Chapter 23 No Sentimentalist
Dark nights and too long days...
Dreams that was just that—dreams, not anchored in reality. Had she idolised her childhood into something it could never live up to? Distance made the heart grow fonder and the memories became glazed in a rosy haze. Longbourn was no longer home—a painful realisation. She was no longer a child, Jane and Mary had married and moved away. What was she doing here? Feeling alone and abandoned, how was she to manage the hollowness in her chest? Without... Far away... Who could compare?
These random snippets of remorse, she so easily chased away during the day, occupied with tending children and entertaining her sister, were tenaciously haunting her at night.
Deprived of sleep, she sat in the window sill in her room, gazing into the darkened garden. The reddening of dawn cast its glowing rays upon heaven as Elizabeth padded to her bed and crept under the cover.
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Mr Bennet had left two weeks earlier, leaving the responsibility of Elizabeth's comfort and protection to Mr Bingley, he returned to Longbourn sans Elizabeth and his grandchildren. One might think it was his generous heart that would allow the sisters some time to become reacquainted or he held some trepidation towards the repercussions dealt by the laird of Eilein, should he decide to come after his wife and children. He had not much faith in the demure stance the laird had taken as the carriage pulled out of Càrn Gorm Castle's courtyard. These great men always got what they wanted...
#
Elizabeth tucked a sleeping Inghinn into her crib for her midday rest. She had slept poorly lately, perhaps she was teething? She felt her forehead with the wrist of her hand but it was cool to the touch. She seized Maddock's hand and led him out of the nursery. She would not risk him waking the infant even if she could manage to make him play quietly.
"Shall we go and find Aunt Jane?"
The toddler nodded, he had been so grave lately, after the initial thrill of discovering another toddler of his age had worn off, he had reverted too much into himself. He should be getting used to his new surroundings but he seemed to become less attached and more distant.
A romp out in the garden might do him some good, he loved everything that crawled on the ground. She was looking down at him and saw his eyes widen and his grip tightened around her hand as they entered the primrose parlour. The parlour was full of undesirable guests.
Elizabeth schooled her features into a neutral expression before she raised her chin and met the stricken looks of the entire Darcy family. Mr and Mrs Darcy, their son, Mr George Darcy and his wife, Mrs Caroline Darcy had come unannounced to visit Mr Bingley.
Rumours had reached their neck of the woods that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been found. They are shocked to discover that Elizabeth was, in fact, in their midst with a young child clutched in her hand. They had not quite believed it was possible until she was standing in front of them, very much alive and well. A minute of stunned silence was broken by everyone speaking at once. It was impossible to hear what anyone was saying when they all tried to speak above the rest. Elizabeth held up her hand to quiet them down and to her surprise, they indulged her.
The reunion remained amicable until Inghinn is brought to the parlour after her nap. Elizabeth put her infant girl in a crib, conveniently placed for the occasions when they were entertaining.
Ascertain of her daughter's comfort and a rattle for entertainment, she circled the room until she reached Jane's side who was currently speaking to Caroline. She offers Mrs Caroline Darcy her felicitations before she discovers something unnerving.
Mrs Darcy walks over and spends an inordinate amount of time studying her infant child. Elizabeth walks back to the crib where Inghinn was busy playing with her toes.
"She is an uncommonly beautiful child, Miss Elizabeth. Oh, I should probably call you something else than Miss Elizabeth but I am afraid I do not know your married name."
"Thank you, I can take no credit for her beauty, she resembles her father. My married name is Elizabeth Fitzwilliam, Lady of Eilein, Mrs Darcy."
Elizabeth felt slightly revenged for Mrs Darcy's low opinion of her in Meryton and later, at Pemberley, when she heard the lady's futile attempt to stifle a gasp. Mrs Darcy had not expected her to outrank her, it was a small kind of victory from a time of her life that was not uniformly pleasant to look back upon. She had been such a child back in Meryton when she declared that you should remember the past as it gave you pleasure when it was the less pleasant experiences that taught you valuable life lessons. Your past defined you whether you choose to dwell upon it or not.
"You simply must come to Pemberley, I will not take no for an answer. You must all come. I am sure Mr Bingley would enjoy some sport with my son and Mrs Bingley should visit her sister, we are practically family."
