Chapter 28
Pemberley, Derbyshire
It was late in the morning, and Darcy was still staggering about the grounds with the other men, unwilling to give up the search for this third intruder. He had considered saddling a horse and riding to cover more ground – and had indeed directed any grooms who believed themselves well enough to do so – but felt himself too weary to trust that he could ride a horse properly. And so instead he trudged along, looking about and wondering if there was something he was missing.
This third man could of course had been some hired henchman of Neston's, but what if he was not? Was there someone else out there with a vendetta against their family? Perhaps someone else with an old grudge related to the South Sea Bubble? Darcy wracked his mind for who it might be, but it was not as though families who had lost fortunes in the South Sea Bubble formed a special section in Debrett's.
He was just beginning to admit to himself that the search was reaching the point of futility when he espied a rider approaching him. It was Tommy, and he reined his horse to a halt before Darcy, stating,
"Mr. Tindall said I was to come and tell ye that Mrs. Darcy were awake and asking after ye, sir."
Darcy was tempted to requisition Tommy's horse, but instead decided it was better to walk back towards the house, crossing the park in long strides, reinvigorated by the need to see his wife, to comfort her. Tindall was waiting for him at the door, and said,
"Welcome back, sir. There's been no change in the general, since you went out."
"Thank you, Tindall. I am not yet ready to completely call off the search, but let us shift it to men on horseback only, and in shifts. Everyone needs to get some rest."
"Yes, sir. I will arrange it."
Darcy nearly ran to the Bingleys's bedchamber, but upon his knock found only Jane within, who informed him that Elizabeth had gone up to her own apartment to change. Elizabeth looked startled, when he opened the door to her dressing-room. She had changed into a white muslin day dress, and standing there in the sunlight she appeared almost an apparition, as though she had not acted last night to protect her own life. Darcy shuddered at the thought and raced across the room to embrace her.
Unlike last night, her body was pliant, melting against his, her head resting against his shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and Darcy lowered his head to kiss the top of hers. They stood there, for how long he knew not, giving comfort, deriving comfort, needing comfort.
Finally Elizabeth drew back, just slightly, gazing up at him and asking, "How is Henry?"
"Tindall said there had been no change – as badly as he was wounded, I am considering that as much as we can hope for. And how are you, my darling?"
"As well as I can be, considering I – I murdered a man last night."
"I spoke to Calvert. It is a clear case of lawful shooting of a man intent on felonious burglary. There should not even be a trial, so long as it is considered justifiable homicide," Darcy said, but then noticing this was drawing none of the trouble from her countenance, he added, "I think that is not what you meant, though."
She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Even if it was not murder, I still took a life."
"You took a life to stop a man from taking more," Darcy said firmly. "We made a discovery – Wickham was here last night. That must be how Neston knew of the passages. But Neston turned on him and killed him, and he is likely the man who nearly killed Henry. I know this is difficult for you, to think of what you had to do – and I fully believe you had to do it, Elizabeth – but you have my gratitude for what you did last night. Once more, you fought to protect our family. I only wish it had been me in your place. You have been burdened with too much, Elizabeth."
She sniffled, but said nothing. He was struck in that moment by her strength. It was perhaps a strange thing to consider while she appeared so pale and worried, but still he considered it. She had fought and fought again to protect their family, and had a new threat appeared at that moment, he had no doubt that she would have fought still more.
Never again, Darcy vowed. If he could have taken all of her pain – past, present, and future – and put it on himself instead in that moment, suffered everything in her place, he would have done so without a second thought. He had not been there in the past, and he had not been there at the critical moment last night, but he would be in the future.
To her, he only said such meagre words as he could manage with such thoughts overpowering him, spoken with a hoarse voice as he wept: "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I am so, so sorry, my darling."
Elizabeth had not cried. Since she had shot Neston, she had existed in a state of weakened shock, mitigated somewhat by the laudanum draft Mrs. Reynolds had made her take and the resulting deep sleep that had brought her through the night. She had awakened to daylight, and should have been comforted by the presence of dear Jane in the bed with her, but her immediate thought had been I killed a man last night, and with it had come the sensation of disorientation, of knowing herself to be a different person than she had been at this time yesterday. She was a person who had taken a life.
William's words, his reassurances that she had done what was right and necessary, had begun to soothe her. But it was his apology and his tears that broke something deep within her, finally loosening her emotions. She followed him into weeping, softly at first, and then in sobs that grew more and more vigorous. William began to whisper to her that she was safe now, and all would be well, his breath gentle on her hair.
