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They arrived home later than Elizabeth had anticipated. She helped Jane from the carriage and let her sister take her arm as they walked up the steps. Her sister looked a bit wan, and Elizabeth worried she shouldn’t have allowed them to linger in Longbourn for such an extended time. Their mother and sisters could tire anyone. As they reached the door, one of the footmen opened it.
“Mr. Bingley asked me to inform you that he’s in the south parlor with a Mr. Harvey and a Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Bingley,” the footman said.
“Thank you,” Jane said. She cast Elizabeth an animated look.
Elizabeth was similarly intrigued. They hurried down the hall, eager to have the mystery of Bingley’s strange behavior answered.
They entered the parlor and the two gentlemen rose. Elizabeth was stunned to find Mr. Darcy greeting her, looking every bit as handsome as her mind had conjured him a short time ago. She was so surprised that it took her a moment to realize there was a third person in the room. The woman, a girl really, because she looked to be only about sixteen, stood slowly. Elizabeth could see why, since she was pregnant.
“Jane, Miss Bennet, may I present Mr. Harvey and his sister, Mrs. Smith?” Bingley said.
He seemed a bit ill at ease, emphasizing the names in a way that was sure to draw suspicion. Elizabeth was glad it didn’t appear as if there were any servants about.
“Mr. Harvey, Mrs. Smith,” Jane greeted. “Please excuse me if I sit. Have you been offered refreshments yet?” She looked at Bingley, her expression clearly a question. He shook his head, glancing around nervously.
“We have been, thank you,” Mr. Darcy said. “Please, do not remain standing on our account.”
Elizabeth stepped forward as Bingley helped her sister into a chair, which wasn’t really necessary, since she only had trouble getting out of chairs. “Mr. Harvey,” she said, frowning. Should she declare Mr. Darcy as who he truly was? What was he playing at? Was he deceiving Bingley, or was this the secret?
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
A horrible suspicion formed in Elizabeth’s mind, shocking her, for she’d thought Mr. Darcy a good man during their brief acquaintance. Seeking to refute the idea, she turned to the girl, and was instantly reassured. One glance told her that Mrs. Smith really was Mr. Darcy’s sister. The resemblance was unmistakable. “Mrs. Smith,” Elizabeth said, trying to understand what was transpiring.
“Miss Bennet,” the girl said in a quiet voice, looking down.
Elizabeth realized the resemblance was of an external nature only, for Mrs. Smith evidenced none of her brother’s confidence. Elizabeth glanced at Bingley, who was seated next to Jane, holding her hand, and then back to Mr. Darcy.
“We’ve been in the carriage so long that it might be a good idea for me to walk outside. Perhaps, Miss Bennet, you would like to join me? I’m sure there is somewhere we may walk in clear view of the house, so no impropriety can be construed?”
And so no one can overhear us without our seeing them, Elizabeth thought, wondering if that was his true purpose. She nodded. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Harvey,” she said, curious as to what he could possibly have to say that would explain his behavior. He must assume she wouldn’t allow him to continue to conceal his identity if she thought it would compromise her sister and Bingley in any way.
They took their leave and Elizabeth led the way from the room. Walking in silence, she headed outside to an open section of lawn. They’d walked unobserved at Rosings without endangering her reputation. Was Mr. Darcy being unusually conscious of propriety here? Perhaps he felt he needed to be, because this was her home and he didn’t know what her neighbors’ attitudes were, or perhaps her first suspicion was correct, and he wanted to insure no one could listen in on their conversation.
They began to stroll along a gravel path. They were, as he’d requested, in full view of the house, but no one would be able to overhear them unless they raised their voices. Glancing at him, Elizabeth hoped there would be no occasion to do so.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, letting him know she hadn’t forgotten him. “Why are you going by a false name? Please assure me that Mr. Bingley knows who you really are.”
He smiled slightly, his gaze traveling over her face as he looked at her. “I thought you recognized me, as I did you.”