It did not escape Elizabeth's mind that had Mrs Darcy known how she became married to the laird of Eilein, she would not have been quite as impressed by her new status.
"I wonder why you never contacted your family to let them know you were alive?" the former Miss Bingley's grating voice enquired.
"I did but my father wanted to see for himself that it was me and not an imposter that had written to him from the Scottish Highlands. I am afraid he found it hard to believe I was well. Months had passed since my disappearance which must account for his disbelief."
"Why would you wait for months to inform your family, not to forget your generous hosts who searched tirelessly for you, day and night for weeks on end?"
Elizabeth had concocted a story in her head that was partially a lie but sounded better than the reality. Her son was growing older and understood much of what was spoken. She would never tell Maddock nor Inghinn the reason why they were alive in this world. Neither should they suffer the derision should certain facts be known; society would show them little mercy if she did. To be certain, she had sworn Jane and Charles to secrecy, they and her father would be the only ones who knew the truth, the world at large need not know.
"When I was found, I was indisposed. I am afraid I had ventured too far and was overcome when the laird of Eilein found me. I could not tell you where I was as I would not have been lost had I known to begin with.
"The laird brought me home with him as he had no notion of who I was. His Castle, Càrn Gorm is situated on the other side of the Lairig Ghru mountain pass if you are familiar with Scottish geography, Mrs Darcy. I had to recover before a missive could be dispatched to my family. The post is not as reliable in the Scottish Highland as it is here. There are no post deliveries in that area, therefore the delay was substantial."
The younger Mrs Darcy nodded her assent although Elizabeth suspected geography was not her strong suit.
"By then, my father had accustomed himself to my demise. He suspected it was some kind of fraud to extort monies from him. Since the area is close to inaccessible in the winter, he had to wait for summer but he was unwell and had to postpone what he thought was a futile endeavour to embark upon."
She needed not mention her father's adversity towards travelling in general. The previous year had been uncommonly cold, it had rained heavily, ruining the wheat, oat and potato harvest in a country that was already on its knees after the Napoleonic Wars.
No one had imagined that 1816 would be even colder. It was to become known in the vernacular as the year without a summer, the poverty year or plain eighteen-hundred-and-freeze-to-death. A Northbound journey had not tempted her father when he held no hope of finding Elizabeth at the end of his travels.
The door to the primrose parlour hit the opposite wall with a reverberating thud, an irate man stormed into the room and ripped Inghinn from Mrs Darcy's arms.
"How can you let that leach of a woman tend our daughter, Elizabeth! Are you out of your mind?"
There was no time for Elizabeth to answer as Mr Darcy senior stepped hastily to his wife's defence. Mr Darcy's large hand gripped the laird's elbow and twirled him around to face him. The man must be more than fifty years old but his strength had not yet left him. Elizabeth first thought was to rescue her daughter if there was to be an altercation, the laird still held his daughter on his arm.
The laird stalled her forward motion with his free arm, as she was in any danger from Mr Darcy, she better explain herself.
"Give Inghinn to me, I do not want her to come between the two of you if there is to be an altercation."
"I do not believe it will come to that. Do you, Mr Darcy?"
For the first time after her husband entered the primrose parlour did Elizabeth let her eyes waft across the room and travel across a sea of stunned faces. Yet none looked more stricken than the elder Mr Darcy. His son and wife looked bewildered but the patriarch was pale as a ghost. It was the laird that broke the silence, speaking in a cold distant voice Elizabeth had not heard before.
"You may believe me conceited, disdainful and deprived of every feeling, Elizabeth, but I would never subject my child to any danger. That is why I cannot keep my promise to you. Had I known you would surround my offspring with this flock of reprobates I would never have let you leave the Highland!"
"That is rich coming from a highwayman who abducted—"
"Who is that, Elizabeth?" the lair cut off Mr Bingley's incredulous rant.
"Mr Bingley, he is married to my sister Jane. The lady beside Mr George Darcy is his wife, Caroline née Bingley. The lady by the hearth that was holding Inghinn is Mr Darcy's wife."
"I know."
The laird surprisingly gave her Inghinn and pulled them both behind his back.
"I do not know what you came here to accomplish but I want you to know that Elizabeth has told me and my wife everything and I am prepared to do whatever is necessary."
