Page 49 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“To conceal their shame, Miss Bennet.” Mrs. Legg sighed. “A woman who applies for a space for a child must swear the baby is hers and that she was of good character before falling with child. She must reveal the father and swear he deserted her, giving her no means to care for the child without exposing her guilt. She must also swear that without the burden of a child, she expects she may hide the incident and resume her former virtuousness and station in society.”

“You mean…Are you saying these are all the children of gentlewomen?” Elizabeth struggled to catch her breath.

“Not all, but most are the children of gentlemen, I would wager. The hospital does take orphans of sailors and soldiers, as well, when we can. I have a class at half past, but if you have more questions next time, you may seek me here.” Mrs. Legg patted her arm as she walked past her, knowing her revelations upset the young woman.

She could not know, however, the extent to which her words had affected Elizabeth. She might easily have been one more child raised at the Foundling Hospital. And that only if she had been one of the lucky few to gain admittance. What a slim escape she had made. If Papa Oliver had not agreed to marry her mother, what other choices would her mother have had? Would she have attempted to conceal her daughter from her father and brother? Would they have forced her to desert her baby?

Elizabeth had reflected with gratitude many times that her uncles had taken her in and supported her. Never before, though, had she realized how very much they had given her. She may end up as a servant, but she had been given a chance none of these children had.

She paused to offer a prayer of thankfulness for her own situation. These children’s educations would not extend to classical languages and great literature or to painting and music. They would have even less chance of marrying well than Elizabeth did. She might at least attract a poor but respectable gentleman. If Uncle Bennet could see reason, she may even be able to marry a tradesman who could support a family.

How many of these children would ever come closer to the social level of their parents except as their servants? Why was birth and society’s view of it so important? Why was it anybody else’s business who her father had been? Although she was ashamed of him, it was not because of who he was but because of what he had done to her mother. His class mattered not, but his character did. This, she knew, was why she respected Papa Oliver whether he was of her own blood or not, tenant farmer or not. She loved and respected Uncle Bennet and Uncle and Aunt Gardiner and her cousins, too. Their worth to her was not calculated based on what neighborhood they lived in or how much money they had. Like these children at the Foundling Hospital, they were valuable because they were alive, and she cared for them because they accepted her own value.

She was forced to admit that all people had value. Even if she could not respect them or think well of them, everyone likely had some good in them and were important to someone. Her mother may even have loved her real father. How could she, then, judge him as only evil? She knew Aunt Bennet had much good in her. Elizabeth had seen it in her eyes as she looked at her daughters, had heard it spoken from Jane’s and Mary’s lips. Mistreatment of herself did not strip a person of all value.

Still—and she grabbed onto this idea like a tree limb to save her from a fast-moving river—she need not welcome hateful people into her life. She need not think well of them, not truly. God said, “love thy neighbor,” but He did not ask her to live in the same house. She could not think well of certain people, and she would not concern herself with their opinions.

Mr. Darcy’s stormy visage sprang to mind, but she quickly banished the image in favor of Miss Bingley’s, Aunt Bennet’s, and the spiteful youths’ of Meryton. She would remind herself that all had good in them. Later. For now, these foundling children needed her.

By the time Georgiana arrived at Pemberley in early July, Darcy was eating regular meals again and had regained enough control over himself to greet her warmly and mean it. He was confident as the days went by that his secret was safe from her. Now all he had to do was destroy the secret, make it nonexistent. He would forget the unsuitable young miss who had enchanted him but briefly.

Georgiana told him of her school and studies. She was eager to return after Michaelmas. She had friends and liked some of her teachers. It was a relief to see her so happy. They spent the remainder of the summer exploring the grounds on horseback, taking trips into the local village together, and eating most of their meals side by side. Her company was a solace he had needed.

She still had a sadness in her eyes on occasion, and he knew she was remembering their father. Sometimes when he tried to talk to her about him, though, or to cheer her, she would mention that day…the day she had spent with her. Darcy could not bear to hear her name, so he quickly changed the subject each time.

When he went to his sister’s room one day in the autumn to check on her packing, he found the chamber empty of Georgiana or her maid. On her bedside table, though, he saw a well-worn book with a blue leather cover and gold embellishments. Knowing what it was, he could not refrain from going to it and brushing the title with his fingertip. Before he could stop himself, he picked it up. He opened it and saw the note she had written to his sister on the day she had given her this book of histories. He had seen it before, as his sister always kept the note in the book. He had not read it since meeting Elizabeth, however. Not until now.