“You needn’t look so pleased about it,” she said. “We’ve yet to ascertain if it’s going to be a disadvantage to you.”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley knows me. We are friends.”
“Then why are you here under a false name, and with your sister?” she asked.
“I am here under a false name to protect my sister, who is also under a false name.”
“What are you protecting her from? Where is her husband?” Assuming she had a husband. With the false names, she might not.
“It is he I am protecting her from,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked.
Elizabeth frowned, not liking the sound of that. A brother had no right to take a wife from her husband, even if his sister did look forlorn and much too young to be married and with child.
“Let me assure you that I am not being arbitrary,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone firm. “Her husband has demonstrated that he is unable or unwilling to care for her. Before I impart the details, I must request that this information goes no further.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Intrigued as I am, I cannot make that promise. I reserve the right to break my silence if I feel it is the correct thing to do. I will not talk about it as idle gossip, but I cannot promise silence if I think your secrecy is wrong, nor if I believe it will in any way threaten the happiness of my sister, her husband, or their child.”
They walked onward, neither speaking. When Elizabeth had taken that long walk with Mr. Darcy one morning in Rosings, he’d been silent more often than not. Still, this silence lacked some of the ease of those long ago ones, for she knew he was contemplating her rejoinder.
At the least, she hoped he was. If he was trying to wait her out, thinking she would capitulate, he was to be disappointed. She would not allow her curiosity to overcome her good sense.
“I suppose I shall have to throw myself before your judgement,” Mr. Darcy finally said.
“Thank you,” she murmured, unsure what response was correct. It wasn’t every day one was asked to keep the secret of a slight acquaintance.
Mr. Darcy walked onward, his gaze raised to the sky. “With our parents no longer living, I was my sister’s guardian. More than a year ago, when she was fifteen, she eloped with a man named Mr. George Wickham. He is nothing more than a carouser and a gambler.”
Elizabeth could easily read the deep dislike in Mr. Darcy’s tone as he spoke of his new brother.
“After they were married, and I could do nothing about it, Mr. Wickham and Georgiana showed up on my doorstep. He wanted me to give him her dowry immediately. I did so, because I had no choice. I invited them to stay with me, partially because I wanted to see how he treated her. They stayed for more than four months. I’ve since discovered that Mr. Wickham paid some of my servants more than the usual reward for extra service. He paid my servants, not the ones who waited on him.”
His hands fell to his sides, clenching. They walked in silence again. Glancing askance at him, Elizabeth felt he was trying to master his emotions. Up to now, aside from his obvious dislike of Mr. Wickham, his tone had been even, his words clear and clipped.
“Eventually, they left my home and moved to the house I’d rented for Georgiana before her marriage. I’d set it up for her so that she could have a place in London in order to continue her studies. I’d paid in advance for a year, because the owner had wanted the money immediately and I’d been willing. By the time my sister and her husband went there, I’d already paid off the servants and written to the owner, informing him that I wouldn’t be renewing the lease. Georgiana and Mr. Wickham moved in and he hired all new servants. As they were living there, I assumed they’d made arrangements with the owner to extend the lease.”
He stopped, turning to face her, once again clasping his hands behind his back. Looking up at him, Elizabeth was struck by the nearly sculpted facade he had in place. If not for his brief show of anger moments ago, he might have been speaking of the weather. Remembering his slight smile earlier, and how she’d reprimanded him for it, it pulled at her heart a bit to see him so cold now. Why, if Anne de Bourgh would still have him after his sister’s ruinous marriage, he possessed all the poise one would expect in the lord of such a lofty place as Rosings. For her part, though, Elizabeth preferred him smiling.
“I suppose I need not say it, but I was not pleased with my sister’s choices. Still, she and Mr. Wickham were living in London, we were on speaking terms, and I had reconciled myself to the state of things. I am now saddened to admit that I returned to my usual affairs, which I’d neglected somewhat during their stay, and gave them the space to pursue their life together.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze roaming over her face. Elizabeth fought down the surprising urge to blush. She knew his intense gaze wasn’t for her. His eyes may appear to take in what was before him, but his mind obviously roved over the past.
