Chapter Six

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Gardiner – Miss Bennet – Miss Elizabeth," beamed Mr Bingley, standing up as they entered the room. "Welcome to my home!" Elizabeth felt a slight jerk somewhere in her stomach as she saw Mr Darcy turn round from his post at the window and look straight at her, and smile slightly.

Those who were female curtsied, and those who were male bowed. "Thank you for you kind invitation, Mr Bingley," said Mr Gardiner.

"You do me great honour in accepting it," said Mr Bingley happily, shaking Mr Gardiner's hand.

Afterwards, when Elizabeth thought of the first part of the evening, she thought simultaneously of cosiness and laughter. It was the first evening since her parents had died, and since she had left Longbourn, that she had felt she was, in some small way, comfortable again. Maybe it was the fact that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were there, reminding her of those days at Longbourn not so long ago. She didn't know. But one could not help but feel very optimistic for Jane, no matter how much one had decided not to get one's hopes up, when one saw with what faithful attentiveness Mr Bingley treated Jane. And although there had to be a little awkwardness with Mr Darcy there, he seemed to act as if nothing had happened, much to her relief – although, of course, he was much more agreeable than before.

When Mr Bingley heard that she and Mary had had to sell their pianoforte, he was immediately distressed, and insisted that Elizabeth play as long as she liked in the music room down the hallway. She was grateful; although she felt the embarrassment that she was in such straitened circumstances that she had to sell a pianoforte, her longing to play again overrode this.

She made her way down to the music room, and sighed happily as she collapsed on the piano stool and began to play some of her favourite pieces. She preferred aching music at the time; it seemed to capture exactly what she wanted to express. And she needed expression. If she wasn't able to release some of the tensions inside her, she would go mad. After a particularly heartfelt rendition of one of the most aching songs Mr Bingley had in his collection, she slumped on the piano stool and began to cry. Playing a pianoforte again seemed to remind her of exactly what she was missing now. One could say it triggered a door to open in her memory. And all at once she was miserable again, and longing for Father – and in her mournful state, even wishing Mama was there, although she knew that if her mother had been there, it would have driven her even closer to insanity.

To her horror, the door opened. "Miss Bennet, you are wanted back in the parlour to join us in a game of cards," said Mr Darcy, before comprehension came to him. "Oh! Miss Bennet!"

Elizabeth had jumped up off the piano stool and was standing self- consciously wiping her face. "Mr Darcy?" she managed to whisper.

"Oh dear," he said, and stood stock still. "May I assist you in any way, Miss Bennet?"

"No," she said, and was not able to stop herself bursting into tears again. He walked across to her cautiously, and for the second time that week, passed her his handkerchief. "Thank you," she managed to say. "Please forgive me . . . so foolish . . ."

"Not at all," he said gently.

Mr Darcy being gentle was such a foreign concept that Elizabeth could hardly understand it. She calmed down a little. She sighed. "It's just playing the pianoforte again – it brings back all these memories I thought I had successfully put to rest." She gave a wobbly little laugh. "Foolish, I know."

"I understand," he said, and hesitated. "My father died several years ago, as I think you know. The strangest things would bring back memories."

Elizabeth looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. He was the strangest person alive, that much was clear! Was this the same man she had hated? Yes, it was – but it was now obvious that she had completely misjudged him. He was sensitive, sometimes gentle, and kind. She had ignored these qualities and completely exaggerated in her mind his bolder traits, like his commanding presence, his pride, and his polite frankness.

"Come, sit down," he said. "Have a chance to recover before you return to the parlour."

She obeyed him without argument. After a moment, she spoke again. "I wish it were simple enough that I could just say, 'My father is dead, that is that', and put him to rest. But it is not."

"What do you mean?" he said. "Unfortunately you could say that. How is it not simple?"

She sighed. "I don't why it bothers me so, but . . . "She paused uncertainly. "I have not spoken much of this, and neither has Jane, but it remains constantly in my mind."

"Yes," he prompted her, after a pause.

"I am just so confused, and I must tell someone!" she said soberly. "Whether for good or ill, you have turned up just as it threatens to burst out of me, and so I must tell you. My father ... on his deathbed, he said to Jane and I – I cannot understand it! – he said that we must remember the names Lara and Vivian. He offered no explanation and I have been puzzled and not quite comfortable with it ever since."

For some reason Mr Darcy had gone rather white. "Did you say, Lara and Vivian?"

Elizabeth didn't notice his change of colour and was only looking at the floor pensively. "Yes."

He said nothing for a while. After a very long pause, Mr Darcy spoke in a curiously heightened voice. "Miss Bennet – I think, I conjecture, that I may know what your father meant by those names."

"Really?" she said eagerly. "Do tell me!"