When the storm of her tears had finally passed, she felt much better, more prepared to face what she knew she would need to face that day. Looking up at him, she asked, "What will happen now – to me?"
"You will need to speak to Calvert. Nothing beyond that, for now, and I will use every scrap of influence I have within this county to ensure it remains nothing."
"You said there may not be a trial?"
"Yes. Calvert and I both believe it is justifiable homicide."
"I would like to talk to him now, then."
"Are you certain? You may take your time to collect your thoughts, if you wish. Have you eaten anything?"
"No, but I have no appetite and do not believe I shall have one until this is done."
He nodded. "I will go down with you and stay with you through the interview. Unless – unless you would prefer Jane? I understand speaking of him in my presence might be discomfiting for you."
"I want you," Elizabeth told him firmly.
They walked quietly to the library, where Calvert was seated at the desk in the corner, writing. William cleared his throat and Calvert looked up, nodding to them.
"Mrs. Darcy, thank you for coming to speak with me," he said as they approached. "I have what I hope you will consider to be good news. Allen has examined Lord Neston's body and we spoke of the evidence based on what I have heard from others. There will need to be an inquest, but it is our belief that Lord Neston's death was a justifiable homicide. I will need your account, of course, but it need not be a long one. At this point I am far more interested in whether anything of what you observed last night will help us identify which man stabbed your cousin."
"Oh – oh – I thank you," Elizabeth whispered, her knees nearly buckling in relief. She had allowed William's words on the matter to give her hope, but to hear it confirmed was another thing entirely. William placed a hand on the small of her back and she drew strength from its presence, taking those last few steps towards the chairs and seating herself, glad when William sat beside her and immediately took up her hand in a tight grip.
His grip grew tighter and tighter as Elizabeth gave her account of the night's events, Calvert listening with a sympathetic countenance and only occasionally venturing upon a question that would give him more clarity. Her throat thickened as she came to the fatal moment and she felt tears spring to her eyes again, but she managed to complete the account.
"I am grieved you had to do that, Mrs. Darcy, but please accept my assurances that you did what was lawful and necessary to a burglar within your house."
"Thank you, Mr. Calvert," Elizabeth choked out.
They took their leave and William drew her into another embrace as soon as they were through the door.
"I am glad that is over," she whispered, "and that there should not be a trial."
"Yes, I am grateful to Calvert and Allen for deciding that so quickly. I know the lack of a trial will make it easier, but still, it will take time before the event can begin to fade in your mind," he said. "Come, let us get you upstairs to break your fast."
Elizabeth nodded, but she was not so certain he was right about the event fading in her mind. In her experience, the bad things stayed vivid – if not in one's waking hours, then in the small hours of the night.
"Oh, Caroline, there you are – good – Mr. Calvert wishes to speak with you," stated Jane as she entered the saloon. "He is a magistrate."
Caroline did not know why it should be such a surprise that she was in the saloon. She sat in this room at this hour every day, and she saw no reason to deviate from this just because there had been some upheaval last night. Clearly Eliza Darcy was not dead nor even wounded, for Jane would have been far too distressed to summon her to speak with Mr. Calvert.
"I will chaperone you, during the interview," said Jane, looking at her sister-in-law expectantly.
Caroline rose languidly, a little knot of concern forming in her stomach. "Why does Mr. Calvert wish to speak with me?"
"He is speaking with everyone in the house, to see if they might have observed something. General Fitzwilliam was stabbed by one of the intruders last night – his condition is grave."
"Oh, I am very sorry to hear that," stated Caroline, her mind racing. There had been no love lost between Lord Neston and General Fitzwilliam; she was very aware of this. But why had Jane said there were intruders, as though there had been several men in the house?
Jane led her to the library, where a haggard-looking gentleman was seated at a desk in the corner. She introduced Caroline to Mr. Calvert, and he asked the ladies if they would be seated, stating he just wished for a brief account from Miss Bingley, to see if she had any observations that might help him better understand the events of the previous night.
Caroline gave him a cold smile. "Of course, whatever I may do to help."
"Please, can you give me an account of your night last night, Miss Bingley? I understand from Mrs. Bingley that you hid in her bedchamber with some of the other women and children."