“Unbeknownst to me, shortly after they settled into their new home, Mr. Wickham went off on some pleasure trip, leaving Georgiana behind. He didn’t give her enough money to live on. Soon, the servants left. Then, the owner returned and turned her out of the house, though I believe he offered to let her stay if she could pay for another year, in advance, which, of course, she could not. I had some choice words for him, for he set her out immediately, with only what she could carry. She feels he didn’t believe her when she told him who she is, especially since all of the servants had already gone.”
“If she was alone, he well may not have believed her to be a lady,” Elizabeth said, a bit surprised at the cold superiority underlying Mr. Darcy’s even tones. It was fortuitous he wasn’t a very wealthy man. His arrogance, if combined with prestige, would risk creating someone disagreeable. She wondered if Miss de Bourgh was aware of that side of him. “How long was her husband away?”
“Over six weeks, and he didn’t leave her with information on how to get in touch with him. Obviously, she sent for me and I took her home, out of London. She was in a very distressed state. She asked me if she had to go back to Mr. Wickham, and I told her she did not.”
He glanced away, and Elizabeth took that to mean he realized that was a promise he didn’t actually have the right to make.
“Some weeks later, she went on what was intended to be a short carriage ride to a neighbor’s, but the coachman took her elsewhere. Georgiana asked him to stop. He refused. If he hadn’t had to stop for a herd of sheep, she might have been taken to her husband. She got out and walked home. Fortunately, he didn’t dare force her back into the coach. When I found him, he admitted to me he’d been paid by Mr. Wickham to retrieve his wife.”
Elizabeth was a bit shocked by such underhandedness. “Had this Mr. Wickham asked her to return?”
“No.” He met her eyes, his own taking on a thoughtful cast. “In fairness to him, I was in no mood to let him near her, but he never approached, in person or by letter.”
“Did he treat her very badly?”
“Again, I must endeavor to be fair. He neglected but didn’t abuse her. If it hadn’t been for her being left without money or a home to stay in, I would have continued my acceptance of the situation.”
“What can you do? He is her husband.” As much as she sympathized with Mr. Darcy’s desire to help the timid young woman she’d seen in the parlor, he had no right to keep her from her lawfully wedded husband.
“I can see she is cared for and that her child is cared for. He’s demonstrated that I can’t trust him to do that. I know he has the right to take them both to his home, if he has a home. I have no legal recourse to keep her.”
He stared down at her, all of the intensity returning to his gaze. His eyes locked with hers, and she was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and how long they’d stood that way. She swallowed, her throat dry.
“I have every moral right to see to her needs. I want Georgiana and her child to be protected. I fear Mr. Wickham will take her off somewhere and then forget about her again. He is too concerned with his own pleasure to give a thought to her safety, or the safety of their child. I grew up with Mr. Wickham. He could never resist an immediate pleasure for the sake of duty.”
He shook his head, releasing her eyes. She took a half-step back, but he didn’t seem to notice. Elizabeth couldn’t understand it, how he could speak with so little inflection, appear so calm, and yet have so much emotion hidden in his eyes, broiling below the surface. She knew she would be in a similar state, were someone to treat Jane and her unborn child so terribly. Would she be able to muster such decorum?
“Mr. Wickham can be very charming,” Mr. Darcy went on, “but he never considers anyone else, only himself. I hate having Georgiana be his wife, but I could live with it if only I knew she would be safe.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. She wasn’t accustomed to dealing with such strength of emotion, no matter how well controlled, especially not from a man. Mr. Darcy was so very different in nature from her father or Mr. Bingley. She couldn’t see either of them mustering themselves to abscond with a woman in distress.
She turned, resuming their walk, which forced him to do likewise. What, she wondered, of this Mr. Wickham? She didn’t like the idea of him coming to Netherfield, bribing a coachman and making a general nuisance of himself. Jane and Bingley should be allowed the luxury of their happy marriage and soon to arrive child.
