
His mother raised her brows. “And I am sure your father gave you the speech about dallying with chamber maids.”
Richard laughed. “Of course he did, Mother. You have nothing to worry about, I assure you.” He escorted her back home, all the while wondering how on earth he was going to tell Darcy.
Darcy entered the room and immediately could tell something of consequence had happened. Richard’s happy demeanour was forced and he looked distracted. It only took a few minutes of civilities before Darcy felt he had had enough. “Well?”
Richard faltered.
“Please tell me. Your hesitation makes my imagination leap to horrifying conclusions, and I would much prefer the immediate truth,” he demanded.
Richard then haltingly explained what he had seen. He knew his cousin preferred his truth unvarnished as well, so did not leave out he had seen the man touch Elizabeth.
Darcy sat quietly lost in thought for many minutes. “If you had to hazard a guess, what would you say the man’s age and occupation were?”
A surprised Richard answered, “Perhaps five and fifty years old, and considering where he was, and how he was dressed, I would spot him for some servant from one of the grand houses nearby.”
Darcy nodded, his head once again in thought. “Do you have any idea if they plan to meet again?”
“I am sorry, Cousin. I heard nothing of their conversation. However, their parting did not seem to indicate finality; I believe they may well meet up again.”
“And the day and time indicate a traditional servant’s afternoon off,” Darcy added.
“I must say you are taking this remarkably well.”
Darcy frowned. “Did you think I would assume she was having some sort of assignation? She has lived for many years away from me, when she could have no doubt married if she wished. Added to which she told her sister she believes herself tied to me. No, Richard, I do not believe this elder man to be a suitor. Who he is, and what he is to her is indeed a mystery, and I plan to discover where the truth lies as soon as may be. I think I shall take up a temporary residence at the park.”
“You will be recognised, Darcy.”
“No.” He shook his head with a grimace, “I shall not.”
“Curse all actors to Hades,” he thought happily. Simply thinking the intemperate words made him feel slightly better. It would take an entire hour of bathing at the end of the day before he knew he would truly feel well. He was sitting, once again, in Hyde Park. Today, at least, was not as brutishly cold as the first days had been almost two weeks earlier. The chill winds of winter still teased the tip of his nose and threatened to make it wet. He was grateful, albeit very reluctantly, for the extra padding wrapped around his torso for it kept him from being too cold during the long hours he sat perusing the visitors in the park.
He was beginning to question the wisdom of his attempt to lie in wait for Elizabeth or her friend when something caught the corner of his eyesight. He turned and there she was across the corner of the Serpentine, having found a likely resting place in a well-placed bench. He had an excellent view across the edge of the water to the proceedings. He attempted to view as many men in the area as possible to see if he could determine who might be her friend and, more importantly, the direction from which he had come. Soon a likely candidate came into the park from his side of the lake. He crossed in front of Darcy and made his way directly to Elizabeth.
The couple finally separated an hour later after being in serious conversation the entire time. Darcy had curbed his jealousy when Richard had described the scene of tenderness at the last parting these two had made; however, its strength was nothing compared to actually witnessing Elizabeth showing affection for another man. His fists clenched and a rash of heat rushed over him as he watched the man gently embrace her before leaving. He swallowed hard and looked away, attempting to regulate his breathing and struggles.
After the man had passed him, he started a cautious pursuit, following him south towards Belgrave Square. Soon he saw the man duck into the Nags Head, a pub in a former mews, and followed him in.
He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the door closed behind him. The noise of the greetings that had met his quarry instantly faded when Darcy entered. He attempted to walk calmly to the bar, but it proved difficult as all eyes were upon him.
“Yer money first,” the gruff barkeeper warned him. He produced a coin. The barkeeper nodded and poured out a mug of ale. The hum of the room slowly returned.
“You know him, Higgins?” came a voice from his side. The man, Higgins, slowly shook his head. For the next two hours, Darcy slowly sipped his ale and kept his head down. He had rebuffed the attempts of anyone who tried to engage him in conversation.
Eventually the tones of the largest group, who had been drinking with Higgins, began to rise as they bid farewell to their friends.
“Caldhart expecting you back soon, Higgins?” Darcy nearly dropped his mug.
“No, his Lordship is staying in for the evening. If he has need of me, I have a new stable boy who wants to get into my good books and knows where to find me. He will come for me if the family wishes to go out.”
“What a life you lead! Such luck to work for a man who is so very dull. Not like the last one, eh?”
“ ‘Tis wrong to speak ill of the dead, Jack. I will not and neither should you.”
“True, true. Sorry ‘bout that.” His friend apologised as the group departed.
The tavern was now threadbare of customers; the only others were a pair near the fire who looked half in their cups. Darcy’s head was still spinning at the news Higgins worked for the Caldhart family when a tankard of ale was pounded down on his table, and the man himself suddenly plopped down onto the bench across from him, in none too good a mood.
“You ready to tell me why you are following me now?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of him.
Darcy’s faced dropped, too stunned to reply.
“If you are some poor beggar man then I am Henry the eighth. I saw you at the park and not for the first time.” He took a swig from his mug. “What would a poor man be doing sitting in Hyde Park all day, I had wondered. Then you were there the next day and the next and not looking too poorly fed, I might add.”
Darcy was still trying desperately to organise his thoughts when the man grabbed his hand roughly and splayed it out in front of his face.
“Good costume, but you forgot about your pretty hands. Gentlemen always do. They forget the working class notice things: like hands that aren’t battered about, or someone who smells as if he bathes everyday. Next time best to get some old gloves at least.” He threw the hand back.