Well, she was certainly not going to give him a true accounting of her night, one that had included giving Lord Neston access to the house and her maidenhead. So instead she told him she had been awakened by a woman's scream and had gone out into the hallway to try to learn what was the matter, had encountered her brother there, and been encouraged by him to go and hide in her sister's bedchamber. She wished she could be of greater help – poor General Fitzwilliam – but feared she had observed very little.
"I understand, Miss Bingley. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I have only one other question, one I have been asking everyone to help me reinforce a point of law on something," stated Mr. Calvert. "Do you have any reason to believe Lord Neston was in this house lawfully last night – without breaking and entering?"
"Lord Neston?" Caroline's stomach lurched. She had hoped that Lord Neston would not be caught in whatever he was about, but it appeared that was not the case. She was glad she had thought to break the window last night.
"Yes, Lord Neston was shot last night in an apparent burglary."
"Shot? Burglary? Is he dead?"
"Yes, Miss Bingley. I apologise, I thought you would have been aware. Lord Neston and Mr. Wickham were killed last night."
"Caroline, are you well?" asked Jane. "You look very pale."
"I – I – I was not told, that there are – there are – dead men in this house." Caroline forced herself to say what she needed to say, feigning ladylike shock at the idea of being under the same roof as a pair of dead bodies. Yet her mind was roiling. Lord Neston was dead, and she might be carrying his child. She found some of her anger from last night returning, but tamped it down. Now was a time to plan. She would need to tread carefully if she wished to preserve her future.
"I am sorry to have shocked you, Miss Bingley. Are you able to answer my question?"
"I do not know of any reason why Lord Neston would have been in the house last night, lawful or unlawful," Caroline lied.
Kitty had lost track of the number of hours she and Georgiana had been sitting there, waiting for General Fitzwilliam to awaken, hoping that if he did not, at least his condition would not worsen. There was a mantel clock in his bedchamber, and occasionally its obnoxious chime would intrude upon them, but she could not say how often it had done so. All she cared about was the regular rising and falling of his chest; no other means of measuring time mattered to her.
Sir Philip had gone to bed, promising to stay up with his old comrade-in-arms overnight while the ladies rested. Kitty was exhausted, but she knew she would not want to go to bed when the time came. How could she ever sleep, knowing he might slip away from them in the night? Kitty knew it was absurd, and yet somehow she still felt that by watching him, by willing him to live, she was helping to keep General Fitzwilliam alive, as though love and willpower could overcome the frailties of flesh and bone.
The two ladies were mostly silent. There was nothing to say that had not already been said, although occasionally they would tear their eyes from the wounded man before them and exchange a worried glance. Therefore, they were immediately aware that he was stirring. First, his hand twitched, and then he groaned and opened his eyes so slowly it seemed to cost him a great deal of effort to do so.
Georgiana moved to clasp his hand – a cousin's perquisite, and one Kitty was painfully jealous of – as the two ladies looked expectantly at him. He winced, and groaned again.
"Georgiana – hurts – what – what happened?" he croaked.
"You were stabbed, last night. There was an attack on the house."
"Stabbed?"
"Yes, in the back and in the chest. Allen said you were very fortunate the knife did not hit anything important. Henry, do you remember – do you remember who it was that stabbed you?"
His countenance a mixture of pain and confusion, he told her he did not, then asked if anyone else in the house had been harmed. Georgiana's guarded response to this was that everyone he cared about was unharmed, and he appeared too pained to press her further on the topic. It was only then that he raised his eyes and noticed Georgiana was not alone.
"Kitty," he said breathlessly. "You are very pretty. Good God, I am rhyming – I sound a fool."
Her blush in response to this was complete, and she whispered, "I am very glad to hear you say anything at all. I – we were very worried about you."
He shifted as though attempting to sit up, gasped in pain, and collapsed back against the pillow. "How on earth did I survive Waterloo and then manage to get stabbed at Pemberley, of all places."
This brought a faint smile to the countenances of both the ladies, although Kitty worried over how much pain he appeared to be in. Rising, she went to the side table and picked up the two bottles there.
"Mr. Allen left a laudanum draft for you, but he said you must drink some broth before you take it, to keep your strength up and restore your blood."
She handed first the broth and then the laudanum over to Georgiana, once again wishing it was her who raised each to Henry's lips. Kitty knew she could not complain over such things – Georgiana had been kind to let her be present at all here, in the bedchamber of an unmarried man. At least she was here, able to see that he was awake. His recovery would be long and painful, and there was still the chance of fever, but he was awake, and so Kitty hoped.