“Why did you bring her here?” Elizabeth asked. She should wish he hadn’t, she knew, but their walk had completely erased the feeling of empty boredom she’d been suffering under since coming to live with Jane and Bingley.
“Because Mr. Wickham doesn’t know Bingley. We’ve been friends for only three years and Mr. Wickham hasn’t been in my life during that time, until recent months. Even most of my servants don’t know about him, because he hasn’t visited my home. I usually saw him in town. Yet, relatively new as our acquaintance is, I trust Bingley implicitly.”
And her sister’s husband must hold Mr. Darcy in high regard, Elizabeth reminded herself, to be put to so much trouble. Mr. Darcy’s trust in Bingley spoke more for Bingley’s character than his esteem of Mr. Darcy, if only because Bingley was too kindhearted. Still, there was something eminently honest about Mr. Darcy, even if he had come to Netherfield under a false name. “Are the servants who accompany you trustworthy?”
“Probably not, but they know me as Mr. Harvey. I hired new servants. I pay them well, so I doubt they’ll leave, but they must have guessed that something unusual is going on and I doubt they feel much loyalty to me or Georgiana.” He had his hands clasped behind his back again, his gaze thoughtful as they paced across the yard. “In my home, there are three servants who do know Bingley. I paid for each to take an extended holiday. I doubt Mr. Wickham could find them.”
It was touching he’d go to such lengths to protect his sister, Elizabeth thought. It was likely done at considerable expense to him. “Why not simply let them go?”
“They’ve been with me a long time. I don’t want to let them go for the possibility of disloyalty, or level unsubstantiated accusations, but I can’t risk them informing Mr. Wickham.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, evaluating the situation. She tried to see it as Mr. Darcy’s new servants would see it. “Do you think your current servants would help Mr. Wickham take your sister back?”
“They might. The law is on his side. I worry he may even be able to persuade someone to abduct her by force, as he couldn’t get my coachman to. If he convinced them she’s not sane, or paid them enough that they’d pretend as much, they could justify it. Unfortunately, it isn’t illegal for a man to have his wife locked up.”
She glanced at him, surprised by his progressive views. She knew of plenty of men who considered their ability to control their wives the natural way of the world. Maybe such broadminded views on the treatment of women were what recommended him to Anne de Bourgh. She, after all, would want to command the vast estate she would inherit, as her mother currently did.
“No, I’m being overly theatrical,” Darcy said, and Elizabeth realized he’d been contemplating his last statement. “I don’t think he would have her locked away. He would never want to be known as someone who locked up his wife, but he would probably try to drive Georgiana off and keep the baby. I think his attempt to spirit her away from my home was as much about the baby as about her.”
“Why would he want the baby but not his wife?” Wanting a child didn’t seem to fit with the picture he’d drawn of Mr. Wickham so far.
“Because he knows I would support a household to keep my nephew or niece safe. He could live in that household in any way he pleased, especially without a wife there, knowing I would keep it afloat.” He shook his head. “He would likely attempt to offend Georgiana to the point where she was willing to give up her child, if only to be away from him. Mr. Wickham would prefer to be in the position of the abandoned husband, left to rear his child alone. He expends a fair amount of effort to make others think well of him.”
“But you would be paying.”
“I suspect he wouldn’t tell anyone that,” Darcy said with a brief smile.
Elizabeth’s breath caught at the return of that smile. She sternly reprimanded herself. Her breath did not catch, nor her heart flutter. Not for any man, no matter how handsome his smile made him, and especially not for a man engaged, likely by necessity, to an heiress. In fact, now that she thought of it, he was probably going into debt trying to save his sister. After all this, he would be dependent on his future marriage to Anne de Bourgh all the more.
“What kind of father would he make?” she finally asked, once she was sure her words wouldn’t come out in some embarrassingly breathy fashion.
“An absent one. He would leave the discipline to others and make sure they applied that discipline so the child would be well behaved in his presence. That’s what he did with a hunting dog my father gave him. He was the one who fed the dog kitchen scraps and let him run wild when he was home, but he expected the trainer to insure he behaved when required to.”
