Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

" T hank you for suggesting this outing, Mr Darcy. I have enjoyed it immensely."

The Royal Academy's summer exhibition was in place. After a few hours viewing the paintings, Darcy and Elizabeth stepped out into the sunshine of a hot July day.

"As have I. If I may enquire, how did you learn so much about artistic techniques? Were you under the tutelage of a drawing master growing up?"

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "I had the good fortune to receive instruction from an expert, but not while I lived at Longbourn. My mother would have considered it a waste of money that would be better spent on fabric and trim. It was on the Melisande. Naval vessels do not usually carry passengers, only in special circumstances. In our case, we carried Miss Alice Channing, the daughter of Sir Arthur Channing, who was serving as a diplomat in Singapore, along with her aunt and their servants. Alice is a brilliant artist and has been studying under drawing masters since she was old enough to hold a pencil.

"She began my lessons as a way to alleviate some of the tedium she endured at sea. I had never imagined myself as an artist in any way, but with her instruction she shared with me the great joy she finds in creating beautiful images. I could not help but learn to love it too, and in time it became an excellent way to relax, and to record some of the sights I had seen. When we parted company, she left most of her art materials for me, as it was easier for her to purchase more in Singapore."

"I would like very much to see your work," Darcy said.

"I have a few sketchbooks amongst my things at the Gardiners. I shall share them with you if you promise not to be too critical," she teased.

Darcy put his hand over his heart and bowed slightly to her. "I do solemnly swear." He looked at the sky. "Are you fatigued? Do you wish to return to your uncle's house, or would you care to stroll with me through the park? I am certain we can find a shaded walk."

Elizabeth looked about her, at the blue sky with its perfect white puffy clouds, and beamed at him. "I think you can likely guess my answer. Lead on, sir."

Darcy silently held out his arm, and she took it, seemingly unaware of the effect her smile was having on him. His carriage pulled up and took them the short distance to St James's Park, where they sauntered past flower beds and shrubs, speaking little. Darcy led her off the path to a secluded bench surrounded by trees.

"What did you draw in your sketchbooks?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth chuckled. "I think a simpler question is what did I not draw. There were constantly new sights to be seen. I wanted to remember it all—the sights, the sounds, even the feel of the sea breezes on my face. I sketched and painted the ship, the officers and seamen at work, sights from various ports of call, the sea in all its colours and moods… Even the sky, at any hour of the day or night, presented quite a test of my skills with pencil or paints. I made a visual record of the clouds and even the constellations."

"You painted the sky?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and laughed. "How comical that sounds! Yes, I painted the sky and hung the moon."

It had been a glorious day. Now they were so close on their little bench, together in the sun-dappled shade, speaking so intimately, her laughing face so close to his, Darcy could not help himself. He took her face in both hands and kissed her, gently, fully, searchingly. She startled slightly but did not pull away. Her lips were soft, and she smelt wonderful. After a few seconds, he stopped and leant back slightly, her face still held gently in his hands.

Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks covered by a deep blush. One hand went up as if to touch her own lips, but then it fell back to her lap. Opening her eyes, seemingly speechless, she stared into his eyes wonderingly, then blinked repeatedly, blushing and seemingly trying to recover her equilibrium. Breathless, she smiled shyly up at him.

Not for the first time, he wondered about her responses to him. Sometimes Elizabeth seemed so young and innocent, more like a green girl than a widowed woman of five and twenty who had spent two years on a naval vessel. Darcy reminded himself of his long history of mistaken judgments about her, but he was thrilled that he had flustered her. It was only fair; she had flustered him from almost the earliest days of their acquaintance.

"Are we courting by any chance, Mr Darcy?" she said softly.

"I would like that above all things, Mrs Bancroft." Darcy released her face and took her hands in his. "I apologise to you for taking liberties, but for myself, I am not sorry. I am a selfish being, and I have wanted to kiss you for almost six years."

Elizabeth gasped. "You have?"