The laudanum took effect quickly; first his eyes closed, and then the pain left his countenance and his breathing became more regular. Georgiana looked over at Kitty, her eyes brimming with tears, and Kitty moved to hug her, both of them weeping.
"There is hope," Georgiana whispered. "Thank God, there is hope."
Kitty murmured her assent, thinking of everything that had occurred, everything General Fitzwilliam had said. He had called her very pretty – was that merely the nonsensical ramblings of a man who had lost a great deal of blood, or should she presume there was some sort of affection behind it? No, it could not be. All Kitty wanted was for him to live, and she told herself it was too much to ask for more.
It had taken less effort than Georgiana thought it would, to convince Kitty to retire, although it was likely Henry's brief moments of waking had done far more than Georgiana's coaxing. Now that he had awakened, they could hope that he would do so again and again as he recovered. Still, it had been difficult for Georgiana to see him in so much pain, and if she felt thus having only cousinly love for Henry, she understood it must have been far more difficult to see him that way, for a woman with romantic love in her heart.
They were exhausted, which had also helped. Now that the fear and worry that had driven them through that awful night and then the day had dissipated, the lure of a comfortable bed could not be denied. And yet it was one Georgiana intended to forgo, at least a little longer. Presumably, the children were all well; someone would have told them if they were not. Georgiana still needed to see Julia, though – ever since those panicked moments where she had feared for the baby's safety last night, she had been longing to see the child, to reassure herself that Julia was her usual, sweet self, safely ensconced in the nursery. So Georgiana went thither, surprised to find Elizabeth was also within.
"Oh! Elizabeth – I – I just thought I would check on the children, before I went to bed." Georgiana had sometimes felt herself to be an imposter in this room, the childless aunt who had no true reason to spend so much time as she did within. Never had she felt it so much as in this moment.
"I thought the same," said Elizabeth softly. "I finally managed to convince your brother that he ought to get some sleep, and promised him I would retire shortly, but I just – I wanted to see them."
Elizabeth had a reason to see them, Georgiana thought. Elizabeth was their mother. She said nothing, though.
"Georgiana, would you – would you come and speak with me, privately? Perhaps the sitting room down the stairs?"
This was it, then; this was where Elizabeth would ask why her sister-in-law was so often in the nursery, would ask why an imposter felt the need to be there. Elizabeth would be kind about it, of course, but the underlying message would be that these were Elizabeth's and Jane's children, and Georgiana should not be here so often as she was. They entered the room and were seated, Georgiana endeavouring to keep the dejection from her countenance. Would she accept whatever Elizabeth had to say? Or plead with her sister that her nephews and nieces were the only children Georgiana would ever know?
But no, Elizabeth's eyes were brimming with tears – could an admonishment begin thus?
"Georgiana, I – I hardly know how to broach this. I had intended to do this with our husbands present, but when I saw you in the nursery, well, I wanted to have it done," Elizabeth said. "I have not spoke much of this with you, but the – the night Julia was conceived – it was one of the most awful of my life. And then her birth was difficult. I can hardly recall bearing her, and I – I just – every time I see her, I am reminded of all that is bad and difficult. I have tried so hard, to love her as a mother, to love her as I do my other children, but it is a struggle. And then I watch you with her, and it is not a struggle for you, is it? It seems the most natural thing in the world."
Georgiana felt as though her heart had dropped to her knees. She hoped she understood what Elizabeth was moving towards, and yet it was so unbelievable, so wonderful, so impossible, that she could not believe it was true.
"If you are willing, I think it would be best for you to take her in, to raise her as her mother," Elizabeth said. A tear slowly rolled down her cheek and Elizabeth reached up to dash it away, but she kept her gaze on Georgiana.
Part of Georgiana wanted to simply say yes, claim Julia for her own, and be damned to any repercussions later. Yet Elizabeth was her sister. There was every chance this could go poorly, prompting a rift between their families and causing tremendous damage to poor little Julia.
"Elizabeth, the timing of this is such that I must ask. Do you fear you are being too precipitate, in offering up Julia less than a day after – after what happened with her father?"
"Nay – it is good of you to ask the question, but I had made this decision before what happened last night. William and I had intended to speak to you and Philip today. If anything, what happened last night merely affirms to me that it was the right choice."
