Page 8 of Losing Lizzy
“Forster says Miss Elizabeth departed the neighborhood in late February, and no one seems to know where she has gone. Even her sisters and her mother are very closed-mouthed about the situation, many thinking she has been disowned in order to save the others.”
“Alone? She was sent out on her own with no one to care for her?”
“Miss Elizabeth left on her own,” Fitzwilliam confirmed. “However, there was a report by Mr. Phillips, through one of Mr. Bennet’s servants, of an older gentleman calling upon Mr. Bennet in mid-January. Speculation is the man offered for Miss Elizabeth and was accepted, if not by her, then by her father.”
Darcy knew he sounded desperate, but he could not swallow the words. “Mr. Bennet would not accept my offer for Miss Elizabeth without her first consenting to my suit. I cannot imagine, even under such dire circumstances, he would ignore his favorite daughter’s wishes. Perhaps the man was a relative willing to take her in for a portion of her settlement or perhaps he hired her as a governess for his children. There is no proof she married another.”
Fitzwilliam warned, “There is no evidence she did not marry another. You know, as well as anyone, how cruel Society can be toward a woman rejected at the altar.”
“She was not rejected!” Darcy declared, slamming his fist against the chair arm. “I fought to return to her!” Agony filled hisheart, and his breathing became shallow. He murmured, “I never stopped fighting my oppressors.” Tears filled his eyes. “Never stopped loving her.”
“Then you should return to Hertfordshire to learn your own truth. Perhaps Mr. Bennet will provide you the words you wish to hear. I know you cannot go on with your life until you learn the truth, but please prepare yourself for unwanted news. I cannot imagine Mr. Bennet would allow his daughter to leave with a man who was not her husband, nor would I expect a man to hire a jilted woman as governess to his children. You must know reason, Darcy: It has been nearly four years since what would have been your wedding day.”
* * *
Elizabeth contentedly looked on as Albert Sheffield read a book to Lizzy. By week’s end, as was the was with children first discovering the world of books, the child would be ableto read, rather to say,to recite, it back to the man, who had, quite literally, saved her and the child she had carried when Elizabeth departed Hertfordshire. Hers had been a difficult delivery, one brought on by the stress of her situation mixed with her melancholy and a touch of an unpredictable fever. She would have surely died if she had been alone. God had sent her her own personal angel in the form of Mr. Darcy’s former valet, and, although “Uncle Albert” had been thoroughly embarrassed by what the midwife had asked of him, the man had never left her side, promising to care for “Little Lizzy” when Elizabeth thought she might die from the fever that did not leave her until well after Elizabeth Anne Dartmore’s birth.
Sheffield had done it all—assisted in the delivery of the child, bringing in a surgeon to make the cut so Elizabeth Anne could be born, employed a wet nurse for Lizzy, and tended to Elizabeth until she knew health once more. If the man had not presented himself to her at Longbourn on that fateful day in January 1813, Elizabeth’s story would likely have taken a different course and with a different outcome: Her daughter could have died, and she would have been alone in the world.
“’Nother time,” Lizzy pleaded, even though it was well past the child’s bedtime.
“Just the last three pages,” Sheffield admonished, but the man’s smile said he enjoyed Lizzy Anne cuddled upon his lap.
Elizabeth studied her daughter’s features: dark hair and pale eyes, not blue—more silver, just like her father’s—eyes that had once upon a time followed her about a room in what she had foolishly interpreted as contempt when the emotion, she had later learned, had been disbelief in his inability to disguise his affection for her. How often, especially since having Lizzy, had Elizabeth wished she had accepted Mr. Darcy’s offer of his hand in Kent! Then Wickham would not have dared to ruin Lydia, and Mr. Bingley could have been “encouraged” by her to return to Jane’s side, and, more importantly, she, her child, and Mr. Darcy would have been safe at Pemberley and together. It was not as if she was not thankful for Mr. Sheffield’s protection. It was as her father had said, a cruel world for women on their own; yet, she felt, especially in moments such as this one, she had robbed this “gentle” man of a family of his own. Sheffield could have married and been holding his own daughter, at this moment, instead of devoting time to hers. Moreover, it appeared, of late, he could be considering offering for Mrs. Harris, a widow, but one well past childbearing years, and he might never know the joy of cuddling his own child as he did with Lizzy. Moreover, Elizabeth did not much think Mrs. Harris’s nature was the type to share her home with another woman and a child.
