Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to post something new for this story. I hope everyone enjoys it and as always I welcome any reviews, criticisms, and critiques you may have to offer. Thanks again for reading. LV
Chapter 7

The next morning, Lady Drake woke to the busy sounds of traffic on the London sidestreets and threw the sheets from her body. The Rose Inn was not London's finest, but the owners knew her from before her inheritance and treated her warmly, a novelty rare to her as of late.

She walked to the window and stared out at the muddy, water-logged streets where murky rivlets of rain ran along the sidewalks. She would have to return to Mrs. Darcy's home before noon, at least, she knew. There was so much to be said yet and to delay Elizabeth's intelligence of her husband's past would be cruel. So, with a heavy sigh, Lady Drake dressed in a dark grey gown and called for a quick breakfast and local cab.

"Madam, your cab has arrived," a boy announced a quarter of an hour later as she finished her kips on toast and swallowed a cup of lukewarm tea. Lady Drake nodded.

"Thank you, Thomas," she smiled faintly, and tossed him a coin. Rising from her small dining table, she took up her cloak in one pale hand, a silver ring glinting from her fourth finger. "And please thank your father for his hospitality. He is very kind."

"Yes, mum," the boy mumbled, bowing awkwardly as the woman swept by him, her skirts brushing past his skin like a cool breeze.

As she rode in the cab, her eyes lazily drifted from each unfamiliar face, all shaded by the bleak overcast London sky. A dark rain fell as mist from the sky onto dank streets when she halted the cab and paid the driver. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she began to walk the two blocks from Mrs. Darcy's townhouse. She needed fresh air now, for the confines of Elizabeth's quaint parlor would suffocate her.

"My lady, your obedient servant offers you this letter," Lady Drake shuddered and controlled the amount of suprise she showed as she turned. The shadow of a figure offered her a small yellowed piece of folded parchment which she took. Before when she looked up to identify the emissary, he had disappeared into the crowd. A sense of dread settled into her bones as she unfolded the letter. It read:

"The news of your husband's devastating accident on the high seas reached me at last during my stay in Singapore. While the thought of your unhappiness and bereavement struck my heart like a rusted arrow, I am in part reminded of an oath you made, my sweet child, years ago in my summer home; I daresay you recall it well. I shall indeed collect what is rightfully mine soon enough.

My Deepest Condolences during this Mournful Hour."

It was unsigned, but she recognized the script and the tone of the words immediately. Lady Drake had hoped, prayed, for the twelve months after her husband's death that the ghost would have forgotten, that it would have cast off the memory as a childish promise made by a desperate foolish girl, but it hadn't. And now, the ghost of her past had come back to haunt her.

"I shall escape this life," she murmured bitterly to herself, and cast the letter to the muddy ground.

"Mrs. Darcy, Lady Charlotte Drake of---"

"Yes, Geoffry, please send her in immediately." The servant bowed and left Elizabeth to her frenzied thoughts which raced uncontrollably through her mind.

Fear, lothing, and anticipation left her writhing with confusion and dread, and yet a sense of relief calmed her nerves in the slightest. Her suspicions had been confirmed after the woman's last visit, revealing the true depths of the secrecy her husband maintained over his real life and history. For months after her marriage to Darcy, she had feared the days to be too good, to perfect to be real. The shadow that now hung over them all assured her of their reality, of her husband's incomplete godliness. And surprisingly, it was as a strange comfort to her.

Elizabeth looked up when Lady Drake entered the room, and smiled faintly from the far corner of the room. The woman's hair had loosed itself from its tight braid and gave her demeanor a rare sense of vulnerability and youth. Mrs. Darcy rose.

"Good morning, Mrs. Darcy."

"Good morning, Lady Drake," Elizabeth replied. She offered a china cup in the woman's direction. "Tea?"

"Please," the Lady breathed, folding into a chair stiffly and pouring cream into her cup with no real intention of drinking its contents. "I am afraid under these circumstances, an attempt at small talk would be somewhat extraneous, Mrs. Darcy: forgive my forwardness."

"I agree, Lady Drake. Please continue at your leisure," Elizabeth said coolly, setting her cup on its saurcer in a dignified manner, and the woman followed suit shortly. Her eyes turned towards the gray light pooling in from the half-open window near her and began to speak.

"When Mrs. Darcy passed, (she said slowly) things changed rapidly. The entire household lost the luster and cheer that I had grown to love as a child. William seemed to become a different person after her death---more distant than I had ever remembered him to be. His father, growing weaker and grayer with every day that passed, slowly began to show signs of his imminent death, signs I noticed painfully, for he had grown as a father to me as well.

I walked into his study one afternoon to invite him for a game of chess, one of our favorite pasttimes, but instead I found him in deep conversation with his lawyer, whom I recognized from his last visit upon my adoption into his family. Quickly, I discovered he was composing his will. I left abruptly, embarrassed and unwilling to accept what I had seen, and avoided him and his son for the rest of the day. That night, however, a servant came to my quarters and informed me that I was wanted in his personal library, and I had no choice but to oblige him.

I held onto the top of the rail as tightly as I could as I descended into the ovluar room. Mr. Darcy was seated by the dying fire and looked up when I entered the room. He opened his arms to me weakly, the shadows under his eyes enhanced by the fading light. 'Come, my dear.'

I came. 'Charlotte,' he said to me seriously, taking my hands in his own. I noticed they shook around my own. 'I'm old, Charlotte. Soon, I will be unable to look after you or my soon.'

'Mr. Darcy, please---'

'Charlotte, listen to me, I beg you.' I was quiet and looked helplessly up into his hazy blue eyes, hidden behind half-moon spectacles. 'You a growing into a fine young lady, just like your mother was at your age, and I will not leave this world without the knowledge that you are to be well taken care of.'

He took my hands in his rough, chaffed ones as he noticed my tears and smiled. 'No, my dear! This is not a time for sadness.'

Mr. Darcy paused gently. 'Charlotte, I've found you a husband.' I drew my hands away in surprise and dread.

'Lotte, please listen. He is a fine man, and he will take care of you as I have. I've made him an offer and he's agreed to wait until you've reached your sixteenth year.'

I felt horribly selfish and ungrateful for feeling as I did, but I could not hear his words for the rush of blood in my ears. I should have realized long ago that the Darcys would not possibly be able to keep me until I had grown old and withered away like a leaf in winter, but oh, how I had hoped to remain in Pemberley with William and Mr. Darcy for many more long ears. Nevertheless, I nodded firmly. 'If you think it best, sir.'

Mr. Darcy smiled and drew me close to him.

'You have given this family much joy,' he whispered in my ear. 'You must always think of Pemberley as your true home.'"

Lady Drake pased, her thoughts drifting as she lapsed into silence. Mrs. Darcy touched her arm lightly.

"Lady Drake, all you all right?" Elizabeth whispered compassionately. The dark lady looked up in surprise and then glanced at Elizabeth's fingers, resting on her black sleeve. Elizabeth sighed and retracted her hand.

"Please understand, Lady," Mrs. Darcy said seriously. "I do not hold you in contempt because you and my husband have a history that he chose not to bring into my confidence. I simply wish he had trusted me enough to tell me himself."

Lady Drake watched Elizabeth for a moment, hesitated, then lifted the veil and bonnet from her face. A mass of dark brown curls slipped to the nape of her neck and framed her pale face like a dark halo.

"He loves you, Mrs. Darcy," Lady Drake said slowly. "Only once have I ever seen him as happy and contented as he is with you, and that was many, many years ago."

The two women held each other's gaze briefly before each fell away into silence and took a bit more of their tea.


Thanks for reading. Will try to update soon. LV :)