He nodded solemnly. "I have. I have many regrets from my time in Hertfordshire. My deepest regret was my failure to open myself up to you, to get to know you better and deepen our acquaintance. I was an angry, prideful man then, clutching my consequence as if it were a suit of armour." He sighed, and then, in an earnest voice, said, "Now, Elizabeth, is there any hope at all that my suit might be pleasing to you? Or even if it is not, might there still be a place for me in your life as a friend?"

She was still staring at him in bemusement, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Again, he glimpsed a certain innocence.

"I…I accept your offer with great pleasure." Then strangely, an expression of sorrow crossed her features. She quickly looked down at her hands, then up into his eyes. She took a deep breath. "Before we go forwards, I must inform you that my family is still considered by some to exist under a cloud of shame. An old scandal but one that had severe consequences. Upon reflection, you may not wish to create any connexion between our families."

This was it, Darcy understood. He would discover the truth of what Elizabeth and her family had endured. "I should like to hear it, only because whatever happened has had an effect on you. It will not change my heart or my mind."

So Elizabeth began her story, the tale of Lydia's elopement and the accident resulting in the deaths of both her sister and Wickham. How it had led to her family's complete expulsion from local society and by extension to her mother's melancholia and death. How the Gardiners had given them reason to hope and helped each sister, one by one, begin a new life away from their home. Although it had been several years and Mr Bennet had resumed a few old friendships, the relationship between Longbourn and its environs had never been fully restored, and some neighbours still did not accept them.

"So you see," Elizabeth continued, "any association with me still has the potential to embarrass you or cause harm to your good name if it is linked to mine."

Darcy took Elizabeth's hand. "I am grieved for all that you suffered, all that you lost. You were happy in your former life. Anyone could see the pleasure you took in the society of your friends and neighbours. To lose your place in such a way, to be abandoned when you needed support and condolences, must have caused you great pain. When I see you here before me, I do not see dishonour or disgrace. I see a remarkable woman who has triumphed over adversity with grace and strength and beauty. I am proud to know you, to have you in my life, and I could never give you up."

He smiled sadly. "In fact, your scandal is one I might have prevented, had only I exposed Wickham's character to the people of Meryton—to your father, specifically. I knew it too well, as his debauched actions have consumed much of my attention over the years. I am so sorry I remained silent when first we met and you asked of him. I am so sorry about your sister."

"I was unlikely to have believed you at the time. I was too full of mistaken self-righteousness."

Darcy took a breath. "I also have dealt with personal embarrassments in my own family in recent years. The experience has taught me to feel sympathy and compassion for others who have suffered from society's censure."

Elizabeth's hand clutched his. "Something happened to you," she breathed, her eyes serious.

He nodded. "My sister and I suffered a succession of scandals imposed upon us by persons I had known all my life and once trusted. In the summer of the year eleven, George Wickham attempted to elope with Georgiana," he began.

Elizabeth gasped, gripping his hand tightly as the tale unfolded.

"I was able to hush it up, but Georgiana suffered from the hurt and betrayal for many months afterwards."

"That was shortly before you came to Netherfield," said Elizabeth.

"Indeed, it was. My aunt Lady Matlock insisted I leave Georgiana with her in London and take up Mr Bingley's invitation to visit Netherfield and advise him as to whether to make a purchase. I preferred to stay with my sister, but apparently I was hovering too much and impeding her recovery."

"That explains a good deal about your demeanour at the time. You were angry and distressed! How strange that Mr Wickham should arrive only a few weeks after you did! Was that a coincidence?" Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm. "I was watching you, that day on the high street in Meryton, when you rode in with Mr Bingley and recognised him. I saw your expression and understood that you had a connexion to him. Your ire was plain."

Darcy nodded. "I was shocked, and terrified that he had followed me in order to ruin Georgiana. It was indeed a horrible coincidence. What I did not know at the time was that, while in Ramsgate, he had also beguiled Georgiana into writing several exceedingly personal love letters to him, which he could use as insurance if he could not get his hands on the dowry. Sometime early the next winter, he sold the letters for three thousand pounds. When he was decamping to London that stormy night, he was in fact leaving because he had money enough to desert the militia.

