The children’s voices were loud and joyful, and Elizabeth smiled.
“They are such lovely children. So sweet and pretty too. They are twins, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“And…forgive me if I am intruding…they are here with their parents, I presume?”
The housekeeper’s face darkened.
“Their mother died when they were born. She was only sixteen…”
“Oh dear, I am so sorry to hear that. Did you know her? The mother?”
“Oh yes. She was a maid here. I hired her myself, sadly…”
The housekeeper’s voice was so low that Elizabeth barely heard her.
“What a pity…so young…did she have family?”
“Indeed, she was a sweet girl. No, she did not have much of a family either.”
“And the children? Poor dears. They seem to be happy and healthy — I did not suspect such tragedy.”
“Fortunately, the master took them under his protection, otherwise they would have died of cold and starvation. He took the responsibility of raising and educating them, and hopefully, they will live decent lives.”
“Oh…how generous of Mr. Darcy.”
“Very much so. Most men in his position would not care. There are so many young women in similar situations thatnobody cares much about them. Excuse me, I must leave you now, Miss Bennet — I still have unfinished tasks for today.”
With that, Mrs. Reynolds left, and Elizabeth resumed her planned walk. However, she barely noticed the scenery around her. She found herself captivated by the children’s story, without any particular reason.
The little Mrs. Reynolds had told her was concerning, even disturbing, and she did not know what to do with it. A young maid, one of Pemberley’s servants, had been left with child about seven years ago. Even the late Mr. Darcy had been alive then. The mother had died, but what had happened to the father? They were under Mr. Darcy’s protection — which was understandable since the maid was in his employment and he probably felt responsible. But how? In what way?
The children’s voices from the lawn reached her, prompting more and more questions and speculations to gather in her mind.
She could not concentrate enough to think properly, so her distress only increased. The brief encounter with Mr. Darcy in the library had led her to believe there might be a new beginning to their relationship. Perhaps a tentative friendship. Perhaps they could speak more of Mr. Bingley and Jane soon? Perhaps they could speak more about each other in the future? She did not dare assume too much, so she tried to keep her expectations — her hopes — under good regulation. But that tragic story appeared from nowhere to stir her worries and turn into another obstacle to overcome.
Elizabeth returned to the house and joined Mr. Darcy and her uncle for dinner. The two gentlemen were voluble and in obvious good spirits. Her uncle spoke about his success in catching fish, but Elizabeth hardly listened to him. From time to time, she exchanged glances with Mr. Darcy, though she spoke to him only briefly.
Eventually, she retired to her chamber rather early, but once there, she could not sleep. She recollected the details of that day, her discussion with Mr. Darcy in the library, trying to guess the meaning of what he had said and what he had implied; then again, she turned the story of the children around in her head, wondering how she could find out more about it. Perhaps her aunt could ask her cousins — surely such a story must be known in Lambton. But did she have the right to enquire? Did she have the right to indulge her curiosity? It was certainly not her business, nor her prerogative, to do so. She should better know her place and enjoy Mr. Darcy’s hospitality.
She knew that was what she should do, but she could not. Her mind was too alert to allow her body to rest, and, despite the opened window, she felt hot. The hour was very late, the house was silent, but she still could not find rest. On an impulse, she decided that she needed a book to read, so she took a candle and went down to the library.
Her heart secretly hoped that she might find Mr. Darcy there, so when she entered and saw him at his desk, lost in some papers, she was not even surprised. When he raised his gaze to her — shocked, puzzled, with a slight frown between his eyebrows — she struggled to whisper an apology.
“Miss Bennet, please come in,” he invited her, standing up and walking towards her.
