“But this letter, from a respectable lawyer in Italy, states that she did not. Rose passed away in Rome, a year ago, at a great age. And she had no children. No children at all!”
Jane felt bewildered. “Then who is Celeste?”
“Exactly!”
“If you will allow, I will tell you.” The voice from the doorway spun them round to find Celeste standing there, with Andrew at her side, holding her hand. Behind them Jane could see Archer, looking almost as confused as she felt herself.
“Dr Moore! Celeste—can I still call you by that name. Are you Celeste Fiorette?”
“Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy, ladies—Celeste knows she owes you all an apology and an explanation.” Andrew sounded very grave but Jane noticed he never once relinquished his hold on the Italian girl’s hand.
“Why don’t we all go into the drawing room, where we can be comfortable.” Elizabeth led the way, feeling the tension draining away once they were all seated. She knew that it was doubly hard to be confrontational when you were sitting down.
Jane was the last to leave the study—Archer was holding the door open for her. He seemed about to speak, then gravely stepped back to let her pass.
She entered the drawing room to find her mother and Bennetta sitting on one sofa, facing Andrew and Celeste on the other. Mr Darcy was standing by the window and Jane quietly found a seat next to the chess table, gazing down to where the beautiful red and white marble pieces were still set out in the middle of a game. She remembered the set at Deerwood Park. The game must have finished because the King lay on his side, checkmated by a Queen and a pawn.
Jane was only too aware that Archer was standing behind her and felt a wave of pity for him. She knew how much he cared for his friend. This impossible situation must be hurting him deeply.
“Celeste—do you want to explain, my dear?” Andrew said quietly from his position next to her on the sofa. “And pray, may I make myself quite clear, Celeste confessed her wretched story to me this morning when I arrived at Matlock House. Let me make it plain—what she has told me makes no difference to my feelings for her. I have asked Celeste to be my wife and she has done me the great honour of accepting. We will marry immediately and travel out to Greece in the spring together.”
“Andrew—my friend—listen—”
“No, Archer. I can guess what you will say. I repeat, nothing I have heard will make me change my mind. I love Celeste. And that is that.”
His friend fell silent but Jane could see he was deeply affected by the words.
There was a silence, then Celeste shook back her long dark hair, raised her chin almost defiantly and said, “My name is, indeed, Celeste Fiorette. But I am not related to the Fitzwilliam family. I grew up in Rome, I lost my mother when I was very young and three years ago, my dear father died. He taught English at an Italian school, which is why I speak it so well. But he had no savings, no money to leave and I was penniless, facing an uncertain future of poverty for I had no relations to ask for help.”
She hesitated, then went on, her voice never faltering. “I was lucky enough, through the church, to find a position as companion to a very elderly lady, Italian like myself, so I thought. But then I discovered she was not Italian but an English woman of aristocratic birth.”
“Rose Fitzwilliam,” Jane said softly.
“Yes. This lady told me many stories over the years I lived with her, stories of her family back in England. She had collected cuttings from the newspapers of weddings, deaths, births—so many that she knew exactly what was happening here. It seemed more important to her than her own life in Rome and Sicily where she had fled with her lover all those years ago.
“They had lived on a farm with his relations but times grew very hard in Sicily and the family, including her husband, decided to emigrate to America. But my mistress did not want to go and in anger her husband left her on her own and she moved to Rome. How she made a living she did not tell me, but I think she had many lovers in high positions in society.”
“But she never had a child.” Elizabeth was beginning to see how events had unfolded.
Celeste shook her head. “No. I became a substitute granddaughter and, wrongly, I hoped that when she, too, passed away, there would be a small legacy left to me.”
“But there was no legacy,” Archer added dryly.
Celeste shot him a sharp glance. “You are correct. All her money went to the local convent and I had a week to find myself a new home. As did Luisa, who was the old lady’s maid.” She shrugged, pouted and tears glistened in her eyes. “What should I have done? Begged on the streets? Taken in washing? Become a nun?”
“That would have been a great waste,” Andrew said and, to her surprise, Jane thought she saw her papa’s lips twitch into what was almost a smile.
“No, I decided to come to England as the old lady’s granddaughter. Who was to say she had not produced a child? Italy is a long way from England. So I discussed it with Luisa and we agreed that I would introduce myself as the long lost cousin and she would be my maid. She has very little English, so I knew she would be in no danger of betraying our situation.”
“But Celeste, what did you think would happen?”
Jane pushed some of the chess pieces around the board. She knew she should be thinking of how dreadful the girl’s deception had been, but all that was in her mind was how poor Colonel Fitzwilliam would feel doubly betrayed. Not only had he been harbouring a deceitful woman in his home, but he had been prepared to give her his name!
Another shrug, another toss of the curly dark hair. “Who knows. It was just a game, useful because I had nowhere else to go. I live from day to day. I do not worry about the future. The Colonel is nice to me, kind, like an uncle. He buys me pretty things. It is nice house but lonely and oh, so boring! The Colonelhe keeps wanting me to meet the old Earl, but I do not wish to do that. The game becomes serious and is spoilt.
“So, I plan to return to Italy, but first, because I am curious because of the scandal of their marriage that the old lady related to me many times, I want to meet the Darcys and see Pemberley. Then you arrive, Jane and I meet my dear Andrew and everything changes.”
There was a silence following her last statement: even Bennetta seemed lost for words. Of everyone in the room, Celeste seemed the least worried by the situation and finally Andrew spoke.