"What exactly is that, Mr Bingley, depriving a wife of her husband, my children of their father? How we got there does not matter, it is the future that matters and my future contains providing for my wife and children who I love too much to risk losing to this crowd of black-hearted murderers."
"Overlooking your ridiculous claims, look around you, Laird Eilein. You are only one man while we are three grown men with at least twelve servants to back us up."
The laird of Eilein let out a shrill whistle. "This should even the odds," he spoke without elaborating.
Hardly a minute passed before a commotion could be heard from the hallway. Mr Bingley's elderly butler came hastening into the room.
"I beg your pardon Mr Bingley but they would not take no for an answer."
Angry looking Highlanders filed into the room, Mr MacGregor and his son Euan marched into the parlour. Surprisingly, Sir William Gordon-Gumming, was among them. Elizabeth knew he had left for his Continental trip and had not been aware he had returned home.
"Tired of the continent already?" Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow at Sir William.
"Yes, a horrid place with all the famine cursing throughout. Germany was particularly difficult; the price of a plain meal was ridiculous and the landowners resented my hunting. I had to leave rather quickly...
"Not that it was any better further south, riots and looting everywhere, I even encountered arsonists. It was simply dreadful when a mob came howling through the streets of Paris with their flags raised. Bread and blood they said, I do not believe such violence has been seen since the Revolution. I had to escape to Florence where I met my Elizabeth. When I laid my eyes on her, all thoughts of the beautiful Lady Eilein fled my memory..."
Elizabeth glanced up at her husband to gauge his reaction to Sir William's flatter but he wore a bemused expression.
"... and I was irrevocably attached to the most handsome creature I have ever beheld. I could not let her wither in the godforsaken place and brought her home to Gordonstoun as my wife."
Sir William might have continued to expound upon the virtues of his Elizabeth had Lady Eilein's lady's maid, Evina, not interrupted his overture, she came running through the crowd of intimidating men.
"Thank God you are well. Let me take Inghinn while you quarrel."
"She is not leaving my sight," the laird of Eilein barked.
"I would not dream of it, sir."
Elizabeth noticed Euan MacGregor look around him before he left the parlour, she wondered what he was up to but gathered she would find out as she was of no mind to leave at the moment. Evina came and relieved her tired arms of her daughter but gasped when she espied Mr Darcy's countenance. It was a mystery to Elizabeth why she had not noticed the striking resemblance before. Of course, she had not seen them in the same room and the laird more often than not, grew a beard to cover his handsome countenance, but still...
Evina found a chair in the corner behind her laird and sat down with Inghinn cooing in her lap. The infant seemed to recognise her instantly.
"Elizabeth, I am no sentimentalist but you cannot expect me to simply let you go! The truth is that I gave you my hand, you choose to take it. I can lessen your sorrow, if not today then another day...
"I have seen you sitting in the window sill half the night since you came to Kimberly Heights. You cannot convince me you are happy here and I will never believe you prefer to be without me. We are bound together by much more than some misspoken words in the cottage at the Larrig Ghru pass. I love you, Elizabeth! More importantly, I know you love me. You cannot have pretended, all the emotions that pass through that pretty little head of yours are written on your countenance. This mock independence you sought when you left is irrational and harsh. No one is completely independent of others. Have you ever considered that you might need someone who needs you? I need you in my life Elizabeth, without you the future is just a bleak existence. Besides, you are with child again. You cannot expect me to keep away."
"How did you know?"
"I am sorry if I have to injure your feelings by admitting this but you get somewhat grumpy in the early stages."
Elizabeth snorted irritated, confirming his claim which made him smirk at her inconsistency. It vexed her further and she turned to stride away when Euan brought Maddock to their midst. The child wrenched out of Euan's grip and ran to his father who gathered the child in his arms and hugged him tightly. Maddock clung to him with his small arms wounded around his father's neck, his hands locked in an iron grip, refusing to let go. Elizabeth's heart broke for her son who had missed his papa a lot more than he had been able to convey.
"Who is going to call the magistrate to apprehend this man," Mrs Darcy enquired.
"For what?" Elizabeth retorted.
"I am certain if we let Mr Bingley finish his sentence, we would know how to act."