Darcy had not expected to be on the receiving end of an interview with the man; he had expected to conduct it. He was inwardly cursing himself for not being better prepared when Higgins began again.
“I see I will have to provide some answers, then. You sit for days in the park talking to no one, until today, when for some reason you suddenly are interested in me. Not too unusual, I suppose, except I have been in the park many times over the last days, and you paid me no mind then. What could have made you follow me today, of all days? What was different?”
The two sat in stalemate, locking eyes with each other.
“Could it be because today I was finally not alone?”
Darcy knew a threat when he heard one and was not a man to back down. He laid his palms down carefully on either side of his mug and leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Higgins’ before he warned in an eerily calm voice, “If I find you are trying to harm her in any possible way, I will make you suffer like no other. If you wish to avoid my wrath, you will never communicate with her or come near her again.”
Higgins’ face was a mask of control, showing not the least bit of fear. Suddenly it changed drastically; but, instead of looking afraid, he seemed completely shocked. He dropped all pretence of bullying and danger, squinting at the stranger as though seeing him for the first time. “It was you!” he sputtered.
Darcy was confused. Higgins’ countenance had suddenly turned calm, even relieved. “What are you to her?” he demanded.
A well-recovered Higgins snorted. “Well now, that’s the prize, isn‘t it? What are you to her, and what am I to her? But we will not get far asking questions and not giving any answers, will we?” Higgins smiled at him and Darcy suddenly realised this man was no longer a threat. A hand extended across the table. “Tom Higgins.”
If he had believed in the occult, he might later have reflected he had had a flash of intuition at that moment, for he did not hesitate to feel he could somehow trust this man. Darcy took the offered hand, surprised at the strength, warmth and sincerity it seemed to be offering as he replied, “Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“No! Really?” A now shocked Higgins exclaimed. “From Derbyshire?” Darcy nodded. “Well, damn me if that isn’t the best thing I have heard in nearly five years! Well, Mr. Darcy, you already know my name is Higgins, but what else do you know about me?”
“I heard your friends say you work for the Caldharts. I know you had a long conversation today in the park. I know you seem to be very closely acquainted with the lady to whom you were speaking.” He hesitated, searching the face across from his for any hint of deception. “ I think you mean her no harm.”
“Right on all counts,” Higgins answered lightly, taking another long drink while Darcy did the same. Higgins smirked slyly as he waited for his companion to fill his mouth before he said, “How long have you been in love with her?”
It took Darcy several moments and many slaps upon his back to stop coughing and clear the sour ale travelling down his windpipe. When he finally could breathe clear, Higgins began.
“Your face shows what you feel for her; and, even if it had not, I would know what you are to her because he looks exactly like you, doesn’t he?” Darcy gasped.
“Yes, I know about him.” Higgins shook his head. “Like looking at the same painting - you two.” He slammed his palm loudly upon the table. “It was you that night who outfoxed Caldhart!” he cried, as his thoughts came together. Darcy could see the wheels turning in Higgins’ mind; putting together the puzzle pieces of his relationship to Elizabeth as his face flashed a hundred different emotions. The final look upon Higgins’ face was, curiously, one of admiration.
“He was furious. Tried to beat her, you know.” Darcy’s mouth slid open in shock.
“Chased after her with a crop. She wouldn’t have any of it - was not about to stand there and let him hurt her, so she ran. Good legs from walking all around London, looking for her sister, I expect. Then he went after her, which was his big mistake. She had the youth and the strength, and he had a bad heart and his anger to push him; and, in the end, it was his downfall.”
He regarded Darcy, who had gone pale once more. “She said you were a far better man. Said she loved you right to his face, she did.” Higgins watched for the reaction.
“How can you know all this?”
“Haven’t figured it out yet?” he chuckled. “Well, perhaps you are a better man than he was; you certainly are not as devious, else you would know who I am.”
“Deviousness implies being underhanded. I have no evil intentions.”
“No, too true. I could tell from the first. I have worked most of my life in the service of the Caldharts. Lord Robert until a few years ago. Now I work as driver for his snivelling son.”
“How would a man’s driver have such extensive knowledge of what goes on behind closed doors in his house?”
Higgins laughed. “Ah, now you’re using your noggin. I was much more to Lord Robert: snoop; spy; seeker of information, gossip and rumours. For years I was his Lordship’s eyes and ears to anything his mistresses were up to. Sometime he used me for the ladies he was looking to add to his collection.”
Darcy’s eyes went wide. “You found her for him?” he gasped.
“No! I am no panderer! He saw her and wanted to know more about her. I merely trailed her to get the information.”
“Why would you now befriend her? Why would she want anything to do with you?”
Higgins was indignant. “I am her friend; I kept all her secrets, did I not?”
“You are spilling them readily to me, now.”
“Did you not listen to what I said about my past work?” He lowered his head towards him. “Lord Robert is gone now; my loyalties lie with her. I promised her five years ago when she was forced to run away. I was the one who told her to go to my old village, Oak Hill, in Derbyshire.”
Darcy gasped again.
“Ah, I see you did not know she was so near to you.” His eyes diverted to the floor as he struggled with a memory. “I remember her panicking when I told her it was only eight miles from Lambton, she worried what direction the village lay.” He nodded to himself. “She wanted to make sure it was farther from Pemberley, not too close to you.”
“I had no idea.”
“No, you were very good at being absent, I noticed.” Darcy fumed. “If you had come along, he never would have had a chance with her. Why did you not help her then? She was so miserable all those months, suffering so. What made you stay away and not help her?”
