Aunt pulled off her worn gloves with a pensive look between house and garden. "No doubt Jane has the situation well in hand. That girl was born with greater sense and poise than the rest of us mere mortals combined." Her keen gaze shifted to me then. "And you, Lizzy girl? I confess since speaking yesterday, I hardly know how to broach certain... delicate topics." She shook the dirt from the gloves, fidgeting. "What are your thoughts now regarding chance reunions in Lambton?"
I drew breath to air my secret hopes, only to hesitate. Would she understand? Drawing nearer under the guise of admiring her herbs, I chose my words carefully. "Only that refusing to acknowledge past friends prevents nothing. The links exist, though stretched thin by years and silence." I permitted myself the pleasure of giving voice to my dream. "I find my heart much eased and revived by the prospect of restoring those severed ties." I risked meeting her studious gaze directly. "I intend to know them both again, whatever objections others may raise, Aunt."
Silence reigned while I held my breath. At long last, she bestowed a tremulous but bracing smile. Reaching to grasp my hand warmly, she spoke the words I hoped but hardly dared expect. "Then I am happy for you, my child. It seems Providence means your paths to cross again."
Twelve
Darcy
Istoodatthewide window overlooking Pemberley’s rear lawns, hands clasped tightly behind my back. The fading light cast the empty expanse in melancholy hues that matched my pensive mood. I had readily agreed when Lord Matlock requested a private conference following the lengthy tour and al fresco luncheon for our noble guests. Too much weighed upon my mind after the morning’s revelations. I required an attentive ear and thoughtful counsel. Hopefully, my uncle could supply both.
At length, the door clicked discreetly closed behind His Lordship. I turned to find his sharp gaze already fixed expectantly on me. “You seem out of sorts this evening, Darcy. I hope our guests found everything at Pemberley to their satisfaction?”
I attempted an easy denial, but it rang hollow even to myself. Sighing in defeat, I abandoned all pretense. “Forgive me, Uncle. I fear I am poor company just now. The honor of hosting Lord Belmont does not occupy my thoughts so much as... an unexpected encounter in Lambton yesterday.”
Matlock raised one eloquent brow, matching my oblique manner. “An encounter, you say? Of what nature can it be to distract my most focused nephew so?”
I turned back to the darkening window. “Do you recall my father’s ward, Elizabeth?” I finally voiced the name, instantly resurrecting a dozen memories. “She who used to follow George and me everywhere as children?”
Matlock stared. “Miss Elizabeth Smith? But surely not—she has not—?”
“Returned to Derbyshire after seven years? Indeed, though I can scarcely credit it myself.” I grimaced at the glass, seeing my haunted expression reflected. “I stumbled upon her in the village the other day, but we did not speak. I thought it was her but did not confirm it. Then we happened upon her again yesterday, and we spoke at length. Can you conceive it? Just like that, without warning, she materialized as though seven years were merely seven days.”
“Astounding!” Matlock crossed the room to stand beside me, keen features alight with interest. “I always was fond of the lass. Lively little whirlwind of a girl. Where has she been all these years?”
“Hertfordshire, but if you mean to ask why, I am afraid I cannot answer that.”
“Well, how ever did she turn up here after all this time?”
I lifted a hopeless shoulder. “By the most improbable chance. Some errand called her into town just as I happened to enter the shop. Although...” I slanted a look sideways at my uncle. “…she gave no indication of pleasure at crossing paths. Indeed, she could scarcely meet my eye and fled with her friend at the first opportunity. I am quite at a loss to explain such a cool reception.”
Matlock tugged at his chin, reflective. “How strange. She adored you boys. But perhaps bitterness has taken root after your father so abruptly sent her off without explanation.”
I winced. The memory of Elizabeth’s unconcealed anguish when she asked about Father still pricked my conscience. If anyone deserved answers for Father’s inexplicable actions, surely it was Elizabeth herself.
“I cannot make sense of any of it,” I admitted tiredly. “If only Father had shared his reasons before the end. He never said aught to you of it?”
“Not a word, though I asked him more than once. Asked him whence she had come when he first brought her here as a babe—you know, we all made assumptions—and asked why she had gone. He never uttered a syllable.”
“The only thing I know… well, that I still believe… is that the ‘assumptions’ you speak of were not true. She is not my half-sister.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
I shrugged and paced to another window, avoiding his gaze. “Mother died giving birth to George, leaving Father a widower for two years before he brought Elizabeth here as an infant. If he had been her sire, he would have married her mother. There would have been no shame in it, and he was not the man to leave a woman in such a state. Why would a man who was free to marry again seek comfort in the arms of another woman, then refuse to wed her but raise her child? It makes no sense.”
“Unless she was a doxy. A disgrace to him. Or married elsewhere, and her husband bade her to get rid of the child.”
I scoffed. “I cannot credit it. You can believe me when I say that I wrestled with this notion for years, watching his character and conduct. He vowed to me that he was not Elizabeth’s natural father, and that is sufficient for me. But in every other way that mattered, hewasa father to her, and he left us all with unanswered questions. Without the truth, how are past wounds to mend?”
I yearned simply to call on Elizabeth and beg her confidence once more. Perhaps between the two of us, our shared memories might click together like so many pieces of a puzzle. But uneasy premonitions held me back. There was more at stake now than just childhood attachments. My wayward brother’s future hung tenuously suspended, ripe to be shattered by one ill-placed gust from the past. I slanted another sideways look at my uncle.
“The only explanation I could ever conceive for why Father sent her away was that he saw the… attachment George and Lizzy used to share. Saw it, and disapproved.”
“Well, that reinforces the theory that she could be…” He stopped and cleared his throat when he saw the dangerous look in my eye. “But as you say, that could not be the case. I do suppose he would desire better for his sons than marriage to some by-blow.”
“Do you think… could renewed friendship tempt George to renew… other sentiments as well?”
Comprehension sparked at once in Matlock’s keen gaze. “You mean might his betrothal to Lady Lucilla be threatened if that old affection reignites? Oh, surely not! He seems quite enamored with his lady.”