"I did not hear of Wickham's death and the existence of the letters until the summer of 1813, but it was several months later when I discovered who had paid him for the letters. It was my mother's only sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She purchased them to use in an extortion scheme to force me into marriage with her daughter, my cousin Anne.

"She threatened to give the letters to the newspapers if I did not marry Anne. She vowed to have me publicly declared an unfit guardian of my sister. She would have taken Georgiana from me and forced her to marry a man of her own choosing. Our ruin would have been broadcast all over England."

He gave her a pained look. "I went through with it. What else could I do? Lady Catherine had already used her influence and money to purchase a licence and to place a wedding announcement in the newspapers, knowing that I could not fight it.

"What I did not understand at the time was that Anne had, some years before, started behaving erratically, swinging wildly between violent anger and complete unresponsiveness. Lady Catherine had for some time successfully concealed her daughter's derangement with laudanum, but Anne was becoming increasingly difficult to control."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and her eyes grew wider and wider as she listened to Darcy grimly describe the wedding, Anne's bizarre eruption at the breakfast, and the brawl that ensued.

At length, he concluded. "Georgiana and I retreated to Pemberley and managed to avoid the worst of the firestorm. Lord and Lady Matlock had to use all their influence and call in a few favours to quell the flames. They did not hesitate to malign Lady Catherine for concealing Anne's condition."

Elizabeth continued wearing an expression of shock as he told of the spiral of angry quarrels between the two women, alone at Rosings, that resulted in their deaths several months later.

"Oh, my Lord," breathed Elizabeth, her eyes fixed on his. "The poor girl was kept isolated and under her mother's thumb, and it drove her to insanity. How unbearably sad."

Darcy nodded. "It is Anne that we all mourned, not her mother. My cousin never had a chance."

"Mr Collins spoke of Lady Catherine often. She was his patroness, if you recall. He believed she could do no wrong. The scandal must have been a severe shock to him," Elizabeth said.

"I am surprised that you did not hear of it from him at the time," remarked Darcy.

"You remember that Mr Collins married my friend Miss Charlotte Lucas. After Lydia's death and the resulting scandal, Mrs Collins thought it best that any relationship between our families come to an end. She cut our acquaintance. We have heard nothing of them since they wed more than five years ago."

"Your friend abandoned you?"

"She had no choice. The Bennet family had become outcasts, you see. I understood at the time, and she did promise that she would never speak of our disgrace to anyone, not even her husband. Although I bear her no ill will, I doubt that our friendship can ever be repaired. We sisters have all found new acquaintances and made new friendships, and I hope that Charlotte has as well."

They sat in heavy silence for a long while, Elizabeth holding his hand in both of hers. At length, Darcy cleared his throat.

"I believe I win, Elizabeth," he said solemnly.

She stared at him blankly. "You win?"

"My scandal is greater than yours."

Elizabeth gasped, then understood that he was attempting a jest to lighten the mood. She feigned affront. "Is that so, Mr Darcy? Well! What if I told you that after my father lived alone at Longbourn for a time, he remarried."

"You have already told me as much. It is completely unexceptionable. You will have to try harder."

"He married our housekeeper, Mrs Hill."

Darcy's brows went up. "Mr Bennet married your housekeeper?"

"Yes. I believe I win."

"You believe that your father's marriage is scandalous? I think not…"

"And the new Mrs Sarah Bennet, born in a workhouse, was since discovered to be the natural daughter of Lord Upton's eldest sister, who was banished from his family when he was a small boy. He has had it investigated and has since recognised her as family."

"You are not serious!" exclaimed Darcy.

"I win."

He chuckled, then grew quiet again. "I have a further confession to make. Only days before my wedding, I heard some gossip, a highly exaggerated version of your family's difficulties, from none other than Miss Caroline Bingley. It seemed that she had a chance encounter with someone from Meryton who told her of it. She flung it at me in a bitter argument because she knew it would hurt me. You may not have noticed how attracted to you I was then, but she did, and it caused her to be jealous and disdain anything to do with your family."