Elizabeth's eyes bore into Mr Bingley who met her gaze with a serious mien.
"Are you absolutely certain, Elizabeth?"
"I am! Je suis malade, complètement malade!" she was powerless to fight it. George, or was his name Fitzwilliam? was right, she had chosen him. It had been her choice to bring Maddock, Inghinn and the little life that was growing beneath her breast, into the world. It was time to let go of the past and forgive what it could do no good to dwell upon.
Regardless of how they had begun, it was the continuation that mattered and it was her choice. The laird no longer had a hold over her that was grounded in fear, she had not feared him since that day at the Hunting Tower. Even then, she had not really believed he would hurt her.
The only time she had felt real fear was when she sought shelter under a pine tree along the Druie river. Certain of her imminent death, it was not the life she had lived she regretted but the life that had been within her grasp.
Jane chuckled, "you have not lost your dramatic touch."
No, she was no longer fond of drama. The laird sensed her capitulation and enveloped her in a one-armed embrace, the other was still occupied by their son.
She let herself relax, burying her face in his chest. He smelled familiar of man and beast, he must have followed her on Swiftsilver, just as she had predicted, by his own admissions, not long after she had left Càrn Gorm. The knowledge gave her peace, she had not misjudged him nor his attachment.
"We should leave the highlanders to their reunion and return home," Mrs Darcy suggested.
"I am not leaving until someone explain what is going on. Who are you!"
Mr Darcy had regained his sense and his voice; he was ready for some explanations.
The laird of Eilein grabbed his wife's chin and lifted her face so that he could gauge her expression. "I have lied to you, Elizabeth, and there is blood on my falsehood. Lady Annabel is not my aunt, she is my mother. It was not my choice to conceal it, the decision was made when I was but an infant and arrived at Càrn Gorm Castle to live with my grandmother. She thought it best to prevaricate. She feared the clan would not accept a laird with witless mother..."
Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth. "You poor thing, when did you find out?"
"The spring of 1812 when Mrs Reynolds let it slip in one of her letters."
"You know Mrs Reynolds? Pemberley's Mrs Reynolds?"
"Yes, it was she who rescued me from being buried alive along with my mother. I know you have seen my grave, I watched you as you hunched down to read the inscription. I know I misinterpreted your interactions with my brother but at that moment I knew you were meant to be mine. I had watched you for a long time from the Hunting Tower, on your morning rambles and strolls around the garden.
"I might be heading towards madness though. I acted rash and unhinged, it frightened me to no end that I would lose control like that, yet I could not let you go. When you left me in the courtyard of Càrn Gorm and I managed to let you go without acting crazy, it was a great relief although I have no wish to repeat the experience of watching you leave. It was the single most painful experience of my life, even though I knew I would follow you until you realised you belong with me.
"I came after you almost from the minute you passed the gates but I was calm and collected, yet fully prepared to do whatever it took to win you back. I never courted you as you deserved. I thought with a little distance, time and convincing wooing you would be my wife again, by your choice."
"Mrs Reynolds sent the trunk with my garments, did she not? She knew where I was?"
"She did!"
"But why did she not inform my father? He could have known much sooner that I was alive and well."
"He could have known much sooner if he had taken the trouble of coming to Eilein when he received your first letter but you must understand that Mrs Reynolds thought that you were in no danger from me. I rather believe she thought you safer at Càrn Gorm than you were at Pemberley. She never discovered who was responsible for orchestrating our untimely demises. In her mind, Pemberley was a place that harboured a murderer that would stoop to kill a newborn babe to advance in the world or marry where he wanted."
"Who would have the heart to bury a mother and newborn babe alive?"
"It was more than that, my mother had been poisoned. I know not how or by what but she was a perfectly rational being before this incident. The culprit may not have known she was still alive when she was placed in the coffin. I doubt I was given the same treatment as my wits are still largely with me, most of the time..."
"Ratafia!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"Ratafia may leave you temporarily deranged but the effect wears off eventually."
"No, Mrs Darcy mentioned to me something about too much ratafia could make you mad, even kill you!"
