Page 5 of Pemberley's Imposter
To avoid gossip, she had not stepped off the coach in Meryton. If she had, the rumours of her downfall would havebeen spread all over the town by morning. Instead, she had left the coach at East Hyde and walked the two and a half miles, choosing to follow a path across the woodland rather than the road through town.
Elizabeth must speak to her father. A story would have to be concocted; she could not divulge the truth. Her remaining sisters’ reputations would suffer most grievously should the sordid tale of her fall from grace become known.
The cold was seeping through her bones; she needed to take the next step soon.
A window opened, and her father’s white hair appeared in the small slit.
“Elizabeth?”
Mr Bennet never called her Elizabeth; it was alwaysmy Lizzy. His lack of endearment widened the gap between Elizabeth and her old home.
“Yes.” She could not pretend she was not there when he had obviously observed her.
“Come in, child, it is freezing out there.”
Of their own volition one foot stepped in front of the other. The quietness she had perceived from outside the house continued inside. No one came to greet her. It must be Mrs Hill’s half day off, and none of the maids had noticed her arrival, which was probably for the best. Elizabeth divested herself of her cloak and scarf before she entered her father’s book-room.
“Where is everyone?”
“It is Tuesday and the night of the assembly.”
How could I have forgotten?Two months had erased a lifetime. Elizabeth slumped into the chair in front of her father’sdesk. Her fatigue was likely evident on her countenance, but she had not the strength to conceal it.
“What brings you here, Elizabeth? And on foot as far as I can tell.”
Mr Bennet’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline. Elizabeth had thought it would be difficult to disclose her disgrace to her father. It was not. In a flat voice not her own she explained, without emotion, the events that had brought her to his door.
Her father’s expression was folded in grave lines when she finished her tale. Not a glimmer of humour nor sarcasm could be discerned. He rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers whilst looking unseeingly in front of him. The silence stretched on for many minutes, but Elizabeth did not mind. The peace was comforting after travelling on the cramped stagecoach, with chattering strangers importuning her with all kinds of prying questions she could not answer.
“I should never have consented to the marriage,” Mr Bennet admitted dejectedly.
“Do not trouble yourself, Father. You could not have known—”
Mr Bennet shook his head in denial.
“I am familiar enough with these men of elevated rank and their puffed-up perception of their own self-importance to know better. They care for none but themselves and their prized connections.”
“Mr Darcy is not like that. He is a respected landlord and master,” Elizabeth defended her husband.
“Yes, he deserves our respect for throwing his wife out of his house in the middle of winter!” Mr Bennet chuckled mirthlessly. His sarcasm had not left him, after all.
“May I stay here?” Elizabeth winced at the pleading tone in her voice.
Mr Bennet looked at her with sorrowful eyes.
“You may stay for the time being, but only until I can contrive another solution. I cannot offer you much, but I shall provide for you in some manner. You must understand, Elizabeth, when this becomes known, it will create problems for your sisters. Mary is being courted by the new curate in Meryton. He cannot afford to marry her yet and, in his profession, not at all with a fallen sister.
“I suggest we tell everyone that Mr Darcy escorted you here. He left due to pressing business in town, and you have come to visit your family whilst he is occupied. Regardless of what we tell the quidnuncs, when a bride visits her parents so soon after speaking her vows, there will be gossip about trouble in your marriage. If you stay too long, it will confirm the rumours. Do you think Mr Darcy will confide your breach to his friends and family?”
“I cannot say for certain, but I doubt he will spread the sordid tale. Mr Darcy is a private man who does not rattle on as other young men are prone to do.”
No matter the chasm between them, Elizabeth could not imagine Mr Darcy would ruin her in the eyes of society. If not for the sake of her reputation, then to avoid the taint on the Darcy name.
“He was so angry, Father, and hurt. Eventually, people will notice my absence regardless of what he does. Servants will talk and rumours will spread. It is only a matter of time. Not to forget Colonel Fitzwilliam, who knows it all and is not to be trusted.”
“Let me make enquiries. I shall see what I can do. You look exhausted. You should sleep.”
Elizabeth nodded, too discouraged to speak. She had put her sisters in a precarious position by coming here, but what choice did she have?