"Why did you quarrel?"

"She saw the announcement of my marriage to Anne and was furious. She had convinced herself that she would eventually be Mrs Darcy. I was heartbroken with what she revealed, twisted though her words were, truly I was. I felt that your family was suffering for my shortcomings and pride. If I had let your father know about Wickham's character then, it might have spared your family from scandal and?—"

"No, none of it was your fault." Elizabeth shook her head. "Miss Bingley was still depending upon your offer? Even I knew that she was waiting in vain when you were at Netherfield Park. What has become of the Bingley family since?"

"Mr and Mrs Hurst choose to live at their estate in Northamptonshire most of the time. They have two children now. They lease their house on Grosvenor Square. Miss Bingley married shortly after I did, accepting the proposal of a Mr Wilbur Hicks."

"The industrialist? He is exceedingly wealthy, is he not?"

"Richer than Croesus. He had apparently put off any thoughts of marriage and family in favour of the pursuit of fortune. At the beginning of his career, he was acquainted with the elder Mr Bingley and remembered that his daughters had been educated and trained to move in fashionable society. He sought her out, and she accepted his offer on the condition that he buy her a title and an estate. He purchased a baronetcy for her. She is Lady Hicks now, and her brother tells me that she is having a replica of Pemberley built for herself somewhere near Manchester."

Elizabeth laughed in disbelief. "One can purchase a title? She is building a replica of your home? Now I think I have heard everything," she said.

Darcy shrugged. "Her object was not to be married to me as much as it was to be married to my wealth, position, and estate."

"It cannot be possible that I shall hear any more such ridiculous news today, but do let us give it a try," she said lightly. "How fares Mr Bingley? My father told me that he married fairly quickly after he left Netherfield."

Darcy stiffened at her side and took a deep breath. He had known this was coming. He had some very unpleasant explaining to do. "If events had been allowed to play out as they should, he had planned to return to Netherfield and court your sister. His sisters wished him to marry a woman of the first circles, and they told him that Miss Bennet, Lady Magnussen now, did not return his affections and was only looking for an advantageous marriage to appease your mother."

Abruptly, he stood and took a few steps away. After a moment's silence, he turned to face Elizabeth and continued. "When Bingley applied to me for my opinion, I concurred with his sisters. I justified it by telling myself that your sister had not displayed a marked preference for my friend."

He looked at the ground, unable to face her. "It was, in retrospect, the worst thing I have ever done in my life. You see, I had my own selfish reasons for deterring Bingley from returning."

He raised his eyes to hers. "I had fallen deeply in love with you, much to my distress. I would not allow myself the possibility of pursuing you, no matter how much I yearned to do so. I could think only of how my family would disapprove, how you would never be accepted among the first circles, how the relative situation of our families was such that any alliance between us must be regarded as a highly reprehensible connexion.

"I conquered my desires, but it was a hollow victory and a short-lived one. My thoughts never ceased returning to you, and I began, quite without any aim, to change my ways and live in a way that I thought you could approve of. I foreswore those beliefs elevating rank, connexions, and fortune over regard. I altered my habits and even where I spent my time. And now I most humbly beg your forgiveness."

He ran a hand over his face in his agitation. "My greatest fear is that you will reject me now, but disguise of any kind is my abhorrence, and I owe you and your family the truth." He took another deep, trembling breath. "My parents, particularly my mother, taught me to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Thus I was until I met you."

Darcy stood close to Elizabeth, though not touching her, as she sat unmoving and silent. Her head was bowed, her face turned away from him, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. When she answered, her voice trembled slightly.

"There was a time when I would have been furiously angry with you. You did not know us, and yet you judged us. You deemed it your right to interfere in one of the most personal choices a man can make," she said slowly. "Though I do understand. I was and still am well aware that my family's behaviour at the time was appalling. That uncorrected conduct led to our ruination.