Higgins could not know how those words tore apart Darcy’s heart. To hear she had needed him, desperately needed him; and he was sitting on an Italian beach, letting the warmth of the rich Mediterranean sun soothe his broken heart, and tan his smooth pale skin.
Guilt permeated his being and compelled him for the first time in his life to open his heart to a near stranger as he uttered the complete truth. “Because a greater fool there has never been. Because my damnable pride compelled me to turn tail and hide when I thought she had rejected me.
“I mean to spend the rest of my life making it up to her. If I can ease her existence in any way, I will see it done. I will not allow any harm or distress come to her again, nor ask anything of her. If you can see it in your heart to tell me all you know, I swear on all I hold holy I will only use the information to bring her happiness.”
Higgins blinked. “Blimey, I wish I had known a love like yours,” he could not help but utter.
Both men rearranged themselves uncomfortably.
Higgins finally continued. “You were the one to finally beat him at his own game. He thought about bringing you in on the plan you know, but thought you were too good a man for revenge and seduction. Ha! Little did he know.”
“He was immoral and you helped him.”
“I was his servant, not his priest,” Higgins immediately retorted. He regarded him once more. “You have a child, Mr. Darcy; do you think none of your servants know about him? If they did, would they not work for you, or do whatever you asked? Tell me: when is a servant’s place to tell their master what is right or wrong?”
“I had not thought on it.”
“No, I daresay you have not. But despite the wanton ways of his Lordship, I had never seen him turn violent until then.” Darcy’s eyebrows raised, his face clearly disbelieving. “I was in the house, and watched it happen; but I swear to you, if he had touched her with his whip, I would have stopped him. It was not his Lordship’s way.”
Darcy stared at the man, attempting to see the truth in his eyes. Finally, he decided to take a chance. “Then explain the Black Mare tavern.”
Higgins started. He had not heard the name of the wretched place since leaving it with his Lordship and Miss Bennet so many years ago.
Darcy continued. “I do not care what role you played; I need only one thing: to know there was nothing for her to be… blamed.”
Higgins lifted his cup, but found it empty. Darcy pushed his mug to him, and gave him a nod. Higgins gladly took it. He then spoke in a low voice. “She did not kill him. The man was alive and would have recovered from any wounds she had given him, I am sure.” He sniggered. “Though I suppose he walked a bit unusual after what she did to him.”
He leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered the next words after he took another large swig. “I saw him. I felt his neck and he was alive as anyone. She had sliced him across the belly. I saw the blood already drying. Not a deep wound. Not deep enough. Then his breeches, well, you get the idea. She wanted to make sure no woman would ever suffer like her sister had. So she took care of him. Did a right proper job of it, too.
“Then she stopped herself - didn’t finish what anyone else would probably have. She is too good by half, you know; certainly better than him, or Caldhart or even me.”
Darcy exhaled loudly. He could have shouted with joy, but curbed his happiness. His curiosity, however, was too strong and wished to be sated in the end. “Then how?”
“Not me. I’m no fool and will not do such a thing for any man.” Higgins crossed his arms once more. “I have nothing to answer for. I brought her and his Lordship to the tavern, stood guard outside the doors and drove them back home afterwards.”
“What of the man who was never violent?”
“He would never stain his gloves. However, perhaps he knew of people who would be willing to meet up there. Maybe he would have written them and told them of where and when they could find a certain person. Then he would not have to do anything at all. Just make sure the fly was sitting there, waiting for the spiders that would finish the job for him.”
Darcy shivered.
“If I had said anything afterwards, what purpose would it serve? They were both gone just two days later. He never told me his plan, just used me when he needed information. His Lordship got those names from my travels to find the man for whom he was searching. I live with some guilt, Mr. Darcy. ”
“It was not your responsibility how the list was used.”
Higgins nodded. “True, but it brings me no peace.”
Darcy sat staring at this unusual man. “Are you in love with her?”
Higgins began to laugh. It started as a slight giggle and grew to a full out gale before he finally drew a calming breath.
“Your jealousy does not suit you, Sir. How I feel about her matters not; it is with you she is in love. There is no reason for your suspicion; I am not in love with her. I only care for her the way a man would for a daughter. She no longer can go to her family, so I am a bit of a guardian for her.”
“You are protecting her,” Darcy sighed, closing his eyes.
“We both, Mr. Darcy,” Higgins replied.
The two had sat a long while sharing the past, present and even a small amount of what they perceived to be the future. Darcy was surprised Elizabeth had told Mr. Higgins about their plans for the continent. Higgins was surprised Darcy would think she would hide it from him. Higgins could at least justify his tender parting with Elizabeth that afternoon; it was an embrace from a man who doubted he might ever see her again.
As the light waned, Darcy received some insightful words from his new acquaintance.
“She is not a woman to be coerced into anything. He tried to force her and she turned on him for it. Barging in on her like the great master of Pemberley is likely to get you thrown out on your ear. If you are ever to win her, you must appeal to her sense, her heart and her reason.”
“Her reason?”
“Yes. If you think hard enough, you can find logic for why you should be together. I am not saying it would be easy, but if you entreat her, using all of these things, you may have a chance.
“Good luck to you, Mr. Darcy. No matter what road you choose to travel, I do not think it will be easy. Yet, the greatest prizes are only for the bravest, true?”
“How is it you are but a stableman, Higgins?”
He shrugged. “I like horses,” he answered simply.
“You do not like the new Lord Caldhart?”
