Page 34 of Losing Lizzy
Elizabeth enjoyed the manner in which Sheffield played with Mr. Collins. The gentleman was a powerful ally.
Collins pronounced another cut to Elizabeth’s reputation. “Do you mean to continue to be Mr. Darcy’s mistress?”
She did not permit Collins to know his words had found a target. Instead, Elizabeth laughed confidently. “If you wish to meet Mr. Darcy on a field of honor, say those words to the gentleman. Have you not realized by now, Cousin, I am to be the Mistress of Pemberley.”
“Mr. Darcy cannot marry someone who has born a child on the wrong side of the blanket,” Collins said with a smirk.
“You say another disparaging word about my child, and I will borrow Mr. Jacobsen’s pistol and make Charlotte a widow,” Elizabeth threatened while taking a menacing step forward. “In addition to curbing your nasty disposition, it would be worth the penalty to view you six feet under in order to save Longbourn from your rule. Mr. Bennet’s tenants certainly do not deserve a master who thinks only of himself. If you were dead, Mr. Bennet can live out his years without the specter of you and your incompetence hanging over his head. Then, ifshe is so blessed, either Charlotte’s son will inherit or Longbourn will pass to a different line of cousins—men of integrity—men who understand the meaning of ‘honor.’”
Charlotte frowned again. “You will apologize to your cousin for your unforgivable remark, Mr. Collins.”
“I will—” he began, but swallowed his denial when Charlotte pointed her finger at him.
“I said,” Charlotte enunciated each syllable distinctly, “you will apologize to Elizabeth, and you will tell her what you know of her child’s whereabouts.”
“But, Mrs. Collins—” he thought to protest.
“Now,” Charlotte growled, and Elizabeth wished to smile, for she had heard her friend use that same tone and same stance more than one time with Charlotte’s younger brothers and sisters. No one, not even Sir William, spoke back to Charlotte when Elizabeth’s friend used that particular tone. Like Charlotte’s brothers and sisters, Mr. Collins had crossed his wife’s reasonable nature one too many times. “I shall not ask it of you again.”
Mr. Collins’s color paled more than usual. Evidently, the man had foolishly brought out this side of Charlotte’s temper previously. With his head down, he did as his wife asked. “Lady Catherine’s new groom, Mr. Townsend, is to abandon the child on one of the islands in the Medway Estuary. Near Queenborough.”
“Abandon!” Charlotte and Elizabeth shrieked together.
Elizabeth reached for Mr. Sheffield’s waiting hand. “We must go. Now.” He was already waving Mr. Jacobsen toward the coach. Holding her hand, Sheffield tugged her along behind him, lifting her into the waiting carriage before shouting orders to Jacobsen and following her inside.
In less than a minute, Jacobsen had turned the coach around and was headed back the way they had come—toward the entrance gate of Rosings Park. Belatedly, Elizabeth realized she had not said her farewells nor expressed her gratitude to Charlotte.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Sheffield said, “Mrs. Collins will understand. She possesses a mother’s instinct. The lady willlikely be satisfied to have been of use to you.”
Elizabeth nodded her acceptance, although she knew, somehow, she must say the words to Charlotte. She owed her friend that much. “How long to Queenborough?” she asked as she turned her attention once again to the passing tree line.
“Three hours, give or take ,with tolls and all,” Mr. Sheffield responded. “Hopefully, the ground stays dry, even if there is a chill in the air and a dampness not customarily found in England this time of year, we should make decent time if we miss the rain.”
“Yet, there is only a few hours before nightfall.” She sighed heavily in despair. “Will this madness ever end?”
“It will. A few more hours. Continue to stay strong for Lizzy.”
“But my sweetest girl is so young,” she protested. “Will she ever recover from this upheaval?”
“Children are generally more resilient than we give them credit for being,” he said.
“But, as you said moments ago, it is so cold. I did not even think to consider whether Townsend took her coat.” She broke into tears. “What kind of mother am I?”
He reached across the coach to pat the back of her hand. “You are the very best of mothers. I am so proud to be a part of your life.”
Elizabeth smiled weakly. “Why did you never consider marrying me?”
“The years between us,” he said simply.
“Not so far,” she said, allowing the madness of the last few days to settle again. “There is only eighteen years, and we rub along together well.”
He smiled upon her, but it was the brotherly smile he had always presented her. “When you were twenty, the differences felt broader than they do today,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Moreover,” he continued, “I am vain enough to wish my wife to prefer me to all others, especially to a man to whom I have presentedmy respect.”
“I am hopeless, am I not?” Her bottom lip trembled with emotions. “I have only truly loved Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“The master is a fortunate man—more fortunate than many, for he will spend the remainder of his days with you and Lizzy.”
“Ahoy in the coach!” a voice called out. A single rider approached, pressing his horse to overtake them.