Georgiana was not one for swooning, but she nearly did so at the thought of how close she was to her heart's desire. The one thing – the one child – she most wanted in life was hers for the taking. But not like this. No, not like this.
"Elizabeth, my answer must be no."
Her sister gasped. "But I would have thought – but why?"
"Someday, Julia will need to be told of this day. I do not want this to be the story that is told to her," Georgiana said. She reached down and clasped her sister's hands. "Elizabeth, it has long been clear that Philip and I cannot have children, but we have come to love Julia very much. She is the dearest little child and I would like to propose that we – " a sob burst forth from Georgiana's throat, and it took her some moments to regain control of herself and continue " – I would like to propose that we take her in, raise her as our own, and make her our heir."
Georgiana was not the only one to be tremendously affected by such a statement. Elizabeth bowed her head and wept for some time before she finally managed to squeeze Georgiana's hands and say, "That you would think to approach it in this way tells me that Julia will have a wonderful mother. And yes, I agree that you and Philip should take her in. I would like to ask that you settle in Derbyshire, so she can know the other children as she grows up."
"Of course – Philip and I had already discussed doing so. I wanted to be near her."
Elizabeth took her leave not long after this, but Georgiana was so overcome with emotion that she barely noticed her sister's departure. Julia was hers. The dearest, darling child of her heart was hers, to love, to raise with Philip, to mother. It took her a very long time to recover from such thoughts, to cease her tears. When finally she did, she went back up to the nursery and lifted the sleeping Julia from her cradle. The child stirred and Georgiana chastised herself for being so selfish as to disturb the baby in an effort to placate her own emotions. But then Julia gazed sleepily up at the woman who held her, sighed, closed her eyes, and returned to sleep. Georgiana gazed down at the child, tears streaming down her cheeks. You are mine, and I am now your mother. And I will love you every day with the recollection of when you were not mine, and I never thought you could be.
It was done, and she could not stop weeping. Elizabeth did not regret that she had done it; there had been a moment, when she was leading Georgiana to the sitting room and she had feared she was being too hasty, but it had passed. It had been the right thing to do when she had decided upon it yesterday, and after the events of last night, she had wished for it to be done. She could not look at Julia without thinking of Alexander.
Elizabeth wiped at her eyes with the edge of her dressing-gown, willing her tears to stop. They would not, though. She had just voluntarily given up her child. Although she was grateful to Georgiana for altering the conversation, creating a tale that would someday be told to Julia about how deeply wanted she had been, still it remained: Elizabeth had given up her child.
William would likely be asleep, she thought, as she entered his bedchamber. He had been a wonderful comfort to her since her waking, but by the early hours of the evening his exhaustion had been so apparent she had sent him off to bed, promising to follow after a visit to the nursery. The stillness of his form under the bedcovers showed him in slumber, and she sighed; she would have liked his comfort at such a time, but could not fault him for doing as she had asked. It had been her decision to speak to Georgiana without their husbands present.
Quietly, she climbed into bed and nestled up against him, grateful to at least have his presence. He stirred, reaching out to pull her to him, a movement that seemed almost reflexive until he hummed deep in his throat and opened his eyes. He must have seen her tears in the moonlight, for he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Oh my darling, oh my poor darling."
"I – Georgiana was in the nursery. I spoke to her, about Julia." Weeping still more, Elizabeth told him more of their conversation, and even in the dim light, she could see his countenance was one of concern.
"Elizabeth, do you regret your choice?"
"No – I believed it was right when last we spoke of it, and everything that has happened since has made it still more right," she whispered. "But there is a part of me that will always feel I failed Julia as her mother, even though I did what was best for her. I suppose I will feel guilt for the rest of my life, that I could not make myself love her more than her aunt. I will have to live with that – as I will have to live with everything else."
"Your feelings are natural," he murmured. "But I cannot say I agree that you failed her. You did your best, in an impossible situation. You have been forced to bear more burdens than any mother should and yet you have always done what was best for your children, even when it was difficult or painful for you. They are all safe, and they all have a happy future ahead of them – that is because of you, because of what you have done for them. All of them, including Julia."
Elizabeth nodded. "I know I encouraged you to sleep, but I am glad you woke to speak to me. I needed such reassurances."
"You will need them again in the future, I think, and I will be here when you do," he said. "I do think it will be better once you see her settled with the Colbournes, though."
"I think you are right." Elizabeth nestled still closer to him, in great need of the comfort and safety of his arms.