“Known him since he was born. Not an ounce of wit nor interesting bone in his body.” He snorted. “Lord Robert at least kept me on my toes. Now I grow fat.”
Darcy had to laugh. He had met Lord Henry and his servant’s character sketch was aptly drawn.
They parted under much better terms than they had met. Each willingly shook the other’s hand and before returning to his home, Darcy felt he had made a new and valuable friend. While he was satisfied with the information they had shared, he was not aware Higgins had spoken the truth about keeping Elizabeth Bennet’s secrets. He had not divulged Lydia Bennet’s death, and unless Elizabeth instructed him to do otherwise, he would take the secret to his grave.
Darcy was conflicted over whether to see Elizabeth and William the next morning or make the trip to see Colonel Fitzwilliam and discuss his findings. He needed to consult with his cousin on his next course of action and did not wish to delay as he was due to leave for Padua in two weeks time. The trip to the regiment would take three days, and he needed to be back in London quickly to finalise his arrangements before crossing the Channel. However, now knowing Elizabeth was innocent of Wickham’s murder brought him one step closer to a future with her, and his heart yearned to at least see her, even if from the shadows near the park. In the end, he decided to do both; he would stop in Lambeth and hope to catch a glimpse on his way to Richard’s encampment in the north.
It was much earlier than he normally arrived in Lambeth. Dressed now in his travelling clothes, instead of the dusty working clothes he usually wore there, was a different experience for him. He felt at ease in the neighbourhood, as everything was familiar after nearly a year of spending his time there, but now people looked up to him as he strode along, nodding their respects to him. He was used to the bowed heads of passers-by never bothering to look at him even briefly. Just as he was about to school himself for the need to be less obtrusive, he was quite violently barrelled into by a small, speeding blur that immediately found itself propelled backwards onto its nether regions after meeting with Darcy’s mass.
“Master William!” came the servant’s admonishment from behind.
“Master Cartwright?” Darcy gasped at the now upturned head.
“Mr. Bingley!” cried William.
“I am awfully sorry to have knocked into you!” William smiled brightly with little hint of repentance. No doubt the gentleman’s utter lack of movement after the impact made the little fellow confident he had done him no harm.
Darcy leaned down to help his son up. “You are well, Master William? You were not hurt from your fall?”
“No, Sir. I hope I have not wounded you?”
“No, no, I am completely uninjured.” The two looked at one another, then, helpless to stop it, broke out in raucous laughter.
“I was in a hurry to see if my friends will be in the park this afternoon. I am afraid Mama will be cross with me for running near the street again.”
“You may assure her I was not offended by you.”
William smiled. “Thank you, Sir. I shall.” He turned to the servant. “This is Mrs. Barnes, our housekeeper.” Darcy nodded to her. “Mr. Bingley and his wife are friends of my mother, Mrs. Barnes,” he added. The lady nodded her acceptance of the relationship and curtseyed to Mr. Bingley.
“She said I could accompany her today to the shops while she does her marketing. My good friend’s family run them, and I can sometimes see them there.”
“Ah, a chance to have a social visit and get work done; very commendable.” Darcy smiled. “How tall you have grown since last we met! I might not have recognised you now.”
William beamed. “I have! I am now taller than my friends Jack and Peter Miles are! And they are both older than me!” he boasted.
“No doubt a tribute to your cook.”
“Mrs. Barnes is both cook and housekeeper, Mr. Bingley. I think the credit would go to her.”
Darcy turned to nod his approval to the woman when he was taken aback by her obvious scrutiny of him. He nodded while her eyes betrayed she was quickly coming to an unwanted conclusion. Thankfully, William interrupted their thoughts.
“But I am afraid we must keep to our schedule if I am to return in time for my morning lessons. I should not like to delay Mrs. Barnes.” His brow suddenly arched in an all too familiar way. “Would you care to accompany us, Mr. Bingley? We could chat a bit before I have to return home. Or were you coming to my house this morning?”
Darcy knew the longer he stayed with William the greater the danger and possibility Elizabeth might happen upon them. He considered himself forced to answer, “Sadly, no. I was just out on some business in this area before I leave town this morning. I must take my leave of you if I am to make any headway as I travel to the west.”
Now William’s brow furrowed. His small fist clenched as he struck his hip in frustration. “I would have liked to spend some time with you Mr. Bingley. I understand your need to be on your way. I… I hope we shall have the chance to meet again.”
Darcy could see an underlying sadness in William’s face, and realised his son was thinking of how he would be going to the continent soon and would not have the opportunity to see ‘Mr. Bingley’ again. He also realised William had not spoken of the upcoming trip. Elizabeth had no doubt schooled him not to reveal their plans to depart to anyone. He pitied the poor lad who was distressed over giving up the fledgling friendship they had. He knelt down to look his son in the eye, hoping to obtain a bit of privacy as he told the boy, “I would have welcomed the chance, William. I hope some day we are not restricted by our responsibilities and can spend a great deal of time together. I truly would like to know you better.” He smiled, trying to encourage his son to be brave.
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I hope we shall, too.”
Darcy half-expected William to throw his arms around his neck, as he once had done. Instead, he was surprised at the young man’s maturity when he held out his hand and, a little more strongly than would be considered polite, shook hands heartily with his father.
“Farewell, Mr. Bingley. God speed you on your trip,” he said.
Darcy was once again taken aback by such an adult blessing. Nevertheless, he managed to smile and nod. After his farewells, he added under his breath to himself, “God speed you and your mother, my son.”