"After Lydia's and my mother's deaths, those of us remaining learnt some lessons in comportment as well. Jane even said that if Mr Bingley had returned and courted her, she would have been obliged to release him in light of our family's disgrace." She raised her eyes to his. "I forgive you. I now know what a good man you are. You have been honest, and I trust you. A wise woman once counselled me to remember only what brings us pleasure. I try to practise that philosophy. Everything worked out for the best." One delicate brow arched, and she added pointedly, "Though in truth, I do not know how forgiving I would be if things had not gone so well for us."

She let out a breath. "So, how is Mr Bingley?"

"Bingley was devastated at the time and chose to marry for practicality, not love, though he did marry a kind, excellent woman. He has been married for several years now to the former Miss Rose Grantley, and they have an estate in Lincolnshire."

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, thoughtfully silent for several minutes. "Miss Grantley of the inferior table designs?" she queried, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Darcy, with a laugh that sounded more like a groan, collapsed on the bench in relief. "Elizabeth, you astonish me! I cannot believe you remember that. Yes, the very same. They have three daughters, and they are happy."

"I am glad, truly. Jane holds no grudge. We wish him well. At the time he left, she was heartbroken and suffered greatly, but our subsequent troubles made a simple jilting seem insignificant in comparison. Through our trials, Jane developed a core of steel and greater confidence in herself. She found a husband who cherishes and respects her and considers her his equal partner. It is for the best."

"If it makes any difference at all, Bingley has grown rather stout, and his hairline has receded. Lady Magnussen has grown more beautiful than ever."

Elizabeth laughed but then sobered and spoke softly. "So, here we are now. We can take stock of what happened, both in my family and yours. So much suffering, so much heartbreak and sadness and death. In my family, we mourned and moved on to build new lives. We were forced to grow, to overcome our differences and be strong. We refused to be ‘ruined'. We made the best of it. Has it been so for you?"

Darcy nodded. "Upon Anne's death, Rosings Park came into my possession. I immediately gifted it to my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was then able to resign his commission in the Army and marry. His parents, Lord and Lady Matlock, were pleased and relieved. They had feared for him for some time.

"By my own choice, I spend as little time in London as possible. My closest friends are not of the first circles. They are mostly local landowners and farmers from the area around Pemberley. I have also become personally acquainted with local merchants and professional men. My mother would have strenuously disapproved, but they are my true friends, undeterred by scandal."

They sat quietly for a time. Then Elizabeth looked up into his eyes, almost shyly. "I have never actually had a suitor before," she said quietly.

But how can that be if you were married? he thought. Swallowing his painful curiosity about Captain Bancroft, Darcy said, "I have never actually been a suitor, so we are equal."

Tentatively, he put his arm around her shoulders, and she leant into him. "Both our lives, our families' lives, were changed forever by George Wickham and Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We were violently wrenched from the destinies we had expected for ourselves. We changed and adapted to our circumstances and have found fulfilment, even joy. We share a history together, Elizabeth. I am happy and relieved that we can trust each other and speak of it honestly."

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder and bemusement. "Banishments, elopements, fatal accidents, fighting, insanity, bribery, extortion, shunning, addiction…" she said, shaking her head and running out of words. "If this were a novel, I should think it too far-fetched to read."

"It seems that real life can be stranger than fiction."

A cool breeze alerted them to the fact that the sun had lowered in the sky. Darcy rose and held his hand out. She put her hand in his and came to his side. "Come, Elizabeth, it grows late. Let me take you home."

She smiled and asked, "Would you kiss me again, Mr Darcy?"

In unspoken answer, he pulled her close, and when he kissed her, she kissed him back. Darcy called for his footman and the maid, who been strolling nearby but out of earshot. They all returned to the waiting conveyance, which was soon pulling away from the park.

Neither noticed, from beyond a row of shrubs, an angry man in a brown suit watching them leave, clenching his fists as the carriage disappeared round a corner.