Page 6 of Losing Lizzy
Mr. Sheffield blushed in what only could be called surprise. However, he said, “If such is Miss Elizabeth’s wish, I am willing to speak my vows and live by them.”
At that point, Elizabeth had lodged her objection. “I am thankful you wish to continue your duty to Mr. Darcy by saving my reputation, but I cannot allow you to sacrifice so much. You deserve a better life than that. If you are now free to marry, it should be someone you affect.”
Seizing a rare opportunity, her father ignored her posturing. “I have negotiated a contract with Darcy’s man of business for two hundred pounds a year for the remainder of Elizabeth’s days, which is reasonable, but not enough to live on. What do you have to offer her?”
“Father!”
“Shush, Elizabeth,” Mr. Bennet had warned. “I am not speaking of marriage, if such is not your wish, but I cannot send you off to make your way into the world alone, especially if Mr. Sheffield is willing to offer you his protection. A woman on her own is too vulnerable, and our Scottish cousins have refused youunder your present condition. If I cannot be there to protect you, I would wish another to do so. Your world, in its pompousness, insists I must send you away soon, so your sisters have an opportunity to someday know marriage.”
The stiffness in Mr. Sheffield’s shoulders lessened when the idea of marriage had been removed. He glanced about the book-filled room serving as her father’s study. “Much of my free time over the years has been spent with a book in my hand. If Mr. Darcy were here, he would tell you I remained in his family’s employ simply so I could have access to Pemberley’s library.” At this point, he chuckled. “The master likely had the right of it.” He folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the edge of her father’s desk. “With books and the pleasure of reading as my impetus, I have made a bid to purchase a bookshop in a seaside town of some importance. The shop does not provide a separate cottage, as I had hoped it would, but there are rooms both above the shop for sleeping and socializing with a kitchen below, as well as another room for sleeping in the rear of the building. It is not what you are accustomed to, but I am willing to offer you a home with me for as long as you require one.” He paused to smile upon her. “You may do so as my wife or as a cherished daughter who is a war widow or any other tale we wish to offer the world. I would consider it my honor to provide for you.”
Elizabeth’s tears flowed easily then. The man had been her answer to a prayer, but she could not accept his offer until he knew the full truth of her situation. “Before I agree to your kind overture, you should be made aware, sir, I am likely breeding.”
Instead of the horror she had expected upon the man’s countenance with her declaration of her condition, Mr. Sheffield’s gentle smile widened. “Mr. Darcy’s child?”
She nodded her affirmation.
“The master would have been beside himself with happiness with this news. You and the child will have the rooms above the shop for sleeping. I am accustomed to a small private room at both Darcy House and at Pemberley, and so it would be no hardship for me to remain in the lower one. You will be saferabove the shop if trouble was ever to know our doors.”
It had been mid-September, 1813, before they had actually taken possession of the bookshop, for other arrangements had to be made before she could appear at Mr. Sheffield’s side as his niece.
“Uncle Albert,” Elizabeth whispered when she heard him stirring about in the extra room at the back of the store that they had converted into his bed chambers. He would join her for breakfast in a matter of minutes once he was dressed properly for the day, a special day for all of them. “My guardian angel. I would never have survived those first two years after what all the world declared to be Mr. Darcy’s death without Albert Sheffield. To everyone in town he was “Sheff,” her late mother’s younger brother, and she was Mrs. Elizabeth Dartmore, the widow of Lieutenant William Dartmore, late of the British Royal Navy.
“Mornin’, Mama,” a still-sleepy child said as she rubbed her eyes. Elizabeth quickly wiped away her tears with the heels of her hands, to set aside her maudlin until another day, when it might have full rein.
“Good morning, Lizzy. How is my birthday girl?”
Chapter Three
If Darcy had hadhis choice, he would have been off to Hertfordshire the morning following his return to London to learn whether he could still claim a future with the woman he loved; however, as yesterday had progressed, he realized he must, first, secure his father’s legacy, for, without it, his future and that of the Darcy family was in jeopardy.
“Pemberley is suffering,” Fitzwilliam had confided when Georgiana claimed her bed for a short nap before last evening’s supper.
“How so?” Darcy asked with a frown.
“As you have been at sea for so long, you cannot know the devastation that has engulfed the Continent and all of the United Kingdom following Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo.”
“You refer to the devastation of war?” Darcy asked, still confused.
Fitzwilliam shook off the question. “Did you not notice how damp and dreary everything was in London?”
“London is often cloudy and damp,” Darcy responded, but now that his cousin had mentioned the weather Darcy’s eyes were drawn to the window. “In truth, I was so glad to be standing on English soil again, I would have welcomed a Derbyshire winter without coat and gloves for the opportunity.”
“Yet, we have had months of this weather,” Fitzwilliam corrected.
“Months?”
“Crops have rotted in the ground. The newsprints say, in Europe, there are places that have experienced more than one hundred consecutive days of rain. Here in England, riots broke out in the East Anglian counties this past May. Armed laborers bearing flags saying ‘Bread or Blood’ marched on Ely, north of our beloved Cambridge.”
Darcy took a moment to digest what his cousin disclosed. “I had plans in place for such contingencies. Multiple crop rotation. Stored grain. Sheep. Dairy cows. Other means to keep Pemberley solvent. Who made the decisions for Pemberley?” His mind raced to understand what had occurred while he was fighting to survive on the sea. “Were you not in Derbyshire to support Georgiana?”
“Until June of last year, I was still in the army, Darcy. Some of the damage had been done before I could finish my service to Wellington and resign my commission. I have done my best, seeking the advice of your land steward; yet, I am not certain my efforts were enough. I fear the Pemberley fortune has taken a step backward.”
“My bank accounts and investments should sustain us,” Darcy insisted. “Again, I had plans for drastic times in place. Such is not ideal, but we can divide and conquer until we know better conditions.”
“I pray such is so.” His cousin paused in contemplation. “I never received the type of training you did in estate management. Even when we called on Lady Catherine for her annual accounting, you saw to her estate books, and I addressed the tenant quarrels and hiring and releasing of staff. I am truly concerned, Darcy, with what I have seen in the ledger books for your properties. I am convinced money has been shifted in accounts.”
“Your father again?” Darcy accused.