Richard’s encampment proved to be a bustle of seemingly disordered activity. It had been many years since Darcy had visited him at his work, and he had not remembered the experience clearly, for now he felt a bit overwhelmed. A young lieutenant, apparently recognizing the look of confusion of a visitor, approached him and provided him with the directions to find Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Richard’s head was bowed over the papers on his desk as Darcy approached. He stood in front of him and, giving in to an impulse of effrontery, clicked his heels together and addressed him.
“Major Fitzwilliam?” He could see Richard’s hand still, and could feel the anger rise off the man. It was simply all he could hope for.
“I hope you like the stockade, Lieutenant, for you will be intimately acquainted with it before I am through with you,” he said as he raised himself, his head and his ire.
A very satisfied Darcy burst into laughter when Richard’s eyes finally met his face.
“Damn you, Darcy! Are you twelve years old again? You are lucky I did not set a guard upon you without looking up.” This proof of how well his jest had been played only set his cousin into guffaws.
“Someday your whimsies will get you into trouble.”
Darcy had finally calmed down enough to answer. “Perhaps, Richard. However, I am certainly enjoying the indulgence today.”
They quickly made their polite inquiries into one another’s health and familial news. Richard declared his surprise upon seeing him as they had said their farewells a se’nnight before. Darcy’s demeanour turned serious.
“I have found a witness, Richard.” He need not say anymore, his cousin understood him perfectly.
“Give me an hour to arrange it, and I will be at your disposal this entire afternoon, Darcy. We will go where we cannot be disturbed.”
The two horses regarded each other briefly before attending the grasses beneath their hooves while their masters sat nearby against the trees.
The colonel was not completely satisfied with all that Darcy had told him. His horse whickered softly at him, clearly perceiving the tension in his owner.
“You say you trust the veracity of this witness’ statements, and are willing to risk everything on one man’s tale, yet you will neither reveal his name to me nor his situation in life?”
“I do.”
“Can you tell me why you feel the need for the secrecy at least?”
“To protect Elizabeth and myself.”
“Do you feel I am so little to be trusted?”
“This is not about whether you are worthy, Richard. It concerns my duty to her alone, including anything she would not wish to be known to anyone else.”
“She has not spoken to you about Wickham’s death; how can you know her wishes?”
“You will forgive me if I claim a superior knowledge of what her best interests are. If I thought any good could be served by sharing this new knowledge, I would reveal all, but you must trust me in this. The man responsible for the mob being there is dead, and I do not know who any of the participants were. I cannot help to bring about any justice for the crime and we must both be satisfied that its mastermind has already met his end.”
“You are asking me to put a great deal of faith in a stranger’s account.”
“No, Richard, I am asking you to put your faith in me.”
The Colonel sat quietly for some time. “Very well. Assuming all you have told me is true, you no doubt now wish for my advice as to how to proceed.”
He nodded. “We are balanced on this knife’s edge and I hesitate to step off.”
Richard sat for some time in contemplation before continuing. “What are you hoping for?”
“Everything: marriage, more children, Pemberley.”
He nodded his head. “I realise her innocence has allowed you to overcome an important hurdle, but can you truly envision marriage?”
Darcy began to fume. “I will not have her disparaged, Richard.”
“I meant no offence to you or the lady. I merely cannot fathom your being able to marry her. Tell me, how you would explain the existence of a step-son who looks exactly like you?”
His cousin winced.
“Your son is the impediment. The proof of your sins is written upon his face; you could never be seen together. The boy is too young to be on his own, and I cannot imagine his mother would wish for her to be separated from him. She may never wish to be away from him until he has reached adulthood.”
“She is utterly devoted to him. I daresay she feels the responsibility to raise him as penance for her fall.”
“If you took that away from her, how do you think she would feel about you or your relationship? Perhaps at first she might accept it, but do you not think she would come to feel guilty? She would have given up her son for her own happiness. I do not think it would make for a felicitous marriage.”
Darcy sighed. His cousin’s wisdom was never more unwanted.
“Of course this is all merely conjecture; for, unless I am mistaken, you told me the lady had no desire to marry you.”
At this Darcy scowled. His cousin was right, but to hear it so frankly spoken was difficult. “She believes herself unworthy of marriage to anyone, least of all me. She fears what I might do to her or that I would take her son and destroy this life she has built with him.”
“Which is exactly what you are contemplating doing.”
He could not help but cringe. They could not keep William with them if they were to marry. Not only would Elizabeth never agree, but also, in truth, Darcy did not wish for them to be estranged from their son. His stomach turned in acknowledgment of the hopelessness of the situation.
“You do not wish to take her son from her, do you?” Richard asked gently.
“No.”
“You are even now supporting the way she wishes to raise him in every way possible, are you not?”
“Yes. I have been able to manipulate every situation to my liking and provide them with everything I had hoped.”
“Everything except living a life with them.”
“A look, a glance, a stolen afternoon as voyeur into their lives; this is what I share of their life. They share none of mine.”
“Do you really see yourself living like this in ten years, twenty? What will happen when you are old and grey and cannot creep around like a stealthy cat?”
“It is my happiness we speak of, Richard. How can you expect me to give up the little I have? Yet, someday William will be grown and perhaps Elizabeth and I could grasp our happiness. There would be no need for her to hide.”
“Then Georgie is once again to be responsible for providing an heir to Pemberley?”
“I never expected to have a wife, as you well know. I will accede to Elizabeth’s wishes and not leave Pemberley to William, though I will leave him plenty.”
“Is it enough for you, then?”
