Page 62 of Her Whole Heart
“I understand,” Darcy said quickly. “And I would not expect that you do so with me. Only, please know that you can trust me, Miss Elizabeth, should you everwishto speak of it. Even the bravest among us must have someone in whom they can confide. You have your sister, of course, but sometimes it is difficult to burden a sibling with our own fears.”
“Jane often knows my fears without my speaking of them,” Miss Elizabeth said with a sad attempt at a smile. “But I do not like to dwell on them. She denies it, but I know they distress her.”
“There is no need for you to take me into your confidence,” he said. “But I hope you know I would never betray it or think less of you for any hardship you may have endured.”
Miss Elizabeth gazed at him for a long moment, then motioned to a pair of comfortable chairs. When they sat, she took a deep breath. “The truth is, Mr. Darcy, that my parents do not particularly care for me. My father, you see, ceded his authority over Jane and me when we were young, and when it suddenly became advantageous, he wished for it back.”
“But you did not allow it,” Darcy guessed.
“I suppose you know enough of my headstrong ways to understand that. Please know that my parents were never physically cruel, but they were a curious mixture of resentment and indifference.”
Darcy had not known what to expect, but it had not been this. “I cannot fathom parents being indifferent to such an extraordinary woman.”
“Perhaps they wished their daughter was less extraordinary and more complying.” She sighed. “I expect that Lord Matlock informed you of the origin of our fortunes?”
“He did, to some extent.” Darcy confessed. “He also said that you insisted on sharing the funds with your sister and that the amount you came to town with exceeded what you were given. He believed you had invested well.”
“Yes, with the help of my uncle who is in trade here in town. His business acumen is well-known and respected. Unfortunately, he is also one of those relations that would have fallen from the branches of my family tree were it shaken too hard,” she said.
Darcy winced, but there was a faint smile on her lips and no acrimony in the statement.
“Papa was at first furious that I had the audacity to stay and alert the other girls of the fire, for all of his investments in me might have literally gone up in smoke,” she said wryly. “When he and Mamma learned I had also run across the house to alert the girls from more prominent families, they hoped that I might have made a fortunate alliance. Months passed, however, and we heard nothing from anyone, so they were vocally displeased with me. Amelia began to write, but they did not know then that she was family to the Carlisles.”
Darcy felt a surge of indignation on her behalf. “What made them so resentful?”
Shestared directly ahead of her, at nothing, as she answered. “First, that his grand scheme to have us make highly placed friends and thus be introduced to their highly placed brothers had failed so grievously. It was easier to place that responsibility on us, you see, than it was to work hard on the estate and save any additional funds for the future of his wife and daughters.” She clasped her hands together tightly. “There is an entail on Longbourn.”
He made no reply. He already knew of the entail from Lady Henrietta.
“And then you were told that there was money?”
“A Mr. Gordon wrote from Gordon and Callister—they are solicitors—and asked Papa to bring me to London. It was about six months after the fire, and I had thought it was behind me. Apparently, it had taken that long to collect the funds and create all the legal documents, for the donors did not want Papa or Mamma to have access to any of it.”
That was telling. “Surely your father understood the intentions behind the trust? The gratitude and esteem in which you were held for your bravery? That it was meant to accomplish the very purpose he sent you to school for in the first place?”
She shrugged a little, and finally placed the music down on a table next to her. “I did not argue on his behalf."
“It would not have mattered. It was a legal document and could not have been altered.”
"But I did not even make the attempt. I think that bothered him the most. How could he have believed I would? That is what bothers me."
Miss Elizabeth paused for so long Darcy wondered if he should excuse himself. Just before he did so, she continued. “I did resent your cousin, sir. Lady Henrietta and Lady Penelope ruled the roost at Mrs. Buxton’s school, and they were not fond of those of us without titles. Because we were such a small school, however, the two of them did not allow anyonewithout titled relatives to join them—they did not need to possess a title themselves. Daughters of mere gentlemen and no illustrious relations, however, were not to speak with them, not to sit in their chairs or share their table at meals. They were not even to walk down the hall in their wing of the house. As you can imagine, I spoke with whomever I chose, walked where I wished, and denounced any edicts I did not personally care for.”
Darcy chuckled. “I can certainly imagine that.”
“Lady Henrietta focused much of her anger on me, which made the other girls afraid to show me any friendship. My insistence on independence ruined my father’s plans, but I could not do any less than be who I am.”
He mumbled an incoherent assent.
“Papa’s first show of displeasure was largely ignoring me when he arrived at the boarding house and again as I recovered at home. But after we went to London, he bore a grudge. Any funds required to prepare me for my season—masters, clothing, that sort of thing—would be handled by the solicitor’s office. He would not supply those funds himself, although he did for Jane and my younger sisters. I suspect that word of my father’s purpose in sending us to school or even my mother's frivolous use of their funds was bandied about somehow. Mrs. Buxton knew of it, for she had met them both. However it occurred, the families who had donated the funds put stringent restrictions upon the use of them. My one request—demand, really—was that I be allowed to share it with Jane. She was my partner that night, walking the first group of girls out of the house as well as rousing the teachers, who then roused the servants. I would not leave her behind at Longbourn.”
“I see.” And he did. Miss Elizabeth had been the subject of rather unfair familial expectations long before the fire. Fathers were meant to protect their daughters, not require that they do the work ofimproving the family’s situation all on their own. “How old were you when you went to school?”
“I was ten.”
He could not imagine sending his sister away at such an early age, but Lady Henrietta had not been much older. Georgiana had spent one year at school when she had just turned fourteen and begged him not to send her back.
Darcy did something then that was reckless, but he could not help himself. He reached out to place his hand over hers. “Miss Elizabeth, I am heartily sorry for the pain your father’s neglect has caused. But you should know that his bitterness is in no way a reflection of your worth. You are an exemplary woman.”