She smiled upon the scene again. Most assuredly, Fitzwilliam Darcy would never have been able to deny the child as his own. Lizzy Anne was the female image of her father: There was very little of Elizabeth in the girl’s features. Initially, the noted similarities had caused Elizabeth great pain—her loss of the man she had come to love was too fresh not to evoke her emotions, but, with time, she had learned to adore possessing a little piece of Fitzwilliam Darcy within her house. She now celebrated the fact her daughter was everything Darcy. High cheek bones. A crooked smile. A small dimple on one side of Lizzy’s mouth.All indications showed Lizzy would be tall and statuesque, nothing like her mother’s more petite frame, and the child was as intelligent as her father. Elizabeth feared the girl would be quite exacting in her approach to the world if she and Sheffield did not keep a steady hand on the child’s shoulders.
Even without Mr. Darcy’s influence on the child, Lizzy would calculate every possibility before acting. “And line up her books upon the shelf from largest to smallest in a perfectly straight line,” Elizabeth murmured to herself as she watched Lizzy’s head nod in sleep. Although Elizabeth had viewed the library at Pemberley only once, she knew the gentleman’s organization had been just as exacting, but with more of a plan to determine where to look for books on certain subjects or by certain authors, yet, as perfectly organized and stringent. The child was equally as proper at the table, often adjusting the cutlery to certain angles, and, as well as in the manner in which her toys were stored in her room.
The dark head finally fell forward to rest on Mr. Sheffield’s chest, and Elizabeth left her musings to gather her child from the man’s embrace. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered as she bent to kiss the gentleman’s forehead.
“Always a pleasure,” he said in affectionate tones.
She adjusted the child in her arms so Lizzy’s head rested upon her shoulder. It would not be long before Lizzy would be too heavy for Elizabeth to carry. “Will you call upon Mrs. Harris this evening?” she asked. Elizabeth was not overly fond of the woman, but she wished Mr. Sheffield happiness if the lady was his choice.
Mr. Sheffield shook his head in the negative. “We shared our midday meal. I wanted this evening to be all about Lizzy Anne.” Sheffield had presented Elizabeth Anne with her new “favorite” doll and a book for her drawings. He caressed the child’s hand. “A person is only three years old one time.”
Elizabeth wondered what would happen to her and Lizzy when Mr. Sheffield made an offer of his hand to the Widow Harris. The woman appeared to be as disenchanted by Elizabethas she was with the lady.
Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding. “Good evening, then.”
“I will check the locks when I go below. I shall see you in the morning, Elizabeth,” he said softly. He bent to kiss her forehead. “Mr. Darcy would be so proud of you and the child you bore him.”
Tears rushed to her eyes. She adjusted Lizzy to a more comfortable place upon her shoulder. “I was thinking something similar as I watched you two sharing the book. Lizzy possesses many of his mannerisms.”
“Even how her laugh explodes at the most unexpected times.” Mr. Sheffield straightened the cut of his coat before adding, “I miss the young master.”
“As do I,” Elizabeth assured.
Leaving Sheffield to his evening, she carried Lizzy into the small room serving as the child’s bed chamber. Placing her daughter gently on the bed, she bent to remove the child’s shoes and stockings before carefully wrestling Lizzy from her dress and placing it aside. Spreading the blanket across her, Elizabeth picked up Lizzy’s small hand and kissed it, holding it to her face. “You are a small part of the great man who was your father. I so wish he could view you just once. You are my gift from him, a perfect piece of Fitzwilliam Darcy no one can ever deny me.”
* * *
Darcy made his way through a dark Darcy House. Georgiana and Fitzwilliam had retired early, and he felt terribly alone, for his nightmare still held no end in sight. Earlier, after supper, he had called in below stairs to thank his staff for remaining with the family through the dark days of his absence and to learn what he could of Davis, the footman who lost his life in Darcy’s defense along the streets of London leading to the docks.
“Samuels and I claimed the body and delivered it to his mother, sir,” Jasper said in humble respect.
“And the funeral?” he asked.