“I know my heart would never recover if I was to let her or William go. This is my predicament. Do I go back to Pemberley, dying in obscurity because I merely chose to dedicate my life to increasing my family’s wealth and improving our property like every other gentleman who lives in my time? Or do I go on as I am, living this half-life with them? She once said she never allowed us dreams, but our reality is already cast, and she has dreams for our son. I wish to be part of those dreams. I want to enable him in every way to become whatever he can. I want to see his future as it happens.”
“You are speaking of William’s abilities?”
“Yes. I think I had discounted her judgement of his abilities at first. Yet, each man who teaches him sees the truth in her original assessments. She said she felt humbled at the responsibility of having to raise William in a manner which would allow him to contribute to the greater good of the world. Such ominous, great words. I now wonder at how accurate they will prove to be. Only time will tell the final outcome of her endeavours, but for now, I have to consider the consequences if what she said were the utter truth. What if he could be a man to contribute significantly to the greater good of more than just his friends and family? Should I act beyond the confines of my position in society, turn my back on it and take an action that might bring disapproval from so many but might change… everything?”
“It is not right to risk censure or scandal for them both, merely to keep you from being estranged with them.”
“No, as much as it pains me, I have to agree. I do not see any sort of life I can make with them. However, I think I can be as brave as she was and, without knowing what the future has in store for me, try to secure the safety and futures of those I love. I can do all this, yet still adhere to the confines she has fixed. I cannot marry her without exposing who she and William are, yet I can still be a part of their lives from a distance in this stalemate.”
“You will follow them to Padua and continue as you are?”
“I think I must.”
Elizabeth held William’s precious books in her hands, about to place them in the trunk bound for Padua in two weeks time. How often she had found the two volumes next to his bed. They seemed to be two of his most treasured possessions. This was curious, as books generally did not hold quite such a distinction for him. Perhaps the memory of meeting Charles that day rendered them special to him? She sat in the chair near the fireplace and opened the Chaucer, flipping through the pages quickly until the first page, lastly arrived, stared plainly into her shocked face. Her heart beat wildly as her mind tried to get round Fitzwilliam Darcy’s handwriting clearly sat before her, as she read, ‘To my Dearest William’.
Had Darcy truly met their son? He might have been there the very day she met Jane so long ago. Had he known about her and William all this time? What if he had heard any of the conversation she had with Jane?
“William, Mr. Bingley gave you these volumes did he not?”
“Yes, in his library at Lady Angel’s home a long time ago.”
“And this same Mr. Bingley you met today?”
“Yes, it was the same man. I remembered him instantly, for I have his picture in my head.”
Her panic was impossible to stop when her son spoke the next words.
“Mama, how is it I look just like Mr. Bingley?”
Elizabeth sat in the little park, grateful for the overcast skies that threatened rain, and kept potential visitors snug in their homes. She did not wish for witnesses to what she might say to her sister.
She had sent the note over half an hour ago, and still Jane had not come to her. As she waited, her patience wore thin. She was both angry and fearful of the confrontation she planned to have. At last, she saw her sister slowly make her way to the corner where Elizabeth sat. Jane’s pleasure in seeing her seemed genuine and she could not detect any hint of worry in her countenance. After they shared their embraces and good wishes, Elizabeth began her inquiries into her brother-in-law’s whereabouts.
“Charles would have loved to have seen you, Lizzy. Unfortunately, he is in Scarborough, visiting his aunt.”
“I am sorry to have missed him, is he to return soon?”
“I am afraid not. His visit is not social but rather an obligation, for the lady is not expected to live much longer. He left last month to be with her at the end and will stay on afterwards to fulfil his aunt’s wishes as executor of her will. I miss him dreadfully.” Jane looked truly forlorn.
Elizabeth had her answer. Charles was not in town, and had not been for some time. The man her son had met the day before must have been Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now the question was: how much had Jane told him about her son? Was he planning on coming after her? Were they still safe?
Before she could try to ask these questions, Jane asked after William. Elizabeth tried to detect any hint that her sister may have seen William or knew of their circumstances, but could find none. She seemed sincerely disappointed William had not accompanied her on her visit and inquired in great detail after his growth, his studies and their happiness. They had just exhausted the subject when Jane went on to explain her delay in getting to the park.
“I apologise for not coming to see you more quickly. I am afraid it was difficult to leave the house, for you see Mama and Papa are visiting. I did not want to risk them seeing you, and it took me some time before I could get away safely.
“Lizzy, I am afraid my reassurances to father of your well being and safety last year did little to comfort him. He seemed so broken hearted, and his face so hopeless. He did say something about being glad you finally knew, but I do not know what he meant by it.
“It has been difficult keeping the news from Mama; luckily, she has been concentrating her energies on me lately and is not as wont to complain about losing you.”
It took Elizabeth several moments to understand the underlying message in Jane’s words. When the truth finally dawned upon her, she congratulated her sister enthusiastically.
“Oh, Jane! You are increasing?”
Jane blushed and nodded. “At last. You cannot know how relieved I am to finally give this to Charles. We had all but given up hope we would ever have children.”
Elizabeth saw the worry in her sister’s face as she wished her well. She could not imagine the pains poor Jane had no doubt gone through these past two and half years of her marriage while hoping for a child.
She also knew her mother would hardly bring comforting advice. She remembered well enough Mrs. Bennet’s endless prattle of how difficult bringing her children into the world had been. Jane’s face betrayed all her anxieties clearly to the sister who knew her best. She reached for her hands, intent on reassuring her, when Jane suddenly spied Elizabeth’s finger.