"I believe it might have been prussic acid poisoning, it manifests itself by dizziness, nausea, staggering, loss of consciousness and ultimately death. The symptoms resemble drunkenness, it is an easy mistake to make. I had a lecture about it at the University of Edinburgh. A Swedish chemist, Mr Carl Scheele, prepared it from the pigment Prussian blue, hence the name. It tastes very bitter but the sweet ratafia would conceal the sour taste."
"She loved ratafia..." Mr Darcy breathed out. "Are you telling me Anne is still alive?"
"She is but not as you knew her," the laird opted to clarify. He had no intention of encouraging his father to reunite with his mother, quite the opposite.
"My mother died of overindulging on ratafia," Mr Bingley spoke softly, "you need not add prussic acid, the drink is dangerous in itself, I very much doubt that my mother and her friends had access to any obscure chemicals. One of my mother's friends suffered damages, her temper was destroyed. She became a torment to herself as well as everyone around her but only my mother perished."
Suddenly, everyone spoke at once. Mr George Darcy paled and muttered something about being a bastard to which Mrs Caroline Darcy objected vehemently.
"We must assure that nothing that has been spoken here today, ever leave this room. I believe Lady Eilein could be trusted; she would not want her story to become known," Mrs Caroline Darcy whispered a little too loudly to her husband.
"Lady Eilein trustworthy? I would as soon call her mother a wit," Mr Darcy retorted to the amusement of his wife.
Elizabeth frowned, what a despicable thing to say. Her mother might not always be wise but she had good intentions and would never harm an innocent child. She supposed there had always been a littleness about him she had been too blinded by his handsome appearance to notice. He had married the former Miss Caroline Bingley, the shallowest creature she had ever had the misfortune to encounter. If that was not proof enough, nothing was.
It hit her then, that the laird had acted honourably, tried to make amends for his misdeed by saving her in return, regardless of how misplaced the effort had been. All in all, he was a much better man than any of the Darcys put together. Although—he was a Darcy, was he not?
Mrs Darcy tried to sidle unnoticed out of the parlour but too many brawny Highlanders were in her way.
"Silence!" The senior Mr Darcy roared.
Everyone quieted and turned toward the patriarch standing side by side with the laird of Eilein. No one was in doubt of the laird's assertion being correct when allowed to compare the two—father and son. The resemblance was strikingly obvious.
"We need Mrs Reynolds. May I suggest we remove to Pemberley?"
"Out of the question!" the laird was quick to reply.
"If you will not travel to Pemberley, we must impose upon Mr Bingley while my driver fetches Mrs Reynolds."
"It makes no difference to me, I am not staying here. You may send me a message when Mrs Reynolds has arrived and I will return."
"You are leaving so soon?" Elizabeth enquired aghast.
"Not without you and the children."
"I have spent the night out of doors quite enough to last me a lifetime, I am not sleeping unprotected from the elements with an infant and a two-year-old child."
"Of course not, we are but three miles from Nottingham, I have rented rooms at the inn."
"I thought you mentioned that you had observed me sitting in the window sill at night."
"I said I had rented rooms, not that I had slept in them."
The implication made Elizabeth's heart swell with pride of the length this man was willing to stretch for her comfort and safety. Had they been alone, she would have shown her gratitude as befitting someone violently in love but as they were not, a look of love must suffice.
"You are welcome to stay here," Mr Bingley offered. "If your men do not mind cramped accommodations, I am sure we could manage to house you all."
"That will not be necessary, as I said, I have rented rooms in Nottingham."
"Please, Fitzwilliam. I would not like to leave Jane even if it means spending a night under the same roof as the Darcys."
A war of conflicting emotions wafted over the laird's countenance. Disgust, concern, longing and acceptance. He let his eyes travel over the occupants of the room and obviously found the Sassenachs lacking. A brief nod was all she got but Elizabeth's heart soared in pleasure. He had listened and consented to what must be very objectionable to him for her benefit. Who would not be touched by such consideration?
"I demand that Sir William, my grieve Mr MacGregor and his son Euan are situated close to me and my wife. The children's cots must be moved into our room."
"I can assure you that my nursery is perfectly safe for a child," Mr Bingley added firmly.
"It is non-negotiable if we are to stay here."
"It is not done in polite society to share a room with your spouse," Mrs Caroline Darcy added but the laird of Eilein seemed to have become momentarily deaf.