He swallowed. "I think – perhaps – I had better talk to someone else about this first," he said. "May I just ask – who is your family lawyer?"

"Oh, I forget, someone named Errings, or Evans – yes! It is Evans," Elizabeth replied.

"Thank you," he said.

Elizabeth smiled, completely unaware of what had perhaps just been greatly affected in the lives of several people. "My pleasure. You will tell me if you are right?"

"Yes."

"Shall we return to the parlour? I feel much better now. Thank you for the use of your handkerchief."

Mr Darcy led her back, trying not to gulp every few seconds. If she indeed was Vivian, and her sister was indeed Lara – everything changed. The rest of the evening passed interminably for him, and he sat with his brows knitted, intensely thinking, and he felt the curious looks the others gave him but could not bring himself to act his usual self, even for the repeated looks Elizabeth gave him. This was too big.

*****************

"Why, good morning, Darcy," said the countess breezily as he walked into the Matlock town house at breakfast. "What brings you here?"

"I think I had better eat first, aunt, and then talk," said Mr Darcy, trying not to be too serious but endeavouring also not to appear jovial. This was a very hard thing to decide; how to tell them. He knew it would be a huge shock.

"Why, Darcy," grinned Rosalind, "who said you were invited to eat?"

"Rosalind, mind your manners," said her father, although he was smiling a little. "Darcy knows that he is always welcome to eat here, even if it is unspoken."

"Thank you, sir," Darcy smiled. He desperately hoped that telling this news would be a kindness, not an ill to both the Bennets and the family of Lord John Fitzwilliam, in repayment for the Fitzwilliam family's constant kindness to him. He looked around the room. "Thomas and Richard are not out of bed yet?"

"No," said Rosalind, rolling her eyes. "They went to a party last night with some friends and did not return until very late. Even Thomas' usual affinity with the birds hasn't kicked in today."

"I hope they may be up soon, because I want to discuss something with you all," said Darcy nervously.

Lord Matlock looked up, sensing the unusual lack of calm in his nephew. "What is it?"

"Eat first, talk later," said Darcy with a smile.

Of course this meant that the three Fitzwilliam's scrambled through their breakfast as quickly as possible, while Darcy chewed as lethargically as was mentally supportable, wading through much more than usual – simply to prolong their ignorance, and possibly their happiness. What would be their reaction to discovering the identities of their two long lost daughters, and how would Jane and Elizabeth Bennet take it? They were still in the throes of their losses; how would such a massive upheaval of everything they knew make them feel now?

Would Elizabeth think the worse of him for ruining the fragile veneer of their lives?

Finally Darcy knew he could not put it off anymore. He looked up from his plate at last, and pushed it slightly away. "Should we wait for Thomas and Richard?"

"No," said Rosalind, as her father said, "Yes, if this is important."

"Oh, Father!" said Rosalind, clearly extremely impatient to hear what the news was.

"Rosalind," said her father, quelling all argument.

They sat silently for several minutes while the servants cleared the meal away. "How is Georgiana?" said Lady Matlock after a while.

"She is well, thank you, and comes from Derbyshire today," said Mr Darcy.

"Is her piano playing as excellent as ever?"

"Mama, really," said Rosalind. "How can you doubt Georgiana's skill?"

"I am not doubting it, Rosalind, I am merely making conversation at an awkward moment, for I can see that Darcy has something important to impart to us, and I am nervous," said the countess in a rush.

"Oh, I understand," said Rosalind. "Oh, hurry up, Thomas, hurry up, Richard!"

At this opportune moment, the aforementioned burst through the door. "Richard was still sleeping," said Thomas darkly. "I had to wake him. I am sorry."

Richard grinned, and yawned widely. "You were not waiting for us, were you?"

"Yes, we were!" said Rosalind.

They were immediately contrite. "You must have eaten? Then why were you waiting for us?"

"Darcy has something to say to us, and we think it best for the whole family to be here," explained their mother.

"Something to say to us!" said Thomas. "That sounds ominous. Have you lost all your fortune on 'Change, Darcy? Coming to beg us to rescue you the duns?"

Darcy couldn't help smiling. "No, Thomas, I have not. Will you sit down? Rosalind has been odiously impatient."

Rosalind laughed. "You horrid man! Georgiana would be ashamed! Why, you act so gentlemanlike, and then-"

Lord Matlock interjected calmly. "Rosalind, please stop chattering. Darcy, will you please end our suffering and tell us what the matter is."

Darcy let out a long sigh. "Alright. I still don't really know how I am supposed to tell you this. I have thought about it all night, and still am not sure." He paused again, and all his long, carefully planned speech went out the window. "Aunt and uncle, I think I have found Lara and Vivian."