“Father’s ring!” she cried. “I had wondered why he never wore it anymore.” She continued staring at it, then began nodding her head. “The package father left for you. This is what it contained.” She squeezed her sister’s hands tightly, then, without raising her face to Elizabeth, she whispered the only words which might betray what she knew. “He was right to give it to you. You were our champion, Lizzy. I thank you.”
At that moment, Elizabeth knew she could not indulge her desire to lash out over Darcy’s possible interference with her son. Jane might know some of it, but she would not risk her sister and her unborn child with an argument. She decided to put aside her own wishes to help her beloved Jane. The decision of what to do about Darcy would come later.
“When I finally decided to accept my fate and my condition, I found I loved the time I was carrying William. Shall I tell you everything I experienced during my confinement?” she asked quietly.
Jane’s relief was palatable. “Oh, Lizzy, would you?”
Darcy chose to enter his house by his old scheme of riding on horseback to the rear of the building and allowing his coach to follow along later. He had perfected the method of keeping his residency from his inquisitive neighbours so long ago, and now the system seemed ingrained into his habits. He mostly enjoyed the control it afforded him, since none of his friends or acquaintances would make any demands on him, and his first days would be at leisure until his presence was known.
Therefore, he was greatly surprised when he entered his drawing room and found Georgiana, Patrick and Jane awaiting his arrival. He had notified all three of his trip, but their attendance on him now was foreboding at best. The three faces they presented to him confirmed it. He stood stock still, waiting for one brave soul to speak.
Patrick stepped forward, placed his large hand upon Darcy’s shoulder in comfort and said the words.
“She has fled, Fitzwilliam.”
End Book Two
Posted on Saturday, 28 January 2006
Signor Bergonzi carefully placed his sfogliatelle and pasticciotti into an ordered line in the spotless glass case. His waddled fingers belied his ability to handle the sweets gingerly so as not to mar their delicate surfaces. By the end of the day, the case would be empty; only a spattering of sugar dust on the papers would hint of the treasures that had once lay inside. He tongue swiftly lapped the residue of cream and caramel off his fingertips before he swept them across the expanse of his mottled apron when his first customer of the day walked in.
“Signor Smith! Buongiorno, buongiorno! Come sta?”
“I am well. Ah… Molto bene. Grazie.”
“Your Italian is getting very well, Signor.”
Mr. Smith smiled. “Grazie, Signor Bergonzi. I will never speak it as well as my son, but I am trying to learn.”
“Si, he is very good at his Italiano. I think perhaps because he is not an Englishman?”
“Gustov? No, he is Austrian, as was his mother. She died when he was very young, but I think he has her accent as well as mine.”
“Si, I hear both accents when he talks. Now it make senso. I am sorry to hear of your wife, Signor.”
“Thank you.”
“I think your Gustov is a very smart young man, si?”
Smith grinned again. “He is.”
“He must be to study at the università. They would not take a student who was not intelligente, and not at his age. Is he a good studente, does he do well?”
“He is doing very well. His masters are pleased with his progress and he enjoys his studies very much.”
“Eccellente! I hope we will get to see what he has learned some day?”
Mr. Smith smiled. “Perhaps. Now, I dare not return home without some of your eccellente pasticcini.”
“Of course. What would you like today?” Signor Smith was one of his best customers, and he knew there was always a good sale to be made when he came to the shop.
“I would like… oh,” he corrected himself and continued haltingly, “Vorrei quattro… sfogliatelle, e trenta… pignoli, per favore.”
“Trenta?”
Mr. Smith answered sheepishly, “Yes, thirty.”
Signor Bergonzi had just finished tying the string on the boxes when he looked over to see another customer coming into the side door of his shop.
“Ah, here comes Signora Cartwright, she like my pasticcino almost as much as you, Signor Smith.”
When he turned back, the money lay upon the counter however, the boxes and Signor Smith were nowhere to be seen.
He walked as quickly as he dared without breaking into a run. He knew better than to attempt such a thing; it would draw attention to himself. God knows how many people would stop and stare at the sight of an old man running full out on a pleasant winter morning. When he at last made it back to their modest apartments, he removed the grey wig which irritated his shaved head, and immediately sought out his son.
Gustov had finished breaking his fast, the daily paper in his hands as he sat in their simple dining room. “Good morning, Father. What treats have you brought us this day?”
“I stopped by Bergonzi’s this morning,” he acknowledged, raising the boxes. Then in a much lower voice added, “But I nearly ran into a spectre.”
Gustov immediately addressed their cook, who stood nearby arranging the dishes. “Signora Ariberti, I will take these things to the kitchen later; you need not concern yourself with them. Go and enjoy your colazione.”
The old woman smiled her nearly toothless smile at him and patted his cheek. When she stood next to him at table, he could look her directly in the eye, so tiny was she. “So good to me, Signor Gustov. Tonight I going to make you Baccalà. You going to eat like an italiano, si?” she said as she shuffled out to her kitchen.
“What a treasure she is. An excellent cook, and damn near deaf to boot. I thank our lucky stars we found her.”
“Enough, Higgins, what happened this morning?”
“I almost met her at the pasticceria, Darcy.”
“You know she likes to shop there! You could have undone all we have established by such foolishness!”
“I beg your pardon, but I didn’t go looking for her. It was she who ran into me. I went to the shop as it opened, specifically to avoid the chance of running into her. I know her habits as well as you, and she normally does not buy her sweets so early. She must have had other errands to run today.”