My Dear Friend,

I do not wish to disturb your peaceful rest, but I want you to know I will remember our brief time together with fondness. That may surprise you, given it was not entirely cheerful, but the good outweighed the bad for me, as I hope it did for you. You have a light in you that no tragedy or disappointment can extinguish. Do not let the difficulties you encounter smother your innate goodness. And remember, you will always have a friend in me. We did not have time to finish reading this book together, so please take it with you and value it as I have done. Maybe you will remember me sometimes when you read it, and you will remember the happiness we shared even in difficult circumstances.

Fondly,

Elizabeth Bennet

Darcy sat on his sister’s bed as he read Elizabeth’s note again and again. She could have written it to him. Their time together had not always been cheerful, but the good far outweighed the bad for him. Had it for her, despite his cruelty? Their book, too, had been closed before they could finish it. When he saw a tear fall on his hand where it gripped the open book, his thumb holding the note in place, he closed the book in shock. He wiped a few more tears from his cheeks and hastily left the room. It was not until he had reached his own bedchamber that he realized he had brought the book with him. He hesitated only a moment before going to his writing table and copying Elizabeth’s words out. He would keep the book and original note until his sister asked for it, but after that, he would have her note in his own hand. He could not take the original, as much as he wished to, but he would have her words.

Darcy returned Georgiana to school at the beginning of October, after grudgingly giving Elizabeth’s book and note back to her. He had memorized her handwriting before Georgiana had asked for it.

He had planned to spend only one night in London, informing no one of his presence, before returning to Pemberley to continue helping with the harvest. He would write to his uncle, or to his cousin Lord Blakely, about bringing his sister home at Christmas. He would gladly retrieve her from his uncle’s country estate even if it meant remaining for a visit. Perhaps in the spring he could bring himself to go back to London. Perhaps.

His plan altered only in that Richard showed up on his doorstep shortly after his arrival on the supposition that Darcy would have brought his sister to school. Darcy would have stayed in London longer, so relieved was he to see the newly promoted and much-missed lieutenant-colonel on his return from the Peninsular War. His cousin was also in town only briefly, however, so they spent the afternoon and evening together and parted the next morning. Even in that short time, Richard decided that Darcy had been disappointed in love, but he knew none of the details. As he traveled back to Derbyshire alone, Darcy breathed a sigh of relief to know he had successfully kept most of his secret from his perceptive cousin.

As the months went by and Elizabeth got to know more of the children, she realized even more how blessed she was to have a part of her past. These children would likely never know anything of their parents’ families. Her own uncles had been like fathers to her, blessing her in all the ways she had needed over the years. One was a gentleman related by blood; one was a tradesman, hers only by chance. Both were good men. She also recognized she had a Father in heaven who loved her and welcomed her prayers. All three gave her strength.

When she had been a child, she had accepted Uncle Bennet’s plan for her to marry a gentleman as a matter of course. In the past couple of years, however, she had thought it an impossible demand. Now she knew she wanted only love and acceptance—and marriage. She would never be the means of placing another child in her own position.

If a kindness such as she had thought she had seen in Mr. Darcy could turn so quickly to scorn at the first hint of her less-savory sphere, she wanted nothing to do with arrogant gentlemen. She did not wish to be a governess, as she did crave a life of love and a family of her own, but she would choose service over opening herself up to scorn again merely to fit into a society she could not respect. She would now guard her heart well, as Uncle Bennet had cautioned her.

In keeping with her vow, Elizabeth did not return to the Hurst home that year. She saw Miss Bingley and had civil conversations with her a few times at Gracechurch Street, but her sometimes friend was focused on Jane. Jane extended her stay in London until Mr. Bingley returned from Oxford at the end of June, and then she was back at Longbourn a couple of weeks later. Elizabeth saw Mr. Bingley once in early July when he called on Jane. He had said Mr. Darcy was still at Pemberley, and he knew of no intention for him to return to London. He thought his friend might come for the Season the following year.

While Elizabeth did not consider Miss Bingley or Mr. Darcy to be steady friends anymore, she did understand their position. Working at the Foundling Hospital had taught her more than ever before that right or wrong though the sentiment may be, everyone had a place in which they could be comfortably accepted. She was of a far lower social rank than Mr. Darcy or Miss Bingley. Even if they did not know how low, even if Miss Bingley grudgingly thought Elizabeth was above her in rank as Jane was, they knew enough that she could not fully blame them for looking down on her. It was in their education, after all.

She had not forgotten the lesson Mary had recalled to her—Empress Theodora rose above her upbringing to become a great and useful woman. Elizabeth intended to do the best she could and would not let other people define her view of herself, even if she could not control their own perceptions. But she also recognized that her heritage was a stumbling block that would trip her over and over again.

Chapter Twenty-Four

January 1810