“If you don’t want your sister or her child to be returned to Mr. Wickham, what do you plan to do?” She asked. He certainly couldn’t mean for them to stay in Netherfield forever, though she worried Jane and Bingley would be amiable enough to allow it.
“After the baby is born, I plan to find someplace where Georgiana can live,” he said, and Elizabeth felt a little guilty for her brief worry that he planned to stay. Mr. Darcy didn’t seem like the sort of man who would take advantage of Bingley in that fashion. “She’ll need to change her name and live as a widow. It won’t allow her to remarry, but at least she’ll be comfortable.”
“Won’t Mr. Wickham keep searching?”
“He might, but there are many places she can hide. Scotland, Ireland, or even Canada, though I’m hoping to avoid that. I plan to send inquiries out. It’s too soon to make any final decision.”
“Will you go with her?” Elizabeth asked, berating herself for the distress that sparked in her, even as she couldn’t help feeling it. What was the matter with her?
“I don’t know. I would hate to give up my home, but I’ll need to arrange something for her. Perhaps I’ll go with her until she’s settled and then return.”
“To Canada?” she asked, unable to let the idea rest.
“If necessary. I was my sister’s guardian. I hold myself responsible for what has happened to her.”
“Yet, she made her choices.” Elizabeth tried to picture herself giving up her home and moving across the ocean to help Lydia recover from a similar mistake, but found she couldn’t. Though, the brief interaction she’d had with Georgiana showed her to be very different from Lydia, at least now, so perhaps she inspired more devotion. Of course, Elizabeth wasn’t Lydia’s guardian, and so wouldn’t hold the guilt Mr. Darcy did.
“She was fifteen and had known Mr. Wickham from childhood. He was my father’s protégé, raised alongside us. I knew things about him that were not to his credit, but saw no reason to tell them to Georgiana. I suppose it’s a form of irony, that my attempt to shelter her from the truth of a beloved childhood friend’s nature is what has shattered her innocence.”
Elizabeth thought he was being much too severe on himself. Fifteen was not so very young as that. Perhaps someone could speak sensibly to him and convince him that he didn’t need to go to Canada because of his sister’s mistakes. Someone he respected, like Bingley. “What does Mr. Bingley say about your plans?”
“He doesn’t know them yet.”
“How can that be? You wrote to him, didn’t you?”
“Only as much as I dared. I sent him a letter requesting his help and telling him Georgiana and I would use different names. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him in enough privacy yet.”
“Yet here you stand in the garden, with me,” she said, suddenly distressed for her sister and Bingley. They must be on edge, waiting to learn what was transpiring.
“I could tell you recognized me from your time in Rosings.” That smile flickered across his lips again, capturing her gaze. “I realize I don’t know you well, but there was a look in your eye, that stubborn set to your shoulders which I have before observed, that gave me cause to worry you would announce my true name to the household at large.”
Elizabeth flushed, dismayed he should understand her so readily. “The thought did come to me, but I’d resolved to withhold the information until an explanation was given.”
“Yes, but for how long, and what might you say to Mr. or Mrs. Bingley, in confidence, but within the hearing of servants?”
She nodded, knowing he was right. “Well, we must tell them. It isn’t kind to leave them worrying.”
“Will you undertake to tell your sister? Will you have the opportunity soon?”
“I should be able to,” she said.
“I’ll attempt to create an excuse to take Bingley aside, but I can hardly embark on an extended walk about the grounds with him.”
“Yet you can with me?” she asked, fighting down a telling flush.
“People will simply assume I was taken with you from the moment I set eyes upon you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “We can hope so, but I don’t know that they’ll really be fooled.”
“I assure you, they will. It is in no way unfathomable.”
She looked at him, but his face was as impassive as always, and now she could no longer discern what emotions lurked hidden in his eyes. Still, unpromising as his carefully controlled expression was, she had to work to suppress a shiver of delight at his words.