Darcy shook his head violently. “I am sorry, please forgive me. You know how I fluster when there is any possibility she might discover us.”
Mr. Smith extended his hand to the younger man’s shoulder, reassuring him. “We are in this together. There may be near mishaps, but the two of us combined are more than a match for her; all will be well.”
“So I tell myself each day, but the nightmare of the evening I learnt she had left England keeps preying upon my serenity. If she had not stuck to her original destination, God only knows if we would have ever found her again.”
“Come, Son. Dwelling upon the past serves no purpose. She has no reason to suspect I would be in Padua; she would be looking for you. Why don’t you take up your post in the back room and watch for her return? It is Tuesday, and her son will be starting his lessons soon. Then you can go to Professore Carrera’s without fear of seeing her on the streets.”
“Who were you speaking to, Signor Bergonzi?” she asked, confused.
He looked around and laughed. “Signor Smith was here, buying his pasticcini. But I think he is very shy. He is always not talking to strangers. I think it is very sad. Maybe because he lost his wife?”
“I do not know him, or of his wife, Sir. Is he an Englishman?”
“Si, yes, he come to Padua with his son, who is Ultramontani, non-Italian, at the universita. Very smart man, his son, but also shy like his father. Gustov Smith is his name and he is Austrian.”
He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. “Very sad. I have heard his mamma was a contessa in Austria and Signor Smith was a servant she fall in love with. Her family, they throw her out and she later die having little Gustov.”
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “How awful!”
“Si, si, una tragedia grande,” he said sympathetically.
“If I have the good fortune to meet him, I will be very kind to him.”
“Of course, Signora Cartwright. You are always so kind. If you would be looking for a husband, maybe you would like Signor Smith?”
She nearly choked. “Oh, no, no, Signor Bergonzi. I am married!” she cried. “I came with my son William for the university and its professore. If my husband could be here, he would be.”
“Ah, I see, Signora. Mi scusi, per favore. I did not know you husband is not dead. You dear son, he is brillante. All the people talk of him. And such a bello bambino. You must be molto proud with him.”
“Si, I am. Mille grazie, Signor Bergonzi.” She turned the subject to her business. “I think we would like two of the pasticciotti today, and I would like to place an order for a cake for the end of the month. Signorino William is having his birthday.”
“Ah! You must tell my little Guglielmo ‘buon compleanno’ - happy birthday from me. Here, you take this golosessi to him for his birthday. I do not make them very often, mostly for carnival, but people are asking me for them, so I start making them more and more.” He handed her a small stick, covered with lumps in a rich brown glaze. “You see, this is fig, and… and… apri-cats, and over all of it; caramel! Mmmm, delizioso.”
She stifled her laughter and accepted the dear gift. “Mille grazie, Signor. William will be delighted; he loves everything you make.”
Signor Bergonzi sighed. “You know I do anything per te, bella Signora.”
She blushed. “Grazie, Signor.”
The apartments Darcy had taken were several streets away from hers, but on higher ground. When they had toured the rooms originally, it was the elder gentleman who realised one of the bedrooms in the rear had a perfect view of her front door. They had leased it immediately.
Darcy’s irrational fears had abated somewhat since they had managed to establish themselves into Padua without raising any interest. However, he relied upon Higgins to reassure him at every opportunity when their business did not go smoothly. He stroked his full beard absently as he watched above the rooftops, hoping for any sign of her.
At last he smiled when he saw her approach, the familiar brown box from Bergonzi’s in one hand, some sort of greenery in the other. How typical of his love to wish for fresh plants in the dead of winter. At least it was not as cold as Derbyshire, and fresh flowers were sometimes available.
He donned his hat and spectacles and looked into the glass. His facial hair, combined with his distinctive Austrian wardrobe left him looking nothing like Fitzwilliam Darcy, Englishman. He had never been outside his lodgings without his complete disguise since arriving in Padua. He left soon afterwards for his day of lessons.
In the evening, he sat by the fire reading the letter from Georgiana once again.
“How is dear Mrs. McNally? Are her spirits recovered, do you think?” Higgins asked.
“She seems happier, less melancholy. I think only time will heal her heartbreak.”
“Aye, and another child.” Darcy frowned. “None can replace the one she lost, but those two were meant to be a mother and father, mark my word. They will make fine parents, and their children will be the best of both of them.”
“I hope you are right, Tom.”
“Plenty of time. She is very young still.”
“Yet very wise. I owe her so much.”
“I think the cleverness runs in your family, Darcy. You were the one to change all the arrangements so quickly. We could never have slipped into town without your preparations.”
“True, but time was on our side. Once we knew Elizabeth was still bound for Padua, I could take more time preparing, and give them the chance to feel no one had followed them.”
“I cannot complain. I had always wanted to see the world, and Vienna and Prague were sights to behold. Your idea later of coming here by the eastern route certainly made for a good strategy to keep them unawares as well.”
“Yes, we were very lucky indeed.”
“Hang luck. You make your own luck. If you had not done your work, you would not have succeeded. Surely time and life have taught you so.”
Darcy smirked. “I think they have. I am going to work on the sketch for Mr. Bennet. It has been months since I sent him one, and not only have my skills improved, but my son is going to be five years old in a few weeks, and I wish to remember it with a drawing.”
“Good. His grandfather will welcome it very much.”
“Yes, I think he will. May I ask you also to be available on Saturday? I have a little surprise to show you.”
“Why Darcy, I had no idea you cared. I think I may have a cry.”
Darcy snorted. “Why do I put up with your insolence, Higgins?”
“Why indeed?”