“He is, indeed, rather a pleasure to look at.” Jane eyed me quizzically. “So does this mean your heart is divided between the two brothers?”
“No!” I hastened to assert, ignoring her knowing look. I loved George. I always had. Since girlhood, his smiles and praise were my chief ambition and reward. Surely, renewed closeness would rekindle our understanding. “I only mean to say that he has… turned out well.”
“Ah. Yes, I daresay they both did.”
“Their father would have been proud,” I asserted, getting to my feet and smoothing my skirts as I went to the window. “Fitzwilliam is so like his father, and George… why, I expect he must be like his mother, God rest her soul. Heisever so charming, is he not? Funny and handsome, and just… just like I always imagined he would be.”
And yet… why did Fitzwilliam’s dark, steady gaze suddenly intrude, full of banked feeling I had never noticed until our recent time together? Perhaps I was imagining it, but there seemed a… an intensity, I suppose… the sort of look a gentleman ought more properly to bestow on a lady he was courting rather than a long-lost family member.
I still favored George’s bright, playful eyes and sunny temperament. But yesterday, something in Fitzwilliam’s tender tones, as he recounted funny childhood misadventures, stirred bewildering reactions. Without conscious thought, I had nearly been tempted to lean closer to trace the emerging humor lines time had wrought in noble features once so serious...
Flustered by my wandering fancy, I took abrupt refuge in brisk certainty. “Well,” I turned to face Jane with a wide smile! “Whatever burdens duty now lays on Mr. Darcy, I trust open enjoyment of our former friendship lingers still to hold us all happily together.”
She smiled back. “I believe you will not be disappointed.”
I stood decisively, linking Jane’s arm through mine with a rallying laugh. “Now, enough idle mooning! Daylight wanes, and our fine hosts await! Dear Aunt must be thinking we forgot about evening tea.”
But even as Jane and I sashayed to the door, arm in arm, Aunt entered my bedchamber, features clouded with uncharacteristic gravity. Wordlessly, she passed an opened letter, one section folded outwards in plain summons. My heart sank, guessing the sender even as I took it reluctantly.
Aunt’s soft murmur confirmed my suspicion. “Your uncle felt you should see this page he addressed specifically to you, Lizzy. I will allow you to digest it in privacy.” She pressed my hand ere exiting silently.
Apprehension mounting, I moved nearer the window’s waning afternoon light and began to read.
MyDearLizzy,
Ill news reached me yesterday that cast longer shadows than mere questionable conduct. Your aunt wrote of your accidental reunion with the Darcys, speaking highly of their renewed attentions. And yet, with every line, my disquiet deepened.
You, above all, must understand the precautions long necessary in your case. I speak not now of propriety or discretion—those ships have evidently sailed. Nay, hazards of more lasting impact may arise that I shudder to contemplate.
You know I have never denied you explanations without cause. I respect you too well to reject hard queries or dismiss righteous feelings. But neither can I break confidences sworn to one no longer here to release me from a sacred pledge. This you must also understand and forgive.
What I can reveal is it may no longer be safe or prudent to linger there, inviting further intimacy. I realize how harsh this must sound when your heart yearns for a restored connection. But consider, more lives than your own are narrowly bounded by choices made in innocence. If affection for family and friends cannot sway you, then I appeal to selflessness rather than self-interest. Look beyond personal wishes to guard others now vulnerable through no fault of their own making.
My sympathies extend to you in this trial, yet prove I know you equal to difficult sacrifice when the welfare of beloved ones hangs in the balance. Do not fail them now through stubbornness or blind hope. The duty-bound path often proves hard and steep—but the summit view may surprise with unexpected prospects discovered.
I am returning to Derbyshire as soon as possible so we may speak face to face of what weighs so oppressively now in mystery. All shall be made clear with time, I solemnly vow.
Your Loving Uncle
Islowlyloweredtheletter as the door creaked open to admit Jane. One glance at my stricken expression brought her to my side in an instant. But before compassionate arms could enfold me, the reaction burst its numb confines. Blindly, I tore past her mute reach, clattering heedlessly down narrow stairs and through the kitchens ‘til I burst into open air.
There were no more words just then—only raw, anguished gasps with nowhere for explosive pain to vent but skyward. I ran hard to outdistance specters of love and laughter turned ominous threat. But shadows leaped faster still, Uncle’s reasoned arguments no match for protective familiar arms hungering to draw me back despite the unknown peril behind Pemberley’s sheltering bulwarks.
Oh, how I ran—as if physical force could reroute unbearable destiny arriving by urgent post! But when at last streaming tears blurred each sight into indistinguishable gloom, I sank defeated upon an obliging oak root tangled near my feet. Truth would not evade me much longer. Light must replace this strangling shroud of mystery soon...or flickering hopes guttering in uncertainty’s cold wind would expire beyond rekindling. Pierced by nameless dread, I wept as one already bereft.
Twenty
Darcy
“Goon,then,lad!”I pointed my gelding Claudius over a tall hedge, and my heart soared in my chest as he took the leap. This,thiswas what it was to fly! To leave my troubles behind for but a moment and ground myself to both earth and sky. To indulge in the purest feeling of power and grace while staring my own mortality in the face. Here, I was free, unfettered, and untroubled.
But not today. Today, no matter how fiercely we raced, I could not outrun the fearsome specter of consequences awaiting my recklessly wayward brother. I learned that George had paid a short visit to Farthington again yesterday afternoon. Secret, brief, and, probably to his thinking, innocent. But where Elizabeth was concerned, George's attentions could never be innocent.
He had gone too far this time. I fumed as hooves thundered, a drumbeat echo to turmoil in my brain. Bad enough, he was toying with Elizabeth’s renewed affections. But to be wooing Lady Lucilla in actual courtship while playing dishonorable games of deception and divided hearts? It turned my stomach. That guileless young woman deserved far better from one purporting ardent devotion.
Very well, the time had come for blunt speaking and ultimatums, however distasteful between siblings. George must swear off Elizabeth beyond propriety’s bounds if he hoped to retain the prize Lord Belmont had inexplicably dropped into undeserving hands. And if he did not… well, perhaps it was time for me to lay certain uncomfortable facts before him.
My hands tightened almost brutally on the reins. George would chafe under any restraints, of course, but I held greater leverage now than erratic temper or fickle sensibilities. Let him scoff and froth—certain debts discreetly transferred into my name guaranteed compliance, if hints about scandal and reputation, failed to motivate reform. I cringed from stooping to mercenary blackmail. But neither could I stand idle while George inflicted lasting hurts through selfish pursuits. His days of dancing heedlessly away while others paid the reckoning ended here.