He’s engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh, she reminded herself yet again, the heiress to Rosings. No man would be able to afford to give that up. Not for anyone. More to the point, not for Elizabeth.
Nor would she want him to. She wondered what silliness had overtaken her. Was living in a house without Lydia infecting her with some mad inclination to drum up amusement through folly?
Indeed, she knew little more about Mr. Darcy than she did about one of Lydia’s redcoats, and what she did know didn’t truly recommend him. He was engaged to an heiress, likely out of desire for her fortune. He was embroiled in a matter of questionable legality regarding another man’s wife and child. He seemed to have no trouble presenting himself to the world under a false name. No, nothing to recommend him at all, save that too rare and fleeting smile.
Having set her mind straight on the matter, she lengthened her stride, heading for the house. “I’ll find a time to tell Jane,” she reiterated. “If you can’t find an excuse to get Mr. Bingley alone, I’m sure she can.” Somehow, her last words were a bit embarrassing, although they shouldn’t have been. Still, she clamped her mouth shut, wishing she could call them back.
“Thank you,” he said, his pace matching hers.
Elizabeth nodded, not looking at him. The less she looked at an engaged man going by a false name, the better. She repeated that to herself as she swept into the house, taking her leave of him.
Bingley and Mr. Darcy went riding, and Elizabeth was sure they used the privacy that the ride afforded them to discuss the situation. She managed to talk to Jane before dinner, which Jane then had to endure looking as if she would burst both physically and with information. As they dined, Elizabeth could tell everyone made an effort to act as if Mr. Darcy and his sister were normal guests.
Only, nothing was normal. There was no conversation about mutual friends. There were no probing questions about family. Elizabeth could only hope that the servants would construe their odd behavior as awkwardness over the rumor she knew was running through the house; that Mrs. Smith had recently lost her husband. Looking at Georgiana, Elizabeth was reassured on the believability of the story, for Mrs. Wickham looked as wretched as ever a young woman could.
When the women left the men to their port, Elizabeth brought up music. To her delight, Georgiana shared a similar love for the subject, and became more animated than Elizabeth had yet seen her. The topic kept them busy for some time. This left out Jane, but Elizabeth could tell her sister was finding it difficult to talk without betraying anything.
When the men rejoined them, Mr. Darcy eliminated the need for further conversation by making a show of being enthralled with Elizabeth’s playing, somewhat to her annoyance. It was all well and good for him to perpetuate the pretense of an instantaneous infatuation with her, but if he kept at it, half of Hertfordshire would be gossiping about their imagined upcoming nuptials within the week. Then he would be off somewhere, maybe even Canada, and Elizabeth would be left looking a fool.
She concentrated on her playing, keeping her head downturned to avoid looking at him. The most she could do, she supposed, was to ensure her own behavior was beyond reproach. Fortunately, both Jane and Georgiana had the excuse of their respective advanced pregnancies to allow them to go to bed early, freeing Elizabeth to do likewise.
As she lay in bed, her mind returned doggedly to Mr. Darcy. She tried to bring to light a half recalled memory of Lady Catherine mentioning his home, but couldn’t. She’d avoided listening to Lady Catherine whenever possible, so her lack of recollection wasn’t surprising so much as frustrating.
That she recalled Mr. Darcy at all was a wonder, really. Aside from their one walk, they’d hardly interacted, and the walk had been taken mostly in silence. Having been warned early on by Lady Catherine that Darcy was engaged to Anne de Bourgh, Elizabeth had assumed he was too decorous to attend to her in Miss de Bourgh’s presence. Besides which, she’d been thoroughly enjoying her flirtation with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Knowing the colonel had no real interest in her had been freeing for both of them.
It was odd, though, she reflected, that it was Darcy’s face she’d recalled with such detail earlier that day, and then she’d come to find him sitting in her new home. Yes, quite a coincidence, really. On that thought, she drifted to sleep, Mr. Darcy’s half-smile flittering through her mind.
