Page 14 of Pemberley's Imposter
Heartfelt congratulations were exchanged as they entered Elizabeth’s tiny cottage. There was hardly any room left with the three people inside it. Elizabeth ushered the Bingleys to the table and offered them her two chairs while she put the kettle in the hearth. She pulled out the last few leaves from a tea caddy, then washed her hands thoroughly and set the cups on the table.
“I am sorry I do not have any sugar, but I have made birch syrup. It is just as delicious, if you ask me.”
Bingley felt dreadful, drinking what was obviously Elizabeth’s last tea leaves with a syrup she had made from a tree. Not that it did not taste good, but having a sister, even one by marriage, who could afford neither tea nor sugar made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat.
“You must come home with us, Mrs Darcy. Oh, is that still your name?”
“It is, and no, I cannot.”
“You kept his name?” Jane asked incredulously.
“It is my name and the only thing I have kept from my marriage. No one here has ever heard of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. My neighbours are simple people, farmers, workers, and tradesmen. Not one frequents the superior society in town. It is a perfectly safe place for me to live. I have made new friends and am quite content.”
“But you cannot be alone for your lying-in!” Jane looked aghast at her sister.
“I shall not be alone. I have spoken to the vicar in Little Kings Hill church, and he knows of an orphaned girl who needsa position from mid-July. It is already settled. She will be here within a month.”
“How old is the girl?” Jane questioned suspiciously.
“Fourteen,” Elizabeth replied before she hurriedly busied herself with tidying up after the tea.
Bingley scrutinised the room he was in. Nothing was hidden from sight because there were no cupboards or drawers. Everything his sister-in-law owned was displayed on a couple of shelves. Elizabeth only had oats, bread, and eggs to eat.
“Will you at least come with us to the Full Moon Inn. We can have a delicious meal, and you can sleep one night without needing to wake and tend the fire.”
“I appreciate your offer, Mr Bingley, but I cannot. Someone who knows me or Mr Darcy might be there. I dare not risk it—not for a meal or a bed. I have both here without the risk of losing my child.”
Bingley pondered his choices and did not push Elizabeth any further.
“Can you tell me exactly what happened on the night of your quarrel with Mr Darcy?” Jane begged her sister.
Elizabeth nodded and related the sordid tale, leaving nothing out.
“What do you think the colonel was about, Lizzy?”
“You may think it strange I do not cry, but I have no tears left to shed. They dried out months ago,” Elizabeth admitted. “This is the third time I have told anyone what happened. Neither my father nor my aunt and uncle have ever questioned Colonel Fitzwilliam’s behaviour. It was my conduct they disputed.
“Mr Darcy accused me of flirting with the colonel at Rosings, but he readily believed I had flirted withhimin Meryton, when in truth, I heartily disliked him. I wonder whether all men assume that every lady who deigns to talk to them is flirting.”
Jane smiled at her sister. “Not my Mr Bingley. He believed I was indifferent when I was flirting as much as I dared.”
Elizabeth reached for Jane’s hand and squeezed it gently, which tugged at Bingley’s heartstrings.
“You have been exceptionally fortunate in your choice of husband, Jane. In fact, I doubt there is another lady in all of England who is as fortunate, or as deserving. Mr Bingley is a good and modest man, as Mr Darcy declared a long time ago.”
Bingley’s cheeks heated at Elizabeth’s praise, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“I cannot help but think the colonel must have had an ulterior motive. I have no idea what, but when I look back at our dealings, I do not believe he ever did anything without purpose. You see, when I was at Rosings, I happened upon him on one of my walks about the park. He offered to escort me back to the parsonage, and I accepted. He spoke about his need, as an impoverished second son, to marry for money.”
The sarcasm dripping from Elizabeth’s voice was unmistakable, but neither he nor his wife chose to interrupt her.
“I laughed it off with a jest about the price of a second son. It was awkward at best he should mention such a thing to me, as if I had designs on him! A ludicrous thought. It is not as if I want to marry every male I happen to address. We had three or four conversations in the company of those who were either not speaking at all or speaking too much. But I digress. After the awkwardness, he suddenly began to praise his cousin. Minutes before, he had complained about always being at his disposaland about Mr Darcy’s mercurial moods, changing the date of their departure on a whim, which is why I was bewildered by his sudden endorsement. I mentioned Mr Darcy should marry to have someone else at his disposal. Miss Darcy was briefly mentioned before he brought you, Mr Bingley, to my attention.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam told me a tale of how his cousin had recently saved a friend from a mésalliance, but he should not have spoken of it to me. Like Mr Wickham, he was confessing confidential matters to a stranger. He even mentioned it would be unpleasant if word of it should reach the lady’s family, which contradicted his purpose if it was benign. He knew Mr Darcy had visited Mr Bingley at Netherfield. He knew I had four sisters. He knew my oldest sister was currently in town, suffering a disappointment. You need not be concerned, Jane, nothing specific was ever mentioned, but I distinctly remember Charlotte asking me whether your spirits had improved, on the first day the cousins came to visit the parsonage.”
Elizabeth drew breath and gazed out of her tiny window. The Bingleys exchanged a look, sensing there was more to come, and kept quiet so as not to disturb her train of thought.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam brought Georgiana home to Pemberley after our month of solitude. I refuse to call it a honeymoon because I do not want to think about it. The memories are still too raw to bear contemplating…
